Mr. Scruffy, What're You Doing With Your Life?: The Beginning: Part 1

Read below and find out:

I suppose most people can’t see my wedding band underneath all the fur. Hell, if I even wear it. Why I ever wear it at all I’m not entirely sure - I changed schools for a fresh start. Yeah, you could say I have skeletons in my closet, but that might be offensive to some students. Working at a high school for teenage monsters sure is something else. I thought human teenagers were monsters. No, no I love my job. And my wife. For the past few weeks, Mr. Scruffy’s inner monologue has stayed this chaotic. He’s had a lot to take in over the past month: getting bit by a werewolf, learning werewolves actually do exist, becoming a werewolf, and his wife saying she feels trapped in their marriage. Usually a month like that would make a man’s hair fall out, but on account of the whole werewolf thing he’s got the opposite problem. The first week he could dismiss it; say it was genetic. But once the tail started to poke through the back of his chinos, he knew he had to put in his letter of resignation. He had no job, was sleeping on his brother’s couch, and had to wear nearly every article of clothing he owned in the middle of August just to cover all the fur. Nothing was going for him. He’d spend his days at the park, shoeing away dogs trying to sniff his ass. One day, while waving off an overly pushy shar pei mix, a mysterious stranger joined him on his usual bench. The stranger didn’t say much at all. His collar propped up, covering most of his face. A pair of aviator sunglasses finished the job.
Can I help you?
Nothing.
The two sat in silence.
A weird energy came off of the stranger - it was enough to make it the last Mr. Scruffy would see of the shar pei mix that day. Painfully slowly, the stranger handed Mr. Scruffy a business card as he got up and walked away all in one fluid but eerily creeping motion. “Mary Shelley High” it said on the front. The back had the address: “16 Academy Way”. Mr. Scruffy recognized that address, it’s the address of his old school. That can’t be right because his old school wasn’t Mary Shelley High. “Come by at sundown”? That’s a shady thing to write on a business card. Quickly unburying his now-more-snout-like nose from the card to vocalize that thought, Mr. Scruffy realized he was gone. Another nut handing out trash at the park. Just what this town needs. At least this one wasn’t trying to convert me to something. Doo-da-doo-da-doot-doot! Do-da-doo-da-doot-doot!
It was his brother on the other line. Scruffy could tell he was just being nice when his brother led with “it’s been nice having you stay with us”, but I suppose staying out of the house so they could have the evening “as a family” was a small favor to ask. Besides, it was a Friday night. A newly single man should want to be out on the town. So that’s what Mr. Scruffy did.
He propped up his collar and began his stroll.
It's a nice night I suppose.