So, I'm trying to get the nerve up to ask this butterfly out on a date, even though she's probably too young for me and due for another metamorphosis or two. I'm feeling fairly human, only a modest touch of equine jitters--when I get nervous I tend to turn into a horse.

But the minute I admit I like her, a brutal old ghost behind me clamps its bear-clawed hand on my head! And the worst part is, the monster shows evidence of feathers! It may be wings, my own shamanic wings--powers I've disowned, frustrated to the point they'll sabotage all the goals and girls on earth.

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