I am bender, please insert girder.
We’ve come to set things in order.
I’m a member of the pre-WWI idle rich selflessly bringing some excitement into the lives of a middle-aged couple by a) pretending to be the local bishop’s personal secretary, b) implying that I’m secretly a scion of European nobility, c) convincing them that the bishop has started a pogrom, d) that the Boy Scouts are helping and that e) the killing is taking place on the staircase.
Nowadays, that would get me in a lot of trouble. On the other hand, I’d still be rich.
I’d be fine until it rained.
Or you fancied a drink.
I’d be seamlessly transitioning to a digital future in e-books. 
I’d be a D&D Forgotten Realms character fighting trolls and gremlins, but would have to roll for stats to see exactly how screwed I’d be. Or I’d be a Laquendi in the world of Tolkien, but possibly could wind up being sent to New York City like in the film Elf.
Great. I’m either a cat or a delicious candy bar. No, wait - the cat was named after the candy bar, so that means I’m a delicious candy bar. I am so *royally *screwed.
I’d probably prefer to be the cat. Although she had to be put to sleep earlier this year - old age - so I guess then I’d be dead.
Either way, it’s a bummer for me.
But on the plus side, you’ll really satisfy.
But the candy bar was named after a horse, so you might be OK.
Except the horse died in 1929.
Yep, you’re screwed.
No point in being a dead horse.
I’d be a “blind and dirty” wharf rat.
Now where did I leave my bur-gun-dy wine?
Going literally, I’m now in a zoo.
Going in reference to one of my online persona’s, I’m now an anthro tiger in blue and white, with big furry wings, thus I’m now in a freak show.
In either case, things would work out alright.
I have become a religious woman who carries a bowling ball with which I might or might not have killed people.
Cut for ick factor:
“We need a monster,” Sister Vigilante says, her bowling ball in her lap and her elbows propped on it. Using a knife to pry up her fingernails, wedging the knife tip under and rocking the blade side to side to pop each nail up, then pull it off, she says, “The basis of any horror story is, the building has to work against us.”
Anthropomorphically, I suppose I might be an excellent tightrope walker or something. That would be kind of cool–not what I’d choose, but better than a lot of the alternatives. Non-anthropomorphically…maybe you lot should start looking for a poster named “Heavy Feather”. 
Or you could be a statue of a tiger made out of solid silver, which would suck for you but would be lucrative for whoever found you… 
btw at the risk of derailing my own thread (although with six pages its had a good innings) thats one aspect of the furry fandom I’ve never understood, why put wings onto a very much non-winged body? Kind of ruins the aesthetics in my opinion and in the same way as adding wings to a human body they wouldn’t enable actual flight but it seems pretty popular (and that’s not even mentioning the ‘taurs’ which really are way the hell out there and probably not physically feasible in the least, though I have to admit I’ve seen at least one taur pic that was pretty well done).
No offence by the way, just interested. 
Physically feasible isn’t really the point. I suppose it appeals to whatever it is in people that makes them want to fly. But in my case, they’re blankets (I’m always cold).
Ah, thanks, I was just wondering. I find the physical feasibility thing important though because I prefer anthro-pics in a science-fiction context and as something/someone that could exist given enough advances in technology.
But that’s just me.
It would be glorious, then suck for a long time, then good again. Unless, of course, I cease to exist because I am a woman (possibly a goddess) from Welsh mythology.
I’m the real capital of Ireland!!
for the win
Not actually sure what that would make me, perhaps some little, bald creature who makes strange mumbly noises