Guests of Honour: Finnigan & Keovi!


Perpetual darkness. An ever-present gloominess. There are few who would call the streets of Detroit home, but some don't have a choice. What was that? A rattle and then a crash, as a trash bin falls over. A young wolf emerges from the gloom. Her fur is mangy, her eyes sunken. Her nose has picked up the scent of salmon sashimi, and she rummages through the day's waste behind a dirty Japanese restaurant. She finds a small morsel of the heavenly treat, and it is gone in the blink of an eye, her stomach grumbling, barely appeased.

A torn poster on the side of the restaurant catches her eye. It is an advertisement for a film, currently playing at the local multiplex. The wolf has no money, but still she yearns to rest, to lose herself in a story, even if just for a moment. She trudges through the dark alleys until the multiplex's fire exit door is in sight. Using a rusty butterknife to jimmy the lock, she carefully presses her nose into the darkness beyond.

The cool, dry air from inside startles her — air conditioned, of course. The public demands nothing less, even in this part of town. Carried on the air is the unmistakable scent of stale popcorn, and she licks her jowels, anticipating a smorgasbord of forgotten food. She eases the door open carefully, wincing as it creaks, but nobody seems to notice. She steps inside, letting the door close carefully behind her, and lightly pads down a darkened hallway into an empty theatre.

How glorious... her eyes can hardly believe it. Amongst the torn, dirty seats, a thousand meals of forgotten popcorn, nacho chips, and half-finished soda awaits. For the next few moments the wolf is gone, replaced with a pack of ravenous raccoons, tearing, biting, swallowing, with hardly a moment to chew. Finally, panting heavily, the tired wolf settles in to a worn theatre seat, satiated, unable to move.

Suddenly she is jostled awake as a loud fanfare plays. Her ears and eyes scan the room but she is alone — the next film has started, the theatre apparently uncaring that there are no customers. As her eyes find the screen and the opening notes of the film begin, and animated lions dance, Finnigan settles deeper into the seat and wonders if she, too, somehow, is part of the Circle of Life.

Keovi has also seen the Lion King. She was sufficiently moved by the moving parts, and entertained by the entertaining parts, and learned all the lessons. 

Keovi does not eat stale popcorn.*

* EDITORS NOTE: This bio in no way knowingly reflects the character, personality, or the current status of Keovi's association with the film The Lion King. We cannot be 100% on the stale popcorn either, but we're a solid... let's say... 67% since stale popcorn is gross.

This bio will be complete very soon and is in no way reflective of anything other than the organized chaos of Camp Feral!