%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Adventures In Living With The Mythical |
|
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 |
| Things have been a little less hectic lately. That’s something I’m not quite used to anymore, but it is nice to drop back into a routine that doesn’t involve a troll trying to kill you or zombies taking you to a Halloween festival of their own. I get a chance to slow down and enjoy the finer things in life. And there’s really nothing finer than sitting at the kitchen table by the window and watching the sunrise. I know some people would prefer Caviar and an ivory-white beach on some completely nude French island somewhere, but me? I'll take this sunrise. When I was in the service and could run, running into the sunrise was one of the few things that I enjoyed about that job. Running into the sun in formation with other people doesn't sound like a lot of fun. However, there was a lot of freedom in that. The wind in your lungs and on your face, the feeling of the pavement beneath your shoes, and of course, the stunning view that you always got every morning with every run. Some days, that was the only enjoyable part of the job. Now, running is pain. After a few steps, it shoots up from the heel to my hip and flares up there for a while before settling into its nice home in my back. Heck, long walks along ivory-white beaches in French nudist colonies are pain these days. As much fun as casual nudity is, it would be ruined by that aching, searing reminder that I’m injured. So, the closest I can get to recapturing that feeling of morning freedom is pretty much the kitchen window, a good cup of coffee, and the sunrise. The window doesn't face Crash and his path back toward the house. So, a lot of times I don’t see him when he gets home. That morning he was already in human form when he got through the door. It was rare but not unheard of. There are times when being in his larger, hairier form makes his job more difficult. Like when more diplomacy is required than growls, threats, bites, and howls. As he trudged inside and began making his evening cup of old man decaf, he let out the most God-awful burps I’ve ever smelled. When I say this burp stank, I mean it. The stench wafted from his side of the kitchen towards mine, peeling paint from the walls, curling tile, staining anything white a sickening brownish-green color. Birds fell from the sky at one whiff of this. Plants withered and died. The president nearly called a national emergency because of it until he forgot what he was doing and called for an ice cream cone instead. The power of the stench and the revenge of whatever meal the werewolf had eaten the previous night was immediate and apparent. "Oh, God!" I cried, trying to fan the stench away from my nose. "That is just awful!" Crash made a face, and said “bleh, that tasted a lot better last night.” Then he looked at me with another of his pearls of unique werewolf wisdom that will only ever apply to him. “Remember, if you bite it, you have to taste it.” That had me thinking about Crash’s little nuggets of wisdom. On the rare occasion, he has a sour stomach, we'll get the odd "must have been someone I ate" of course. But there are also always others. Those sayings and phrases that really could only apply to werewolves themselves and their unique culture. Things like: “Werewolves can’t get electrocuted. We just get new hairstyles”, or “never eat someone you need or like”. Crash has a whole collection of these things. I honestly don’t know where he gets them from. One would have to think that somewhere out there is a “Poor Richard the werewolf version” or something that every werewolf mother reads to their little pups at night before putting them to bed. However, someone by now would have seen a book like this. Wouldn’t someone have come up with something like that sooner or later? I'd collect them all in a book of my own if I wasn't afraid of Crash getting in trouble for it, or him getting angry at me over it. So, here are a few that we've collected over these past few days. One's Crash is particularly proud of, (like that 'if you bite it, you have to taste it' one) and ones he didn't even recall saying at the time. They're in no particular order here. “If it tastes terrible in the night, it will taste even worse in the morning.” This was said one morning after getting terrible indigestion from whatever or whomever he ate the night before. I didn’t ask, not because I was afraid of the consequences, but because I was afraid he’d tell me. Which, in a way, I guess means I was afraid of the consequences. Hey, I’ve never claimed to make sense. It took me the longest time to understand one of his lesser-known favorite sayings ‘makes as much sense as marking a skunk.' Werewolves have been known to use scent markings for different things, such as claiming ownership. Since a skunk already smells, and uses that smell as a defense weapon, putting your scent on it to claim ownership makes as much sense as well, as marking a skunk. The scent will be lost and you’d just end up stinking. “Blends in like a skunk in a trash can at a sewage plant”. He's used this when talking about something he doesn't like going with something else. Like if a lead singer of a band he's not fond of plays with another band he doesn't like. Or when the farmers relative to our town decide it's the day to spread manure on their fields, and we're throwing out rotten food or something the smell will, well, blend in I guess. Or when someone wears a shirt that is just weird and disgusting, and they're not that pretty of a person to start with. I've heard it used in both scenarios. Crash isn't forthcoming on where it came from, though he says he knows the original story. He ain’t talking yet. Ah well, maybe one day.” “Don’t go getting your kibbles and bits stirred up.” Kibbles and bits are a euphemism for a male werewolf's uhmm…ahem….family toolbox shall we say. And this one is in general telling someone not to get too worked up over someone (if you catch my drift), though I've heard him use it as well in the same sense we used to use "Who pissed in your cornflakes?" “They’re all kibble and no bits” You'd think we'd hear "they're all bark and no bite" more, but Crash prefers this one to the latter. Knowing what ‘kibbles and bits’ are, you can get some idea of how this one came into being. This one is usually talking about someone who is all swagger, no swing. All bark, no bite. Someone who talks a big game, but doesn't have the gumption to back up the words. It intrigues me to think that out there somewhere is an entire werewolf family, composed of individuals who use these phrases back and forth all the time. Friends who are werewolves tease each other with these phrases and sayings. A werewolf girlfriend telling her boyfriend 'you're all kibble, no bits' on their date after their first kiss when he's a tad reluctant to go much further, either because of nerves or because of uncertainty. Those are all the ones I’ve collected so far. This may seem a bit frivolous, but collected sayings and phrases are part of a culture's flavor. It's the salt and pepper of a people. These few collected nuggets of wisdom give us a tiny glimpse of a subculture that is werewolves. Perhaps one day we'll get more. I know I wouldn't mind seeing a version of Poor Richard with Crash. Maybe 'Poor Crash's collections of life lessons and nuggets of wisdom' or something? I don't know. I’ll think of a different title sooner or later. Right now, I’ve got to get out to the garage. It’s one of Crash’s rare days off. We’re working on his Cadillac today, as well as possibly trying to clear out a strange infestation. Apparently, some of the tools that we regularly keep around in there have taken on a more ceramic quality to them. Instead of a regular hammer, we now have one that resembles one used by a certain type of statue. Could Kheid be back? I don't know. Let's hope not. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
