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Sneaky things, wolves...

That damned wolf has left you without any means of identifying yourself.

Just at that moment you, or rather another you, walk into the room. Staring in disbelief you ask who he is.

He says he's Fred, who are you?

As he says this, you feel that your reality is slipping and stagger down onto all fours. You feel the sinews of your body tightening.

In a matter of minutes, long, painful and agonising minutes, you have transformed into something else.

You have four legs, but no head or tail - you have become a coffee table.

The new Fred laughs as he places a steaming hot cup of coffee down on you. You are in agony as it feels as if you being branded - the idiot could at least use a mat.

So there you are standing proud in the room, with a sense of being, but inanimate.


Written by Karen Ford

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