“Won’t you please have a seat,” the doctor said gently, as he escorted Mrs. Roberts into the exam room.
“It will certainly be nice to get off my feet.”
“Your test results came back and I’m sorry to tell you that you’re very sick.”
“There must be a mistake—is this some kind of trick?”
“It’s no mistake, Ma’am, and I’m quite serious. You have Rhyme’s Disease.”
“Good heavens, Doctor, help me please!”
“There is, as yet, no known cure for your condition, but a recent study found that Vitamin C can help in managing the symptoms; therefore, I suggest that you start each day with eating an orange.”
Mrs. Roberts didn’t know what to say.
* * * * *
The battle was imminent. Two armies faced off across a checkered field. On one side, behind a white wall of foot soldiers, warhorses pawed restlessly, siege machines stood ready on the wings, and at the center of his line a king shifted nervously in place beside his faithful, ruthless wife, along with two bishops gazing out cunningly from the corners of their eyes.
“Do you have any dreams,” one pawn asked his neighbor.
“All I want is to see that dark king fall,” he declared.
“Oh yeah, me too, me too. But I’d also like to get promoted.”
“To what, a knight?”
“No, another queen.”
His comrade advanced two steps.
* * * * *
It was Harry’s first shifter speed-dating experience. As soon as he sat down the woman asked maturely, “So what can you do?” He closed his eyes and let his body transform. His skin darkened, his chest barreled, and his muscles bulged. “Very nice,” she purred. He gestured to her with his gorilla finger. Her skin grew black fur as she licked her hand, now become a paw. But Harry checked his watch–He wasn’t interested in dating cougars.