December 2001. One day before Full Moon.

Hilton is enjoying lobster pie, except for the garlic, more appropriate to Shrimp Scampi. He spots a fellow Libertarian Nationalist, Garrett Valdison coming in the door and waves him over. They met a few months ago, and their conversations have centered around how Hilton might be able to help with Garrett’s grandiose plan to save the world from impending globalist oppression. 

“Garrett, if a friend of yours had a trained grizzly bear who could do complex assignments just like a human, would you welcome this as helpful to your cause?” 

“Hell yes! We could get rid of a great many enemies, especially if we could conceal it. Do you know someone like this?” 

“Yes. Do you remember the DNA fusion experiments I told you about?” 

“A while back, but yes, more or less.” 

“Well, I’ve succeeded. Once a month from here on, I will become half bear for the twenty-four hours surrounding the Full Moon, twelve waxing, twelve waning. I’ve only done it twice, first in November, then December came in right on schedule” 

Garrett gives him an indulgent smile, 

“Either you’ve been smoking some very good boo, or you accidently put some LSD into your Gentries solution.” 

“Garrett, I shit you not. You are talking to what is possibly the first werebear in history, and I can control my behavior completely, total human consciousness both times. 

A big ugly construction worker sitting at the bar has overheard a thread or two. He says to the barmaid loudly,

“In high school there was a guy who turned into a faggot on nights of the full moon. We called him the ‘Were Queer’. He got expelled because he bit off the math teacher’s dick in study hall.” He winks at the barmaid. When she smirks, he roars. 

Hilton chuckles, but looks a little annoyed, and then concerned, about the lack of privacy. Garrett says, 

“Hilton, I always keep an open mind. Next time you do this, get a photo, and Email it to me immediately, then we can talk further. 

“I anticipated your reaction” says Hilton and is about to show Garrett the eight pictures he took mostly in the bedroom mirror with his camera phone, but finds that he left the camera at home. He explains this, 

Garrett just says, “Ayuh, well just send them along” snickering into his tea cup.

January 2002. Full Moon Night.
Salem Willows, Massachusetts
Garrett and Britt Linstrum are cuddled together by the fire. Hilton pays them a visit as the Werebear. Now Garrett believes him. The two men discuss the utility of this situation:

“Do you know what this means? Garrett exclaims.

“Plenty” says Hilton, thinking that for every venture Garrett gets him, he’ll do five undisclosed ones of his own. He knows enough of life to realize that one should never place the burden of trust upon even the best of people one bit more than is absolutely necessary.