Jonjonpetam was sick and tired of wandering around watching other people from beneath his fedora and getting stared at for his fedora and trench coat outfit. He was also sick of all the women trying to get freindly anf uzzy with him because of his strong build.  That was why he was finally sneaking into a bar and grille night club that was open late. Inside, cigeratte smoke floated through the air, stinging and numbing Jonjon's sensative nose and making his eyes change from olive green to a deeper emarald. He hastily stuck a pair of black sunglasses on his face, produced from his pocket, to conceal his sudden and noticble eye change. None of the humans sitting about nibbling at pizza or curely dries noticed him, aparently too enwrapped in their acholic beverages, dates, and the stage to notice as he quietly grabbed a bear from the bar and then an empty seat near the stage. As the jazz banad finished up their slow number, he rollde his eyes and sighed, brushing his fingers through short blond, crew-cut hair.

        Gods how all he wanted to do was go home (his real home), strip out of this stupid disguise and enjoy a nice hour of his own native music. Maybe stick his own planet's version of an iPod in his pocket and streatch his wings, whip his tail about. But he had been put under strict orders to pretend to be a human and study their culture and personalities. If they came into approval of his leaders, then Earth would be over looked in their galaxy-conquering conquest. But if they were in disapproval, he and every other Quert in the Kobiean Army would fall on this planet's ass so fast, the humans would be running in panic even as their independence of an alien goverment was confiscated and they would be placed under Kobean rule. It wasn't as if the humans would be placed in chains, or Jonjonpetam was suffering the humans, he just didn't like having his wings and tail wrapped so damn tightly to his body, or having to pretend to be something he wasn't. Jonjonpetam had been such a strong Quert, in fact, that no suite could be designed to properly hide his tail or wings, and thus he had been assigned to blend among the humans in the cold winter months, so painfully unlike his warm home, and wear a ground-length coat garment all the time, with his tail and wings folded up close to him.

        Jonjon was broken from his thoughts when a couple of men dove at each other in an all-out brawl. Jonjon watched, trembling in frustration, as the fight was broken up and the two men were thrown outside. If Jonjon had not been undercover, he could have used one pawed foot to kick both men out of the bar so fast-

           But he couldn't, so why bother thinking about it? Pfft, serves humans right, being so obnoxious and dumb.

           A rock band had been set up on stag now, their drums declaring them as the Blourville Bats, all of them young and dressed in all black and dark colors.

"This is 'We Know What We Are'," the leader, a human kid in his late teens (seventeen?), with spiked black hair, ripped tee shirt, and baggy black jeans with chains wrapped around his lower arms, said into the microphone. "And this is to make it obvious to people who complain about the violence everywhere that we get the damn idea already, and they should just deal with it."

    Cheers and whoops of approval followed him as the lights dimmed and one of the guitars began to strum, followed closely by a drum. Jonjon stopped in his wallowing of self pity to listen. Humans may not be too good at too much, but at least some of their music closely resembled his favorite sort.

 "The wooorld is cold

The wooorld is cruel,

The wooorld's nothing but a fool," the seventeen year old began slowly and quietly.

"There's neeever gonna be any change,

because eeeveryone's, too deranged,

But if thaat is true,

Then I have some iiiinformation for yoooouuuu..."

               At the last line, the singer's soft, almost sad voice took on an angry, defiant tone as he glared out at the crowd, or something beyond. Suddenly, the bass, drums, and another guitar jumped into the song. The volum blasted up into a spectacular beat of it all tossed together in a wonderful collison of noise.

"Deal with it!" everyone shouted.

"We get the idea already!" the singer declared soloy.

"Deal with it!"

"We know we're never gonna change,"

"Deal with it!"

"We know there's always gonna be blood,

gonna be guts,

gonna be pain

and people are gonna be maimed," the singer declared. Everytime he had declared a "gonna be" the music has stopped abruptly together, then continued a note or two to the next "gonna be", then continued with the singer.

"So sense things are nevergonnachange,

I suggest you stop looking deranged

and deal with it,

Because we know what we arrrre!"

        Jonjonpertum looked around at all the people whom had suddenly been revitalized by the music and were on their feet on the floor in front of the stage, jumping to the beat, shaking their fists in the air, and whoop and cheering the band on. Apparently, the band was a famous regular. Looking at the humans, Jonjon realized that the humans were eating up every word of the band, as if the words were the skin and soul of what they believed inside. As if it were true, as if they did know that they were a violent race of fools who could do better if they willed it, as if they did know that they were not the strongest creatures in their existance. But could such a thing be possible for the pride-filled, violent, selfish humans? Looking at all the people, feeling the bass vibrate his wings and make his beer glass jump on the table, Jonjon couldn't help but think that, yes, yes there WAS a chanse of humans seeing themselves the way they were. Maybe... Maybe...

Maybe all they needed was a little help?

"So what if we can never stop?

So what if we can never understand?

Because at least we'll know that we have some sort of goal in life:

To survive

to breath

to see

to learn

to fight,

because this fire in side will never tire

as long as we fight

through the niiiiight!

So shut up,

because we know what we arrrre!!!"

People cheered and screamed for an encore as the lights went out, then the band began again on a new song, but Jonjon had already left, slapping his money on the counter and running out of the store. He had soon caught a taxi over to the park. Getting into the center of the tree-filled greenery in the center of the street, his breath appearing in large puffos of white mist in the snow-cold air, he shed his hat and coat. Immiedetly, a pair of large blue-green feathered wings unfurled themselves from his back and his long, green-furred tail snapped out, whipping and snapping at the snow with the pink frill at the end of it. Grinning, Jonjon looked around, then leaped up into the air, flapping his wings as he flew into the dark sky. His muscles sighed in happy joy as they finally felt the cold air brush against them and beat agains the breezless night.

If humans could see themselves the way they are and not be bothered about it....

Why can't he?