Life With A Werewolf

The Nobility part 4 - Missing

          Cops. Interviews. Drama. Clean up. All of it filled with growled remarks and gruff responses. Surprisingly by all of us humans. Crash didn’t much concern himself with the proceeds and goings on. Being the actual ‘victim’ this time instead of the official must have been quite the turn of events for him. He seemed to take everything with humor. But I’ve learned Crash masks a lot with a joke. I guess it only makes sense. I mask a lot with sarcasm and mean behavior.

          Just like my statement prior to the attack. It dug at me quite a bit, but everyone brushed it off. Though it appeared that the temperature in the place had dropped some, and I wasn’t referring to air conditioning. Zack played more games in his room than in the living room. Shawn and Kris stayed upstairs when they weren’t shopping or working. We all seemed to go into our respective corners so to speak, avoiding eye contact except when we absolutely have to interact.

          Some people have snark. I’d like to point out here that snark is NOT sarcasm, though sarcasm can be snarky. There is a huge difference between the two, and not everyone understands it. For example, when Kris walked into the kitchen and told me that it’s my turn to cook, so him and Shawn are eating out to avoid food poisoning, that’s not sarcasm. That’s snarky, true. An attempt at a mean comment yes. But no sarcasm. Sarcasm was me telling him “Oh good! I was hoping to be able to keep my dinner down, thank you.”

          That went about as well as you’d expect. When I said I’m an asshole, that’s what I mean. I’m sarcastic. I like saying mean comments with the point of getting a laugh, not with the point of hurting people. When I said that, it was said to get a laugh of some kind, despite there being only me and Kris in the room. However, there are farts that have gone over in church better than my comment did. And that caused all kinds of issues.

          It’s like that comment I made many years ago that caused me to get banned from family gatherings involving the hunting of eggs from egg laying and decorating rabbits. What can I say? I was asking a simple, basic question involving skittles that lead to children asking their parents more uncomfortable questions than they were ready for. This is also yet another reason why I no longer drink at family functions. Or attend family functions in general, really.

          So, things were getting bad. I wasn’t helping the matter any by just being the jerk that I am. It was the first real time I felt my new found sobriety threatened. The desire to drink just to forget the issue was strong, but the desire to deal with the issue and get the problem resolved was just as strong, if that makes any sense. Like two warring factions in my brain who both wanted their side to win at all costs.

          If you don’t have an addiction, let me explain it to you. When you’re addicted to something, no matter what it is, the desire to do it doesn’t just randomly spring back like a weed. It’s not something that suddenly grows within you or upon you. It’s brought about because of both external and internal things.

          Your brain developed stress responses to things. For those with addictions, those ‘bad habits’ are stress responses in many ways. For some people it’s cigarettes, for others it’s pornography. For me, it was drinking. A habit that can slowly kill you. Believe me, I wish it was porn. Cause at least that wouldn’t cause so many physical health issues. Mental health is a different story, and an argument for a different time.

          This is how an addiction dominates you. You have an issue happen, say like a fight with a friend who has become like family to you. This issue leads to stress and anxiety. Now we all have learned responses that alleviate said anxiety. Zack’s is to kill monsters on a video game. Mine is to drink. The drinking relaxes the brain and causes your body to release endorphins that will make you begin to feel better about the situation, the world, whatever it is. Quite literally, the alcohol would make me feel better about being me. Even though it was at one point, killing me.

          Crash’s solution to this was far better than mine’s. He’d been put on desk duty for a few weeks while this whole mess clears up, so we were getting a more regular nine to five with him. He hated it of course after a while, cause well, according to him “werewolves are not meant to be caged up at a desk.” Which makes sense if you think about it.

          Crash told me to sit everyone down and talk to them, give them a real apology. A half-hearted “sorry, we still good” out on the front lawn after a major incident that I might be partly responsible for just wasn’t going to cut it. I had to Get it out there, release the garbage into the world and be done with it. Which I understood. Zack brought to the group good times, good games. Kris brought some snark to rival my own sarcasm, it’s true. But he also brought funny stories, and unique outlook on things, as well as those damn cookies he does so well. Shawn brought a relaxed surfer outlook that kind of evened everything out. We all brought something unique to the pack. Something that was greatly missing after the initial attack.

          Kris was at work. Shawn had the day off, for which I’m glad. I was able to tell him what was what, and ask him to sit down with everyone. He was in their room at his computer, but he smiled when I said “I want to talk to everyone. I want to apologize, and just get this crap flushed once and for all.”

          “Sure dude,” he said. “I’ll tell Kris. Honestly, he’s been acting a bit bitchy man I know, but he really just wants to like, put this all behind us.”

          “He ain’t the only one,” I said. “I’ve been bitchy and mean too, dude.” Then I patted him on the shoulder and left the room.

          So, we sat around and waited. It was supposed to be six o’clock when Kris got home from his retail job. Six thirty, no Kris. Seven, no Kris. Zack was supposed to get home about seven from his shift. Seven rolled around, and no Zack. Shawn was almost in a panic. After about nine at night, Crash summed it up with one phrase.

          He was standing on the front porch, sipping on a beer. His arm hair was standing up a bit, fur ready to ripple out of it. “The Nobility,” he growled. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything. After all, what as I going to do? My only hope was to sit there, and wait. Then pray for something to happen. Anything.