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The Reader's Eye on Television

After a quick check of Internet fares and a phone call, I was on the redeye to Milwaukee. Seventy miles by bus from Milwaukee to the city of Fon du Lac, a greedy jailer with an open palm, and a bite on my left forearm from an inmate, and my process of transformation had begun. You see, on the day leading up to my flight, a news broadcast announced that Wisconsin authorities had captured a man claiming to be a werewolf. The first person ever to admit to being a lupine creature, a child of the moon. Until now, I believe the police covered up any evidence of werewolf activity, but this story had been leaked to CNN.

It was a long couple of days of travel and the bandaged wound on my arm itches. I'm in that purgatory state of exhaustion and excitement. I can feel the changes happening inside me. I'm guessing that my guts are restructuring to form the necessary hybrid organs that will make me a full-moon beast. A naysayer may quip that it's a weekend of airport pizza, coffee, and tobacco tumbling around my intestines, but I know the truth.

This morning I woke to see that a three-inch hair had sprouted from my left ear. Since I turned 30, this has happened on occasion, but I suspect this isn't merely the odd process of aging hair growth; this is the real thing.

I've also had an uncontrollable urge to snuffle at the floor around my refrigerator. There are berries and cottage cheese inside that I find repulsive now, but the mouse trails skirting the icebox I find fascinating, and I need to smell them. A mouse may be my first prey if this damn full moon would hurry up.

It may be a bit premature, but I've been stalking my neighborhood and marking my territory at night. I want to deter any other werewolves from entering my domain. I'm not sure how much turf I'm allowed or if there's a pack of other wolves in this area, but I know my jurisdiction will at least include my apartment. So from my bathtub to kitchen tile, I'm covered, if you know what I mean.

My TV will go in the trash this afternoon. Now that I'm experiencing my werewolf transformation first-hand, I can see that the news is propaganda. They won't report that an actual werewolf lives here in North Park until I'm found naked in someone's front yard fighting over a chew toy with the family poodle. They'll blame the incident on drugs or mental problems, but you and I will know the real story.

Thursday, March 22 This is Your Day CW 6:00 a.m. I've started most mornings this week with a coffee and whiskey. I had staved it off for a while, but the compulsion is back -- the emptiness in my stomach that compels me to chew at the top of a bottle when I wake up and to stop only when I'm unconscious. In a gazebo. Beneath a sink. In the back seat of an unfamiliar car. Good morning, special guy. You're made of stardust.

Landscapers' Challenge HGTV 9:30 p.m. My friend Chris has come down here on vacation. He's from my tiny town in the hills, and I told him he should have come to visit last week when his life finally got to him and he called me and said, "I'm going to get two cases of beer and install a urinal at my front gate so I can burn my house down, stand here and get drunk, and watch it without having to take a break." I admire someone who's precise in what he wants, but I thought some time away might do him some good and offer perspective.

Friday, March 23 Reba Lifetime 8:00 p.m. How do you shuffle your feet through a lifetime of this? Strap on thick leather boots before the sun comes up. Come home to an empty apartment. Water your senses down until they're dull and settle. It may not be good. It's neither entertaining nor funny. But it's what you do until you put your boots on again.

Saturday, March 24 Sharp Health Care Special CBS 8:00 p.m. There is a bruise on my left thigh. If I push in on it, I can feel a nodule of metal. I've been dreaming when it happens, but I swear that twice, in the middle of the night, it's flashed bright red like there's a homing beacon buried in there. I'm ruling out aliens; I don't believe in them. The CIA? Maybe. I'll dig the device out with a steak knife and report what I've found.

Coyote Ugly ABC 9:00 p.m. Carving up your own leg with old silverware is easier said than done. Oh, ho ho. I've made two ragged cuts around the bruise in my thigh and had to stop because of the blue lightning pain behind my eyelids. I'm not sure what I'll do, but this blood seeping to my knee has to be stopped first.

Sunday, March 25 Desperate Housewives ABC 9:00 p.m. I've duct-taped a paper towel to my leg. I've decided, while daubing alcohol on the wound, that I can't do this myself. I'll wear shorts and drive to El Cajon Boulevard with my knife to ask a hooker to cut the blinking device out for me.

Monday, March 26 Law & Order: Special Victims Unit USA 8:00 p.m. That didn't work. The two hookers that got into the truck jumped out when I showed them my bloody bandage and I revealed my knife. I'm guessing that if I find a hooker who doesn't freak out when a knife is pulled that I'm the one who should get out of the truck. She probably has far worse plans in mind for me.

Tuesday, March 27 The Fast and the Furious USA 10:00 p.m. I will leave the electronic light thing in my leg for now. I have no choice. My options are exhausted. I've taped some tin foil to it, and I hope that it will block any signal being sent from my leg. To whoever is receiving that signal? Until I figure out a way to dig it out, I'll sleep with my shoes on for quick escape and line my windowsill with broken glass as a deterrent to entry. Maybe I should I get a baseball bat or a gun. Stay tuned.

Wednesday, March 28 When Strangers Appear Lifetime 9:00 p.m. I've been trying to get kidnapped for years. I've walked alone down deserted streets. Stood by myself on school playgrounds wearing my Catholic schoolgirl skirt. I even made a sign that read, "No need for candy. Have own handcuffs too!" but nothing came of it. I should stop. Now that I'm "of a certain age," it might be kind of weird.

Thursday, March 29 Bring It On: All or Nothing Family 8:00 p.m. There was a guy, Mark Ferreira, in my high school who became a cheerleader. Man, you can't be a male cheerleader in a mountain town of 4000 people. I was suspended three days when it was found out that I was the one who launched the apple into his forehead while he was holding Megan Crutcher overhead at a spirit rally. Megan needed a splint, and Mark quit the squad when we lit his cheerleading suit on fire. Sure, they were extreme measures, but the man's dignity was at stake. We did the right thing.

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After a quick check of Internet fares and a phone call, I was on the redeye to Milwaukee. Seventy miles by bus from Milwaukee to the city of Fon du Lac, a greedy jailer with an open palm, and a bite on my left forearm from an inmate, and my process of transformation had begun. You see, on the day leading up to my flight, a news broadcast announced that Wisconsin authorities had captured a man claiming to be a werewolf. The first person ever to admit to being a lupine creature, a child of the moon. Until now, I believe the police covered up any evidence of werewolf activity, but this story had been leaked to CNN.

It was a long couple of days of travel and the bandaged wound on my arm itches. I'm in that purgatory state of exhaustion and excitement. I can feel the changes happening inside me. I'm guessing that my guts are restructuring to form the necessary hybrid organs that will make me a full-moon beast. A naysayer may quip that it's a weekend of airport pizza, coffee, and tobacco tumbling around my intestines, but I know the truth.

This morning I woke to see that a three-inch hair had sprouted from my left ear. Since I turned 30, this has happened on occasion, but I suspect this isn't merely the odd process of aging hair growth; this is the real thing.

I've also had an uncontrollable urge to snuffle at the floor around my refrigerator. There are berries and cottage cheese inside that I find repulsive now, but the mouse trails skirting the icebox I find fascinating, and I need to smell them. A mouse may be my first prey if this damn full moon would hurry up.

It may be a bit premature, but I've been stalking my neighborhood and marking my territory at night. I want to deter any other werewolves from entering my domain. I'm not sure how much turf I'm allowed or if there's a pack of other wolves in this area, but I know my jurisdiction will at least include my apartment. So from my bathtub to kitchen tile, I'm covered, if you know what I mean.

My TV will go in the trash this afternoon. Now that I'm experiencing my werewolf transformation first-hand, I can see that the news is propaganda. They won't report that an actual werewolf lives here in North Park until I'm found naked in someone's front yard fighting over a chew toy with the family poodle. They'll blame the incident on drugs or mental problems, but you and I will know the real story.

Thursday, March 22 This is Your Day CW 6:00 a.m. I've started most mornings this week with a coffee and whiskey. I had staved it off for a while, but the compulsion is back -- the emptiness in my stomach that compels me to chew at the top of a bottle when I wake up and to stop only when I'm unconscious. In a gazebo. Beneath a sink. In the back seat of an unfamiliar car. Good morning, special guy. You're made of stardust.

Landscapers' Challenge HGTV 9:30 p.m. My friend Chris has come down here on vacation. He's from my tiny town in the hills, and I told him he should have come to visit last week when his life finally got to him and he called me and said, "I'm going to get two cases of beer and install a urinal at my front gate so I can burn my house down, stand here and get drunk, and watch it without having to take a break." I admire someone who's precise in what he wants, but I thought some time away might do him some good and offer perspective.

Friday, March 23 Reba Lifetime 8:00 p.m. How do you shuffle your feet through a lifetime of this? Strap on thick leather boots before the sun comes up. Come home to an empty apartment. Water your senses down until they're dull and settle. It may not be good. It's neither entertaining nor funny. But it's what you do until you put your boots on again.

Saturday, March 24 Sharp Health Care Special CBS 8:00 p.m. There is a bruise on my left thigh. If I push in on it, I can feel a nodule of metal. I've been dreaming when it happens, but I swear that twice, in the middle of the night, it's flashed bright red like there's a homing beacon buried in there. I'm ruling out aliens; I don't believe in them. The CIA? Maybe. I'll dig the device out with a steak knife and report what I've found.

Coyote Ugly ABC 9:00 p.m. Carving up your own leg with old silverware is easier said than done. Oh, ho ho. I've made two ragged cuts around the bruise in my thigh and had to stop because of the blue lightning pain behind my eyelids. I'm not sure what I'll do, but this blood seeping to my knee has to be stopped first.

Sunday, March 25 Desperate Housewives ABC 9:00 p.m. I've duct-taped a paper towel to my leg. I've decided, while daubing alcohol on the wound, that I can't do this myself. I'll wear shorts and drive to El Cajon Boulevard with my knife to ask a hooker to cut the blinking device out for me.

Monday, March 26 Law & Order: Special Victims Unit USA 8:00 p.m. That didn't work. The two hookers that got into the truck jumped out when I showed them my bloody bandage and I revealed my knife. I'm guessing that if I find a hooker who doesn't freak out when a knife is pulled that I'm the one who should get out of the truck. She probably has far worse plans in mind for me.

Tuesday, March 27 The Fast and the Furious USA 10:00 p.m. I will leave the electronic light thing in my leg for now. I have no choice. My options are exhausted. I've taped some tin foil to it, and I hope that it will block any signal being sent from my leg. To whoever is receiving that signal? Until I figure out a way to dig it out, I'll sleep with my shoes on for quick escape and line my windowsill with broken glass as a deterrent to entry. Maybe I should I get a baseball bat or a gun. Stay tuned.

Wednesday, March 28 When Strangers Appear Lifetime 9:00 p.m. I've been trying to get kidnapped for years. I've walked alone down deserted streets. Stood by myself on school playgrounds wearing my Catholic schoolgirl skirt. I even made a sign that read, "No need for candy. Have own handcuffs too!" but nothing came of it. I should stop. Now that I'm "of a certain age," it might be kind of weird.

Thursday, March 29 Bring It On: All or Nothing Family 8:00 p.m. There was a guy, Mark Ferreira, in my high school who became a cheerleader. Man, you can't be a male cheerleader in a mountain town of 4000 people. I was suspended three days when it was found out that I was the one who launched the apple into his forehead while he was holding Megan Crutcher overhead at a spirit rally. Megan needed a splint, and Mark quit the squad when we lit his cheerleading suit on fire. Sure, they were extreme measures, but the man's dignity was at stake. We did the right thing.

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