Synopsis: Zeydaan is a wolf anthro bogged down by life. Stuck with an office job he despises he seeks any alternative to improve his life situation. He is recommended a dream therapy treatment to cope with some of his troubles, but ends up invariably unleashing something much more wacky!

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Topsy-Turvy

by K9Lupus

Zeydaan finally managed to find an opening within the overlapping pattern of smudged pawprints on the window. He swiveled his seat to a comfortable angle and could now properly attend to one of his favorite pastimes. Below him, animal-people scarcely larger than the size of backyard ants scurried across concrete streets; all were engrossed within the rat race that none could win, but all believed they would. With a satisfied hum, Zey spotted his target for these precious few minutes sitting on a bench. The tiger-man wore a long, beige trench coat; black suitcase held in one hand, what looked to be a bagel in the other. The hair atop his head had made a prompt and complete evacuation from the rest of the fur on his body. With the information that Zey could gather now synthesized, he began The Game.

Most likely some kind of investigator. No one too high up in the ranks or they wouldn't be wearing something so obvious. What's in the briefcase? Documents, case files, ooh...no, a lone photo of a woman and child found at a recent crime scene; the sole and most critical of evidence in preventing a string of future murders of a love lost and never found again. Or maybe not an investigator...Maybe he's a world-class magician who carries his whole act in the briefcase!

Zeydaan briefly looked back over his shoulder. Only 30 seconds left.

I think we're on to something. It would be quite spectacular to perform with such an unassuming costume. Yes, that's how he draws folks in. Nonchalant and mysterious until he tosses the coat up in the air, inverting itself to a midnight black with sparkling gray. Oh, oh oh! And he uses his bald head to distract the crowd during the show. Instead of sleight of hand, it's sleight of head!

The timer for the office microwave dinged then. Zey sighed and pulled himself away from the window, another smudgy pawprint left behind to add itself to the collection. He pulled out the small tray of roasted beef and assorted vegetables, grabbed a metal fork and sat himself near the door. Zey carefully swirled the small, lingering pockets of ice within the otherwise molten-lava hot landscape of gravy before taking a bite. Bland, but nourishing. Nothing really special.

Zeydaan lost the remainder of his appetite with the thought and poured out the rest into the trash can. He caught a glimpse at the box in the waste bin, the bold, golden letters partially stained in brown.

Complete daily serving of eleven vitamins and minerals. Eh, maybe my bite counts as one.

He continued thinking about the man outside with the trench coat and his bald head, and of his paltry lunch as he hurriedly cleaned his fork under the warm, soapy water of the sink. Zey considered taking the time to wash some of the other left-behind utensils as well, but glancing up at the clock he grimaced and decided against it. It was better to leave before any of the others would start dropping in for their proper lunch breaks. Zey used the shining reflection of the paper towel dispenser to assist in adjusting the collar of his pressed shirt back to an even presentation, and left the break room to head back to his cubicle.

*******

€64.97

Zeydaan cradled the small metal tin that housed the “dream therapy” medicine on his lap for the remainder of the drive home. Countless other “traditional” therapy sessions hadn't amounted to much in relieving his stress and anxiety, so more off the cuff techniques were investigated. His therapist had recommended taking a look at dream-based, subconscious affirmations and lucid dreaming in an attempt to circumnavigate some of the mental barriers Zey had constructed over the years. He had shot his therapist an incredulous look at mention of the techniques, but upon further thought considered it would at least be something different to try instead of regaling tales over and over again about his past. See, he was already making progress in looking at the brighter side of things, strange, dream-infusing medicine or not.

The tin described the substance's mechanism of action by activating receptors in his brain to stimulate associated sensations of a dream-like state. Inside, several dozen yellow-capped capsules were filled with a whitish powder.

“Swallow whole with water. Do not exceed recommended dosage. Please contact your physician if you experience any of the following symptoms...” What felt like an eternity later he reached the bottom of the exhaustive list with much greater reservations than he had started with.

Anything has to be better than this.

Zeydaan gulped down a pair of the pills, tucked himself into bed, and allowed the waves of sleep to quickly wash over him.

*******

Zeydaan loosened his tie, moving through the entrance of his home to go lay down in the den. Although the sight caused him no distress, his house lacked any semblance of familiarity. Furniture was plastered to the ceiling, knitted bed sheets replaced curtains over windows, and a small gathering of mice were rehearsing an Irish jig on a precarious wooden platform projecting off of the ceiling. Zey greeted them, complimented them on their improvements since the last meeting and smushed his cheek into the pillow atop the couch that unfurled like an exuberant party horn.

He gazed at his reflection in the wall-mounted mirror; it was the first time he had seen himself in a while. Zey couldn't be certain exactly how long as his clock finally mustered the courage to share its unappreciated feelings and promptly leave, taking full custody of all the batteries in the house. Zey rolled over, falling out of the couch and tumbling down the basement stairs that left him upstairs instead. Now something was beginning to feel off.

Zeydaan found himself at the foot of a large carnival tent nestled within the extravagantly stretched beams of his roof. It was complete with a lit-up banner of glowing lights encouraging not to miss the “Limited time showing of Sushi the Clown”. It was hazy and desolate here, but Zey continued forward, beckoned deeper by the exciting aura the place exuded. The inside of the tent however, only managed to disappoint Zey further, revealing an empty, dusty, husk of a performance arena with only a small entrance flap tucked away to the side near the back of the tent fastened with thick cords of golden rope. His curiosity stirred, Zey continued onward.

His fingers trailed over the soft, luxurious fabric until they were welcomed last into the tent's inner sanctums. Here he found himself within the confines of a constricting hallway, lit both from hanging lights above and glowing patches on the ground. The ground lights trailed to and fro as if a tracking spotlight were shining from somewhere deep within the Earth. At the end of the twisting hall filled with a menagerie of mirrors, streamers, left-over popcorn containers, and more was one door that was unlike all of the others; a door meant only for him.

It was covered in streamers kin to jungle vines, except colored like the supposedly-non-artificial-but-you-still-know-better-than-to-believe-what-that-no-good-salesperson-is-gobsmacking-you with saturated reds and blues of cotton candy. Zey entered this room, his room, and felt all of the lingering uncertainty built up towards this place vanish in an instant. In its place, an electrifying tingle traveled up his spine. His clock from home begrudgingly returned; time regained its meaning. These weren't moments to waste; they couldn't be allowed to slip by. Each and every moment was a chance, an opportunity without measure. That's right! Others were waiting for him right now.

He was going to be late at this rate and rushed to a large, sealed wooden box at the back of his room. Some of the boards were worn and lifting from excessive wear, but Zey couldn't bring himself to carry the prized object within anything else. He unfastened the two silver latches banded together through tough, reddened leather and inhaled the scent of mothballs and cherries. Zey smiled. His costume was as pristine and marvelous as ever.

The mixed amalgamation of bright colors and tetroid shapes delighted all of Zey's senses. Stark primary reds and blues were accented by streaks of yellow on the suit. It contained a myriad of colors to match the wide range of emotions the audience brought with them. He always had the pleasure of bringing them all together into a shining, laughing white prism of joyful feeling. Attached to the outfit was a larger frill that wrapped about his neck, and enlarged red shoes to cover his long feet. A few extra accessories here and there and he was nearly done. He brushed back a stray tuft of fur back on his head that was threatening to become a full cowlick. He could perhaps use that in his act in the future, but for now the time of the performance was upon him. With the suit on, the heaviness of the world vanished with it, instead replaced with an overflowing joy, a joy to be dispersed out to others.

Zeydaan, now Sushi the Clown rushed down the hallway, his shoes squeaking softly with every step. He heard the rumbling bellow of pounding feet, and could hear the excited whispers and chatter of the crowd. Expectant energy filled the air, and he would not disappoint this day. He rushed out to a sea of a million voices all chanting his name, the heat of the intersecting spotlights falling upon him.

“Welcome all to my wonderfully, wacky, simply splendifurous show!”

********

Zeydaan awoke, thrust abruptly back into his desaturated reality. His time of captivating excitement and intrigue were over, and now he was left with the same dull choices he always faced. What am I going to have for breakfast? Am I supposed to water the plant today? What am I going to wear to the office? He tossed aside the covers and staggered his way over to the closet. Sleepy, uncoordinated hands ran along the disheveled array of dress shirts and pants until they found an object out of place; the patch of bright color stood out in the otherwise uniform sea of grays, tans, and blacks.

His Sushi the Clown outfit was as he remembered from his dream. Touching the silken material, Zey once more experienced a surge of delight unlike anything else course through him. The booming roar of the expectant crowd rumbled in his mind until it faded back into silence once more. He considered adorning the costume, if only to revisit those pleasant feelings from the previous night again, but settled instead for stashing the shiny red nose into the front pocket of one of his other dress jackets.

*******

Every second lasted an eternity at the office. Zey's thoughts constantly wandered away from his task at hand to the point that even some of the co-workers were noticing his excessively aloof nature. No matter what he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about the dream from last night and the appearance of the clown suit in his closet the next day. Rubbing the clown nose in his pocket like a worry stone only amplified the thoughts further, and by the end of the day both his mind and his feet ached terribly although he hadn't walked any further around the office compared to a typical day.

Finally home, Zey found the source of his aches after taking off his shoes. They were swollen and elongated, the extra mass of his rounded toes having been bunched uncomfortably against the front of his shoes. Scattered tufts of white, coarse hairs covered the surface of each of them like an albino hobbit come down from the snowy mountains, replacing his otherwise gray fur. Zey was positively jubilant, hopping on one foot and then the other before stumbling back unused to his altered balance. Last night in the dream his body had been covered in white fur as well.

Maybe here and there aren't so far apart after all.

Zeydaan took a new nightly dose of the yellow pills and climbed into bed, eagerly awaiting his night adventure. He found himself once more back at the large carnival tent, a line of patrons streaming in to find their seats for the show, his show. New props including a human-sized cannon adorned the outskirts of the arena, and later as Sushi the Clown performed his wacky antics, he could think of nothing else he'd rather be doing than bringing joy to other people. To give and receive freely in what he loved, what could beat that?

*******

Zeydaan found the next morning that the strange alterations from the other day had doubled to his hands with a bleaching of the fur to a unmarred white covering the backs of them, drawn out to wisps further along his wrists. In his closet he found a pair of enlarged red shoes and gloves with his costume that would be serviceable in covering his strange developments. He headed off to the office that day and found that his mindfulness of what others thought of him had diminished.

“What are you even wearing? You look ridiculous!” one of his co-workers said with a disgusted look.

“Thank you!” Zeydaan promptly answered back with a friendly smile before continuing his task.

Zeydaan had since replaced his observations needed for The Game during his breaks with placing the red clown nose stashed away in his pocket upon his face. He found that with direct contact from the object, the line between reality and sleeping wonder ground further away until no clear distinctions could be found; only a single edge bared the truth of his simple existence in the world. In these moments, Zey experienced his body transforming further into the zany wolf shape he held during his nightly performances and drift back upon the nose's removal.

At first he fought against the sensations, but they came easily to him after repeated attempts. Zey couldn't ever remember feeling such control over his life before. His body was more than happy to dive in and fill the gaps his resistant mind had made for him. During his longer lunch break, he found himself changing more quickly than he had expected as he relished in the flow of white fur sprouting over his entire body, his own clothing beginning to appear a mix between his business outfit and his costume back at home. A knock at the lock door tumbled him away from his manifested daydream.

“Uh...occupied.” Zeydaan managed to say to the grumbled groans of his co-worker as he took the several minutes to return to his relatively unaltered state.

*******

Several more days and nights passed in similar fashion with Zey gaining more and more of his appearance and abilities from the dream world splashing over to the waking one. Each time the pair of yellow capsules vanished down the back of his throat it was like marking off another destination closer to his goal on a large, mental map. At night, the performances in his dreams became more and more grand and vivid, and waking up he'd find more and more of his outfit each day waiting for him, the white fur spread further, and even his own room and home were beginning to take on more of the properties of his changing space within the carnival tent.

The rather bland and plain interior Zey had chalked up to previous indecisiveness was now filled with curled shapes and clashing colors. Soon it was as if Zey had been thrust into the very cartoons and animations he had admired in his youth during the better times. Objects from his childhood that he thought nearly forgotten were strangely returned to him. Even the Yimmy the Moose figurine that he had stuffed himself full of exactly 84 bowls of Sugar Sweets cereal to get when he was six to get was sitting once more on his windowsill. Outside the walls of his home though, the world remained largely fixed in its single-minded course, the rat-race deceptively difficult to disturb.

To the increasing chagrin of his coworkers and supervisory staff, Zey's elaborate outfit complete with bandana, shorts, and a floppy bell hat that heralded his approach better than most trumpets violated company clothing guidelines. Zey attempted to appeal to his coworkers better sensibilities, and that meant food. Lots of food. He prepared a veritable feast for the whole office that night, and even sacrificed a visit to his legions of fans that night by sneaking to the office building and night and painting an elaborate picture of his boss, Mr. Mejano as a lounging mango on the wide of the building.

Don't worry. The paint wasn't permanent and would clean off with a few power scrubs. Zey was sensible after all.

*******

At 7:29 am he received a call from the front-desk staff requesting an “urgent meeting” to discuss “unacceptable behavior of vandalism” from the night prior. Zey detected a stifled laugh from the staff member as she relayed the details of the “fruit-based likeness of a senior staff member” which he was being accused of affirmed by reviewed security camera footage. He had done his job, and done it well.

“Ah, so they noticed.” he said with a jovial tone. “I'll be right down.”

Zeydaan packed up the contents of the feast for the staff and carefully balanced the stacked trays into the elevator and up to his floor. No one else would be there in his department for a few minutes still. He set up the food in the break room, then made his way over to his desk where a single yellow Post-It note was plastered to his computer screen with rushed, scribbled writing from his supervisor.

“To my office. Now. No delays.”

Zeydaan pranced across the hall and entered Mr. Mejano's office, where he was already seated, veins pulsing from the pressure of his interlocked fingers.

Ooh. A challenge.

Zeydaan sat seated on the far side across the wooden frame of his boss's desk, stroking an idle finger in squeaking circles against the freshly wiped, shining surface.

“I hope you understand that your actions last night have absolutely no place here. Were you thinking that the cameras were just going to magically turn off for you and we wouldn't notice anything?” he said between teeth clenched as tightly as his hands.

“I was just hoping that you would have had a better sense of humor about the whole situation is all.” Zeydaan answered without as much as looking up at the man.

“Um, excuse me? I must be getting on in my age. You did not really just say that to me.”

“I meant my actions sir. No one got caught, except maybe your pride by the looks of it. The paint's not permanent, so I'm really not sure what the big deal is here. Everyone here has been really stressed lately trying to make the recent deadlines. A little laughter goes a long way towards improving productivity too don't you know.”

“I can think of a million other ways to do that instead of defacing office property and making a mockery of me! I well believe that our discussion is over. Pack up your desk to leave by the end of the day. You're done here.”

Zeydaan packed his belongings, haphazardly tossing the little trinkets and knick-knacks that he had accumulated over his years of work at the office. Unfortunately, that was how it had been for him for so long; just another cog in the grand, operating machine. It was a shame that Mr. Mejano couldn't see that he wasn't trying to jam the machine, only wanting to show that it can be operated to similar effect with use of a different instruction manual (Spanish directions included).

*******

Zeydaan loaded up the last of his belongings into his car, noticeably lighter without the weight of all his prepared food sagging down the leather interior in the back. Most of his co-workers had appreciated the kind gesture, and even some who had never given Zey the time of day offered a simple, “The food was good.” as they passed by.

Laying on the couch that night before bed, Zey watched the stressed mice work out final kinks in their dress rehearsal. He thought long and hard about what his next steps should be now that more time had opened up to him.

I don't want to have to hide this part of who I am anymore and only have a life ruled by fear; fear of never doing enough, fear of missing out on the successes everyone else is achieving, fear of facing the bleak reality that I didn't even have a choice in the matter. If those are the options I am to be left with, then I would rather have some means of rolling the dice myself instead of letting someone else roll them for me. I'm going to find my way through this, and I'm going to do it with a smile. If I'm able to make others happy just like me, then this will surely go on to make the world better too.

*******

Zeydaan now properly adorned his costume in full at home, baring full likeness to his title of “Clown” with the elaborate makeup paired with the rest of his outfit as he planned his next steps. For the first time in his life, Zey could finally do the things that he wanted to do at his own pace. No longer was he under the boot of someone else's orders. Here he was crafting his own life, and in a way that could bring happiness to others. He began designing improvements to his outfit, being most proud of the colorful fabric extension that sleeved his tail and terminated in a large, jingling bell similar to the one on his hat. His behavior changed too; instead of focusing on business models or analytics, he enjoyed watching cartoons, playing video games, and cooking fun (if unhealthy) meals.

As Sushi the Clown, Zey discovered he could perform marvelous feats: he could speed forward at uncanny speeds, materialize objects of his choice from thin air, and achieve tremendous balance or lack thereof on command all unified for the sake of laughter in others. The sound of laughter became the ultimate medicine. To make someone laugh was to bring them a step closer to living their own dream out, and to Zey that was worth anything.

However, Zeydaan quickly discovered that silliness and fun did little to quell frustrated landowners who demanded timely rent. Zey racked his brain on a way to be able to make ends meet and settled on a wonderful idea: one that lay at the intersection of all of his needs. He would take his act from his dreams to become a real showstopper, drawing in folks from all around to share in his overwhelming joy. They'd carry memories of his shows to create more good fortune in their communities in a compounding cycle. Money wasn't important in this path. He'd get to make people happy, his landlord would be happy to have someone more consistent around, and he would be happy getting to continue doing what he loved.

He would embark on a grand tour of life: visiting new towns and cities, the road being his home more than any single building ever could. And where Sushi the Clown would travel, his reputation would grow. Without a care in the world, he would make his way forward. It would be slow to start, but he wouldn't let himself get discouraged; most great things happened slowly anyhow.

With the promise of a new life looming before him Zey bid farewell to the last vestiges of his previously known life, welcomed into his new reality through a stellar performance by the hard-working house mice. The line between dreams and reality had been thoroughly eradicated, and now all that remained for Zey was to live his life to the best of his ability. There was no need for him to return to his old schools of thought or living; indeed the opportunity had long since passed. Now what would be left to face was the uncertainty of tomorrow with the certainty of today's newfound joys.

END

Read the next part of Zeydaan's commission here: Maiden Menagerie

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Recent commission completed for . This one was an interesting challenge as it wasn't specifically a species change occurring throughout the story, but there are many elements I quite enjoy that I got to explore. Part 2 to follow shortly!

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Interested in getting a story commissioned by me? I am currently open! I'd love to get the chance to bring your ideas to life. My commission info can be found here:

K9 Lupus Commission Info

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