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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 dissonance, 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 upmanship 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. "You had no right," I said. "And you do?" We stared at each other for a moment. Taking deep breaths. We were like wolves testing each other. Squaring off with snarls and growls. But soon the fight would begin. Throwing caution to the wind, I charged in. "Why the hell do you say you're 'protecting us', if you pull such juvenile bullshit?" "Oh, and ignoring problems makes them so much better, Mr. 'I think I'll drink myself to death'," he snarled, answering back with his own snaps, claws, and teeth. I'd charged in and been bit for it. But I wasn't giving up. "I'm handling it," I said. "I'm handling my own pain and doing the best with what I have. What about you?!" Another charge in to the fight. Baring my own teeth and claws in it. If this was done wrong, we could slash each other to ribbons. If the wrong thing was said, or did, neither of us would recover. "Oh, right. You're doing so well with this, that you would rather spend all night outside talking to a statue than coming to ME!? Right outside my own damn window, too! Why do you and everyone else thinks you can just walk on eggshells around me? That I wouldn't notice?" My charge met with his retaliation. Tooth and claw met tooth and claw. Two metaphorical wolves bloodying each other. Slashing so much of what the other had to death. His fur began to grow with his volume. "You don't get to preach to me about what is right and what isn't. You know I had to convince the sheriff twice now that you didn't need to be committed for your midnight conversations?" "Oh fuck you. Valyur listens. He doesn't walk away grumbling about 'damn humans' at every turn. Which is rich cause before I got kidnapped you always considered yourself one." Somehow I'd gotten lucky. He winced as my statement struck home, clawing to the heart. "It wasn't my fault! I didn't want you to get kidnapped! I never wanted any of it!" Claws out, hands flexing as he grew slowly into his size. "Oh come off it," I said. "Who said it was your fault! It just was. All we can do is the best with what we're dealt. You know my most embarrassing moment is when I was eleven and trying to impress some girl on my street with cartwheels. I slipped and landed in dog shit in front of the whole neighborhood. I told you that. You know the first time I killed was on my first deployment. It was practically an accident. The enemy combatant was fifteen. Fifteen! Who the fuck gives a fifteen year old a weapon and tells them to kill. That kid should have been playing soccer not going home in a pine box!" Taking a deep breath, I said, "Crash we all have shit in our lives that we have to live with. But you must forgive yourself. Living with regret is like watching home movies of your worst mistakes on repeat and hoping the ending comes out different. It never does." He turned back to the window. We stood there in his room for the longest time it felt. An eternity passed between us in a span of moments. Then voice wavered for a moment as he spoke. "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. Everyone I killed trying to get you back or to help someone else. Everyone who will never see their family again. Never play with their children again. They rip pieces out of me in the dark. But I can't see their faces." The only thing I could do was look down. He started pushing 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 as things snapped and scraped together. Then he started walking towards the door. Everything we had built together as friends and packmates laid bare between us. Bloodied, bruised, limping from our barbs and attacks. I took one last charge, no claws out. No teeth. One last attempt to save it. "I tell you what," I said, trying to hide the nerves in my voice. 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, ears tipping back into it. "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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