Reader Profile: Jonathan Trimble

Here at Sealion News, we take the time to acknowledge our regular readers.  And thanks to a deal with the NSA, Sealion News is  able to learn a great deal about who reads our site, and helps to make it a success.  Today, we would like to honour Jonathan Trimble of Fulton, NY, USA with being the focus of our first Reader Profile.

At first glances, Jonathan Trimble is an imposing figure.  At six feet four inches, he is certainly amongst the tallest of our readership, and as he weighs 350 pounds with only five percent body fat, crowds part to make way for him, and his extensively tattooed arms.  But appearances are often deceiving.  Jonathan is an accountant by trade, working accounts for various retirement homes and hospices, where he also volunteers with his wife Leann (39), and two children Becky (13), and Todd (15).

Jonathan (40), was married to Leann on February 10th, 1996 at St Patrick’s Church in Chanute, Kansas, Leann’s home town.  The wedding was attended by close friends and family and was by all reports a beautiful ceremony.

But behind this seemingly perfect life, or perhaps a primary cause of it, Jonathan has a dark secret, one that few alive know about.  Jonathan is a were-beast, and for the three nights bracketing the full moon, he is transformed and desires to roam the country surrounding his home seeking prey.

Unfortunately, not only is Jonathan a were-beast, but the beast he transforms into is a less than imposing miniature dachshund.

It was the night of July 9th, 1979.  A six year old Jonathan was camping in the backyard of his family’s home.  Howls of some unknown creatures filled the night air, but this was the suburbs, surely, there was no cause for actual concern.  But cause there was as a black and tan wiener dog climbed through a hole in the fence and stalked to young Jonathan’s tent.

Hearing a snuffling sound, Jonathan, you know what, I’m calling him Johnny from now.  It’s easier.  Hearing a snuffling sound at the tent door, young Johnny cautiously looked out, but then welcomed the wiener dog into the tent.  Johnny played with the dog for some time, but suddenly, the dog snapped and bit young Johnny’s hand.

Obviously, this bite did absolutely nothing.  Try as it might, the little wiener dog could not pierce Johnny’s normal skin to infect him with Lycanthropy.  Such would be the end of the tale, normally.  Like the dozens of full moon nights prior that the wiener dog had attempted to infect others, only to be unable to pierce their skin.

But fortune was not on Johnny’s side that night.  Young Johnny had a scrape on his knee from falling while playing earlier that day.  His mother had put a band-aid on it, but like all boys, he had removed it so as to be able to look at/poke the wound.  And so it was that the Were-dog that night licked Johnny’s wound, infecting him, and cursing him to a lifetime of Were-Miniature Dachshund-ism.

Sealion News would like to say, Jonathan Trimble, we appreciate your loyalty.

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