New to the list of disasters: Some jumped up were-something held me up with a gun outside the gym tonight. He took my backpack, which (thank FUCK) did not have my purse, phone, or keys in it. (Something went right today. Praise the Moon Goddess.)
So he just gone some sweaty gym clothes, boxing wraps, and a wet towel. Oh, and about 10 years off my life, because guns SCARE the CRAP out of me.
Admittedly my gym isn’t in the best part of town, it’s the cheapest one there is in the city, and it’s kind of in a bit of an old crack den or something, but this is a BIT of a coincidence right?
- First my car gets stolen, (possibly non-were related, but then again, I did smell something a bit weird in the area… It might have just been a stray tom cat spraying though)
- Then I get chased throuh some back alleys by were-wild dogs.
- Then the bitches from hell mention that they’ve seen a dog hanging around my old flat.
- Then I get mugged by a definitely non-human smelling guy.
What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On?
Oh, and another thing. After this wee event, I’ve been making a real effort to use my nose more.
(This whole werewolf gig means that my sense of smell is way powerful, but mostly I can’t identify any of the scents because there’s just too much for me to filter in the city. Possibly I’d be better if I practiced more, but you humans are a smelly bunch so I don’t like to.)
Anyway. I’ve been smelling… Things. Non-human things. Also: I have yet to smell a female thing. It’s really weird that I can’t identify what most of them are, but that I can identify that they’re all males.
I am pretty sure (I’m going to take an educated guess) that all the ‘things’ are were’s. I also don’t think i’ve smelt any wolves yet, but I have smelt lots of wild dog. And maybe a cat or two – if I’m right they smell a bit like the neighbors cat. The ex-neighbors cat.
And it’s not just around the area I was in where I was chased. I’m pretty sure I smelt wild dog outside my work today. And when I was crossing the street to head to my Psych class this afternoon.
Anyway. Something’s not right. BUT. I think I have a plan. As usual it’s not a good plan. Or a well thought out one. But I think I’m going to call the number on the card that Brent the were-hyena gave me.
I’m possibly walking into a bit of a trap, but Fuck knows what else I can do. I’m hoping he’ll have a garage or somewhere I can put my crap, or that he can let me know of someone who can help, because I can’t afford storage – not without a car to transport anyway.
I’m also hoping he can tell me what the hell was up with the African Wild Dogs. I mean, was it a territory thing? Brent said I had been in his territory that night I met him, so I’m kinda wondering if there are places that I shouldn’t be going (at least not on foot anyway!)
So yeah. Brent could help me, or he could be setting me up to get my ass kicked. Who knows.
