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Adventures In Living With The Mythical |
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A military veteran is adopted by a werewolf and brought into his pack. Insanity ensues. About "Life With A Werewolf" Life with a werewolf is a dramatic blog. As such the characters in this blog are not real but maybe loosely based on real people. The situations represented are not real but maybe loosely based on real things that have happened in my life. There are a multitude of ways to view life, this is simply one of the ways I have chosen to view mine. Updated Every Friday unless I can't or don't want to. If this is your first time reading this...start here: https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1040400-Welcome-To-The-Pack My book, "Dreamers of The Sea" is available now on Amazon: https://a.co/d/0uz7xa3 |
| After a few days, it occurred to me that things had been handled a bit differently from last time. There was the whole squeaky bone war in the last excursion with The Nobility that we did to keep spirits up and break tension. To bring everyone back into the pack, as it were. In this one we all sort of went to our respective corners. Everyone attempted to just self heal and ignore each other. Well, everyone except one. Giving credit where credit is due, Zack did his best. He isn't the type to randomly grab a bunch of cheap pet toys and throw them at everyone, though. No. For his weapon of choice to fight the growing distance and dissonence, he chose the only weapon that made sense to him: 'Super Mario Party'. The rules were simple. Zack originally wanted it to be losers have to drink, but since I don't drink it was decided that we do something else. I suggested five push ups. That got a laugh, then Zack in his infinite wisdom said, "how about winner asks a question, losers have to answer it?" We all stared at each other for a moment in the dark living room. Crash was in his human form. Sean and Kris were out at work at their respective jobs. It was just the three of us at the moment. I shrugged, looking at no one in particular. "Sure. Like a 'truth or dare' thing?" "I guess," Crash said. "No dares though." With that settled, the television was switched on, and soon the game selected. We each had a controller in our hands. I selected Bowser just so Crash couldn't get him. Was it petty? Sure. But I handled it in a completely mature way. "Haha," I taunted, sticking my tongue out at him. "I got him first!" "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, then gave me the finger. We all laughed as he was forced to pick Yoshi. Zack grabbed Mario, and we were off to the races. Mario Party, is the perfect party and drinking game. For each mini game, losers drink. If you get a star, that person gets to set the rules until the next person who has a star. This can range from everyone must stand up, everyone must salute the winner, to even more risque rules if you're so inclined. We weren't playing that sort of game, though. After the first couple of rounds, I partly wished we had been. The first game was some sort of fishing game. Yeah, Zack one that hands down. "Alright," he said grinning, "What's your most embarrassing moment?" I shrugged. "Accidentally making out with a cheerleader over the school intercom." They both looked at me. "What," I asked. "What was his name," Crash said, grinning. "Her name was Stella," I corrected. "We were both in the principals office for different reasons. He stepped out to talk to a guidance counselor or something. Me and this girl got to talking, and looking at pictures, and one thing lead to another, and well." I shrugged. "That doesn't sound too embarrassing," Crash said. "I asked her to call me baby. But in our heavy breathing, and mouth sounds, the fact that my hand partially covered the microphone, it sounded more like 'Binky'. I went through the rest of high school being called 'Binky'." Okay, so it had an air of bullshit on it. It was a lie, something I'd concocted on the spot. But Zack and Crash just looked at each other, and Crash shrugged. "I backed the family car into my neighbors house when I was six. And no, that's not where the name came from." "How," I asked. "Well," he said, "My parents went inside for a moment for something. The car was still running. I was in the front seat, and slid over to the drivers seat of my daddy's Caddy. It is where I got a love of Cadillacs from. So, I was playing like I was racing and bumped the gear shift into reverse somehow. Parents weren't too happy." Again, it had an air of bullshit, but I since I'd given them that 'American Pie' reject scene, I suppose I started it. Zack giggled a little, looking down slightly in embarrassment. I laughed politely and we played on. Next game was once again dominated by Zack. He asked us about first kisses or something, and it had became a game of one upsmanship between me and Crash. We had to come up with the craziest plausible story that we possibly could. My story was something involving faking my own drowning at a public swimming pool so I could get the mouth to mouth from the life guard. Of all the things I'm grateful for, one of them is that Zack had never seen the movie "The Sandlot" because he never called me out. Of course, Crash had something about some woman who had a thing for werewolves so he'd met her in the woods or something. It sounded like something one of those steamy werewolf romance stories would concoct, but again, no one said anything. So, we went for it. Back and forth we'd went. When I'd won I asked about their most disgusting meal. Zack told of eating a gas station burrito that he found was almost fuzzy at the end of it, Crash, well, lets just say he won that one. He probably wasn't even lying either. When Crash had his turn, he asked about craziest kill. Zack turned white, and gave an audible swallow. Looking down at the floorboards that had suddenly became very interesting, he bit his lip for a moment. "I uh..." "No," I said. "You don't have to answer." "I want to hear it," Crash said. "Well," I said. "It doesn't matter now, does it. I'm vetoing." "You can't do that," Crash growled. "How about you have some taste," I said, stepping forward. "I still regret it." We both turned to Zack who sighed and said. "I can sometimes see her eyes. I know, I know. It was kill or be killed up there. They were werewolves, I wasn't. But, I can still see them." I put a heavy hand on Zack's shoulder and kept it there for a moment. "Okay," Crash said. "You're turn." "Pending investigation I must plead the fifth," I said with a glare. "Oh come on," Crash snarled, black hairs starting to sprout on his arms. "You had that crap about the principal's office. You have to do this." "Then," I replied, "I'm not playing." And set the controller down. He stormed off, growling and grumbling again under his breath. It was going so well, too. Now I had to try and talk to two different people about things I never talk about. Did I ever mention I'm horrible at the whole 'loving, touching person' thing? I sat down next to Zack. He was still staring at the floor, controller largely forgotten in his hands. "what would have happened had you not pulled the trigger," I asked. "Well," he said, bit his lip then swallowed. "You were turned around. She'd have gotten you." "Okay. That's a start. What would have happened then?" Silence for a moment. Then softly he said, "We'd all be dead." "What else?" "Crash too. And the Rodriguez clan." "What else?" "They would," he took a breath and exhaled it. "They'd have taken over. No werewolf or human would be safe." "Exactly," I said. Then I patted him on the shoulder. "If you think about it, you quite literally may have saved the world." "Thanks," he said with a soft sad smile, then stood up. "I think I'm going to play games in my room for a bit." I nodded. Guess it was time to talk to Crash. My chest grew tight as I approached his room. The hallway felt small. It wasn't as if Crash was going to physically attack me. We'd had blow ups before. Usually within the hour we'd talk things out and calm down. But since The Nobility thing, we'd had more frequent blow ups. More frequent shouting matches. At times, it was as if the entire pack was flying apart. I stepped inside his room without bothering to knock. Crash was naked behind his bed, out of the slats of his window blinds, staring out into the empty street. "You mind? I have to get ready for night shift," he said. I shrugged. "I don't mind." He turned and snarled at me. "Good, then leave." "But," I said, stepping forward, "you're going to listen." "What," he growled. "Living with regret is like peeling off your own scar tissue. You hope it will grow back better, but it never does. It just comes back the same way it was before, or worse. The only thing you can do is bare the scars you have, and trust your family and friends will accept you for them." He didn't say anything. I was continuing to look down at the floor. "My most embarrassing moment," I said, then sighed. "It technically counts as my first kill. I was about fifteen. Some burglar as rooting around down stairs. I was home alone then, parents wouldn't be home for hours. I knew where the pistol was. So, I grabbed it, made sure it was loaded, then headed down. "He was wearing a hockey mask like he was some reject from a Friday the 13th movie or something. I aimed at it. He saw me, then giggled. 'That guns bigger than you,' he said. 'You won't do nothin.' Then he shouted 'Boo!'" Taking a swallow, I said, "When he shouted boo, it started me so much, then I flinched. Sometimes I see his face. Right before, you know. To this day, I don't know. Did I make a mistake? Should have I just let him take our stuff, even though we couldn't afford to lose anything. Those questions come up." He looked at me, then turned back to the window. "I don't see their faces. I heard what you told Zack out there. You're right. It's not like I had much choice in the matter. You were gone. Or there was other people to save. Or lord knows what would happen if we just backed off and let Nobility take it. But still. I can see their shapes sometimes when I sleep. They grab at me, they pull and tear. But I can't see their faces." "Crash." He stepped around the bed, fur sprouting over his body. Soon, he'd be full wolf mode. In night uniform to stalk the night and do his job. His head hung low. "You know living with regret is like watching home movies hoping the ending will come out different, right? We all do what we could and felt was best at the time. I didn't mean to kill him. I was just trying to protect my home. You were doing what you felt was right at the time, too." He pushed through the process. It looked painful as he did so. The bones popping, the crunching of things moving in directions that felt as if they may not be natural. But he bore it with the barest of grimaces, then started walking towards the door. "I tell you what," I said. He turned around. "What, Jason." "I'm going to head out to that old cemetery tonight. You know the one, where the zombies kidnapped me for their little party the second time?" He smiled. "Oh yeah, that one." "I'll head over there about midnight. If you like, you can talk to me about, well, anything you like." He chuffed a half laugh. "Okay Dr. Phil." "What, like you can get a therapist." "There aren't many for werewolves, no. We're expected to handle things on our own." "Well," I told him. "I'll be there. Midnight. Beneath the moonlight. You can confess your heart to the gravestones and me. Neither of us will tell." He turned to me with a sad smile, his ears tilted back. "Thank you," Crash said. Then headed out the door. |
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