From: tony@jim.csc.ncsu.edu (Tony Bensinger)
Subject: Re: ADMIN: Lupine Character Types
Summary: A little story
Date: 16 Nov 92 22:05:53 GMT

In article <1992Nov15.171812.1619@magnus.acs.ohio-state.edu> JENKINS@agvax2.ag.ohio-state.edu (Kent Jenkins) writes:
>If you think there are a lot of stories out there with the Lone Wolf theme, you
>should see how many people out there think they're /cats/.
>
>(I'm one for the slightly schitzoid, spiritually harrassed, pendant-phobia
>types, myself.)

	Cats? Here's a story I wrote in a pique after reading this
article.

	Catman
	------
		Copyright 1992 James Bowen

	So we're in the Chat. Guy walks in, real tight jumpsuit, playboy
bunny ears. "Oh shit," Ratz says.
	"Miaow," sez the guy.
	Ratz buries his head in his hands.
	The guy prowls around the room, going Miaow. "Oh, shit," Ratz says,
in between spasms of laughter.
	"Miaow, miaow, miaow."
	I light a cig and watch the guy. Pretty entertaining.
	The guy stops beside a foxy lady, kneels, and begins to preen
himself. Literally. He starts licking his hands - forepaws - uck, I
wonder, what the hell's on those mitts? God knows how much toxo you
scrape up crawling around the city.
	"Oh, shit," the girl says.
	"Hey man," the guy who brought her snarls, "whassa prob, eh?"
	"I'm a cat," the guy sez. "Miaow."
	"You expect me to believe that?" the guy replies, bunching his hands
into fists.
	"Miaow," the guy says. He shows the man his paws.
	There's the sound of ripping cloth. I have my head down, pulling a
drag from the cig, long enough to miss three long metal claws shooting out
of the guys hands.
	"CIRS," someone mutters. "Syndrome. Got it baaad."
	"Miaow," the guy says.
	"Chill," the girl says to her piece. "'Sides, he's cute."
	"CIRS, I'm telling you, man."
	Ratz is trying really hard not to laugh. He sucks.
	"Miaow, miaow, miaow."
	"Grrr," the girl's 'put says in a bulldog voice.
	If the cat-guy had hackles, they'd rise. "Miaooooowwww..."
	I look away, hear a scream, tearing leather. The girl yells, and
the cat-guy bounds away, skitters onto some suit's table.
	"Holy shit, holy shit," the suit says.
	I swivel around, look at the guy, perched on the table. Over just
outside my peripheral, I can hear Ratz pulling his shotgun off the rack. I
look at the guy's claws. Blood.
	Then I turn, look at the girl and her input, who's sprawled over
the table, bleeding vicious. "Shit." I say it like I'm praying.
	The guy on the table turns to Ratz, and then to me. I can see his
eyes.  I can see his pupils. Something wrong.
	"I am Catman," says. "Hear me roar." And then he backflips out the
door.

--jb