Howdy, folks. I have a whole lot more stuff to tell you, and some of it might actually make sense. First off: They lied about the internet access being free. Second item of importance: Never try licking an alpaca. I'm not going to go into how I know that one, just trust me, okay? Anyway, my day started out with me waking up in my tiny room. Opening the door, I walked into the hallway, expecting to see the chipper smiley face indicating which direction the free internet could be found. Instead, I was greeted with the nightmarish visage of the giant beast that had saved me from the zombie last night. The creature towered over me, looking in my direction over his lupine snout. He was the quintessential Werewolf. "Howdy," he said. "Would you mind too terribly coming with me? We need you to sign some release forms and such if you want to get your own room."
Surprisingly, I did not faint. It appears I am getting used to the uncommon suddenly forcing itself into my world. Good thing too, because if the past three days have been any sort of an indicator, the rest of my month is going to be incredibly chock-full of strangeness. Like the alpaca-licking incident, only much, much more bizarre. And believe you me, the tongue bathing of the Alpacas was an event that will go down in history as the epitome of bizarre. As well as disgusting. And disturbingly amusing.
Anyway, because the giant, well-muscled and befanged creature was so polite about the whole thing, I quickly nodded and assured him that it would be my pleasure to go through whatever red tape the government required to get the free housing. The werewolf's eyes narrowed quickly, and in a low growl, he told me, "Listen, punk. This operation hasn't anything to do with the government. Hell, we're here to overthrow the system, and introduce our own beautiful nation. A nation wherein the average citizen need not fear random Zombie attacks whilst strolling through a park; where a parent can allow their cub to play in the front yard without worrying over discovering little Tony's half-eaten corpse reanimating as a.. as..."The mountain of fur collapsed to the floor and began to cry, sobs sounding even more heart-wrenching by the occasional mournful howl interrupting the tears. Feeling rather awkward, I patted his furry shoulder, murmuring softly that it will be alright, and that he had a job to do. After calming down for a few moments, he stood up, and cleared his throat. "Yes. Well, anyway, follow me. We have to get the paperwork filed quickly if you want a good room within the next couple of days."
He led me through corridor after corridor, through what appeared to be an armoury stocked with sledgehammers and shotguns, and herded me into an elevator concealed behind one of the gun racks. Opening a small panel, he withdrew an eyepatch, and settled it over my good eye. After assuring himself that I could no longer see, I heard a rattling of keys, followed quickly by the cramped elevator descending through the depths of the installation.
You know that feeling that you get when you're completely blind, wearing old clothes, and standing next to a giant wolf monster? Yeah. I had that. Anyway, I'll spare you the long monotonous journey we had whilst I was still blindfolded, mainly because it would consist of a bunch of walking and turning and walking some more and other such mundane details that would no doubt aggravate you, as well as taking away my own precious noveling time. I'll get right to the good part.
After about half an hour of blindly walking, we stopped. The Werewolf said I could remove the semi-blindfold, and that he would wait while I filled out the paperwork. As I removed the extra eyepatch, I noticed that he was holding two well-sharpened #2 pencils, and a large stack of papers, motioning for me to take them. I did so, and he sidestepped to the left, revealing a rather plain door, upon which the words 'Application Processing' had been stencilled.I glanced apprehensively at the wolfman, who just nodded reassuringly, motioning for me to enter the room. Opening the door, I was immediately hit by a draft of ice-cold air. Shivering slightly, I turned to the Werewolf and asked if there was any possible way I could get some heavier clothing, since I was going to be there for a while. Sighing, he agreed that it wouldn't do his organisation much good to have a new member down for a week with pneumonia, and quickly sauntered off to fetch a heavy jacket and other winter clothing.
While waiting for him to return, I thought I would spend my time filling out the questionaire, in order to spend as little time as possible in the room that was cold enough to be a penguin habitat. As expected, they were the standard Name, Address, Date of Birth, Blood Type etc..., except for the incredibly non-standard box for Date of Death. Not having one, I simply filled that section with a big, bold 'N/A' and continued. Hearing the sound of claws clicking on tile, I quickly finished the forms and made them presentable.
As I finished getting the papers in order, the big Lupine beast asked if I was finished filling them out. I said yes, and he held out his hand, palm facing up, so I could give him the papers. As I placed the forms in his massive paw, he handed me some heavy-duty clothing intended for arctic weather. As well as another large stack of papers. At the top of the first sheet of paper, as well as on every article of clothing he handed me, were the letters 'LDM' in bold, red letters. Curious, I asked my chaperone what those letters meant.
"It stands for 'Lycanthrope Drifter Militia' and it acts as a badge of membership. If you ever see those three letters together, you know it means we're not too far away. Now, do you have any more questions, or do you want to get a real bed? Because honestly, I'm getting tired of standing in non-descript corridors, and I'm sure you are, as well. So, get your butt in the testing center and fill out the papers!"
Startled by his abrupt demeanor, I decided that he was right, and I should just get on with the final papers. Dressed now in a nice, heavy canvas jacket and cargo pants (Oh, how I love the pockets!), I was no longer apprehensive of the nightmarishly cold room and the time I would be spending in it. Hurrying through the door, I sat down at the solitary desk that was positioned in the exact center of the room. Placing the stack of papers on the desk, and readying the pencils, I noticed a button inset into the upper-lefthand corner of the writing surface labelled, 'press for assistance.'
Cheerfully taking note of the fact that there was the prospect of help should I have questions, I set to work. Now, I don't pretend to be an expert on common questions used to psychoanalyse patients, but I have to tell you, there was definitely some sort of ulterior motive behind some of the questions. In retrospect, I know exactly what they were trying to figure out, but you'll just have to muddle along with a brief selection of the questionairre accompanied by my answers.
The first question was also the most bizarre I'm still not sure how it involves what I think it does, but here it is, just because it was so surreal.
1.) Do you often pine for the fjords?
No, I do not. In fact, I have never even seen a fjord. At least, not in person. I may have seen one during a National Geographic documentary, but I may be confusing fjords with the Urdu.
2.) Have you recently acquired property zoned for agricultural development?
No. Although I have made a windowsill garden, so I know I can grow stuff should the need arise.
7.) Have you ever smoked a fish?
I'm going to assume that you mean the process used to cook a fish, rather than lighting one aflame and breathing in the noxious fumes that result. In either case, though, the answer is most definitely a 'no.'
19.) Do you ever wake up in strange places, unable to recall the events of the previous night?
Ordinarily, I could say 'no' to that question, but recently I have been waking up in strange places with no way to account for my new position. Admittedly, I am fairly certain that I was transported by unknown parties, but I could not prove that should the need arise. So, I have to answer this question with a 'yes.'
471.) Do you consider Michael Jackson to be a traitor?
I do not understand the question.
Finally, after two hours and several score pages of completely unintelligable questions, I reached the final one. Unfortunately, this one proved to be the most difficult and time consuming. It took me as long to write it as it did to finish the previous six hundred and seventy four combined. It also didn't really give the answer that they were looking for, and I'm fairly certain that's why things turned out the way they did.
675.) Describe, in detail, why cars are superior to locomotives. Support your assertions with facts and quotations. If required, you may ask the Room Attendant for research materials.
I'll post my answer tomorrow, seein' as how my current internet access is once again here at the library. Grah. Beggars can't be choosers, and all that.