The werewolf had no idea where to find a perfect. Even his most fervent sniffing could not locate anything other than garbage.
"I get the feeling you aren't really looking," I said after stopping at the fifth dumpster in two blocks. He pulled his head out, mouth full of half-eaten unidentifiables, and I resisted the urge to gag.
"Of course I am," he said while swallowing.
"Not very well," someone behind me said.
"See? He agrees with me." I turned around and found no one there. I looked up. "Why are you flying?"
"No reason. How are you doing, Loopy? It's been awhile."
"Shut up, spite," Loopy growled.
"Temper, temper. How is little Jimmy here supposed to kill me and earn his stripes if you jump the gun?" Spite grinned.
"My name is Justin," I said.
"And now you're my hostage." He dropped down and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. "Your move, Loopy."
Now I'm gonna die, I thought. I figured the puppy wasn't gonna be able to do much when I was blocking most of Spite's body form him. Then, I was behind Loopy instead. And now I'm free.
"Please try to avoid being captured in the future." He turned over his shoulder and smiled, exposing his fangs. "Now you have to kill him, so just stand still."
"How will that help?" I asked before being flung into Spite at high speeds by Loopy. Spite's head turned with a sickening crack, and then it was done.
"Well that was anitclimactic." My arm had been scraped against the road during the throw, and leaked onto my shirt.
"You're telling me. You're supposed to shift there. Maybe you did it wrong."
"I didn't do anything! You threw me at him. How did you free me anyway?"
"It's a secret." He tapped his temple.
"Oh, yeah. Fine. You know what, I don't even care."
"Whatever. Go home. You probably weren't supposed to find the black book anyway."
He walked back into the alley, exiting out the opposite side.
At some point during my two block walk back to the original alley where my stuff remained, Loopy had taken the black book. And the remaining granola bars from my backpack. "Amazing," I mumbled to myself.
"We have to stay in Seattle a while longer. Your dad's conference got cancelled today, so they have to reschedule all of the other conferences, and move the locations for some reason. You know how they can get sometimes."
"Don't forget there's lasagna in the fridge."
"Okay, mom." I tapped my fingers on the counter.
"Okay. Mom. Stop."
"Bye." The phone clicked lightly on contact with the reciever. Before moving away, I inspected the bandage I had fastened onto my forearm. It appeared that the red spot had stopped spreading. That was fast, I mused.
The silence of the house became overwhelming with the new knowledge that my parents were going to be hundreds of miles away for a couple more days than originally thought. Thankfully, the floors were creaky and provided and illusion of others walking around in different parts of the house.
The kitchen, designed completely against the wishes of the builders, probably did not fit building code. Every section of the house had a floor plan that looked like it had been drawn by a drunken gorilla, but the kitchen took that to another level. The oven sat precariouly in the wall between the kitchen and the living room, the back poking out just above the couch on the other side, and the refridgerator gazing at it lustfully from across the room. A shapeless center island kept the two from getting too close, but the center island had its own love life with the stove top, which resided on its head, sleeping happily underneath incandesant hanging lights with no covers. I liked to think of the lights as lazy spiders, hanging from the ceiling and hoping something will get caught on the thread, but lacking the the proper work ethic to build a proper web. Perhaps they were more like silk worms.
Mom's lasagna may have existed at one point, but if it ever had, it no longer did. I had the option of an orange or cereal for dinner. The cereal was easier to find, the only hint of an existing orange being a faint smell wafting out of a drawer that appeared full of lettuce.
At some point in my life, it would become obvious to me that milk should not be shoved all the way to the back of the fridge, especially when it is the most commonly removed object in said fridge. For now, I reached back behind the mayonnaise, pickle relish, and unidentified salad dressing that may or may not have been years past its expiration date, and maneuvered the milk out through the varitable maze of fragile objects, just to see if I still could. The cereal cracked and hissed angrily, slowly dissolving into the milk. I picked up my bowl, wanting to move over to the actual table to eat instead of sitting at the counter "like a common bar hopper" as my mother would put it.
This simple action proved to be to much for me, as I dropped the bowl on the floor only moments after picking it up. I cursed loudly as my vision became cloudy. My knees wobbled, and I could just make out the phone, a couple feet away. An ambulance would never come though, as I puked and fell over, hitting my head on the counter and knocking myself out.
Some may take longer to actually absorb the energy from the perfects for the first time. As many as six days have been known to pass, and as few as a couple moments, but typically it will only take a few hours. It is important that one be supervised while the energy is absorbed, as it could prove fatal without magical assistance. Should you survive, you will be rather surprised when the process is finished.