after four rounds of jose cuervo

You pour the item over your head and it feels like sand. Loamy soil surrounds you and clouds your eyes. You find after one tense moment that you can still breathe. You move freely beneath the earth, in the safe confines of the soft silt. It is warmer than the home was, and you flourish here. Above, you can hear the potter patter of rain and the clawing, scratching of an animal above. You dig deeper. Your friends are here and you are home.

You blink and you find, almost uncomfortably, that you are actually a wolf.

... What a weird and unfleshed thought...