Metamorphosis:

10:00 P.M. Dec 31, 1996.

In the middle of San Francisco, on an unassuming street, in an inconspicuous curio shop, on the top floor, lying in bed, wide awake (he hadn’t even changed into his nightshirt yet), was an impossible creature – Carface Caruthers.

While everyone else was asleep at this hour, resting their bodies for the new year ahead of them, the pit bull/bull dog mix was just sitting at the end of his bed, staring at the dark walls of his bedroom and wrapping himself up in his thoughts. Eventually, he got tired of looking at nothing so he lit a candle and flicked on his bed-side radio to try and distract himself.

“Martha’s Theme” by Murray Gold begins.

The antique device should have been an enormous clue to how old its owner was. Just like the bull dog it belonged to, it was over sixty years old, exactly the kind of radio he and his old gang would listen to on quiet nights in the Bayou. In fact, the song that was on tonight sounded kind of like the smooth jazz everyone was into in his day.

Unfortunately, this only reminded him of exactly what was keeping him up tonight - his past and it meant for him now. Or rather, what it didn’t mean. God, just thinking about all this complicated moral stuff made his head hurt. Long story short, he didn’t know where he belonged anymore.

His place in the universe used to be simple, a long time ago.

In the good old days, he knew he was just a small fish in a big pond, but he sure made the best of the life he had. On Saturday nights, the band would play their music loud - the dancers would dance, his customers would cheer and place their bets, and the otherwise hum-drum New Orleans life would be made a lot more fun for everyone.

Sometimes he missed his old haunt, like he did tonight.

Instead of running a curio shop, he used to be a proud casino owner. Dogs from all over New Orleans would flock to the pier at night to bet money and be entertained. Sure another World War was being waged just across the seas, but it hadn’t reached the US yet, and the country was just starting to recover from the Great Depression that had ravaged the nation for a decade. So all anyone cared about those days was having a good time (or in Carface’s case, making money). He shared the place with his partner/old buddy Charlie Barkin, and they made a fortune.

But unfortunately, like most businessmen, he got greedy just when he was in his prime, and that’s when he officially screwed up his life. He got his partner drunk and took him for a long walk on a short pier, so he could have the business and the profits all for himself. Not that it did him any good in the end, because not only did Charlie come back from the dead to ruin him, but he ended up sharing the same fate as the dog he betrayed. He was eaten by alligator, who had a terrible singing voice (and worst of all, he never did get his revenge on the big pile of leather).

Now you’d think that after lying, stealing, kidnapping, taking advantage of an innocent girl, and killing he would have been sent straight to hell. But no, his soul was spared because of that ridiculous ‘all dogs go to heaven’ mantra that a certain pink angel lived by. So one minute the literal jaws of death were closing in on him, and the next he was waking up in a place full of clouds, sunshine, and halo-wearing dogs. He could see why Charlie busted out of this place, it was so nice and clean it was almost sickening.

Speaking of Charlie, he was there too, along with Ms. Superior herself, Annabelle. And he was stuck with the two of them…for all eternity. Needless to say, the next sixty years were awkward and uncomfortable for everyone.

The world beneath them grew and changed – more wars were fought, new cities were built, and man walked on the moon. Soon the planet Earth was nothing like the world he and Charlie grew up in. But while mankind moved on, they stayed the same, complaints and all.

However, while Charlie spent years whining about how bored he was, he actually came up with a way to escape the world’s nicest prison. He made a deal with a guy named Red to give him the horn of Gabriel in exchange for opening a new business and starting a brand new empire on Earth.

Worst mistake of his life. Even worse than killing Charlie.

Turns out there were two meanings to the word ‘soles’ (he never cared for that book smart stuff). Another long story short, he sold his soul, went to hell, and learned the hard way to never trust a cat. And if he thought heaven was bad, those white fluffy clouds of never-ending ‘blah’ were practically paradise compared to the other side. Still, no matter how bad life was down there, he did respect his new master, if only for one thing - the big man in red had well earned his devilish reputation.

Luckily, he didn’t spend another sixty years in the afterlife. He was freed from eternal torment by yet another whippet, Belladonna, who allowed him to run free on the Earthly domain again, if he helped her cause trouble for his old partner and his sidekick, Itchy. He leapt at the chance, and pretty soon he was back in business with his old flunky Killer (now there’s an ironic name for you) again. Just like old times.

Except it wasn’t like old times. He and Killer used to be feared and reviled, and respected as the baddest gangsters in New Orleans. Now they were losers, laughingstocks, second-rate villains who were picked on by every satanic creature crawling out of the pit. One time he was even fooled by Charlie and Itchy in drag – yeah, that’s how far they fell from grace (though he hated to admit it, but Charlie would have made an attractive woman). Not to mention they were both living life on a lease, who’s end was being controlled by a psychotic maniac (he never thought he’d meet anyone nuttier than him, but this woman was crazy). But so long as he was making money and staying out of hell, he could put up with the humiliation and the life of servitude.

So when Belladonna came up with her latest and greatest plan to ruin Christmas and conquer the world, he was all for it. Until that blasted mutt Charlie and his friends got in the way, like they always did. But not in their usual way. No, they did something much worse to him than just beating him or humiliating him. They made him feel, they made him care, and they made him do something he had never done in his entire life – an act of self-sacrifice. How fitting it would happen on Alcatraz, the place of his last downfall.

His decision to set things right almost got him killed again, but apparently restored Annabelle’s faith in him, as well as all dogs like him. Though maybe…she had never really lost it in the first place, just like she hadn’t with Charlie all those years.

That one act of kindness was enough for her to step in and liberate him from the other side’s control, making him a free man again; something he hadn’t been in eons. So he fixed all the damage he caused, made amends with Charlie and his gang, and left town to go visit the mother he had been neglecting for so long.

That was six days ago. He was back in town now, sitting in his bedroom, and wondering where he was going to go next in life. He certainly wasn’t on Belladonna’s side anymore, that witch would fry him the next chance she got, and he hoped she never got one. But he certainly wasn’t on the side of Charlie and his do-gooders either. He couldn’t picture himself going around and teaching people to ‘feel the love’ with those bonehead angels.

So if he wasn’t fighting for either side, what did that make him now? Neutral territory? Switzerland? And if so, where would he go when he’d inevitably die again (him and Charlie bit the dust so many times they were like cartoon characters) Heaven? Hell? Where does a killer go when he sells his soul to the Devil but then betrays him?

Those questions had kept him up every night he had spent at his old mom’s place, and returning to San Francisco hadn’t helped him any when it came to peace of mind. Things were so much simpler when he was just a mob boss running a crooked casino.

Redemption was supposed to help make people’s lives easier…but it didn’t.

Carface was vaguely aware that the song on the radio had stopped playing (some guy he didn’t care about was droning on about the late night news now) when the bedroom door creaked open, and his friend/unpaid help stuck his head through the crack. “Mr. Carface, someone’s here to see you”, Killer announced.

“Tell them we’re closed and to beat it”, the bull dog grunted.

“Um, I think you’ll want to let this guy in. It’s Charlie sir, he’s here”, the schnoodle informed.

“What?!”, Carface exclaimed, finally showing real interest. “Well don’t just stand there, let him in!”, he ordered.

Killer nodded, and closed the door.

Carface leapt off the side of the bed, and scowled as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Why would Charlie come here? He hadn’t done anything to him…recently anyway. And why come this late at night?

The bedroom door opened again and instead of his schnoodle sidekick, a familiar German Sheppard padded in. “Carface”, he