18-year-old wolf. You have gray fur with black hair on your head in a long, shaggy mop-top style. You have emerald green eyes and are fairly skinny. As you look at your reflection, you realize you look a bit out of it..
"That's what you get when police sirens keep you up half the night, I guess," You say to yourself.
You let out a big yawn and head to the bathroom, where you take a quick shower and brush your teeth. As you brush you watch the usual bristles fall from the toothbrush. That happens often, seeing as how your toothbrush isn't designed for fangs as sharp as yours. After you spit your toothpaste out you go into your bedroom to pick out some clothes. You decide on a pair of denim jeans, a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, and a pair of Vans Off the Wall shoes.
As you walk downstairs to grab some breakfast, you hear a ringing; your phone. You look at the caller ID and see that it's your friend, Chase.
"Hey, man, what's up?" you greet him as you pick up the receiver.
You've known chase for pretty much as long as you can remember. He's an average sized human with long, brown hair that comes down to his shoulders. He's practically obsessed with the Ramones, owning all of their albums and watching nearly every concert by them that was ever taped. But, of course, the Ramones aren't all he listens to.
"Not a lot," he replies, "I'm bored out of my mind actually, wanna do something? You're off work today, right?"
"Yeah, I'm off," You reply, "But, do what? There's nothing to do here, and I don't trust that piece of crap in my driveway to get us five blocks."
"You've got a point," Chase says. It was no wonder you two are friends, you're almost in the exact same situation. Chase lives just down the road from you, in the same neighborhood. He has, for all intents and purposes, the same living conditions as you. He, however, has a job a little more enjoyable than you. He works weekends at Baskin Robbin's. Not the most exciting job ever, but it does the job.
Then the idea donned on you...
"Chase, you still play the drums, right?"
"Of course, why?"
"Dude, let's start a band!"
Chase was a very good drummer, but he'd never considered being a part of a band.
"A band? Here? Did you fall down the stairs and hit your head or something?" he asked.
"Chase, I'm serious. I think Johnny still plays guitar, we could get him to play bass," you say. Johnny was another one of your friends, also human. He had sandy blond hair that parted in the middle, and was very shy to anyone he didn't know well.
"And what about a singer? We can't sing,"
"Oh, I've got that covered. Just get a hold of Johnny, and I'll get our singer."
"Whatever."
After you hang up with Chase, you head straight for your phone book. You plan on calling Even. Even is a light brown fox, about a year younger than you. You'd only talked with him on a few occasions, but you'd heard him sing at many talent shows when he was in school, and he was amazing.
After a few rings, you hear Even's voice answer.
"Hello?" he says through the receiver.
"Hey. Even?" you ask.
"Yeah, who's this?" he asks.
"It's [your name]."
"How'd you get my number?"
"Found it in the book. Listen, would you like to join my band?"
"A band? I can't play any instrument."
"No, but you can sing. So, what do you say?"
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