Life With A Werewolf

Tis The Season

It’s my first official Halloween season as part of the pack. Part of me figured that Halloween would be a fun time for a werewolf or vampire. Think about it, you have a built-in costume. Just go as, well, yourself. A vampire just dresses up in the duds that they put you in as a dead guy, and there ya go: instant costume that’s guaranteed to win any competition.

However, for Crash, it seems to be a whole lot of work. He keeps saying that things will “slow down”, but always manages to dodge the question of just what it is he does. I am curious. Not curious enough to go snooping, but I’m still curious. The centaur office lady fantasy was a fun toy for my mind to play with for a while, however, it’s finally been tossed that aside for the lure of the mystery.

Twelve hour days. Fourteen hour days. Six days a week, if he’s lucky and they give him a day off. And all for what? Many days now, he just wakes up in the late afternoon or early evening, already in werewolf form, grumbling the entire way as he shuffles out the back door and walks the path towards the woods. Then we won’t see him till morning, when he comes in covered in dirt, muck and mud, showers off and goes to sleep. Occasionally he’ll eat dinner.

It’s gotten so bad that I’ve threatened to put a flea collar on him. A joke that was only met with a middle finger as he stood in the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee that he gently lapped at while the sun continued it’s morning ritual.

None of the other guys seem all that worried. Zack just shrugs and says “wait till the end of the month,” and doesn’t say much more.

I have no idea what that even means. As if that’s anything new in THIS house.

I’ve noticed other weird things though. Since I’m in the pack now, it’s like things around town aren’t hiding anymore, or their tricks don’t work on me, or whatever. I don’t even know what it is. Could it be a scent thing? As far as I know, I haven’t been marked or anything. I mean, if a werewolf pees on you, you kind of remember that event, even if its one you wouldn’t want to.

I don’t know though if there’s some sort of psychic or spiritual or whatever kind of mark that lets every other monster and nasty out there to go ahead and try to freak me out. There has to be something to explain all of these weird happenings.

Just the other day, I was driving by a cemetery in the evening, after a run from a local fast food place, and a guy was walking from a grave. He wasn’t alone, there was a couple others behind him, but his arm fell off.

Betsy (what I decided to name my car), pulled to a complete stop on the shoulder of the two-lane road. It was a grade or two above gravel, though it would be a stretch to call the road “high grade pavement”, more like “tarred and compacted rocks”.

The guy walked on as if nothing happened. Another guy walked up behind him, picked up the arm and tapped him on the shoulder with it. I was probably about thirty feet away give or take, but I could see bone and muscle tissue on the dropped arm. Nothing looked fresh, it was all putrid and rotting meat.

Both guys turned and waved at me, dried sagging skin, maggots dining happily in one eye, at least I think it was maggots. It’s not the strangest thing I’ve seen in my life, and not nearly the most disgusting thing I’d seen (a guy stepping on an anti-tank mine, now that’s nasty). I simply waved back and drove on, like nothing happened. I didn’t want to see if any other body parts drop off. Call me crazy, if you like.

That was just one thing. Mr. Simpson, one of our neighbors seemed to be a full foot and a half taller than he was a few days ago. I’ve heard of growth spurts, but geez! I guess the weird house with the tall doors now makes sense.

I don’t know what’s going on with all of it. I’m keeping my head down, not accepting gifts from strangers, and watching out for lawn gnomes, the little suckers seem to be more active in other people’s yards too.

 I figure Crash will tell me what’s going on sooner or later. Or he won’t, and I’ll simply make something up like my mind always does. I just hope my roommates won’t be too freaked out if I start cleaning my gun a bit more than normal. Let’s just say it’s giving me some comfort these days.