Miguel's Tale

Hi, my name is Miguel, and I’m an alcoholic.

(EVERYONE: Whaaa…?)

Just kidding. I’m actually a were-wolf.

(Sighs of relief.)

Yeah, so… I don’t know why I’m here, so… uh… what am I supposed to do next?

(HANK: Tell your story!)

Ah yeah, makes sense. Thanks, Hank. So, okay… I guess I'm a were-wolf. Been that way for maybe ten years. I think I got ALPS from another kid I used to skateboard with. We got in a fight over who had the better moves… and he suddenly went all animalistic and bit me. Of course, I had broken his board first, so it was probably justified. But I didn’t know what I’d gotten into until a couple of weeks later.

See, I came from Texas before I moved here unexpectedly. Always a little bit of funky race relations issues there, you know, between the natives and the immigrants. And even though I’m legal… hey, I’ve still got the Mexicano roots, so it’s an easy mistake. Anyhow, let’s just say I got tagged as something I’m not.

Normally, when I see trouble, I avoid it. I don’t care to fight. Live and let live, you know? But this time wasn’t good. I was walking home from high-school. On the way, there’s a rough neighborhood. One of those lower-middle-class mixed neighborhoods where a lot of punks are looking to fight. And I happened to be there.

There were probably eight kids. Two black guys and maybe six gringos. One of 'em yells “Hey wetback!” And I’m like… whatever. Sticks and stones. So I keep walking. And they’re like, “Yeah, you! Why aren’t you mowing a lawn or something?”

Still… whatever. I kept walking.

Then I got hit with a rock. Don’t know who threw it… but I just wanted to get home. I’m walking fast, but the kids aren’t going to let me go. No adults around… and nothing I can use as a weapon. Like anything would help much against all those kids. Most of them bigger than me. So… I look for an escape. Nothing. There’s a tall fence on one side, apartment wall on the other. The kids are on the other sidewalk, now walking across the street, yelling stupid stuff. I finally turn around. There’s not a good exit from this, so might as well get in some licks, you know? So, I’m like "Hey! Leave off! I’m just going home. Go kick a dog or something!"

Then the biggest one, this stupid-looking meathead, is like, “Maybe we’ll kick you.”

Which is, of course, what I figured they were going to do. So now they’re all around me in a circle, right… I know I can’t get away. So I’m like, “Why don’t you all just calm down. I didn’t do anything to you. And besides, this isn’t a fair fight! Eight to one?”

The one guy shoves me. I play cool, don’t hit back, thinking… man I don’t want a one-sided fight like this. Then another kid jumps on my back from behind – and the jerk that shoved me tries to kick me in the nuts.

And that’s when it happened.

Like lightning, I’ve snapped around and I got this kid’s neck in my teeth… and I clamp down and grind and then I feel his spine start to… uh… wait a second.

You know, I’ve probably said enough. Uh… I just got into the story, you know? I really didn’t, uh, bite anyone…

(AFFIRMATIONS FROM GROUP: It’s okay… we’ve all been there. You can go on… this is a tolerant group! No one’s going to turn you in!)

Yeah, well… I’m not proud of what I did… I don’t know if I want to glorify it.

(FEMALE VOICE: Getting your past out into the open is the first step to healing!)

I don’t know if I need to be healed.

(HANK: Just tell them your story, dammit! It was getting interesting.)

Okay, okay. So anyhow… I guess I sort of bit his head off. And was absolutely horrified by the fact I’d done that… and that it happened so naturally. Just like driving to a place you’d been a million times before. Autopilot.

I looked at the head on the ground, the horrified faces in a circle around me, felt the body slide off my back in slow motion… and then I saw my hands. They were like a dog’s paws.

I was a freakin’ werewolf! And I was suddenly mad as hell! It was like… all my judgment left me, and all that I had left was anger. Anger at being singled out… anger at getting jumped because I was different… anger at not having my dad around…

And so help me, I tore three more kids to pieces. I wolfed down their probably marijuana-laced punk flesh, enjoying every mouthful… until I started to come out of it. I was alone, with some dead kids on the ground. A couple of people were looking at me from their windows. And I was suddenly ill. I got up and ran like anything… ran home… crying... blood all over me…

By the time mi Abeula saw me, I was back to human, I guess. But I looked a mess.

I think she knew what I was. But if she did, she never said a word. She just packed me a lunch... and gave me the keys... and I left. I never had another incident quite like that… except for that time the cable guy… uh, never mind.

So… uh… that’s my story. I keep it stuffed, play it cool, avoid fighting. I also stay away from Texas. And mostly I just fix computers now. And hope to God I never get cornered and mad at the same time.

Okay, uh… is that it? Do I need to talk about my mother? No? Alright, cool. Peace out.