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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 |
| It’s always nice meeting new neighbors, isn’t it? It’s great to get to know the nice couple that buys the house down the street from you with the picket fence and the dog house in the yard, the ones who keeps smiling and waving at you, making those subtle jokes and hints that you only later come to find out are insults. The one’s who usually drive something American like a Dodge and isn’t one of them a shoe salesman? Okay, so that’s the Bundy’s from the TV show Married with Children. These days that nice couple down the street (not the shoe salesman on TV or anyone played by Ed O’Neill) will drive either an SUV or a mini-van, and come in all sorts of flavors and sizes. From starter families of all flavors and sizes to single families to just single people. Couples who are past the point of kids and frankly don’t want any. Couples who have enough kids for everyone in the neighborhood to take a couple and they wouldn’t notice. They could be Black, White, Asian, Hispanic, or a mixture of all of those. Straight, gay, bi, whatever. Whatever shape, size, culture or mixture the family comes in, it’s still nice to meet the neighbors. Even when one is six and a half feet tall and looks like she could bench press a Buick. Elouise Thompson reminded me of Chyna from the WWE who died tragically. Crash claims to have seen her first, but I saw her on morning jogs through the neighborhood days before he claims it. I didn’t try to catch up to her and say hi though. Running hurts now. I ain’t running. But I’ll cheer you on from the sidelines if I see you. Blonde isn’t her natural hair color, but it’s the one she chose and despite the color looking closer to something you get out of a bottle in the house hold cleaners’ section and not in the health and beauty section, it still works for her. I guess. I’m not one to judge on appearance these days, really. I once conducted an experiment to see how long I could go without bathing before the roommates try and throw me into the shower. That official count is four days if you’re curious. No, it wasn’t Crash, his sensitive werewolf nose says we all stink. It was a team effort between Kris, Zack and Sean. And they wouldn’t have succeeded without that coconut oil and the slip and slide. But I digress. A few days later, Crash was up early for a night patrol. It wasn’t even dark yet. His dark fur glistened in the dying daylight. He grabbed me in the kitchen just as I was getting ready to cook. “Remember that old cemetery the Zombies cleaned up? Could you go out there with a stop watch and wait?” I almost head tilted in that confused dog manner Crash always does. “Stop watch? You need me to count pushups and sit-ups too?” Crash shook his head. “Please, no. Don’t even make that joke or you’ll give her ideas. I’ll call you when we begin.” “I think I still have the stop watch app on my phone,” I said. “Used it during PT all the time. What’s this about?” “Elouise,” Crash said. “New girlfriend,” I asked. Crash laughed, “No. New friend. I think. Unless this is a secret plan to kill me.” “That could still be one of your girlfriends,” I said with a grin. Crash waved a paw. “No, no. I gave up dating psychopaths.” With that, he headed out the door and I followed. I drove up to the cemetery and stepped out, pulling my car off to the side of the road. Like Crash, I didn’t expect much traffic and didn’t see any. There wasn’t any houses on that particular stretch of the highway. It was a place one went when they wanted to push their car a little harder than what they could do in city limits without having to worry about speeding tickets. I stood by my car amidst the growing shadows remembering when the Zombies brought me out here so they could clean the place up and have their little party. Before I could ask myself dumb questions like ‘what are they doing now?’ (Answer: rotting of course), Crash called. I shouted go, in the phone and started my timer. Werewolves run fast. Before you ask, no I don’t know how fast. And, no I don’t know the route or the distance they ran. All I know is that I was staring down the roadside expecting to see Crash come blazing up the highway, and instead I heard a rustle through the trees. A guttural growl and a snarl echoed through the forest, one that chilled my blood to the bone. Two creatures exploded from the woods. One, of course, was Crash. The second was what I can only describe as an Alligator man. Woman. Or whatever. Pausing a moment, I stopped my stop watch, and swallowed. “Hi,” I said, reaching out to the gator lady. “I’m Jason.” “Elouise,” she huffed. “Pleasure. Who won?” “Excuse me,” I asked. “Our race. Who won?” Crash made a motion, behind her back. I glanced at him, then back at her. “I-it was you,” I said. She grunted, glaring at me. “If you’re lying,” she started. “You ought to know better than to threaten a wolf’s human,” Crash said with a slight grin and a tail wag. She turned back to him. “Best two out of three,” she snarled. “Perhaps,” Crash said. “I’d be willing to trade another race for a cup of coffee and a conversation.” “Thanks,” Elouise said her thick tail tip twitching, “but too much fur, not enough scales for ma taste, sugah.” “Wasn’t asking for a date,” Crash stepped forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I want to know what you can tell me about the Grey’s.” “I…” she began, then looked down. “I think I may try runnin on my own first.” “Go ahead and try,” I said. “I know he was holding back. I also know that he can have four other mythicals faster than him here with a single phone call to catch you.” “Now don’t you go threatenin me, human,” she snarled. “I’ll rip your skin off before your dick hits the dirt.” “Wasn’t a threat,” I said, with a slight smile. “Just stating a fact. Now, me telling you that I’ll put…” “Enough, Jason.” I looked over at Crash. “Please,” he said. His ears tipped in a way that I translated to a dog begging for help. I sighed, “I’ll be at home,” I grumbled then climbed back into my car. I didn’t hear the rest of that conversation. I’m not sure I want to. As I drove away, I could see in the rear-view Crash was talking very animated to Elouise, who listened for a few seconds before she dashed back through the woods. I don’t even know who the Greys are. A new family? A mafia crime family of mythical monsters? Space Aliens that look like E.T. coming to eat our brains in the cutest ways possible? Any of these could be true. Given my luck, they’ll all be true in some weird twisted hybrid set to a dance number written by Elton John and Alice Cooper with a guest verse by that guy from Creed. Not too long ago I had made a New Year’s Resolution to stay out of trouble. Stay out of other people’s business and just mind my own. I was going to be the quiet neighbor. The good neighbor. The sort of guy who stood in corners at parties who politely sipped his beer and said “no officer, I have no idea why they rode naked on a horse down main street. Why, I have no idea where they even got the lime Jello. Let alone the boom box blasting Aphex Twin.” Instead, it feels like I’m being dragged kicking and screaming into werewolf business. Again. Why me? Why does this always happen to me? |
| Sometimes life is like a slow-motion car wreck. You turn the wheel; you apply the break. Everything begins to skid. You try steering into the skid so you can steer out of it, but instead your car careens towards disaster almost of its own will, dragging you along with it. This slow-motion car wreck was the home of Charles and Nancy. This year for the holidays Charles and Nancy had a large group of people over. They appeared to be family, more of the hulderfolk variety, and by my best guess was related to Charles or Nancy in some capacity. These people weren’t exactly running amok around town. In fact, I think Charles would have preferred if they did run amok around town. Cause at least then they’d have left their home for five minutes or so gave them a moments peace. The family arrived a day or two before Christmas. They stayed through New Years. Then the week after that. “I think their calendar doesn’t have the necessary functions of keeping dates,” Charles told me outside of our local grocery store. “Cause I swear, they said that they’d stay through New Years, now they’re staying through Chinese New Year. How do you say ‘I love you but you need to leave?’” “You say, ‘Get out’,” I replied. “If that don’t work, ‘Don’t let the door hit you where the good lord split you.’ If that don’t work, ‘I’m going to call the cops.’ If that don’t work, take a page from my book and play Mariah Carey over and over again.” “Who,” he asked, head tilting a little. I shook my head. “Never mind.” “Still, Nancy loves them, and if we’re mean to them, they’ll not speak to us again. Plus, it’s her mother, her father and older brother. They’re loaded! She loves them, and she wants the money.” I arched an eyebrow. “You don’t?” “I just want peace.” “What do you want me to do,” I asked. “Talk to Crash. Tell him it’s an emergency. Tell him we’re breaking an ordinance, we’re violating a Ginova Contention,” “The Gineva Convention,” I corrected. “That too. Anything!” A troll trusts you when he’ll let you correct him once in a while without stomping you into giblets. Still though, part of me watched for the side eye. The subtle look of anger that would mean I’d need more than a pistol to defend myself. He just smiled, “If you could save me from my strife, I’d be most obliged.” I think he meant to say if I could help him, he’d be very thankful. I didn’t correct him on that one. I’m not pushing my luck! But such as hulderfolk goes, they don’t always know the correct words but are more than happy to whip out a ten-dollar word in a fifty-cent conversation if it means you’ll think of them smarter for it. This is why I call the guy Charles after the guy in MASH, after all. In a way, he reminds me of that character. The conversation meandered on for a while but as much as I kept trying to steer it away, it kept coming back towards me helping him. Finally, bitter cold from the chilled weather and desiring to just get my groceries and get out of there, I said “I make no promises, but I’ll look into it. I swear.” Of which I got a thousand thank yous. All the way into the store, in fact. I spoke to crash about it later on that day. He was wearing his suit and tie, and had the hang dog look of a man who had spent the entire day trying to catch up on paperwork. “I remember why I don’t like office days,” he grumbled as he came through the door. “Well, how about a night gig,” I asked. Then I explained the entire thing, to which Crash just chuckled. “Better you than me,” he said smiling. “What am I supposed to do, walk over and ask them politely,” I asked. Crash shrugged. “I have no idea. Politely is a good start, cause otherwise you’ll get pounded into mush and I’ll have to get a pack together to avenge you, and that will be terrible for everyone. Besides, I still have a mountain of paperwork to catch up on.” “Well,” I said, “then maybe you can deputize me.” “What?” Occasionally when I make a statement Crash thinks is truly stupid, he’ll head-tilt like a confused dog. He head tilted after that statement. “Yeah, I can better sell the official law routine if I have some sort of official badge. You deputize me and then I can clear them out of there.” He shook his head. “First of all, no. I can’t do that. Second, if I could deputize you, it would only be so you can do my paperwork so I can go out on patrol again. Third, they’ll see the badge, see you’re human, and eat you alive. No.” “What am I going to do then,” I grumbled. “I promised this guy I’d try to help. I don’t want to do it, why do I always get involved in this troll’s family affairs, why me?!” He laughed. “Cause you’re so good at it!” “I don’t want to be!” Then Crash gave me some sage advice that I had come to regret ever taking, because it has since proven to be true. He clasped me on the shoulder and said “You’re like the troll therapist or something. You have this gift of getting through to them. You’re better than me, even!” I rolled my eyes, which caused him to smile. “I’m serious! You’re pretty good at this. Just do what comes natural.” Just do what comes natural. Piss everyone off? That seems to be what comes natural to me. But I thought about it a bit more. I did eventually get to the bottom of Charles and Nancy’s whole marital problem thing. They seemed to be doing much better now that I spoke to them and gave them that whole notebook idea. Maybe what comes natural in this case is just listening, not belittling, and giving the best advice I can in the moment. Perhaps that’s most of what mental health really is? Listening, not belittling, and giving the best advice you can. I went over to Charles and Nancy’s house the next day. Snow had drifted down a bit, giving the neighborhood a clean look. Nature had done her own version of cleaning up. By which I meant she just covered everything and pretended it never happened. That was a house I never thought I’d ever see full. It was an entire house filled with air-headed beautiful people with tails. I’m sure there’s a schoolboy fantasy buried in this somewhere. Conversations kept wheeling and spinning around this and that. Presents had already been unwrapped and handed out. An occasional troll kid or two would chase each other around with a toy air plane or car powered by child energy and imagination. An elderly couple sat at the head of the table in the dining room. Nancy was next to what I assumed was her father. If a therapist has a nightmare about their job, this has to be it. To literally try to do the entire thing in front of an entire family. “So, uh, hi,” I said, with what I hoped was a soft smile. “Who are you,” the old grandma troll said. “Why are you smiling like idiot?” Nancy gave me an apologetic smile. “Mom, can I talk to him for a moment? This is my neighbor; he must want something.” She stood, grabbed my hand and dragged me to the bathroom. “Help,” she whispered. “I am drowning in my family. They won’t leave.” “I have a great idea,” I whispered back. “Just say ‘go home.’” “That will hurt momma and papa and my brother. I do not wish to do that. You’re good at these sorts of things. Can you help us?” Her pleading, pretty face led me to make my next move. And no, it didn’t involve a Bluetooth speaker and Mariah Carey. Though I was tempted. Weaving my way back through the crush of people, I sat down in front of Grandma and Grandpa troll. They both looked like the elderly Smiling Bob people. If they weren’t spokesman for a scam artist that is. “Why are you still here,” I asked. “You’re rude,” Grandma said. “And mean,” Grandpa said. “And what business of it is yours,” they said in unison. What can I say? My blunt nature don’t always work. “Well,” I said smiling again, “you see I was just curious cause you know Christmas is over, I came to visit my friends and they’re still in mid Christmas party like its….” They both rolled their eyes and looked at each other. Then they began to speak in troll, filled with grunts, and occasional eye rolls towards me. Nancy blanched at a couple of the comments, and began interjecting, shouting at the two of them who turned towards her shocked. “I love you both,” she said finally in English. “But I have a life to live.” “We’re here to help,” grandpa shouted back at her. “Your marriage has been in such trouble. Every troll can see that. You began to live in such a strange way. We must put things right.” No. This must be every therapist’s nightmare. Settling a Christmas party argument amongst family members that aren’t even yours! I wanted to pull my hair out. The volume began rising, shouting started swirling between troll and English. Eyes glanced more towards my eye, getting angrier and angrier. I was beginning to feel less like a helper and more like future Christmas dinner. Or a punching bag. Or something. In times like these, I have an old standby that has gotten me into more trouble and made things a lot worse most of the time. But still, closing your eyes and jumping does occasionally work out. Occasionally. “ALRIGHT!” I shouted. They kept right on shouting. “ENOUGH!” More shouting. They began to grow louder than me. A loud what I can only call a roar echoed through the house. I turned towards the door. There was Crash in full wolf form. Sun wasn’t even down yet. Locals didn’t seem to care. Guess they’re getting used to the werewolf stuff around here. I wonder if that’s a good thing? His dark fur struck fear in the heart of every troll there, who turned towards each other, then back to him. “He is in charge,” Crash said, pointing at me with a furred and clawed finger. “Listen to him. No one is to harm my human.” Then he turned and left. Gee. Thanks Crash. All eyes turned back towards me. A new look of respect and fear. It’s good to speak softly. To carry a big stick. But occasionally you must be prepared to speak loudly. To strut. “So,” I said, “what is the problem?” The grandma lifted herself up with as much dignity as she could and said, “they do not live the troll way. They live in a weird way. Sharing things that should not be shared. Doing things strangely now. Everyone hears it. We all hear it’s because of you.” “What business is it of yours,” I asked. “She’s my daughter!” I pointed at Charles in the corner. “And she’s his wife. They decide how they’re going to live their lives. You can still love them. No one wants to take that away from you. You’re allowed to love them, just like they’re allowed to love you. But you can’t tell them how to live their lives. Just like they don’t tell you how to live yours.” “B-but, she’s my daughter, and I’m afraid for her,” the grandma said. “They need our protection.” “You can’t smother them! You prepared them for life. You’ve given them all the tools they need to survive. You’ve given them morals and principles that they stand upon. I can tell you Charles and Nancy are two very good and very proud trolls. You have to let them be who they are. Who you helped make them to be.” They paused a moment. Everyone looked at each other. “You are right,” the grandma said. “But,” she leaned in closer. “They still need our protection.” She whispered. “Something is coming,” she said in hushed tones. “Bitter thing. Dark thing.” The grandpa almost rolled his eyes. “No one believes me,” she said, giving a dark glance to her husband. “But occasionally I see things. Very occasionally they come true.” “What is it this time,” I asked. “More vampires?” She smirked. “Ha! You wish. Much worse. We stay. We protect. We fix their marriage.” I said, “You remember that werewolf that said I’m in charge? He’s the one who protects this area. He’s got to,” “And he’s going to fix their marriage,” she rolled her eyes. “No. He just make things worse.” “So are you.” She sighed, then sat back. “No I am not. I am guiding them.” “Did they ask for your help,” I asked. She didn’t answer. “That’s what I thought. If they’re not asking for help, as much as you love her and Charles too, you have to let them go. Trust me, the morals and principles you instilled in your daughter are still there. You’re felt.” She turned to Charles, then back to her daughter. No words were spoken, but a lot was communicated in the glance they gave each other. The communication only close family can give. “Okay,” she sighed. Then she smacked me. “Go get your master.” “He’s not my master,” I grumbled under my breath, but I left and grabbed Crash. What happened after I’m told was lots of hugs, a few tears and apologies, and then everyone went home. The troll party finally broke up and ended very successfully. Though, I will not blame neither Charles nor Nancy if they both decide to never hold another Christmas party. Crash came home that night and gave me a smile. He tried to be brave but I could see a brief look of worry in it. “Come along slave,” he smirked burying the look with humor, grabbing my shoulder as he did so. “Yes massta,” I mumbled, arching my back and pretending to be the hunch back from a Mel Brooks movie. As he turned to go inside, I threw a snow ball at him. “What,” he began. “Fleas masta,” I growled. “Slave must attack fleas that attack masta!” What commenced was a snow ball fight that devolved into Crash snapping at snow balls, and ended with me getting buried in armloads of snow. Never have a snow ball fight with a werewolf. “Uncle!” I cried “Uncle!” I was pelted with an avalanche of cold wet stuff as more began to come down. “I think we’ll be okay,” he said. I nodded. “I hope so,” I huffed. Out of breath. “Those silver bullets you have? Get more. Lots more.” With that, he went inside. I still don’t know what that meant. But whatever it is, I’m preparing. If it’s enough to freak a werewolf out, it’s enough to put the fear of God in me. But at least Charles and Nancy are okay in their marriage. For now. I swear, I do another of these things, I’m going to start charging them therapist rates. |
| Google has just did this whole "sensitive subject" clause on their properties, including blogger, which is what I currently use for Life With A Werewolf. This has frustrated me to no end. Life With A Werewolf is escapism, pure and simple. I take elements out of my life, friends lives, things I hear, etc... and make a sort of adventure horror story out of it. But there is occasional blood and violence. I've written about crime scenes and riots. Does this mean that those posts are hidden? So, I'll move the blog again. (Sigh.) If anyone has any ideas, I'm open to suggestions, but as of right now I'm thinking perhaps Kindle Vella. Update should come tomorrow on a lighter note. But it maybe afternoon or evening. |
| Those that know me know I’m not one for New Years resolutions. I’m the type of guy who typically says “My resolution is to not have a resolution.” Those usually go well for me. For some reason that’s a new year’s resolution that’s easy to keep! I know there are others out there who take a different approach. Gyms are stuffed right now with fat, sweaty, hungover bodies all trying to get in shape and get healthier, at least until beach season gets here when they all become fat, sweaty and hungover again with sand in embarrassing places. There’s not a problem with someone trying to make themselves a better person. But a small resolution like getting in shape can end up with someone taking on WAY too much too soon. Sure, it sounds simple, doesn’t it? Eat right, exercise. Wow. Not that hard in theory. However, it’s a bigger under taking than you might think. Cause when you choose to eat right, what you’re actually choosing is a lifestyle change. Think of every fast-food place you visit. I bet you have a common item you always get there. Probably cause that item has never let you down. Now, you have to either A) stop going to fast food, which means cooking. And let’s be honest, who has the time to do that right now? Especially with everyone getting a second or third job just to make ends meet in this economy, who has time to prepare home cooked meals anymore? So that means, B) finding something else on the menu that’s healthy. The problem with that is typically the “healthy” option is also the most expensive one, or one of the most expensive ones. And since fresh and healthy go hand in hand, you’re taking a gamble on whether they actually inspected the salad that day, or just shoved it in the back with the others. And that's not to mention sometimes the "healthy" option is only healthy in comparison to their other delightful heart attack inducing delicacies. Exercising is the second part of the equation. This actually goes pretty well. For the first two or three days or so. Afterwards parts of your body begins to hurt that you never knew you had. Parts of your self esteem you never knew you had begins to hurt as well as you see the guys who live in the gym walk around with the bodies of Atlas, and there you are looking at yourself in the mirror feeling like the globe Atlas lifts. That’s why I’ve always said the person who has the most will power on the planet is that chubby runner. That person who is overweight but sticks with it anyway. Despite feeling as if the eyes of every friend and neighbor out there is staring at them. They’re getting at it anyway and keeping it up, through body pain, through bad weather. I am cheering you on. Silently. From my room. Cause rain sucks and it makes my hip and knee hurt. Of course, I could always take the route Crash recommends. He says if I want to lose weight, amputate something. If his in wolf form, he’ll grin and snap his jaws in that way he does. Of course, I know he’s kidding. Though I still sleep with my pistol near my bed at night. I swear, I'm not paranoid. When you’re already injured certain things are out. Running, for one. Jogging for another. After my sprint through town when the vampire horde was chasing me, I hurt for the next week. Given my personality, I try to not gobble down handfuls of pills, and alcohol is just out. Which leads to drinking lots of water and increasing my sarcasm. Everyone just loves it when I’m in pain. Cause I’m a super nice guy and share the pain with everyone around me. If you’re losing weight or getting healthier in general, I applaud you and give you all the goodwill and credit that I can send your way. I do hope you get that goal, whether it’s to lose five pounds, or become the first ninety-year-old Olympic swimmer. Keep your goals small, keep after it every day and you’ll be amazed at what you can accomplish in twelve short months. I actually do have a new years resolution this year. Stay out of other people’s business. I’m going to keep my head inside, not say a word to others, let Crash do his job, and only help if it’s absolutely necessary. Yes sir, I’m going to not get involved in other people’s lives like that unless they truly want my help. You can count on me, I tell you! The way my neighbors carry on however, I know that resolution won’t last. Truly, I don’t go looking for trouble. I don’t have to. When trouble looks over the fence at me with sad puppy dog eyes and begs me to go intervene on its behalf, it doesn’t take long to find yourself in the middle of it. When I told Crash of the situation, he just chuckled, clapped me on the back said something to the effect of “better you, than me,” and walked off. Thanks Crash. I really appreciate the help. Yeah, that rant is coming next week. Trolls, I swear. Haven’t heard from Kris, Shawn or Zack lately, I know. Their latest updates are the usual. They go to work. They come home. They keep their heads down. You know, like I should really learn to do. I’d update more on them if there was more to update. But the gang keeps out of the entire werewolf and supernatural thing unless a certain vet is there to stir the pot up and get everyone involved. There is an art to leaving well enough alone that they have that I just don’t. If you’ve ever lived in a major city like New York, Pittsburgh or Atlanta, you know what I’m talking about. The ‘Not my house, not my problem’ attitude that keeps you out of trouble. Not lingering too long, not asking any questions, not stopping to help. Nope! Go about business, go home, ignore the random stranger streaking down the street claiming he’s Waffle Jesus. (Or is that Florida I’m thinking of, now?) One resolution that I’ll actually keep is to stop beating myself up about past mistakes. Those what if’s and if I’da’s. I’ve spent far too long pondering over how things might have been different if I’d only have done something as simple as go left instead of right. If I’d have said more to my ex-wife or if I’d have…. well, you get me. Those are endless roads to nowhere. They travel in circles, have you twisting over every mistake in your life and constantly trying to think of ways you could have fixed them. Past is meant to be remembered, yes. However, mistakes are meant to be forgiven. One thing I’ve learned this past year is forgiveness begins with yourself, and you can't rely on others for self-forgiveness. This past year has been very hard and at times therapeutic for me. This coming year, I’m hoping will be even better. But to make it better, I have to begin with today. Cause this day is all we’re ever given. The past is history the future’s a mystery as they say. Or used to say. Or something. I don’t know, I’ve heard it said somewhere. Maybe it was a tag line for a Scooby Doo cartoon? Point is right now is all we have. If you want a better life, what better time is there to start than right now? |
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