Having just paid the oh-so-masterful  pokelai for his work -- he still charges far too little, let me just say that right now -- I can finally post this properly.

In the story universe of Tails From The Blind Pig (TBP), the world was decimated by an extraterrestrial virus brought home by one of our Mars probes. Called the Martian Flu, its death rate in developed countries was roughly equivalent to that seen during the Spanish Flu of 1918, with a 100% infection rate (and to this day, scientists would like to know how that works).

In a small percentage of survivors, after a period of roughly two weeks, drastic physical changes can occur. This can be roughly anything -- patients have changed gender, experienced accelerated, retarded and reversed aging, and also -- as you can see -- transformation into a half-human, half-animal form. (There ARE stranger results, but they're extremely rare.) Named after the doctor who determined these were all post-Martian-Flu results, this is Stein's Chronic Accelerated Biomorphic Syndrome -- and yes, we have complained about the resulting acronym of S.C.A.B.S., thank you.

This... well, this is me, in that setting. I've come out of it quite well, really. I can walk and talk like anyone else (though having digitigrade feet means that cane is NOT just for show, and I have to fake my way through certain consonants), and the science-ignoring virus even gave me a little science-ignoring power -- very little, in that I can turn the rest of the way into a wolf if I so desire. (I try to avoid it. Hands and speech are rather enjoyable, yes?) Aside from all of that, I'm a semi-successful actor with a penchant for the dramatic -- to say nothing of a pun-chant for wordplay. (As you'd expect from a wolf, most of my puns are absolute howlers.) I, like many of my fellow SCABS sufferers, eventually found my way to the Blind Pig Gin Mill, a drinking establishment friendly to those in my condition. (The average populace has, let us say, unfortunate responses to those who bear visible reminders of the modern plague.) Sadly, I never have been able to enjoy alcohol -- I typically content myself with a cola as I enjoy the company and occasionally hold forth with one of my life's many unusual stories.

(This predated my determination that I was actually a C. lupus fuscus, so I'm more of a C. lupus lupus here. Really, he's brought me to life beautifully. This is a near-future setting, as well, so imagine me a bit older than I am now. )