What a way to find out that curses were real. You expect a gnarled old lady hunched over, covered in scarves, harboring a thick accent of some kind. The reality was far less glamorous: as they'd stumbled out of the bar swaying and giggling, they hadn't noticed the crosswalk was red and nearly got hit by a passing car. An obese woman in a tank top leaned out the window, yelled something incomprehensible, and sped off. After a moment of wondering what her problem was, they laughed it off and kept lurching their way toward the next bar.
They never arrived. Burning up, the two tore off their tops and soon discovered some new assets that weren't there before, then gasped in disbelief as they saw each others' faces. Transformation has a way of sobering one up, but it's no less humiliating...they weren't even sure where to go. No chance of finding the woman who'd done this to them, and not like any doctor or veterinarian would have any idea where to start. As their hindpaws filled out and their faces became unmistakably raccoonish, alluring smells drew them toward a nearby alley...one lined with dumpsters.