“The holidays are upon us.” I hear that a lot. It has an ominous sound to it, actually. Sounds a bit like an isolated outpost in my fantasy world, Ontyre, that’s beset by a werewolf pack. Then again, if you’ve had the ill fortune to venture into a store this time of year the saying is perhaps more apt than at first glance. Deadly glares. Tendons in the neck bulging. Fangs bared. Hands clenched into fists.
That was what I saw recently while trying to make my way down the baking goods aisle. Yikes! A woman was blocking one half of the aisle with her shopping cart and obstructing the other half with her body—and all the while looking straight at me as if daring me to try and move her.
Okay. I’m a coward. I fled.
Clearly, she was one of those. Pushed to her limit, she’d gone holiday feral.
At least, being a writer, I was able to escape with my imagination intact. If ever I write Werewolf in the Bakery she’ll have the lead werewolf role.
I also escaped with my gratitude still tightly in my grasp. Yes, I have a lot to be grateful for this year…
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