Sunday, June 28, 2009
Season 2 Coming Sometime
Season 2 of The Curse of the Were-Weasel will begin in late September sometime in 2010. Specific dates will be posted once the schedule is determined. An announcement will be posted to The Friday Challenge site.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
The Beginning of the End or The End of the Beginning?
"Hi everyone. I'm Mike and I'm a werewolf."
[Group: Hi Mike!]
"In the past, I've always told this group about my latest research into the origins of traditional folk and fairy tales. I've told you how 'Little Red Riding Hood' and, surprisingly, the 'Three Little Pigs' are based on actual events involving werewolves and were-boars. Most recently, I was digging more deeply into a relatively little known story from Grimm's Fairy Tales called 'Bearskin.' If I didn't have more important things to discuss, I'd tell you about the story. Anyway, I'd turned up some information leading me to believe the man in the story could have been a were-bear. To continue the research, I needed access to some old, old records only available with permission from the German government.
"I presented my credentials and said I was researching the origins of the tales recorded by the brothers Grimm. I didn't mention were-bears. That tends to get doors shut in your face. Governments love to have people research the positive aspects of their culture, particularly the Germans. I think they get so many people doing research on Hitler and the Nazis that they practically roll out the red carpet if you want to perform some other research.
"My research was going well and it was looking like I could add 'Bearskin' to my list of ALPS fairy tales, when I made my big discovery. I was carefully handling a town register that was nearly five hundred years old when I noticed a faint notation in pencil in the margin of the book. The notation was next to the name Hans Schleimer -- the person I suspected was my were-bear. It read 'ALPS' and then had a few numbers below it.
"ALPS wasn't discovered as a disease until the early twentieth century, so the notation had to be a lot more recent than the register. I looked at the numbers and realized they referred to a location in the archives. Curious, I jotted down the numbers, put the register away and went in search of the archive location. What I found was a heavy metal door blocking my way. The door knob didn't have a lock so someone had put a big padlock on it. A sign painted on the door said access was for authorized personnel only.
"This wasn't the first time I'd run into a locked door while performing research. It happens more often than you'd think in my business. Historians blocked by a locked door have two options. They can waste precious time filling out lots of paperwork and trying to convince unsympathetic bureaucrats to grant them access. Or they can pick the lock. I picked the lock.
"It didn't take long to find the archive I was looking for. One glance at it was enough to show why the records were locked up. Rather than read the documents there, I took out my digital camera and took photos of everything. Twenty minutes later, I slipped out and locked the padlock. Then I went back to the register and erased the penciled notation that led me to the locked door.
"Folks, what I've got to tell you affects every one of us. Before I get started, I want to impress something on you. Something vitally important. I've got some friends watching this building and the surrounding area. If anything goes down, they'll call my cell phone. Here's the important part -- if I tell you all to run, then clear out of the building and run like Hell. Transform if it will help, but do not be caught here!"
[Person in the group: You're kidding, right?]
"No, I'm deadly serious. And I can guarantee that I'll be running if that phone call comes. I guess in fairness I should ask if anyone wants to leave now without hearing what I have to say? In the long run, not hearing it won't protect you and might hurt you. But it's your choice. So, anybody want to leave?"
[The group stirs a bit but no one leaves.]
"All right. What I found out from those documents is that the strain of ALPS we all have is not the original strain recorded in history. With the original strain, people with ALPS transformed only during a full moon. They transformed during every full moon and their humanity was completely overwhelmed by their bestial form. They had absolutely no control over themselves at all. There were a few exceptions, my ancient relative who was the wolf in the events that inspired 'Little Red Riding Hood' was one. But they were either aberrations or, more likely, had some recessive Dark Life genes."
[Person in the group: Dark Life? You mean that's real?]
"Yes, Dark Life is real. Dark Life isn't really a good name for them, but it's what they call themselves so I'll stick with the term. Dark Life is a recessive genetic disorder. Anyone with the disorder has powers similar to the ones ALPS gives us. Dark Life has been with us since the dawn of man. They can transform into creatures from our worst nightmares and our oldest legends; creatures such as the wendigo, the yeti, the troll and the banshee. These creatures are nightmares to us because the Dark Life disorder also has a profound effect on the brain. I suppose you could say it drives them mad, but there's more to it than that.
"People with the Dark Life disorder eventually come to believe themselves superior to mankind, to believe themselves as 'chosen ones.' In their warped world view, mankind exists solely to serve them, both in the traditional sense and as a source of food. Fortunately for us, the recessive trait only breeds true between two Dark Lifers. That has kept their numbers down through out history -- until recently.
"When Mendel's genetic research came to light in the twentieth century, it was only a matter of time before a Dark Lifer figured out the implications. In the past, Dark Lifers usually avoided each other, preferring to carve out their own little little fiefdoms where they ruled mercilessly. Now, they actively seek each other out, hoping to expand their numbers so they can step out of the shadows and rule openly.
"I learned some of that from the documents I found in the locked archive. But, as I said earlier, I also discovered new information about ALPS and a surprising connection to Nazi scientific research. In their various round ups of the Jews, the Nazis managed to snare both people with ALPS and those with the Dark Life disorder. Once it was clear to the Nazis what they had, those people became central to a major research project.
"By the time the project began, the tide had turned in World War II. The Nazis were slowly but surely being driven back toward Germany. In the hopes of sowing chaos and disorder among the enemy, project Wehrwölfen was devised. The Nazi plan was to infect SS volunteers with ALPS, have them penetrate Allied lines and wreak havoc among the Allies. The problem with the plan was that people with ALPS only transformed during nights when the moon was full. The Nazis needed full time chaos, which the original ALPS strain couldn't provide. They also couldn't afford to have their volunteers lose control while transformed because the Nazis needed the attacks to have some intelligent direction behind them.
"It fell to a small team of Nazi geneticists and virologists to solve the problem. They worked in secret for over a year, attempting to graft some of the traits of Dark Life onto the ALPS virus. In the end, they succeeded, creating the strain of ALPS we all have today. The new strain allowed those with the virus to transform at will and to access some of their powers without transforming. The new strain was also more virulent, with a nearly one hundred percent infection rate among those who were bitten. One thing the Nazis couldn't quite pull off was insuring that human intelligence would always remain in control. The bestial nature of the transformed person could still take over in times of extreme emotion; stress, fear, excitement, what have you.
"Despite that set back, the Nazis went ahead with the program. Their army had been pushed back inside the borders of Germany by then. For them, it was a situation of 'now or never.' They infected their Wehrwölfen volunteers with what little of the virus they were able to manufacture and set them loose.
"The Wehrwölfen had no real effect on the war but they managed to infect many soldiers from all of the Allied powers. When those soldiers went home, they took the new strain of ALPS with them and spread it further. Worse, some of the scientists who worked on the project fell into the hands of both Soviet and American forces. As the cold war began, both sides continued their research into ALPS. I can't tell you what may have come from that research. I doubt we'll ever know.
"If you wonder why Dark Lifers hate us, it's because they see us as poorly made versions of themselves; bastard children unwanted by their progenitors. That's what is behind this sudden drive by Reverend Riley and his 'Internment or Death' crowd. Dark Lifers think they're close to having the numbers to step out of the shadows and openly take over. Meanwhile, they're still working behind the shadows, gaining positions of power in governments around the world. They're-"
[Mike's cell phone rings. Mike pulls it out and looks at the caller ID.]
"Ah, crap! Run, people! Run now!"
[Mike turns and runs for the back door, transforming as he runs. For a second or two, no one moves, then everyone begins running for the exits. Ninety second later, heavily armed men in black uniforms storm into an empty room.]
"Squad One to Alpha. They've cleared out. The room is empty."
"Roger, Squad One. Join Squads Two and Three. Chase them down. Capture if possible, terminate if not."
[The members of Squad One transform, taking on the form of huge, black dogs with glowing red eyes. They sniff the floor briefly then join the chase, baying hellishly as they run.]
[Group: Hi Mike!]
"In the past, I've always told this group about my latest research into the origins of traditional folk and fairy tales. I've told you how 'Little Red Riding Hood' and, surprisingly, the 'Three Little Pigs' are based on actual events involving werewolves and were-boars. Most recently, I was digging more deeply into a relatively little known story from Grimm's Fairy Tales called 'Bearskin.' If I didn't have more important things to discuss, I'd tell you about the story. Anyway, I'd turned up some information leading me to believe the man in the story could have been a were-bear. To continue the research, I needed access to some old, old records only available with permission from the German government.
"I presented my credentials and said I was researching the origins of the tales recorded by the brothers Grimm. I didn't mention were-bears. That tends to get doors shut in your face. Governments love to have people research the positive aspects of their culture, particularly the Germans. I think they get so many people doing research on Hitler and the Nazis that they practically roll out the red carpet if you want to perform some other research.
"My research was going well and it was looking like I could add 'Bearskin' to my list of ALPS fairy tales, when I made my big discovery. I was carefully handling a town register that was nearly five hundred years old when I noticed a faint notation in pencil in the margin of the book. The notation was next to the name Hans Schleimer -- the person I suspected was my were-bear. It read 'ALPS' and then had a few numbers below it.
"ALPS wasn't discovered as a disease until the early twentieth century, so the notation had to be a lot more recent than the register. I looked at the numbers and realized they referred to a location in the archives. Curious, I jotted down the numbers, put the register away and went in search of the archive location. What I found was a heavy metal door blocking my way. The door knob didn't have a lock so someone had put a big padlock on it. A sign painted on the door said access was for authorized personnel only.
"This wasn't the first time I'd run into a locked door while performing research. It happens more often than you'd think in my business. Historians blocked by a locked door have two options. They can waste precious time filling out lots of paperwork and trying to convince unsympathetic bureaucrats to grant them access. Or they can pick the lock. I picked the lock.
"It didn't take long to find the archive I was looking for. One glance at it was enough to show why the records were locked up. Rather than read the documents there, I took out my digital camera and took photos of everything. Twenty minutes later, I slipped out and locked the padlock. Then I went back to the register and erased the penciled notation that led me to the locked door.
"Folks, what I've got to tell you affects every one of us. Before I get started, I want to impress something on you. Something vitally important. I've got some friends watching this building and the surrounding area. If anything goes down, they'll call my cell phone. Here's the important part -- if I tell you all to run, then clear out of the building and run like Hell. Transform if it will help, but do not be caught here!"
[Person in the group: You're kidding, right?]
"No, I'm deadly serious. And I can guarantee that I'll be running if that phone call comes. I guess in fairness I should ask if anyone wants to leave now without hearing what I have to say? In the long run, not hearing it won't protect you and might hurt you. But it's your choice. So, anybody want to leave?"
[The group stirs a bit but no one leaves.]
"All right. What I found out from those documents is that the strain of ALPS we all have is not the original strain recorded in history. With the original strain, people with ALPS transformed only during a full moon. They transformed during every full moon and their humanity was completely overwhelmed by their bestial form. They had absolutely no control over themselves at all. There were a few exceptions, my ancient relative who was the wolf in the events that inspired 'Little Red Riding Hood' was one. But they were either aberrations or, more likely, had some recessive Dark Life genes."
[Person in the group: Dark Life? You mean that's real?]
"Yes, Dark Life is real. Dark Life isn't really a good name for them, but it's what they call themselves so I'll stick with the term. Dark Life is a recessive genetic disorder. Anyone with the disorder has powers similar to the ones ALPS gives us. Dark Life has been with us since the dawn of man. They can transform into creatures from our worst nightmares and our oldest legends; creatures such as the wendigo, the yeti, the troll and the banshee. These creatures are nightmares to us because the Dark Life disorder also has a profound effect on the brain. I suppose you could say it drives them mad, but there's more to it than that.
"People with the Dark Life disorder eventually come to believe themselves superior to mankind, to believe themselves as 'chosen ones.' In their warped world view, mankind exists solely to serve them, both in the traditional sense and as a source of food. Fortunately for us, the recessive trait only breeds true between two Dark Lifers. That has kept their numbers down through out history -- until recently.
"When Mendel's genetic research came to light in the twentieth century, it was only a matter of time before a Dark Lifer figured out the implications. In the past, Dark Lifers usually avoided each other, preferring to carve out their own little little fiefdoms where they ruled mercilessly. Now, they actively seek each other out, hoping to expand their numbers so they can step out of the shadows and rule openly.
"I learned some of that from the documents I found in the locked archive. But, as I said earlier, I also discovered new information about ALPS and a surprising connection to Nazi scientific research. In their various round ups of the Jews, the Nazis managed to snare both people with ALPS and those with the Dark Life disorder. Once it was clear to the Nazis what they had, those people became central to a major research project.
"By the time the project began, the tide had turned in World War II. The Nazis were slowly but surely being driven back toward Germany. In the hopes of sowing chaos and disorder among the enemy, project Wehrwölfen was devised. The Nazi plan was to infect SS volunteers with ALPS, have them penetrate Allied lines and wreak havoc among the Allies. The problem with the plan was that people with ALPS only transformed during nights when the moon was full. The Nazis needed full time chaos, which the original ALPS strain couldn't provide. They also couldn't afford to have their volunteers lose control while transformed because the Nazis needed the attacks to have some intelligent direction behind them.
"It fell to a small team of Nazi geneticists and virologists to solve the problem. They worked in secret for over a year, attempting to graft some of the traits of Dark Life onto the ALPS virus. In the end, they succeeded, creating the strain of ALPS we all have today. The new strain allowed those with the virus to transform at will and to access some of their powers without transforming. The new strain was also more virulent, with a nearly one hundred percent infection rate among those who were bitten. One thing the Nazis couldn't quite pull off was insuring that human intelligence would always remain in control. The bestial nature of the transformed person could still take over in times of extreme emotion; stress, fear, excitement, what have you.
"Despite that set back, the Nazis went ahead with the program. Their army had been pushed back inside the borders of Germany by then. For them, it was a situation of 'now or never.' They infected their Wehrwölfen volunteers with what little of the virus they were able to manufacture and set them loose.
"The Wehrwölfen had no real effect on the war but they managed to infect many soldiers from all of the Allied powers. When those soldiers went home, they took the new strain of ALPS with them and spread it further. Worse, some of the scientists who worked on the project fell into the hands of both Soviet and American forces. As the cold war began, both sides continued their research into ALPS. I can't tell you what may have come from that research. I doubt we'll ever know.
"If you wonder why Dark Lifers hate us, it's because they see us as poorly made versions of themselves; bastard children unwanted by their progenitors. That's what is behind this sudden drive by Reverend Riley and his 'Internment or Death' crowd. Dark Lifers think they're close to having the numbers to step out of the shadows and openly take over. Meanwhile, they're still working behind the shadows, gaining positions of power in governments around the world. They're-"
[Mike's cell phone rings. Mike pulls it out and looks at the caller ID.]
"Ah, crap! Run, people! Run now!"
[Mike turns and runs for the back door, transforming as he runs. For a second or two, no one moves, then everyone begins running for the exits. Ninety second later, heavily armed men in black uniforms storm into an empty room.]
"Squad One to Alpha. They've cleared out. The room is empty."
"Roger, Squad One. Join Squads Two and Three. Chase them down. Capture if possible, terminate if not."
[The members of Squad One transform, taking on the form of huge, black dogs with glowing red eyes. They sniff the floor briefly then join the chase, baying hellishly as they run.]
Sunday, May 24, 2009
The Big Question
"Hi everyone. I'm Hank and I'm a werewolf."
[Group: "Hi Hank!"]
"It's been a busy few weeks for me since Michelle and I went down to visit my folks. You remember that my mother tried to push some of Reverend Riley's crap on Michelle. Well, I decided to talk to my parents and sort of beat around the bush on that subject. So I gave them a call, supposedly to find out what they thought of Michelle.
"I called and they each took one of the phones, like they usually do. When I asked about Michelle, Dad told me I was a lucky man to find a fine woman like her. Told me I'd be a fool if I didn't propose to her real soon. Mom wasn't saying anything, so Dad sort of repeated himself then said, 'Isn't that right, Sally?' That's my Mom's name, Sally.
"Mom hemmed and hawed a bit, but finally admitted, 'She really does seem to care about you, Hank. And that's in spite of your...affliction.' Mom never could say 'ALPS' or even call it a disease. She never called it a 'taint' around me, either, but now I know that's what she thinks.
"Knowing what I know, the next thing I said was a bit mean. 'You always told me not to keep any secrets from the people I love, Mom.' She was pretty quiet after I said that, so I continued. 'Michelle knew I had ALPS before we went on our first date. Heck, she got at least as angry as I got when we stumbled on a rally put on by that Reverend Riley!'
"Mentioning Riley set Dad off something fierce. He ranted and railed for few minutes before winding down. Mom just stayed quiet. Dad and I talked a bit more than I hung up. I don't know what I was expecting to happen. Maybe have Mom break down and beg forgiveness or something. Anyway, it didn't happen.
"But that's the only depressing stuff that's happened lately. Remember a while back when I sort of inherited the coaching position for a youth soccer team made up of kids with ALPS? Well, I don't know much about soccer, but I know a fair bit about learning how to control ALPS and even how to take advantage of it. I've been spending more of our practice time teaching the kids to control themselves than I have working on soccer. The parents of the kids tell me things are a lot calmer at home since I took over coaching, which is all the victory I need!
"Still, we play games every week and I noticed the kids were getting better each week. We didn't win, but we started losing by less and less. Then, last week, the kids finally got the concept of drawing on their ALPS powers without transforming. Just in time for the last game of the season against the only undefeated team in the league.
"I feel kind of bad saying I don't like that team. I mean, we're talking about a bunch of six year old kids, but they had this whole 'jock' attitude going. They were pretty young to start that up, but I figured they were getting it from their coach. Before each game, he'd call his kids into a huddle and shout, 'Who's going to win?' His kids would all answer, 'We are!' Then he'd shout, 'Who are we going to beat?' The kids would all point to the opposing team and shout, 'Them!' He did that several times before telling his kids to go 'Kick some grass!' That kind of thing pretty much pissed off everyone else in the league, me included. This time he made it worse by adding, 'We beat those kids by ten last time! I want to win by fifteen today!'
"My kids were already feeling pretty down because they hadn't won a game all season. That last bit really got to them. I called them together before the game started. 'Okay, guys, they think they're going to win just by walking on the field against. I think it's time to show them some of the stuff you've learned in the last few weeks.' The kids all looked around a bit then Taylor said, 'But we haven't learned any soccer stuff, Coach Hank!' I nodded, 'That's right, but you've learned about controlling your ALPS powers. Try to kick in some of your powers without transforming. You'll be faster, stronger and react a lot quicker. Now get out there and show those other kids what you can do!'
"I've got to say I wouldn't have suggested kicking in the powers if the coach hadn't gotten me so mad! Still, I figured those guys deserved a lesson in humility. And boy did my kids ever give them one! Our defense was so quick the other team hardly got any shots. When they did, our goalie grabbed them up easily. Meanwhile, our offense was just as quick and really strong. Maybe too strong. Jimmy, our were-bear, scored on a shot from mid field! We really took it to the other team. The difference is that I had our guys start taking it easy after we were up five to nothing. We ended up winning seven to nothing.
"We did the 'good game' walk after the game and the other team seemed sort of dazed. Except for their coach. When he got to me he got all up in my face and started talking about drug tests and cheating and stuff like that. He's one of those guys who lifts weights and looks really strong. I guess he figured a guy like me would back down. But I'm not scared of bullies any more. Kicking my strength up, I grabbed a handful of shirt and lifted up off the ground. 'Don't you ever accuse my kids of cheating! You lost. Take it like a man!'
"Then I realized the kids on both teams were watching and I dropped him. 'Sorry, boys. I lost my temper for a bit. I guess I just can't stand bullies.' Anyway, we held an end of season party near the field and the kids forgot all about losing most of their games and my outburst. That's one great thing about kids that age; feed them some cake and ice cream and they forget about everything else! The kids are excited about playing next season and the parents want me back as coach. It should be fun!
"Finally, the script for the movie my friend Luke -- he's Michelle's brother -- has been working on is finally done! He sent it off to his agent last week and the agent is really excited about it. He thinks this is just to the right to have a werewolf movie aimed at adults, especially one that isn't just an excuse to splatter blood and guts. Luke's already headed back to Los Angeles to start working on the deal. Get this -- he's going to make sure Michelle and I get hired on as advisers about ALPS and SCABS! He's talking some big bucks for us, too, especially compared to what I was making selling used cars!
"With things finally looking up for us, I think I'm ready for another big step. I know everyone is all worried about Reverend Riley and Dark Life and strange stuff happening at the Department of Homeland Security, but I'm not going to let them ruin my life."
[Hank reaches into his pocket and pulls out a very small box. Inside is a diamond ring.]
"I'm taking Michelle out for dinner after this meeting and I'm going to ask her to marry me!"
[Group: "Hi Hank!"]
"It's been a busy few weeks for me since Michelle and I went down to visit my folks. You remember that my mother tried to push some of Reverend Riley's crap on Michelle. Well, I decided to talk to my parents and sort of beat around the bush on that subject. So I gave them a call, supposedly to find out what they thought of Michelle.
"I called and they each took one of the phones, like they usually do. When I asked about Michelle, Dad told me I was a lucky man to find a fine woman like her. Told me I'd be a fool if I didn't propose to her real soon. Mom wasn't saying anything, so Dad sort of repeated himself then said, 'Isn't that right, Sally?' That's my Mom's name, Sally.
"Mom hemmed and hawed a bit, but finally admitted, 'She really does seem to care about you, Hank. And that's in spite of your...affliction.' Mom never could say 'ALPS' or even call it a disease. She never called it a 'taint' around me, either, but now I know that's what she thinks.
"Knowing what I know, the next thing I said was a bit mean. 'You always told me not to keep any secrets from the people I love, Mom.' She was pretty quiet after I said that, so I continued. 'Michelle knew I had ALPS before we went on our first date. Heck, she got at least as angry as I got when we stumbled on a rally put on by that Reverend Riley!'
"Mentioning Riley set Dad off something fierce. He ranted and railed for few minutes before winding down. Mom just stayed quiet. Dad and I talked a bit more than I hung up. I don't know what I was expecting to happen. Maybe have Mom break down and beg forgiveness or something. Anyway, it didn't happen.
"But that's the only depressing stuff that's happened lately. Remember a while back when I sort of inherited the coaching position for a youth soccer team made up of kids with ALPS? Well, I don't know much about soccer, but I know a fair bit about learning how to control ALPS and even how to take advantage of it. I've been spending more of our practice time teaching the kids to control themselves than I have working on soccer. The parents of the kids tell me things are a lot calmer at home since I took over coaching, which is all the victory I need!
"Still, we play games every week and I noticed the kids were getting better each week. We didn't win, but we started losing by less and less. Then, last week, the kids finally got the concept of drawing on their ALPS powers without transforming. Just in time for the last game of the season against the only undefeated team in the league.
"I feel kind of bad saying I don't like that team. I mean, we're talking about a bunch of six year old kids, but they had this whole 'jock' attitude going. They were pretty young to start that up, but I figured they were getting it from their coach. Before each game, he'd call his kids into a huddle and shout, 'Who's going to win?' His kids would all answer, 'We are!' Then he'd shout, 'Who are we going to beat?' The kids would all point to the opposing team and shout, 'Them!' He did that several times before telling his kids to go 'Kick some grass!' That kind of thing pretty much pissed off everyone else in the league, me included. This time he made it worse by adding, 'We beat those kids by ten last time! I want to win by fifteen today!'
"My kids were already feeling pretty down because they hadn't won a game all season. That last bit really got to them. I called them together before the game started. 'Okay, guys, they think they're going to win just by walking on the field against. I think it's time to show them some of the stuff you've learned in the last few weeks.' The kids all looked around a bit then Taylor said, 'But we haven't learned any soccer stuff, Coach Hank!' I nodded, 'That's right, but you've learned about controlling your ALPS powers. Try to kick in some of your powers without transforming. You'll be faster, stronger and react a lot quicker. Now get out there and show those other kids what you can do!'
"I've got to say I wouldn't have suggested kicking in the powers if the coach hadn't gotten me so mad! Still, I figured those guys deserved a lesson in humility. And boy did my kids ever give them one! Our defense was so quick the other team hardly got any shots. When they did, our goalie grabbed them up easily. Meanwhile, our offense was just as quick and really strong. Maybe too strong. Jimmy, our were-bear, scored on a shot from mid field! We really took it to the other team. The difference is that I had our guys start taking it easy after we were up five to nothing. We ended up winning seven to nothing.
"We did the 'good game' walk after the game and the other team seemed sort of dazed. Except for their coach. When he got to me he got all up in my face and started talking about drug tests and cheating and stuff like that. He's one of those guys who lifts weights and looks really strong. I guess he figured a guy like me would back down. But I'm not scared of bullies any more. Kicking my strength up, I grabbed a handful of shirt and lifted up off the ground. 'Don't you ever accuse my kids of cheating! You lost. Take it like a man!'
"Then I realized the kids on both teams were watching and I dropped him. 'Sorry, boys. I lost my temper for a bit. I guess I just can't stand bullies.' Anyway, we held an end of season party near the field and the kids forgot all about losing most of their games and my outburst. That's one great thing about kids that age; feed them some cake and ice cream and they forget about everything else! The kids are excited about playing next season and the parents want me back as coach. It should be fun!
"Finally, the script for the movie my friend Luke -- he's Michelle's brother -- has been working on is finally done! He sent it off to his agent last week and the agent is really excited about it. He thinks this is just to the right to have a werewolf movie aimed at adults, especially one that isn't just an excuse to splatter blood and guts. Luke's already headed back to Los Angeles to start working on the deal. Get this -- he's going to make sure Michelle and I get hired on as advisers about ALPS and SCABS! He's talking some big bucks for us, too, especially compared to what I was making selling used cars!
"With things finally looking up for us, I think I'm ready for another big step. I know everyone is all worried about Reverend Riley and Dark Life and strange stuff happening at the Department of Homeland Security, but I'm not going to let them ruin my life."
[Hank reaches into his pocket and pulls out a very small box. Inside is a diamond ring.]
"I'm taking Michelle out for dinner after this meeting and I'm going to ask her to marry me!"
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Run, Rabbit, Run
Good evening everyone. This is Deep Gullet. This will probably be the last time I show up to these meetings. Who knows this may be the last one we are allowed to have one.
I’ve been doing some digging ever since I saw that mountain troll posing as the Homeland Security Chief. I can’t go into too much detail if I want to preserve your safety but I will tell you that I am taking my family and we are getting off the grid. We’re going into hiding based on what I have found. I can tell you that I believe that Reverend Riley and the support for internment is coming from the Dark Life puppet masters.
I know there’s some in this group in particular that are trying to get a movie made to bring ALPS into the mainstream. I implore you to abandon these plans. The Dark Life will never let this come to light. It won’t be long before the Dark Life manipulates the government and media and make us enemy number one instead of a pathetic little minority with a tragic disease.
You all need to understand that the Dark Life hates us more than they hate the humans and their hate for humans is legendary. They view us as imitation Dark Life. They view us as a poor facsimile of the real thing trying to harness the powers of darkness that they feel they rightfully own. They are satisfied with subjecting humans to bondage, but will take great pleasure in eradicating us.
You might be asking why would they want to get rid of us since most of us didn’t ask for this burden, They answer to that is that the Dark Life doesn’t care where we got the burden, they will be more than happy to remove it from us…forcefully.
I beg you, please take your families and disappear. Death is coming for us all and we won’t know what guise it is going to take until it’s too late to stop it.
I’ve been doing some digging ever since I saw that mountain troll posing as the Homeland Security Chief. I can’t go into too much detail if I want to preserve your safety but I will tell you that I am taking my family and we are getting off the grid. We’re going into hiding based on what I have found. I can tell you that I believe that Reverend Riley and the support for internment is coming from the Dark Life puppet masters.
I know there’s some in this group in particular that are trying to get a movie made to bring ALPS into the mainstream. I implore you to abandon these plans. The Dark Life will never let this come to light. It won’t be long before the Dark Life manipulates the government and media and make us enemy number one instead of a pathetic little minority with a tragic disease.
You all need to understand that the Dark Life hates us more than they hate the humans and their hate for humans is legendary. They view us as imitation Dark Life. They view us as a poor facsimile of the real thing trying to harness the powers of darkness that they feel they rightfully own. They are satisfied with subjecting humans to bondage, but will take great pleasure in eradicating us.
You might be asking why would they want to get rid of us since most of us didn’t ask for this burden, They answer to that is that the Dark Life doesn’t care where we got the burden, they will be more than happy to remove it from us…forcefully.
I beg you, please take your families and disappear. Death is coming for us all and we won’t know what guise it is going to take until it’s too late to stop it.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Miguel Checks In
“Hey everyone, it’s Miguel.”
(EVERYONE: Hi Miguel!)
“Wait. I started that wrong. How’s this? Uh, hi everyone, I’m Miguel, and I’m a were-wolf.”
(EVERYONE: Hi Miguel!)
“So… anyhow… I know I haven’t been around much lately. Been too busy to show up. Well… not REALLY too busy, but… time gets away from me.
See, I lost my regular job and I’m just freelancing now on random stuff. And by freelancing, I mean basically doing nothing because almost nobody’s hiring freelancers. Sure, I get the occasional computer-fixing job or html gig… but things are slow. Glad I’m single or I’d really be toast.
Now I’m not naturally a lazy guy, so I’ve set some tasks. It wasn’t until I started coming here that I really came to grips with my ALPS. Hank helped me with that. Before… I just ignored it. Of course, now that it’s getting all political, if you ignore it – you’re likely to end up in Gitmo or wherever they’re sending “enemy combatants” these days.
Anyhow, my main task has been researching stuff about paranormal creatures. Like us, right? Ha. So... most of my research has involved archival footage. For example, last month I watched the 1931 version of Dracula with Bela Lugosi. Interestingly, that film tied in werewolf legends with vampire legends.”
(Someone in the audience boos loudly)
“I know, I know. Most of us aren’t fans of the necksuckers. But… watching Dracula made me think. Could there be a common thread connecting weres with vampires? People around here have starting talking about ‘Dark Life’ lately, and trying to make it like we ALPS victims are also part of some deep dark thread that runs through history… connecting trolls, chupacabras, Barbra Streisand and goblins or whatever. I’m not sure about that. But it does make me think a little that we might know a lot less than we think we do.
So… after watching Dracula, and thinking about how hard it was to follow and how poorly paced… it made me really feel down about life. So… I killed and ate a particularly annoying neighbor. Not intentionally, of course…it was on accident. But this guy… my gosh… he was driving me batty! Up all night… cranking up the bass on his car (a black hearse, by the way), having all these pale pasty druggie looking chicks over constantly for 2:00AM pool parties – it was NUTS!
And I was already in a funk from being unemployed. And it was a full moon. I was trying to get some sleep and he cranked up the radio one too many times. I looked out the window… he was out in front of his house, just fiddling around with his car door open. No one else there. So I walked over, irritated. And he looked at me with a drop-dead look… and I transformed… and tore him to shreds.
But… then I noticed his teeth. Uh-oh. One of those. Should have FREAKING guessed that… but with all the stupid goth punks around here, you don’t except a real creature of the night.
Uh… so now I’m worried. Could I end up with SCABS? Am I more susceptible because I already have ALPS?"
(Someone yells “NO!”)
"Well, I hope not. But I’ve started taking garlic capsules just to be sure."
(Miguel starts to walk off the stage – then returns to the mic)
“Oh… and if anyone is hiring right now… can you guys let me know?”
(EVERYONE: Hi Miguel!)
“Wait. I started that wrong. How’s this? Uh, hi everyone, I’m Miguel, and I’m a were-wolf.”
(EVERYONE: Hi Miguel!)
“So… anyhow… I know I haven’t been around much lately. Been too busy to show up. Well… not REALLY too busy, but… time gets away from me.
See, I lost my regular job and I’m just freelancing now on random stuff. And by freelancing, I mean basically doing nothing because almost nobody’s hiring freelancers. Sure, I get the occasional computer-fixing job or html gig… but things are slow. Glad I’m single or I’d really be toast.
Now I’m not naturally a lazy guy, so I’ve set some tasks. It wasn’t until I started coming here that I really came to grips with my ALPS. Hank helped me with that. Before… I just ignored it. Of course, now that it’s getting all political, if you ignore it – you’re likely to end up in Gitmo or wherever they’re sending “enemy combatants” these days.
Anyhow, my main task has been researching stuff about paranormal creatures. Like us, right? Ha. So... most of my research has involved archival footage. For example, last month I watched the 1931 version of Dracula with Bela Lugosi. Interestingly, that film tied in werewolf legends with vampire legends.”
(Someone in the audience boos loudly)
“I know, I know. Most of us aren’t fans of the necksuckers. But… watching Dracula made me think. Could there be a common thread connecting weres with vampires? People around here have starting talking about ‘Dark Life’ lately, and trying to make it like we ALPS victims are also part of some deep dark thread that runs through history… connecting trolls, chupacabras, Barbra Streisand and goblins or whatever. I’m not sure about that. But it does make me think a little that we might know a lot less than we think we do.
So… after watching Dracula, and thinking about how hard it was to follow and how poorly paced… it made me really feel down about life. So… I killed and ate a particularly annoying neighbor. Not intentionally, of course…it was on accident. But this guy… my gosh… he was driving me batty! Up all night… cranking up the bass on his car (a black hearse, by the way), having all these pale pasty druggie looking chicks over constantly for 2:00AM pool parties – it was NUTS!
And I was already in a funk from being unemployed. And it was a full moon. I was trying to get some sleep and he cranked up the radio one too many times. I looked out the window… he was out in front of his house, just fiddling around with his car door open. No one else there. So I walked over, irritated. And he looked at me with a drop-dead look… and I transformed… and tore him to shreds.
But… then I noticed his teeth. Uh-oh. One of those. Should have FREAKING guessed that… but with all the stupid goth punks around here, you don’t except a real creature of the night.
Uh… so now I’m worried. Could I end up with SCABS? Am I more susceptible because I already have ALPS?"
(Someone yells “NO!”)
"Well, I hope not. But I’ve started taking garlic capsules just to be sure."
(Miguel starts to walk off the stage – then returns to the mic)
“Oh… and if anyone is hiring right now… can you guys let me know?”
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Scott's Exit
What a change two months can make. The last time I saw Scott, he'd had a bad relapse and was a mess. Tonight...
I dunno. I think I liked the mess better.
"Hi kids," he said, as cool, cocky, and obnoxious as the day I first met him.
"That's not the way you start," Tom reminded him. "The traditional way is by saying, 'Hi, my name is Scott, and I'm—'"
"Bugger tradition," Scott said. "And maybe my name isn't Scott. And maybe I'm not even a were-anything."
Tom sighed heavily and started rubbing his forehead, as if he was suddenly developing a migraine. "Don't start this crap again, Scott."
"I told you, I'm not Scott. I'm Secret Agent Delta Tango Mango Foxtrot Alpha."
Hank boggled. "What? Did I miss something here?"
Tom sighed again. "Scott is convinced that we're all under surveillance. That we've got an informant in the group."
I laughed. "An informant? In a public meeting? That is just nuts."
"Strictly speaking," Scott said, "it's paranoid schizophrenia, with delusions of persecution." He shrugged.
"And sometimes it's the only rational response to the situation."
Hank shook his head. "Now I know I missed something. Geez, you go out of town for one weekend—"
"I don't know how you missed it," Scott said. "It was all over the frickin' news. The Department of Homeland Security is investigating possible links between ALPS and domestic terrorism. They think WCA meetings are being used as fronts for recruiting dangerous radicals."
"Ah," Tom said. "You get this stuff off the Internet, don't you? No, the DHS is looking for right-wing domestic terrorists."
Scott smiled, in that smug way I've come to hate. "You forget, kids. I've got friends inside DHS. That 'right-wing' memo everyone was buzzing about two weeks ago was just the cover story. The real deal is us. And when the head of DHS dropped that Freudian slip last week about screening people in airports for medical problems and then sending people on to their destructions, that was about us."
Hank shook his head. "No, you're confused, Scott. That was about Swine Flu."
"You can believe that if it makes you feel better, Hank, but there never was any Swine Flu. It was all just a dry run, to see how fast they could scare people into changing their lives just because of virus. You wait until the stories about the ALPS Pandemic start breaking next week."
Tim nodded. "Yeah! I knew it! That's why they're buying up silver!"
Tom sighed one more time, and then sat up straighter in his chair. "Okay Scott, I think we've heard enough. If you're not here tonight to be serious—"
Scott flashed on angry, for just a moment. "Oh, but I am serious. I am so frickin' serious you've never seen serious like this before." He turned to the rest of the group. "And strange as it seems, I've come to like some of you people in the course of the past year. A few of you I ever consider friends. And that's why I'm here tonight.
"Hank? You and your Michelle, you be careful. She's got Stoker's Disease. That's what my friends say the people inside the CDC are calling it now, and they're also working up a little thing called Project Molokai. Look it up. Some of what you'll find on it is true.
"The rest of you? They've coming for us, kids. And I for one don't intend to make it any easier for them. Which is why tonight is my last night here. And if you're smart, it'll be your last night, too."
And with that he turned and walked out, his thousand-dollar hand-made English shoes ticking across the floor like a time-bomb.
"Well," Tom said, at last. "That was... interesting. Okay, who's next?"
I dunno. I think I liked the mess better.
"Hi kids," he said, as cool, cocky, and obnoxious as the day I first met him.
"That's not the way you start," Tom reminded him. "The traditional way is by saying, 'Hi, my name is Scott, and I'm—'"
"Bugger tradition," Scott said. "And maybe my name isn't Scott. And maybe I'm not even a were-anything."
Tom sighed heavily and started rubbing his forehead, as if he was suddenly developing a migraine. "Don't start this crap again, Scott."
"I told you, I'm not Scott. I'm Secret Agent Delta Tango Mango Foxtrot Alpha."
Hank boggled. "What? Did I miss something here?"
Tom sighed again. "Scott is convinced that we're all under surveillance. That we've got an informant in the group."
I laughed. "An informant? In a public meeting? That is just nuts."
"Strictly speaking," Scott said, "it's paranoid schizophrenia, with delusions of persecution." He shrugged.
"And sometimes it's the only rational response to the situation."
Hank shook his head. "Now I know I missed something. Geez, you go out of town for one weekend—"
"I don't know how you missed it," Scott said. "It was all over the frickin' news. The Department of Homeland Security is investigating possible links between ALPS and domestic terrorism. They think WCA meetings are being used as fronts for recruiting dangerous radicals."
"Ah," Tom said. "You get this stuff off the Internet, don't you? No, the DHS is looking for right-wing domestic terrorists."
Scott smiled, in that smug way I've come to hate. "You forget, kids. I've got friends inside DHS. That 'right-wing' memo everyone was buzzing about two weeks ago was just the cover story. The real deal is us. And when the head of DHS dropped that Freudian slip last week about screening people in airports for medical problems and then sending people on to their destructions, that was about us."
Hank shook his head. "No, you're confused, Scott. That was about Swine Flu."
"You can believe that if it makes you feel better, Hank, but there never was any Swine Flu. It was all just a dry run, to see how fast they could scare people into changing their lives just because of virus. You wait until the stories about the ALPS Pandemic start breaking next week."
Tim nodded. "Yeah! I knew it! That's why they're buying up silver!"
Tom sighed one more time, and then sat up straighter in his chair. "Okay Scott, I think we've heard enough. If you're not here tonight to be serious—"
Scott flashed on angry, for just a moment. "Oh, but I am serious. I am so frickin' serious you've never seen serious like this before." He turned to the rest of the group. "And strange as it seems, I've come to like some of you people in the course of the past year. A few of you I ever consider friends. And that's why I'm here tonight.
"Hank? You and your Michelle, you be careful. She's got Stoker's Disease. That's what my friends say the people inside the CDC are calling it now, and they're also working up a little thing called Project Molokai. Look it up. Some of what you'll find on it is true.
"The rest of you? They've coming for us, kids. And I for one don't intend to make it any easier for them. Which is why tonight is my last night here. And if you're smart, it'll be your last night, too."
And with that he turned and walked out, his thousand-dollar hand-made English shoes ticking across the floor like a time-bomb.
"Well," Tom said, at last. "That was... interesting. Okay, who's next?"
Sunday, April 26, 2009
The Conspiracy Is Real?
Look, I was never one for conspiracy theories and crazy talk like that. Now don't get me wrong, I've seen some crazy stuff in my time. Especially ever since I got bit by what turned out to be a were-dog while on a sight-seeing tour in Italy. But that has all been more of an opening of my eyes to parts of the natural world that I chose not to believe until it was thrust upon me.
I just never believed in some far reaching conspiracies. They are usually just to complex and the idea that hundreds of people could work together and keep it all completely under wraps. It's hard enough for any normal person to keep a secret, but we're talking about politicians who would throw their Grandma under the bus to save their own skin once trouble is on the horizon. If there's a class of people that would be incapable of successfully carrying out the type of conspiracy whispered about on Internet chat boards and the dark corners of coffee shops, it's politicians.
That was until last week.
To give you a little background, after I was bitten and infected with ALPS, I had a bit of a crisis of my person. Everything I had believed about the world went poof with a single bite. So I decided to do some serious soul searching and took off on a trip to find out what it means to be a were-creature. I traveled the world. I met were's from all walks of life and backgrounds. Still unsatisfied I searched out other forms of alliterative life. I eventually ended up in Eastern Europe where I met all kinds of Dark Creatures lurking just outside of civilization. They were both terrifying and terrified. For centuries they ruled man's nightmares but have been relegated to shadows and forgotten memories. They've become nothing more than the subject of old stories that don't even get passed down anymore.
I found them waiting to fade away as the world had passed them by. They stay terrified of a world that no longer needed them and live in the margins that are constantly shrinking as technology and people move forward.
Most I met while scary in form were decent enough. They understood their roll in this world and were just waiting for their fate to be revealed. There were others though who had pure evil coursing through their veins and were waiting for the destruction of mankind so they could take their place back on top.
I remember a particularly horrific mountain troll I ran into in the mountains of Romania. It was both hideous in form and putrid in its motives. A truly disgusting creature and I still count myself lucky I survived our encounter.
So imagine my surprise when I walk past a TV in a store last week and I see the same mountain troll addressing the press regarding a security memo regarding right wing extremist groups. I couldn't believe it. Here was this nasty mountain troll who had managed to become the Secretary of Homeland Security. It had obviously had some work done and put on some make up, but it was the same troll.
This shook me to the core. Can we take the rumors of Dark Creatures infiltrating the top ranks of the government as conspiracy theories from crackpots when the Secretary of Homeland Security is a verifiable mountain troll?
And then the question becomes, is the attempt to marginalize right wingers who are the one group who would stand up for guns and personal liberty an attempt to steer the country left or is it setting us up for an eventual Dark Creature take over by getting rid of the group most likely to resist?
All I know is that I can't discount those rumors anymore.
If you need to get a hold of me, my name is Deep Gullet.
I just never believed in some far reaching conspiracies. They are usually just to complex and the idea that hundreds of people could work together and keep it all completely under wraps. It's hard enough for any normal person to keep a secret, but we're talking about politicians who would throw their Grandma under the bus to save their own skin once trouble is on the horizon. If there's a class of people that would be incapable of successfully carrying out the type of conspiracy whispered about on Internet chat boards and the dark corners of coffee shops, it's politicians.
That was until last week.
To give you a little background, after I was bitten and infected with ALPS, I had a bit of a crisis of my person. Everything I had believed about the world went poof with a single bite. So I decided to do some serious soul searching and took off on a trip to find out what it means to be a were-creature. I traveled the world. I met were's from all walks of life and backgrounds. Still unsatisfied I searched out other forms of alliterative life. I eventually ended up in Eastern Europe where I met all kinds of Dark Creatures lurking just outside of civilization. They were both terrifying and terrified. For centuries they ruled man's nightmares but have been relegated to shadows and forgotten memories. They've become nothing more than the subject of old stories that don't even get passed down anymore.
I found them waiting to fade away as the world had passed them by. They stay terrified of a world that no longer needed them and live in the margins that are constantly shrinking as technology and people move forward.
Most I met while scary in form were decent enough. They understood their roll in this world and were just waiting for their fate to be revealed. There were others though who had pure evil coursing through their veins and were waiting for the destruction of mankind so they could take their place back on top.
I remember a particularly horrific mountain troll I ran into in the mountains of Romania. It was both hideous in form and putrid in its motives. A truly disgusting creature and I still count myself lucky I survived our encounter.
So imagine my surprise when I walk past a TV in a store last week and I see the same mountain troll addressing the press regarding a security memo regarding right wing extremist groups. I couldn't believe it. Here was this nasty mountain troll who had managed to become the Secretary of Homeland Security. It had obviously had some work done and put on some make up, but it was the same troll.
This shook me to the core. Can we take the rumors of Dark Creatures infiltrating the top ranks of the government as conspiracy theories from crackpots when the Secretary of Homeland Security is a verifiable mountain troll?
And then the question becomes, is the attempt to marginalize right wingers who are the one group who would stand up for guns and personal liberty an attempt to steer the country left or is it setting us up for an eventual Dark Creature take over by getting rid of the group most likely to resist?
All I know is that I can't discount those rumors anymore.
If you need to get a hold of me, my name is Deep Gullet.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Homecoming
"Hi everyone. I'm Hank and I'm a werewolf."
[Group: "Hi Hank!"]
"It's been seventy-six days since I devoured anyone. Like I said a few weeks ago, that was a three hundred year old vampire who really needed to die. But I came close to blowing my streak over the weekend.
"I went back to South Carolina to visit my folks and to introduce them to Michelle. Yeah, taking the girlfriend home to meet the folks is a big step. At least it is for me. Realizing that I wanted my parents to meet Michelle made me see just how serious my feelings had become for her. It took me a few days to work up the nerve to ask Michelle if she wanted to go. I was afraid she'd think I was getting too serious too fast, I guess. But she didn't think that at all! When I asked her, Michelle's face just sort of lit up and she said she'd love to come with me.
"Her brother Luke told me later that Michelle had been thinking about inviting me to meet their parents. And she was afraid of the same thing I'd been afraid of! So, me asking her showed Michelle that I was just as serious about her as she was about me. Did that make any sense?
"Anyway, we flew down to South Carolina, rented a car and drove to Mom and Dad's house. They came out as we were getting out of the car and there were hugs all around. I could tell Dad liked Michelle right from the start. After I introduced her to him, he grinned and gave me a big thumbs up signal. Dad's not what you'd call subtle. Mom was more reserved, but she always has been the quieter parent. I figured it was because she was doing the typical mother thing. You know, where they size up their son's girlfriend to see if the girl is good enough for their son?
"We went in and Mom showed Michelle to her room. Yeah, separate rooms. I'd warned Michelle that was going to be the case. She had just laughed and told me it would be the same when we went to California to meet her parents.
"Of course, Michelle insisted on seeing the room I grew up in, which hasn't changed since went off to college. All my old Star Wars posters were up on the wall, including my little shrine to Natalie Portman and the slave girl Leia cardboard stand up.
"Dad told her, 'We left his room just the way it was when he went to off to college in '99. I knew he'd bring home a girl someday and I'd need something like this to embarrass him!'
"Michelle laughed. She's got a wonderful laugh! Um, sorry, got distracted. So, she laughed and told Dad, 'It's not going to embarrass him. His apartment looks the same, except he's added Lord of the Rings, especially Liv Tyler stuff. He calls her the hot elf babe.'
"Dad just laughed and Mom gave me a stern look, but she didn't say anything. I guess I'm supposed to stop noticing all the babes in the world once I've got a girlfriend. After that, we had dinner and settled in for the evening.
"The next morning, Dad made me go with him to the Home Depot. He had some heavy stuff to pick up and needed me to do most of the lifting. Michelle decided to stay at the house rather than come along. I think she was planning to work on convincing Mom and she was good enough for me.
"Dad and I were gone about an hour and a half. The minute I saw Michelle, I knew something bad had happened while we were gone. Mom didn't seem to notice and Dad was oblivious, but it was obvious to me. I told my parents I was going to take Michelle out to see the sights and we left.
"We drove around aimlessly for a while, not saying much. I pointed out my old elementary school, the house we'd been living in when I was born, things like that. After about half an hour, I said, 'I know something's bothering you, something about my Mom, most likely. She can be hard to get along with, so don't think I'm going to be upset at you if the two of you aren't hitting it off.'
Michelle was quiet for a bit, like she was trying to make her mind up about what to say. Then she said, 'Let's go somewhere quiet where we can take a walk while we talk.'
"One of the nice things about living in a small town is that it's easy to get away from it all pretty quickly. Twenty minutes later, we were walking along a secluded forest path I remembered from high school.
"I was worried at first, because Michelle wrapped her arms around herself, sort of protective like, and walked with her head down. I thought she was trying to figure out how to break things off with me. When I saw a tear run down her cheek, I was sure of it. Unable to take the suspense any more, I asked her, 'Are you trying to figure out how to let me down softly?'
"She stopped, startled, and said, 'You think I'm trying to break up with you?'
"I shrugged, 'I don't know what to think, Michelle. But you're really upset about something you don't want to talk about. My imagination is doing a number on me just trying to figure out what could make you so miserable and all I can think of-'
"Michelle sort of flowed into my arms. Isn't it amazing how women can do that? She hugged me tight and said, 'It's not you. It will never be you. I love you, Hank!'
"Then Michelle sort of growled, 'But your mother!'
"I laughed, my gut unwinding. 'Mom can be a pain in the ass, but her heart's in the right place.'
"Michelle didn't laugh with me. 'No, Hank, I don't think it is.' She sighed, still hugging me, and continued, 'You and your Dad hadn't been out of the house for a minute before she asked me if I knew about your taint. I had no idea what she was talking about and I guess it showed. That's when she launched into this long description about your tainted blood.'
"That was like a sucker punch to the gut for me. 'My tainted blood?' I asked.
"Michelle nodded, 'That's what she said. I knew what she meant, then, even if I didn't like her description. So I told her I knew you had ALPS and that I didn't care. She spent the next fifteen minutes lecturing me about all the horrible things that can happen around someone with ALPS, about how it can be passed on to children, stuff like that.'
"I looked into Michelle's eyes, 'I knew Mom never really adjusted to me having ALPS, but she's been told by doctors that ALPS can't be passed on to children by the father! God, Michelle, I would never have left you alone with Mom if I'd known she was going to pull that crap on you!'
"Michelle looked away from my eyes, 'That's not quite all, Hank. When it became obvious she wasn't going to convince me, your Mom handed me a big envelope, telling me to read what was inside, that it would open my eyes to the truth. Hank, it was all the junk Reverend Riley and his group have been putting out!'
"I went totally numb, 'My parents are-'
"Michelle quickly interrupted, 'No. I asked her about that. You father has no idea. Your mother says nothing gets your father angrier than Riley and his campaign. She says he always was short-sighted about ALPS.'
"Michelle looked back into my eyes. 'I'm sorry I couldn't hide my feelings better. I'd give anything not to have hurt you like this!'
"I forced a small smile, 'You didn't hurt me, Michelle. That burden belong to my mother. You're the one person who'll help me heal.'
"And that's when a terrible day got even worse. From behind me, I heard a voice I recognized all too well. 'Ah, ain't that just so damned sweet!'
"I turned around and there was Larry. The bully who made my life Hell as a kid. He had his whole pack of delinquents with him, too. 'It's about time you came back to my pack, were-wimp!' Larry said. 'And you brought along a friend for all of us to play with!'
"Right then I just snapped. I transformed and launched myself at Larry. I don't even remember what happened during the fight. The next conscious thought I had was Michelle pulling on me, saying, 'Hank! Come on, Hank! Look at me! You don't want to do this!'
"I came back to myself then and transformed back. The little clearing was splattered with blood and Larry, still in wolf form, was lying on the ground at my feet. He had been ripped apart so badly his healing was having trouble keeping up. The rest of the pack was no where to be seen. I let Michelle lead me away from him and back to the car.
"She told me what happened after I snapped. The short version is I kicked the crap out of Larry and was so ferocious I scared the others off. Michelle drove me around while I calmed down and got control of myself. Then we went back to my parents' house and I did my best to pretend I didn't know what my mother had done."
[Group: "Hi Hank!"]
"It's been seventy-six days since I devoured anyone. Like I said a few weeks ago, that was a three hundred year old vampire who really needed to die. But I came close to blowing my streak over the weekend.
"I went back to South Carolina to visit my folks and to introduce them to Michelle. Yeah, taking the girlfriend home to meet the folks is a big step. At least it is for me. Realizing that I wanted my parents to meet Michelle made me see just how serious my feelings had become for her. It took me a few days to work up the nerve to ask Michelle if she wanted to go. I was afraid she'd think I was getting too serious too fast, I guess. But she didn't think that at all! When I asked her, Michelle's face just sort of lit up and she said she'd love to come with me.
"Her brother Luke told me later that Michelle had been thinking about inviting me to meet their parents. And she was afraid of the same thing I'd been afraid of! So, me asking her showed Michelle that I was just as serious about her as she was about me. Did that make any sense?
"Anyway, we flew down to South Carolina, rented a car and drove to Mom and Dad's house. They came out as we were getting out of the car and there were hugs all around. I could tell Dad liked Michelle right from the start. After I introduced her to him, he grinned and gave me a big thumbs up signal. Dad's not what you'd call subtle. Mom was more reserved, but she always has been the quieter parent. I figured it was because she was doing the typical mother thing. You know, where they size up their son's girlfriend to see if the girl is good enough for their son?
"We went in and Mom showed Michelle to her room. Yeah, separate rooms. I'd warned Michelle that was going to be the case. She had just laughed and told me it would be the same when we went to California to meet her parents.
"Of course, Michelle insisted on seeing the room I grew up in, which hasn't changed since went off to college. All my old Star Wars posters were up on the wall, including my little shrine to Natalie Portman and the slave girl Leia cardboard stand up.
"Dad told her, 'We left his room just the way it was when he went to off to college in '99. I knew he'd bring home a girl someday and I'd need something like this to embarrass him!'
"Michelle laughed. She's got a wonderful laugh! Um, sorry, got distracted. So, she laughed and told Dad, 'It's not going to embarrass him. His apartment looks the same, except he's added Lord of the Rings, especially Liv Tyler stuff. He calls her the hot elf babe.'
"Dad just laughed and Mom gave me a stern look, but she didn't say anything. I guess I'm supposed to stop noticing all the babes in the world once I've got a girlfriend. After that, we had dinner and settled in for the evening.
"The next morning, Dad made me go with him to the Home Depot. He had some heavy stuff to pick up and needed me to do most of the lifting. Michelle decided to stay at the house rather than come along. I think she was planning to work on convincing Mom and she was good enough for me.
"Dad and I were gone about an hour and a half. The minute I saw Michelle, I knew something bad had happened while we were gone. Mom didn't seem to notice and Dad was oblivious, but it was obvious to me. I told my parents I was going to take Michelle out to see the sights and we left.
"We drove around aimlessly for a while, not saying much. I pointed out my old elementary school, the house we'd been living in when I was born, things like that. After about half an hour, I said, 'I know something's bothering you, something about my Mom, most likely. She can be hard to get along with, so don't think I'm going to be upset at you if the two of you aren't hitting it off.'
Michelle was quiet for a bit, like she was trying to make her mind up about what to say. Then she said, 'Let's go somewhere quiet where we can take a walk while we talk.'
"One of the nice things about living in a small town is that it's easy to get away from it all pretty quickly. Twenty minutes later, we were walking along a secluded forest path I remembered from high school.
"I was worried at first, because Michelle wrapped her arms around herself, sort of protective like, and walked with her head down. I thought she was trying to figure out how to break things off with me. When I saw a tear run down her cheek, I was sure of it. Unable to take the suspense any more, I asked her, 'Are you trying to figure out how to let me down softly?'
"She stopped, startled, and said, 'You think I'm trying to break up with you?'
"I shrugged, 'I don't know what to think, Michelle. But you're really upset about something you don't want to talk about. My imagination is doing a number on me just trying to figure out what could make you so miserable and all I can think of-'
"Michelle sort of flowed into my arms. Isn't it amazing how women can do that? She hugged me tight and said, 'It's not you. It will never be you. I love you, Hank!'
"Then Michelle sort of growled, 'But your mother!'
"I laughed, my gut unwinding. 'Mom can be a pain in the ass, but her heart's in the right place.'
"Michelle didn't laugh with me. 'No, Hank, I don't think it is.' She sighed, still hugging me, and continued, 'You and your Dad hadn't been out of the house for a minute before she asked me if I knew about your taint. I had no idea what she was talking about and I guess it showed. That's when she launched into this long description about your tainted blood.'
"That was like a sucker punch to the gut for me. 'My tainted blood?' I asked.
"Michelle nodded, 'That's what she said. I knew what she meant, then, even if I didn't like her description. So I told her I knew you had ALPS and that I didn't care. She spent the next fifteen minutes lecturing me about all the horrible things that can happen around someone with ALPS, about how it can be passed on to children, stuff like that.'
"I looked into Michelle's eyes, 'I knew Mom never really adjusted to me having ALPS, but she's been told by doctors that ALPS can't be passed on to children by the father! God, Michelle, I would never have left you alone with Mom if I'd known she was going to pull that crap on you!'
"Michelle looked away from my eyes, 'That's not quite all, Hank. When it became obvious she wasn't going to convince me, your Mom handed me a big envelope, telling me to read what was inside, that it would open my eyes to the truth. Hank, it was all the junk Reverend Riley and his group have been putting out!'
"I went totally numb, 'My parents are-'
"Michelle quickly interrupted, 'No. I asked her about that. You father has no idea. Your mother says nothing gets your father angrier than Riley and his campaign. She says he always was short-sighted about ALPS.'
"Michelle looked back into my eyes. 'I'm sorry I couldn't hide my feelings better. I'd give anything not to have hurt you like this!'
"I forced a small smile, 'You didn't hurt me, Michelle. That burden belong to my mother. You're the one person who'll help me heal.'
"And that's when a terrible day got even worse. From behind me, I heard a voice I recognized all too well. 'Ah, ain't that just so damned sweet!'
"I turned around and there was Larry. The bully who made my life Hell as a kid. He had his whole pack of delinquents with him, too. 'It's about time you came back to my pack, were-wimp!' Larry said. 'And you brought along a friend for all of us to play with!'
"Right then I just snapped. I transformed and launched myself at Larry. I don't even remember what happened during the fight. The next conscious thought I had was Michelle pulling on me, saying, 'Hank! Come on, Hank! Look at me! You don't want to do this!'
"I came back to myself then and transformed back. The little clearing was splattered with blood and Larry, still in wolf form, was lying on the ground at my feet. He had been ripped apart so badly his healing was having trouble keeping up. The rest of the pack was no where to be seen. I let Michelle lead me away from him and back to the car.
"She told me what happened after I snapped. The short version is I kicked the crap out of Larry and was so ferocious I scared the others off. Michelle drove me around while I calmed down and got control of myself. Then we went back to my parents' house and I did my best to pretend I didn't know what my mother had done."
Sunday, April 12, 2009
What's this world coming to?
"Hi. My name is Sean and I am a were-hyena."
[Group: "Hi, Sean!"]
"Life is tough. Wouldn't you agree?"
[Group: "Absolutely!"]
"I mean with the pressures of work, family, church, and the now constant worry if we are all going to be be employed next month because of the failing economy, life is frickin tough. And then on top of the normal stress of life you throw in the curse of ALPS and it's almost more than a middle aged man can handle. And then if that isn't enough now we got this Rev. Rile talking about internment camps."
"Maybe that's why this Craigs List posting was so disturbing to me. Check this out: 'Wanted Werewolf bite. My name is James and my life sucks. My parents treat me bad. They took my xbox 360 away for getting lousy a D in science. I need the strength of the werewolf to be able to leave this horrible situation. I hate my life. My dreams are full of darkness so I want my reality to be as dark. That is why I need your help. I have 500 dollars for the first werewolf to sink his or her fangs into me. P.S. The Cure Rules'"
"What is this nonsense? I don't get it. This kid must have real bad self esteem. I could see some emo shoegazer wanting to be a vampire. The media have portrayed vampires as suave and debonair. Not us Were's. We are always portrayed as greasy and pathetic waiting for death. Look at the movie Underworld. The vampires got Kate Beckinsdale in tight leather. The Were's got some greasy unbathed dudes. In American Werewolf in London the transformation is horrific and painful and then the guy gets shot. While that's not entirely reality, Emoboy doesn't know that."
"Even in Stephen Kings Silver Bullet, the murderous Were is a priest. Talk about low. Every one of the Were's I know would step down rather than risk offending God like that. Now a vampire maybe. They are pretty amoral, but Were's are the most upstanding group of folks I know. Of course they are all I know because I'm not allowed in large public places, judges orders."
"My point is that there is nothing glamorous about being a Were in reality or in Fiction, with maybe the exception of an odd sub genre of Japanese Were-Octopus Hentai. WHy would anyone wish them upon themselves. ANd then I read an ad like this and I have to ask myself. What's this world coming to?"
[Group: "Hi, Sean!"]
"Life is tough. Wouldn't you agree?"
[Group: "Absolutely!"]
"I mean with the pressures of work, family, church, and the now constant worry if we are all going to be be employed next month because of the failing economy, life is frickin tough. And then on top of the normal stress of life you throw in the curse of ALPS and it's almost more than a middle aged man can handle. And then if that isn't enough now we got this Rev. Rile talking about internment camps."
"Maybe that's why this Craigs List posting was so disturbing to me. Check this out: 'Wanted Werewolf bite. My name is James and my life sucks. My parents treat me bad. They took my xbox 360 away for getting lousy a D in science. I need the strength of the werewolf to be able to leave this horrible situation. I hate my life. My dreams are full of darkness so I want my reality to be as dark. That is why I need your help. I have 500 dollars for the first werewolf to sink his or her fangs into me. P.S. The Cure Rules'"
"What is this nonsense? I don't get it. This kid must have real bad self esteem. I could see some emo shoegazer wanting to be a vampire. The media have portrayed vampires as suave and debonair. Not us Were's. We are always portrayed as greasy and pathetic waiting for death. Look at the movie Underworld. The vampires got Kate Beckinsdale in tight leather. The Were's got some greasy unbathed dudes. In American Werewolf in London the transformation is horrific and painful and then the guy gets shot. While that's not entirely reality, Emoboy doesn't know that."
"Even in Stephen Kings Silver Bullet, the murderous Were is a priest. Talk about low. Every one of the Were's I know would step down rather than risk offending God like that. Now a vampire maybe. They are pretty amoral, but Were's are the most upstanding group of folks I know. Of course they are all I know because I'm not allowed in large public places, judges orders."
"My point is that there is nothing glamorous about being a Were in reality or in Fiction, with maybe the exception of an odd sub genre of Japanese Were-Octopus Hentai. WHy would anyone wish them upon themselves. ANd then I read an ad like this and I have to ask myself. What's this world coming to?"
Sunday, April 5, 2009
The Man Behind The Curtain Speaks
Good evening. I'm Bruce Bethke, and I'm going to step out of character tonight and spend a little time answering one of the questions that's kept coming up ever since we first launched this site in June of last year. The question, in its least profane form, is:
The short answer is: fiction. Elaborating on this admittedly rather terse answer, it's about exploring the question of whether a blog engine can be used effectively to construct a serial fictitious narrative, and along the way to develop, over time, a corresponding collaboratively designed fictional universe.
In a sense, things like this are already being done. There are plenty of blogs out there right now that contain nothing but the purest fiction, although most of the ones we're aware of purport to be the non-fictional chronicles of the narrator's sex life and/or political activities—or all too frequently, both. We already know that a first-person blog describing, say, the wild and uninhibited sexual adventures of a beautiful young bisexual female advertising copywriter turned pole-dancer and political campaign web 2.0 consultant would draw a large and loyal, if perhaps completely irrational, readership. Probably even land us a movie deal, too.
But we are not interested in trying to pass our fevered prurient fantasies off as realities. And we certainly are not interested in producing any kind of porn.
Hence, Curse of the Were-Weasel: an intentional attempt to develop, over the course of two years, a shared universe populated by fascinating characters, and to use this universe to present a story in weekly, serialized, interactively developed, and not necessarily linear installments.
But why this particular story? We considered a number of other potential story lines first, but this one seemed to provide us with the greatest possible openness and require the least guidance. (This latter assumption turned out to be dead wrong, but more on that in a bit.) The market category of "paranormal romance" is unbelievably hot right now, as evidenced by the collected works of Laurell Hamilton, Yasmine Galenorn, Kim Harrison, or my own personal favorite, Ronda Thompson—
Ah, the giants.
—and it shows no signs of dying off any time soon. It's tempting to blame Joss Whedon and Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992) for this, but I'd put the point of inception at least five years earlier, with Ron Koslow's 1987 TV series, Beauty and the Beast.
Never mind that now. The decisive points were that vampires are horribly and heavily overused in gothic serial romances (Dark Shadows, anyone?), but the conventions of the werewolf trope are equally widely known and were not, at least a year ago, so heavily overused. Besides, there are a lot of variations on the were-creature trope, and the genre is not without its opportunities for humor.
So were-critters it was.
But then the question became, how do you free the werewolf trope from some of its more inconvenient conventions? (Only in full moonlight, deathly allergic to silver, tendancy to black-out and experience periods of bestial homicidal insanity followed by amnesia, etc.) How do you turn were-creatures into intelligent, articulate, and sympathetic first-person narrative voices? In short, how do you bring them out into the light of day?
The answer came to us in a flash. This is the 21st century. What if were-creaturism was now known to be a disease: a terrible, communicable, debilitating disease with potential deadly outcomes, true, but nonetheless, only a metaphorical curse? Why, that would make the people who contract this disease victims, deserving not fear and scorn but sympathy and understanding—and all the manifold services of the entire Victim Support Industry! Why, we realized, if such a thing as were-wolfism were real, werewolves would be covered by the Americans with Disabilities Act, and not only could you not fire a werewolf who went feral in your office, you'd be required by Federal law to accomodate his disability!
And thus was born ALPS: Acquired Lycanthropic Polymorphism Syndrome. A retroviral disease passed by exchange of bodily fluids (usually, but not always, via the blood/saliva interface involved in "biting" behavior), ALPS by some not-as-yet-fully understood mechanism activates dormant sequences in the victim's DNA, resulting in a so-called "transformation" into a temporarily altered physiognomy and accompanying reversion to primitive, predatory, carnivorous behaviors. Given that this transformation usually involves changes to the mandible structure and hair-growth patterns, the conventional (if distasteful) expression is to say that the victims have "turned into wolves..."
But why stop there? World folklore abounds with tales of were-bears, were-cougars, were-jaguars, were-tigers, were-badgers, and many, many more—including, yes, were-seals. So on further reflection we decided our ALPS victims should be capable of changing into a very wide variety of forms, according to the nature of their character, and all of which resemble various large, carnivorous mammals. (We decided to make a sticking point of the large, carnivorous mammal requirement, so no were-tuna or were-banana slugs or anything really silly like that.) Further, we decided it would make them more interesting if their transformations were not slaved strictly to the lunar cycle but rather erratic, hormonal, and in some cases, possibly even voluntary, and more akin to getting really in touch with their inner animal avatar than with reverting to mere mindless bestiality.
With those basic rules in place, all that was left was to come up with some excuse for our ALPS victims to get together on a weekly basis, in order to interact and tell their stories. Once we couched it in those terms, the answer was obvious: Were-Creatures Anonymous. Because here in Therapy Nation, what else would werewolves do but form 12-step self-help groups to help them deal with their issues, their feelings of alienation, and that ever-present urge to solve their interpersonal problems by ripping some jerk's throat out, tearing open his ribcage, and feasting on his still-beating heart?
The Curse of the Were-Weasel launched on Sunday, June 8, 2008, with "The Were-Weasel's Tale". Results in the first few months were promising, but to be honest, wildly erratic. This randomness was the natural result of the lack of structure and guidance I mentioned earlier; trusting to spontaneous invention was not working, nor was the lack of an overarching plot line. I've worked from rigid series bibles before and didn't enjoy it, but I made the mistake of going too far in the opposite direction.
Fortunately Henry and Vidad rescued the thing by staging a coup and assuming control over ramrodding the show from week to week. Since then we've introduced vampires, in a controlled fashion and subject to similar strictures as our ALPS victims, and developed a larger plot, initially centered on the Reverend Riley and his anti-ALPS movement but now grown to embrace "Dark Life" and the emerging struggle between the new breed of out-of-the-closet were-beasties and the older and more traditional cryptids.
The one thing that remains disappointing is the audience-participation angle. We chose to use the Google comment engine specifically because it enables readers to enter comments under any screen name they choose; we encourage readers to adopt a new identity (or many new identities) and participate in the commentary as if they too were members of WCA or one of the affiliated support groups. This is the area where we're watching for tryouts and prospective new posters.
Any more questions?
What the heck is the Curse of the Were-Weasel all about?
The short answer is: fiction. Elaborating on this admittedly rather terse answer, it's about exploring the question of whether a blog engine can be used effectively to construct a serial fictitious narrative, and along the way to develop, over time, a corresponding collaboratively designed fictional universe.
In a sense, things like this are already being done. There are plenty of blogs out there right now that contain nothing but the purest fiction, although most of the ones we're aware of purport to be the non-fictional chronicles of the narrator's sex life and/or political activities—or all too frequently, both. We already know that a first-person blog describing, say, the wild and uninhibited sexual adventures of a beautiful young bisexual female advertising copywriter turned pole-dancer and political campaign web 2.0 consultant would draw a large and loyal, if perhaps completely irrational, readership. Probably even land us a movie deal, too.
But we are not interested in trying to pass our fevered prurient fantasies off as realities. And we certainly are not interested in producing any kind of porn.
Hence, Curse of the Were-Weasel: an intentional attempt to develop, over the course of two years, a shared universe populated by fascinating characters, and to use this universe to present a story in weekly, serialized, interactively developed, and not necessarily linear installments.
But why this particular story? We considered a number of other potential story lines first, but this one seemed to provide us with the greatest possible openness and require the least guidance. (This latter assumption turned out to be dead wrong, but more on that in a bit.) The market category of "paranormal romance" is unbelievably hot right now, as evidenced by the collected works of Laurell Hamilton, Yasmine Galenorn, Kim Harrison, or my own personal favorite, Ronda Thompson—
Ah, the giants.
—and it shows no signs of dying off any time soon. It's tempting to blame Joss Whedon and Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992) for this, but I'd put the point of inception at least five years earlier, with Ron Koslow's 1987 TV series, Beauty and the Beast.
Never mind that now. The decisive points were that vampires are horribly and heavily overused in gothic serial romances (Dark Shadows, anyone?), but the conventions of the werewolf trope are equally widely known and were not, at least a year ago, so heavily overused. Besides, there are a lot of variations on the were-creature trope, and the genre is not without its opportunities for humor.
So were-critters it was.
But then the question became, how do you free the werewolf trope from some of its more inconvenient conventions? (Only in full moonlight, deathly allergic to silver, tendancy to black-out and experience periods of bestial homicidal insanity followed by amnesia, etc.) How do you turn were-creatures into intelligent, articulate, and sympathetic first-person narrative voices? In short, how do you bring them out into the light of day?
The answer came to us in a flash. This is the 21st century. What if were-creaturism was now known to be a disease: a terrible, communicable, debilitating disease with potential deadly outcomes, true, but nonetheless, only a metaphorical curse? Why, that would make the people who contract this disease victims, deserving not fear and scorn but sympathy and understanding—and all the manifold services of the entire Victim Support Industry! Why, we realized, if such a thing as were-wolfism were real, werewolves would be covered by the Americans with Disabilities Act, and not only could you not fire a werewolf who went feral in your office, you'd be required by Federal law to accomodate his disability!
And thus was born ALPS: Acquired Lycanthropic Polymorphism Syndrome. A retroviral disease passed by exchange of bodily fluids (usually, but not always, via the blood/saliva interface involved in "biting" behavior), ALPS by some not-as-yet-fully understood mechanism activates dormant sequences in the victim's DNA, resulting in a so-called "transformation" into a temporarily altered physiognomy and accompanying reversion to primitive, predatory, carnivorous behaviors. Given that this transformation usually involves changes to the mandible structure and hair-growth patterns, the conventional (if distasteful) expression is to say that the victims have "turned into wolves..."
But why stop there? World folklore abounds with tales of were-bears, were-cougars, were-jaguars, were-tigers, were-badgers, and many, many more—including, yes, were-seals. So on further reflection we decided our ALPS victims should be capable of changing into a very wide variety of forms, according to the nature of their character, and all of which resemble various large, carnivorous mammals. (We decided to make a sticking point of the large, carnivorous mammal requirement, so no were-tuna or were-banana slugs or anything really silly like that.) Further, we decided it would make them more interesting if their transformations were not slaved strictly to the lunar cycle but rather erratic, hormonal, and in some cases, possibly even voluntary, and more akin to getting really in touch with their inner animal avatar than with reverting to mere mindless bestiality.
With those basic rules in place, all that was left was to come up with some excuse for our ALPS victims to get together on a weekly basis, in order to interact and tell their stories. Once we couched it in those terms, the answer was obvious: Were-Creatures Anonymous. Because here in Therapy Nation, what else would werewolves do but form 12-step self-help groups to help them deal with their issues, their feelings of alienation, and that ever-present urge to solve their interpersonal problems by ripping some jerk's throat out, tearing open his ribcage, and feasting on his still-beating heart?
The Curse of the Were-Weasel launched on Sunday, June 8, 2008, with "The Were-Weasel's Tale". Results in the first few months were promising, but to be honest, wildly erratic. This randomness was the natural result of the lack of structure and guidance I mentioned earlier; trusting to spontaneous invention was not working, nor was the lack of an overarching plot line. I've worked from rigid series bibles before and didn't enjoy it, but I made the mistake of going too far in the opposite direction.
Fortunately Henry and Vidad rescued the thing by staging a coup and assuming control over ramrodding the show from week to week. Since then we've introduced vampires, in a controlled fashion and subject to similar strictures as our ALPS victims, and developed a larger plot, initially centered on the Reverend Riley and his anti-ALPS movement but now grown to embrace "Dark Life" and the emerging struggle between the new breed of out-of-the-closet were-beasties and the older and more traditional cryptids.
The one thing that remains disappointing is the audience-participation angle. We chose to use the Google comment engine specifically because it enables readers to enter comments under any screen name they choose; we encourage readers to adopt a new identity (or many new identities) and participate in the commentary as if they too were members of WCA or one of the affiliated support groups. This is the area where we're watching for tryouts and prospective new posters.
Any more questions?
Sunday, March 29, 2009
The New Pack
"Hi everyone, it's me again. Hank, the werewolf."
[Group: Hi Hank!]
"It's been fifty-five days since I devoured anyone, and that one was a tyrannical, three hundred year old vampire so he shouldn't really count. Heh.
"Anyway, a couple of weeks ago I lost my job at the used car lot. With the economy the way it is, you'd think used car sales would be going up. And they are everywhere but where I worked. The idiot who owns the place figured the increased market for late model used cars meant he should jack up his prices. He figured he'd make even more money with each sale. What happened was people just went to another used car lot that wasn't trying to rip them off. He had to have someone to blame, though, so I got canned. I'd gotten to where I hated working the used car lot, anyway, so I don't mind not having to go there every day. But I still need a job, so if you know any place that's hiring, let me know.
"Over the weekend, Michelle, my vampire girlfriend, decided she was going to cheer me up. I always like it when she cheers me up, if you know what I mean! But this time she meant to get me out of the apartment, somewhere we weren't likely to run into any of Riley's rallies against us ALPSers. I don't think I'd have chosen a youth soccer game, but the son of Michelle's best friend, Wanda, was playing and the boy had been begging 'Miss Michelle' to come see him play. I figured why not go? It would make Michelle happy and might even be fun.
"I had no idea that youth soccer was such a big business! I figured we'd just go to some park somewhere, watch the kids and then go home. Nope. We went to this huge soccer complex. There must have been at least fifty soccer fields and kids as young as four or five up to teenagers. Thousands of parents and grandparents were out there with folding chairs, cheering on the kids. With the crowd and all those fields, it took Michelle and me a while to find the game we were looking for. The game had already started when we got to the field.
"Michelle walked up to a man a woman and said, 'Hi Wanda! Sorry we're late.'
"Wanda smiled, 'You know, you really didn't have to come.'
"Michelle just laughed, 'Jack made me pinkie swear. And he says you can't go back on a pinkie swear!' Then she turned to me, 'Hank, this is my friend Wanda and her husband Ron. And the little scamp who just had the ball taken from him is Jack.'
"Wanda gave me an appraising look masked in a polite smile, 'So, this is the man I've been hearing so much about!' Wanda leaned close and loudly whispered, 'She's totally gaga over you, you know!'
"Michelle growled, 'Wanda!' I love it when she growls like that!
"I whispered loudly back to Wanda, 'She's sunk her fangs pretty deeply in me, too!'
"Wanda chuckled a bit but Michelle started laughing so hard at my joke that Wanda gave her a questioning glance. Pulling Michelle into a hug, I quietly whispered in her ear, 'Wanda doesn't know about you, right?'
"Still laughing, Michelle whispered back, "No. She doesn't know about you, either.'
"We turned back to watch the game and make small talk. It wasn't like a regular soccer game. There wasn't really any flow, just kids getting around the ball and kicking for all they were worth. Every now and then a player would break away from the big mass of kids, make a run on the goal and sometimes even score. The coaches would stand on the sideline and call out instructions like 'Stay in your position!' or 'Pass the ball now!' or even 'Jimmy, don't take the ball away from your own teammate!' But the kids looked like they were having fun and parents were all supportive, so it did take my mind off of being unemployed.
"In the second half of the game, things started to get tense. I couldn't figure out why, but the parents all around us were getting nervous about something. Michelle noticed it, too, and asked Wanda what was going on.
"Wanda replied, 'Our team is winning and the other team can get really...upset...if they lose. It's not really the fault of the kids on the other team. They really can't help it, but...' She trailed off, like there was more she wanted to say but didn't think she should.
"I figured it wouldn't hurt to kick up my senses a bit and figure out what was going on. It didn't take long. Every single player on the other team was an ALPSer! I looked at Wanda, 'Why is there an entire team of kids with ALPS?'
"Wanda looked surprised, 'How did-? Never mind. Some of the parents didn't want their children on a team with kids who had ALPS. They were afraid of what might happen, I guess. So the league took all the ALPS kids and put them on one team. But that just makes it worse. The ALPS kids feel like they're being shunned, so that makes them more likely to get mad at the other kids. Sometimes, when they're losing, some of those kids get really mad and then they change. It doesn't help that the ALPS kids' coach is as scared of them as all the other parents.'
"Right then Jack's team scored another goal. They jumped up and down and cheered but the parents got even more tense than they had been before. With my heightened senses, I could tell they had good reason to be tense, too. A couple of the ALPS kids were pretty upset and were probably going to transform in the next few seconds.
"Turning to Wanda, I said, 'Get Jack and his teammates off the field now.' Then I walked out onto the field, heading toward the ALPS team.
"I could hear the coach and parents behind me calling to Jack's team to come over to the sidelines. I saw the ALPS team's coach just standing on the sidelines, totally out of his element. The ref saw me and ran over, yelling, 'No parents are allowed on the field during a game!' When I ignored him, he came up to me as said, 'Sir, no parents are allowed on the field during a game.'
"I didn't stop walking but said to him, 'I'm not a parent and you are the one who should get off the field. You're about to have a bunch of little were-creatures running around out here. They won't want to hurt you, but they will if you get in the way.' The ref's face went pale and he turned and left the field.
"I walked right up to the kid who seemed most likely to transform and said, 'You don't want to transform, kid. It won't help you win the game or make you feel better.'
"The kid had a really good 'up yours' stare already; pretty impressive for a six year old. He gave me that stare and said, 'You better run, mister.' And then he transformed in a little werewolf cub -- cute little thing -- and he started growling at me. That kicked if off for the other kids and they all transformed, too. I had ten little were-cubs in front of me; six wolves, two tigers, a bear and a cougar. They were all snarling and growling and ready to leap. So I transformed and gave the little pack what it really needed; an alpha.
"A bit of growling, a little nipping at their ears, a couple of good cuffs with the paw and I had the ten of them sitting in front of me acting a whole lot more polite. I growled a bit more, letting them know who was boss, then transformed back. The kids transformed back, too.
"I called over the ref and both coaches. The ref came and so did the coach for Jack's team. The coach for the ALPS team just stood there on the sidelines, staring at us. Ignoring him, I said, 'The kids are under control now. We can finish the game.'
"The ref looked at the other coach. He shrugged and said, 'Why not?' Then the ref looked at me, 'Are you willing to stay on the sidelines with these kids? You've got some, uh, standing with them no one else here can match.' I agreed and led the kids to the sideline. Sometime during the discussion with the ref and other coach, the ALPS team's coach had left. I guess it was just too much for him. Anyway, we finished out the game without any trouble. My ALPS kids even scored a goal before the game ended.
"Both teams did the 'Good game' walk. Since no one else was around, I took the place of the coach in the line. I led the kids back to their parents and wasn't really that surprised when they asked me if I would take over as team coach. I told them I didn't really know anything about coaching soccer, but if they didn't mind that, I told them I'd be willing to be the coach.
"The kids cheered and the parents smiled and Michelle came over to meet my new little pack. She said Wanda had a whole bunch of questions after I transformed. Michelle just told Wanda she'd talk about it later.
"All in all, we had a fun time out at the soccer game. And later, when we got back to my apartment, Michelle cheered me up again!"
[Group: Hi Hank!]
"It's been fifty-five days since I devoured anyone, and that one was a tyrannical, three hundred year old vampire so he shouldn't really count. Heh.
"Anyway, a couple of weeks ago I lost my job at the used car lot. With the economy the way it is, you'd think used car sales would be going up. And they are everywhere but where I worked. The idiot who owns the place figured the increased market for late model used cars meant he should jack up his prices. He figured he'd make even more money with each sale. What happened was people just went to another used car lot that wasn't trying to rip them off. He had to have someone to blame, though, so I got canned. I'd gotten to where I hated working the used car lot, anyway, so I don't mind not having to go there every day. But I still need a job, so if you know any place that's hiring, let me know.
"Over the weekend, Michelle, my vampire girlfriend, decided she was going to cheer me up. I always like it when she cheers me up, if you know what I mean! But this time she meant to get me out of the apartment, somewhere we weren't likely to run into any of Riley's rallies against us ALPSers. I don't think I'd have chosen a youth soccer game, but the son of Michelle's best friend, Wanda, was playing and the boy had been begging 'Miss Michelle' to come see him play. I figured why not go? It would make Michelle happy and might even be fun.
"I had no idea that youth soccer was such a big business! I figured we'd just go to some park somewhere, watch the kids and then go home. Nope. We went to this huge soccer complex. There must have been at least fifty soccer fields and kids as young as four or five up to teenagers. Thousands of parents and grandparents were out there with folding chairs, cheering on the kids. With the crowd and all those fields, it took Michelle and me a while to find the game we were looking for. The game had already started when we got to the field.
"Michelle walked up to a man a woman and said, 'Hi Wanda! Sorry we're late.'
"Wanda smiled, 'You know, you really didn't have to come.'
"Michelle just laughed, 'Jack made me pinkie swear. And he says you can't go back on a pinkie swear!' Then she turned to me, 'Hank, this is my friend Wanda and her husband Ron. And the little scamp who just had the ball taken from him is Jack.'
"Wanda gave me an appraising look masked in a polite smile, 'So, this is the man I've been hearing so much about!' Wanda leaned close and loudly whispered, 'She's totally gaga over you, you know!'
"Michelle growled, 'Wanda!' I love it when she growls like that!
"I whispered loudly back to Wanda, 'She's sunk her fangs pretty deeply in me, too!'
"Wanda chuckled a bit but Michelle started laughing so hard at my joke that Wanda gave her a questioning glance. Pulling Michelle into a hug, I quietly whispered in her ear, 'Wanda doesn't know about you, right?'
"Still laughing, Michelle whispered back, "No. She doesn't know about you, either.'
"We turned back to watch the game and make small talk. It wasn't like a regular soccer game. There wasn't really any flow, just kids getting around the ball and kicking for all they were worth. Every now and then a player would break away from the big mass of kids, make a run on the goal and sometimes even score. The coaches would stand on the sideline and call out instructions like 'Stay in your position!' or 'Pass the ball now!' or even 'Jimmy, don't take the ball away from your own teammate!' But the kids looked like they were having fun and parents were all supportive, so it did take my mind off of being unemployed.
"In the second half of the game, things started to get tense. I couldn't figure out why, but the parents all around us were getting nervous about something. Michelle noticed it, too, and asked Wanda what was going on.
"Wanda replied, 'Our team is winning and the other team can get really...upset...if they lose. It's not really the fault of the kids on the other team. They really can't help it, but...' She trailed off, like there was more she wanted to say but didn't think she should.
"I figured it wouldn't hurt to kick up my senses a bit and figure out what was going on. It didn't take long. Every single player on the other team was an ALPSer! I looked at Wanda, 'Why is there an entire team of kids with ALPS?'
"Wanda looked surprised, 'How did-? Never mind. Some of the parents didn't want their children on a team with kids who had ALPS. They were afraid of what might happen, I guess. So the league took all the ALPS kids and put them on one team. But that just makes it worse. The ALPS kids feel like they're being shunned, so that makes them more likely to get mad at the other kids. Sometimes, when they're losing, some of those kids get really mad and then they change. It doesn't help that the ALPS kids' coach is as scared of them as all the other parents.'
"Right then Jack's team scored another goal. They jumped up and down and cheered but the parents got even more tense than they had been before. With my heightened senses, I could tell they had good reason to be tense, too. A couple of the ALPS kids were pretty upset and were probably going to transform in the next few seconds.
"Turning to Wanda, I said, 'Get Jack and his teammates off the field now.' Then I walked out onto the field, heading toward the ALPS team.
"I could hear the coach and parents behind me calling to Jack's team to come over to the sidelines. I saw the ALPS team's coach just standing on the sidelines, totally out of his element. The ref saw me and ran over, yelling, 'No parents are allowed on the field during a game!' When I ignored him, he came up to me as said, 'Sir, no parents are allowed on the field during a game.'
"I didn't stop walking but said to him, 'I'm not a parent and you are the one who should get off the field. You're about to have a bunch of little were-creatures running around out here. They won't want to hurt you, but they will if you get in the way.' The ref's face went pale and he turned and left the field.
"I walked right up to the kid who seemed most likely to transform and said, 'You don't want to transform, kid. It won't help you win the game or make you feel better.'
"The kid had a really good 'up yours' stare already; pretty impressive for a six year old. He gave me that stare and said, 'You better run, mister.' And then he transformed in a little werewolf cub -- cute little thing -- and he started growling at me. That kicked if off for the other kids and they all transformed, too. I had ten little were-cubs in front of me; six wolves, two tigers, a bear and a cougar. They were all snarling and growling and ready to leap. So I transformed and gave the little pack what it really needed; an alpha.
"A bit of growling, a little nipping at their ears, a couple of good cuffs with the paw and I had the ten of them sitting in front of me acting a whole lot more polite. I growled a bit more, letting them know who was boss, then transformed back. The kids transformed back, too.
"I called over the ref and both coaches. The ref came and so did the coach for Jack's team. The coach for the ALPS team just stood there on the sidelines, staring at us. Ignoring him, I said, 'The kids are under control now. We can finish the game.'
"The ref looked at the other coach. He shrugged and said, 'Why not?' Then the ref looked at me, 'Are you willing to stay on the sidelines with these kids? You've got some, uh, standing with them no one else here can match.' I agreed and led the kids to the sideline. Sometime during the discussion with the ref and other coach, the ALPS team's coach had left. I guess it was just too much for him. Anyway, we finished out the game without any trouble. My ALPS kids even scored a goal before the game ended.
"Both teams did the 'Good game' walk. Since no one else was around, I took the place of the coach in the line. I led the kids back to their parents and wasn't really that surprised when they asked me if I would take over as team coach. I told them I didn't really know anything about coaching soccer, but if they didn't mind that, I told them I'd be willing to be the coach.
"The kids cheered and the parents smiled and Michelle came over to meet my new little pack. She said Wanda had a whole bunch of questions after I transformed. Michelle just told Wanda she'd talk about it later.
"All in all, we had a fun time out at the soccer game. And later, when we got back to my apartment, Michelle cheered me up again!"
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Werewolf Geneology or a New Look at the Three Little Pigs
"Hi everybody. My name's Mike Stump and I'm a werewolf."
[Group: Hi Mike!]
"Last time I was here, I told you about a long ago ancestor of mine who was the wolf in the real story of Little Red Riding Hood. Well, having tracked that story back to a werewolf, I began wondering what other fairy tales owed their origin to other were-creatures. Since I'm a werewolf, I researched wolves, first. And the one I managed to track down really surprised me. It was the tale of the three little pigs!
"Here's the thing that really surprised me; there really were three pigs. But they weren't little and weren't really pigs. They were boars. Were-boars, actually. Unfortunately, I never was able to find names for any of those involved.
"The werewolf involved was probably a hermit. He was definitely a loner, living out in the forest in territory he'd claimed as his own. As best I can tell, the werewolf had been a monk of some kind before he contracted ALPS. The monk believed that he had 'received Satan's curse.' The monk sort of communed with nature-"
[Person in the crowd: They had hippies back then?]
"No, they did not. The monk communed with nature to witness God's hand in creating everything around the monk. He wrote about everything he studied and was quite a good naturalist. He also wrote about the 'curse' that came upon him every full moon. Like last time, I'm going to tell the story the way the monk did in his writings.
"I have lived by myself for years, as Satan's curse demanded. Yesterday, while walking the forest, I happened upon a crudely built hut. Thinking a woodsman or huntsman had moved into the area, I feared what might happen to them when the full moon rose that night. I knocked on the door to the hut. The hut was so crudely built, the entire thing shook as my hand struck it.
"The door was opened by a very short, heavy-set man. His eyes were piggish, displaying little intelligence. The man's speech was almost bestial, so much so that I could barely understand him. 'What..want?' was all I could discern.
"Speaking carefully and slowly, I told him a cursed beast stalked the forest. The man either did not understand or did not care. 'Bah' was all he said as he closed his rickety door in the my face.
"I attempted to move as far from the hut as possible before my curse came upon me. I did not wish harm upon the short man. Satan felt otherwise, guiding me directly back to the hut. Approaching the crude hut, my nose detected the scent of wild boar rather than man. A normal wolf would not attack a boar alone. A creature cursed with the power of Satan would not hesitate. At least I would not be responsible for murder this night!
"I crashed through the fragile door and came face to a face with a very small boar. We fell to fighting, the boar attempting to impale me on its tusks while I move constantly, snapping at the boar's flanks and legs. I did not succeed in killing the boar. It ran off into the forest and I let it go.
"This morning I returned to the scene of the fight. The crude hut had been destroyed. I hope the small man has left. I could find no evidence of him. I believe the man witnessed the fight with the boar and has been frightened away. I hope so.
"I returned the next day and discovered a new hut had been built right where the old one had been. This hut was built more strongly than the first one but it, also, was crudely contructed. Hoping to convince the man to leave, I knocked on the door to the new hut. Once again, a short, heavy-set man with piggish eyes opened the door. It was not the same man, though it was almost certainly his brother.
"Once again I attempted to explain about the cursed creature who roamed the forest when the moon was full. As I spoke, the man from the other day appeared in the doorway as well. God knows I attmpted to make myself plain to the men but neither of them seemed to understand the danger. As his brother before him had done, the small man shut the door in my face.
"As before, Satan's curse returned as the sun's bright light as replaced by the moon's baleful illumination. As before, I found myself drawn to the crude hut. As before, the scent of man had been replaced by the scent of wild boar. As before, I broke through the door. I found myself facing two small boars. The boars and I fell to with avengeance. Doing battle with one boar had been difficult. Had these boars been larger, battling two would have been impossible. I know not how long we fought though the eventual result was the same. The two boars escaped into the forest together.
"I returned to the scene in the morning. As I anticipated, the hut had been destroyed. I returned to the scene each day for seven days. Neither then men nor the boars returned.
"Okay, I'm taking a break from the monk's point of view for a minute. He wrote a lot of stuff that isn't important to the story over the next four months. Content that the men had been scared off, the monk did not return to the scene of the two fights during all of that time. I'm returning to the monk's point of view four months after the second fight.
"Today, my studies of God's wonderous world brought me back to the part of the forest where the huts had been built. To my dismay, I discovered a cabin standing where the huts once stood. The cabin was of sturdy construction, built with large, strong logs. Though I doubted any good would come of it, I knocked on this new door. The door was answered by a third man, obviously the brother of the other two. As before, my warnings fell on deaf or uncomprehending ears. The man just laughed and closed the door in my face. With Satan's curse due to return this evening, I am certain I will return here.
"My expectations of that afternoon were correct. The curse came and I found myself drawn to the cabin. I was not surprised to discover the scent of man was once again replaced by the scent of boar. As Satan had cursed me with the form of a wolf, so he had cursed these men with the form of a boar. Arriving at the cabin, I immediately threw myself at the door to the cabin. The door did not give way. Again and again, I threw myself at the door only to be repulsed each time. Finally, even my bestial mind realized I could not break through the door. I searched for alternative entrances, even climbing to the roof on split logs stacked for fire wood. There was a chimney on the roof but it was quite narrow. I could not have descended through it even in the form God gave me. Eventually, my cursed form gave up and went elsewhere in search of accessible prey.
"That's really all the monk had to write about the confrontation, but you can see the main part of the entire story as we know it today. The monk soon left that part of the forest entirely, afraid he would eventually be forced to fight the boars for the territory. He knew he couldn't win such a fight, so he moved deeper into the vast forest."
[Person in the crowd: So you figure some storyteller ran across the monk's story and came up with the three little pigs story?]
"Certainly, though I doubt he came up with the story as we know it today. Oral stories tend to evolve from teller to teller, from year to year. But the important thing to me is that we're starting to see just how much truth lies behind these stories once thought fanciful.
"These are stories that have stood for centuries. I've already told you of two stories that were inspired by our ancestors. This is something astounding we can all hold onto, all appreciate. When this world starts to get you down, think of our contribution to world literature and take pride in who you are!"
[Group: Hi Mike!]
"Last time I was here, I told you about a long ago ancestor of mine who was the wolf in the real story of Little Red Riding Hood. Well, having tracked that story back to a werewolf, I began wondering what other fairy tales owed their origin to other were-creatures. Since I'm a werewolf, I researched wolves, first. And the one I managed to track down really surprised me. It was the tale of the three little pigs!
"Here's the thing that really surprised me; there really were three pigs. But they weren't little and weren't really pigs. They were boars. Were-boars, actually. Unfortunately, I never was able to find names for any of those involved.
"The werewolf involved was probably a hermit. He was definitely a loner, living out in the forest in territory he'd claimed as his own. As best I can tell, the werewolf had been a monk of some kind before he contracted ALPS. The monk believed that he had 'received Satan's curse.' The monk sort of communed with nature-"
[Person in the crowd: They had hippies back then?]
"No, they did not. The monk communed with nature to witness God's hand in creating everything around the monk. He wrote about everything he studied and was quite a good naturalist. He also wrote about the 'curse' that came upon him every full moon. Like last time, I'm going to tell the story the way the monk did in his writings.
"I have lived by myself for years, as Satan's curse demanded. Yesterday, while walking the forest, I happened upon a crudely built hut. Thinking a woodsman or huntsman had moved into the area, I feared what might happen to them when the full moon rose that night. I knocked on the door to the hut. The hut was so crudely built, the entire thing shook as my hand struck it.
"The door was opened by a very short, heavy-set man. His eyes were piggish, displaying little intelligence. The man's speech was almost bestial, so much so that I could barely understand him. 'What..want?' was all I could discern.
"Speaking carefully and slowly, I told him a cursed beast stalked the forest. The man either did not understand or did not care. 'Bah' was all he said as he closed his rickety door in the my face.
"I attempted to move as far from the hut as possible before my curse came upon me. I did not wish harm upon the short man. Satan felt otherwise, guiding me directly back to the hut. Approaching the crude hut, my nose detected the scent of wild boar rather than man. A normal wolf would not attack a boar alone. A creature cursed with the power of Satan would not hesitate. At least I would not be responsible for murder this night!
"I crashed through the fragile door and came face to a face with a very small boar. We fell to fighting, the boar attempting to impale me on its tusks while I move constantly, snapping at the boar's flanks and legs. I did not succeed in killing the boar. It ran off into the forest and I let it go.
"This morning I returned to the scene of the fight. The crude hut had been destroyed. I hope the small man has left. I could find no evidence of him. I believe the man witnessed the fight with the boar and has been frightened away. I hope so.
"I returned the next day and discovered a new hut had been built right where the old one had been. This hut was built more strongly than the first one but it, also, was crudely contructed. Hoping to convince the man to leave, I knocked on the door to the new hut. Once again, a short, heavy-set man with piggish eyes opened the door. It was not the same man, though it was almost certainly his brother.
"Once again I attempted to explain about the cursed creature who roamed the forest when the moon was full. As I spoke, the man from the other day appeared in the doorway as well. God knows I attmpted to make myself plain to the men but neither of them seemed to understand the danger. As his brother before him had done, the small man shut the door in my face.
"As before, Satan's curse returned as the sun's bright light as replaced by the moon's baleful illumination. As before, I found myself drawn to the crude hut. As before, the scent of man had been replaced by the scent of wild boar. As before, I broke through the door. I found myself facing two small boars. The boars and I fell to with avengeance. Doing battle with one boar had been difficult. Had these boars been larger, battling two would have been impossible. I know not how long we fought though the eventual result was the same. The two boars escaped into the forest together.
"I returned to the scene in the morning. As I anticipated, the hut had been destroyed. I returned to the scene each day for seven days. Neither then men nor the boars returned.
"Okay, I'm taking a break from the monk's point of view for a minute. He wrote a lot of stuff that isn't important to the story over the next four months. Content that the men had been scared off, the monk did not return to the scene of the two fights during all of that time. I'm returning to the monk's point of view four months after the second fight.
"Today, my studies of God's wonderous world brought me back to the part of the forest where the huts had been built. To my dismay, I discovered a cabin standing where the huts once stood. The cabin was of sturdy construction, built with large, strong logs. Though I doubted any good would come of it, I knocked on this new door. The door was answered by a third man, obviously the brother of the other two. As before, my warnings fell on deaf or uncomprehending ears. The man just laughed and closed the door in my face. With Satan's curse due to return this evening, I am certain I will return here.
"My expectations of that afternoon were correct. The curse came and I found myself drawn to the cabin. I was not surprised to discover the scent of man was once again replaced by the scent of boar. As Satan had cursed me with the form of a wolf, so he had cursed these men with the form of a boar. Arriving at the cabin, I immediately threw myself at the door to the cabin. The door did not give way. Again and again, I threw myself at the door only to be repulsed each time. Finally, even my bestial mind realized I could not break through the door. I searched for alternative entrances, even climbing to the roof on split logs stacked for fire wood. There was a chimney on the roof but it was quite narrow. I could not have descended through it even in the form God gave me. Eventually, my cursed form gave up and went elsewhere in search of accessible prey.
"That's really all the monk had to write about the confrontation, but you can see the main part of the entire story as we know it today. The monk soon left that part of the forest entirely, afraid he would eventually be forced to fight the boars for the territory. He knew he couldn't win such a fight, so he moved deeper into the vast forest."
[Person in the crowd: So you figure some storyteller ran across the monk's story and came up with the three little pigs story?]
"Certainly, though I doubt he came up with the story as we know it today. Oral stories tend to evolve from teller to teller, from year to year. But the important thing to me is that we're starting to see just how much truth lies behind these stories once thought fanciful.
"These are stories that have stood for centuries. I've already told you of two stories that were inspired by our ancestors. This is something astounding we can all hold onto, all appreciate. When this world starts to get you down, think of our contribution to world literature and take pride in who you are!"
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Missed Call
(Ring, ring, ring)
“This is Scott. Leave a message at the tone.”
(Beep)
“Hey Scott, this is Tim. Are you there? I’ll just give you a minute, in case you’re screening your calls…
“Cause I would screen my calls, if I were you. Actually, I do screen my calls, and I’m not you.
“So, you there?
“Ok, I guess you’re not. Anyway, you probably remember me from the last WCA meeting. I tried to talk with you afterwards but you had that meeting you were late for… I got your number from Tina. She’s in charge of all the paperwork for the meetings. I guess you volunteered for something or other a while back so she had your number... Hey, was it you that brought the greenbean casserole to that Thanksgiving picnic? I’ve been trying to find out who brought that, it was really good. Do you know Tina personally? I accidentally bumped into her while she was carrying a bunch of WCA folders. I saw your number while I was helping her pick up all the papers and I memorized it. If you could just keep this between you and me, that would be great. She’s kind of cute, and I’d hate to lose any future chances with her.
“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you, I’ve figured it all out. I’m sure you’ve noticed how silver’s been doing in the market recently. It’s so totally being manipulated! That’s because the government’s buying it all up, only they don’t want the average Joe to know about it. They’ve been buying it all up, see, and then making it look like there’s still plenty to go around. They don’t want folks to know what they’re up to. But I’ve got them figured out. It’s the bullets. They’re melting all that silver and molding it into bullets to kill all us weres with.
“So I was thinking, with all your government connections, is there anything you can do about this? I don’t know where they’re hiding the bullets or anything. It’s not like they’d call me up on the phone and tell me something like that, like (continuing in a silly voice) ‘Hey Tim, this is the government. We’re keeping all the silver bullets in Roswell.’ (He chuckles). But you, you’ve got a foot on the inside. I figure if anybody can get to the bottom of this thing, it’s you. If you could just find out where they’ve got the bullets stored, we can formulate a plan. I’m sure we could get Hank and some of his friends to help us dispose of them.
“Anyhow, call me back when you get a chance. I wish I could have spoken to you about this in person... Wait a minute; I’m talking to your machine! Uh, do me a favor and erase this message after you’ve listened ok? Thanks. Actually, now that I think of it, DHS has probably picked up on this call…
“Shoot… I’d better go…”
“This is Scott. Leave a message at the tone.”
(Beep)
“Hey Scott, this is Tim. Are you there? I’ll just give you a minute, in case you’re screening your calls…
“Cause I would screen my calls, if I were you. Actually, I do screen my calls, and I’m not you.
“So, you there?
“Ok, I guess you’re not. Anyway, you probably remember me from the last WCA meeting. I tried to talk with you afterwards but you had that meeting you were late for… I got your number from Tina. She’s in charge of all the paperwork for the meetings. I guess you volunteered for something or other a while back so she had your number... Hey, was it you that brought the greenbean casserole to that Thanksgiving picnic? I’ve been trying to find out who brought that, it was really good. Do you know Tina personally? I accidentally bumped into her while she was carrying a bunch of WCA folders. I saw your number while I was helping her pick up all the papers and I memorized it. If you could just keep this between you and me, that would be great. She’s kind of cute, and I’d hate to lose any future chances with her.
“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you, I’ve figured it all out. I’m sure you’ve noticed how silver’s been doing in the market recently. It’s so totally being manipulated! That’s because the government’s buying it all up, only they don’t want the average Joe to know about it. They’ve been buying it all up, see, and then making it look like there’s still plenty to go around. They don’t want folks to know what they’re up to. But I’ve got them figured out. It’s the bullets. They’re melting all that silver and molding it into bullets to kill all us weres with.
“So I was thinking, with all your government connections, is there anything you can do about this? I don’t know where they’re hiding the bullets or anything. It’s not like they’d call me up on the phone and tell me something like that, like (continuing in a silly voice) ‘Hey Tim, this is the government. We’re keeping all the silver bullets in Roswell.’ (He chuckles). But you, you’ve got a foot on the inside. I figure if anybody can get to the bottom of this thing, it’s you. If you could just find out where they’ve got the bullets stored, we can formulate a plan. I’m sure we could get Hank and some of his friends to help us dispose of them.
“Anyhow, call me back when you get a chance. I wish I could have spoken to you about this in person... Wait a minute; I’m talking to your machine! Uh, do me a favor and erase this message after you’ve listened ok? Thanks. Actually, now that I think of it, DHS has probably picked up on this call…
“Shoot… I’d better go…”
Sunday, March 8, 2009
First Date
I have it bad for la chica bonita. Go figure. I live in Minnesota. I'm as Nordic as Nordic gets. I come from that ancient genetic factory somewhere north of Oslo that makes 'em tall, broad, and strawberry-blonde, with a beard you could hide a battle-axe in. In school they called me 'Harald the Red.'
Yeah, that's right, with two a's and no o. My dad is a history buff. He shook the name out of our family tree somewhere. It last belonged to my great, great, great-- somebody.
So why is it that Nordic blond women do nothing for me? You could pull me through all of time and space and set me up on a hot date with Elke Sommer or Ursula Andress at her absolute peak...
And somewhere, something ancient deep inside my brain would say, "Eh. I knew your mother. I knew your grandmother. I knew all your foremothers back to the dawn of our race, and frankly, they were all a bunch of depressed neurotics."
But introduce me to some dulce little chica--let her bat those big brown eyes at me, or wiggle her cute little butt in my general direction. Show me two minutes of Salma Hayek doing her snake-dance thing in From Dusk 'Til Dawn...
Woof.
Anyway, that's my theory. My Norsemen ancestors didn't go viking for the plunder. They went viking to get away from the Norse women. So when my favorite coffee shop hired a new waitress, and she turned out to be 5-foot-1 of dark-haired, dark-eyed, brown-skinned chicana beauty, I was instantly, hopelessly, smitten.
Yeah, Harald the Red, the mighty Viking. It took me three weeks to work up the nerve to ask her out. Another three weeks to get her to say 'yes.'
And that's when she popped her little surprise. "Harald," she said, "you're a sweet guy. But there's something you really need to know about me, first."
I shrugged. "You're, uh, undocumented?"
"No, not that. I mean, yes, I am, but--well, if you really are serious about going out on a date with me, there's somewhere else you need to go with me, first."
And that's how we wound up driving through Lowertown, just after dark on a Sunday evening. I thought it was some kind of joke or test, at first. The junkies, the winos; the gang tags spray-painted everywhere. "That's where we're going," she said, pointing.
"You're kidding," I said. I craned my neck to look at the name carved in the marble over the entryway. "The Rampant Loon Media Building? What on earth possessed them to locate their business here?"
"They got a great tax break from the city."
So I found a place to park the pickup truck, and we got out and took the sidewalk to the main entrance, stepping over the sleeping bums and the puddles of I don't want to know what and walking past a dark alley entrance that brought all my willies and cold shivers out to dance in a conga line on the back of my neck. But we made it into the lobby okay, got waved past by the security guard, and took the elevator to the 13th floor.
Where we walked into a meeting. Huh. This was something I'd never heard of before: Were-Creatures Anonymous. It was some kind of demented variation on a twelve-step program for people who thought they were—
Well, as my adorable little chica put it, "Hi. My name is Tina, and I'm a were-jaguar."
Actually, for a bunch of people who were clinically nuts, they weren't half-bad. They were for the most part calm, sober, and pleasant—except for this Scott guy, who reminded me of a used-car salesman and left me with a deep desire to wash my hand after he shook it. Everyone there accepted that I wasn't one of them but was only there to support Tina, and they congratulated me on my open-mindedness and all that; it was pretty embarrassing, actually. But we got through the coffee hour okay, and sweet little Tina really seemed to be warming up to me. She kissed me in the elevator, and held my hand and cuddled up to my side as we left the building and walked back to where I'd parked my truck. As we passed that dark alley entrance that had given me the willies so badly on our way in, three young thugs stepped out of the shadows. I saw the flash of a knife blade.
And then my world turned red.
#
The next thing I knew, I was waking up naked in a strange bed and my left arm was numb. I turned my head, saw that the naked woman laying on my left arm was Tina, and from that made the leap to guessing that this was her apartment. I sure hoped the bedroom was always this much of a mess.
I must have made some sound or somehow disturbed her. She slowly opened those beautiful big brown eyes, and then just as slowly eased into the most amazingly satiated smile and snuggled in closer.
"Darling," she whispered, "why didn't you tell me? Madre di Dios, you were magnificent! So strong! So fierce! So...insatiable!" She bit my earlobe, gently, kissed her way down my neck, and then worked her way back up to my ear again. "Why didn't you trust me? Why didn't you tell the group that you're—you're—" She tched. "Were-bear seems such an inadequate name."
"Because it is, and I'm not," I said. "The correct term is bearserkr."
"Whatever." She kissed my neck again, harder and more insistent this time. "Whatever it is, you were unforgettable last night!"
That's when I finally reached across with my other arm, and pulled her on top of me, and kissed her on the forehead and held her tight.
And stared at the ceiling, and let my anger soar up to the sky. Yeah. Unforgettable.
Damn you, Odin, and damn your thousand-year curse! They all say that! But just once, would it be too much to let me remember it?
Yeah, that's right, with two a's and no o. My dad is a history buff. He shook the name out of our family tree somewhere. It last belonged to my great, great, great-- somebody.
So why is it that Nordic blond women do nothing for me? You could pull me through all of time and space and set me up on a hot date with Elke Sommer or Ursula Andress at her absolute peak...
And somewhere, something ancient deep inside my brain would say, "Eh. I knew your mother. I knew your grandmother. I knew all your foremothers back to the dawn of our race, and frankly, they were all a bunch of depressed neurotics."
But introduce me to some dulce little chica--let her bat those big brown eyes at me, or wiggle her cute little butt in my general direction. Show me two minutes of Salma Hayek doing her snake-dance thing in From Dusk 'Til Dawn...
Woof.
Anyway, that's my theory. My Norsemen ancestors didn't go viking for the plunder. They went viking to get away from the Norse women. So when my favorite coffee shop hired a new waitress, and she turned out to be 5-foot-1 of dark-haired, dark-eyed, brown-skinned chicana beauty, I was instantly, hopelessly, smitten.
Yeah, Harald the Red, the mighty Viking. It took me three weeks to work up the nerve to ask her out. Another three weeks to get her to say 'yes.'
And that's when she popped her little surprise. "Harald," she said, "you're a sweet guy. But there's something you really need to know about me, first."
I shrugged. "You're, uh, undocumented?"
"No, not that. I mean, yes, I am, but--well, if you really are serious about going out on a date with me, there's somewhere else you need to go with me, first."
And that's how we wound up driving through Lowertown, just after dark on a Sunday evening. I thought it was some kind of joke or test, at first. The junkies, the winos; the gang tags spray-painted everywhere. "That's where we're going," she said, pointing.
"You're kidding," I said. I craned my neck to look at the name carved in the marble over the entryway. "The Rampant Loon Media Building? What on earth possessed them to locate their business here?"
"They got a great tax break from the city."
So I found a place to park the pickup truck, and we got out and took the sidewalk to the main entrance, stepping over the sleeping bums and the puddles of I don't want to know what and walking past a dark alley entrance that brought all my willies and cold shivers out to dance in a conga line on the back of my neck. But we made it into the lobby okay, got waved past by the security guard, and took the elevator to the 13th floor.
Where we walked into a meeting. Huh. This was something I'd never heard of before: Were-Creatures Anonymous. It was some kind of demented variation on a twelve-step program for people who thought they were—
Well, as my adorable little chica put it, "Hi. My name is Tina, and I'm a were-jaguar."
Actually, for a bunch of people who were clinically nuts, they weren't half-bad. They were for the most part calm, sober, and pleasant—except for this Scott guy, who reminded me of a used-car salesman and left me with a deep desire to wash my hand after he shook it. Everyone there accepted that I wasn't one of them but was only there to support Tina, and they congratulated me on my open-mindedness and all that; it was pretty embarrassing, actually. But we got through the coffee hour okay, and sweet little Tina really seemed to be warming up to me. She kissed me in the elevator, and held my hand and cuddled up to my side as we left the building and walked back to where I'd parked my truck. As we passed that dark alley entrance that had given me the willies so badly on our way in, three young thugs stepped out of the shadows. I saw the flash of a knife blade.
And then my world turned red.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up naked in a strange bed and my left arm was numb. I turned my head, saw that the naked woman laying on my left arm was Tina, and from that made the leap to guessing that this was her apartment. I sure hoped the bedroom was always this much of a mess.
I must have made some sound or somehow disturbed her. She slowly opened those beautiful big brown eyes, and then just as slowly eased into the most amazingly satiated smile and snuggled in closer.
"Darling," she whispered, "why didn't you tell me? Madre di Dios, you were magnificent! So strong! So fierce! So...insatiable!" She bit my earlobe, gently, kissed her way down my neck, and then worked her way back up to my ear again. "Why didn't you trust me? Why didn't you tell the group that you're—you're—" She tched. "Were-bear seems such an inadequate name."
"Because it is, and I'm not," I said. "The correct term is bearserkr."
"Whatever." She kissed my neck again, harder and more insistent this time. "Whatever it is, you were unforgettable last night!"
That's when I finally reached across with my other arm, and pulled her on top of me, and kissed her on the forehead and held her tight.
And stared at the ceiling, and let my anger soar up to the sky. Yeah. Unforgettable.
Damn you, Odin, and damn your thousand-year curse! They all say that! But just once, would it be too much to let me remember it?
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Relapse
He was looking bad, rough. You can tell when someone's had a relapse, and it doesn't take ALPS-heightened senses, either. They say recovering alcoholics can smell it when someone in their group has gone off the wagon.
Scott didn't smell funny, but clearly, he'd lost it. Normally the guy was overdressed to a fault and cheerful like a daytime game-show host. Then he went missing back in mid-January, and now here he was in group again, looking like something the cat had dragged in.
"Hi," he said. He looked up, started to make eye-contact, then went back to looking at his shoes. I saw they were scuffed and salt-stained; another bad sign. Crockett & Jones, Leeds, U.K., a thousand bucks a pair—we knew because he'd told us, repeatedly, and now here he was looking like he'd been playing street hockey in them.
"Hi," he tried again. "My name is Scott, and I'm a were-weasel."
"Hi, Scott."
He managed to look up and hold the eye-contact for a few seconds this time, and almost managed a smile. Progress.
He went back to looking at his shoes. "First off, I'd like to thank my sponsor, Tom, for getting me back into group."
Okay, no wonder he looked like something the cat had dragged in. He'd been dragged in by the cat.
"I—" he paused, gulped, swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. Yes, I've—" He looked up, around the circle, and nodded. "Yes, I've had a setback. I screwed up. I—" Another heavy sigh.
"I started doing politics again."
What could we do? Nod sympathetically. Encourage him to keep talking.
"I thought I could handle it. I thought, just a little taste. Just once, for old times' sake. I thought—" He shook his hands in the air, as if wrapping them around some invisible something right in front of his face, and then dropped them into his lap, and sighed.
"I couldn't handle it." He went back to looking at this shoes.
When it seemed like that was all he had to say, Tom cleared his throat. "Go on, Scott. Tell us the rest."
Scott locked eyes with Tom, took some kind of strength from it, and nodded. "Yeah. You're right. They need to know." He took another deep breath, sat up a little straighter in his chair, and then a bit of the Old Scott came back into his voice.
"As you've probably guessed," he said, "I've been down in D.C. for the last six weeks, angling for a job in the new administration, or at least a lobbying gig. I mean, were-weasel, politics: a natural fit, don't you think?" Everyone around the circle nodded sympathetically.
"Well let me tell you, friends, I didn't have a clue. You don't have a clue. There are things crawling through the halls of Congress now that... that...
"Look. This administration is like an enormous frickin' magnet for Dark Life."
Joe the Lion blinked. "Dark Life?"
"Y'know, dark matter? Dark energy?" Scott thumped himself on the chest. "Dark Life. Us. Cryptids. Beasties that go bump in the night. Creatures that don't officially exist—or at least we didn't, until the ALPS activists started coming out of the closet and getting into people's faces.
"I tell you, there are things going on that none of us have a clue about. There are things walking the streets of D.C. now that haven't seen the light of day since the Carter administration. You can't even get an interview for a contract job on K Street unless you're at least a sasquatch. I ran into a frickin' wendigo in the Dirksen Building!"
Joe the Lion was blinking again. "Wendigo?"
"It's Algonquin. Look it up later. While you're at it, look up cryptozoology, too.
"Look, people," he said to the rest of us, "there is—"
He paused, and pointed across the circle. "Hank, I've been following your blog. Don't worry about that Reverend Riley. Internment is the least of our worries. People, there is a frickin' war building up out there."
Joe the Lion nodded. "I knew it. Vampires versus were-beasts."
Scott scowled. "Oh, don't give me that comic-book crap. We're talking about war between the New Breeds—us—and the Old Line dark life; the ones who liked being in the shadows, because it gave them more power."
I finally had to interrupt. "War? Really, Scott, don't you think that's being just a little extreme?"
Scott turned and looked at me, and gave me the full-bore heavy sigh and rolling eyes treatment. "No, I don't think that's 'a little extreme.' Right now there are clashes going on out west between the were-cougars and the were-jaguars, who are trying to push north and muscle in on cougar territory. So far they've managed to cover it up and blame all the murders on drug gangs, but it's only a matter of time..."
He broke off, and sighed again. "Look. All I can say is, there is stuff going out there that scares the willies out of me. We are only scratching the surface; ALPS is only the tip of the iceberg. We think we understand this disease. We're only buying into the cover story. And I don't know about the rest of you, but I for one am scared beyond my capacity for rational comprehension."
He sighed one more time, then shrugged, sat back, and tried to smile.
"But hey, what do I know? I'm just a weasel."
Scott didn't smell funny, but clearly, he'd lost it. Normally the guy was overdressed to a fault and cheerful like a daytime game-show host. Then he went missing back in mid-January, and now here he was in group again, looking like something the cat had dragged in.
"Hi," he said. He looked up, started to make eye-contact, then went back to looking at his shoes. I saw they were scuffed and salt-stained; another bad sign. Crockett & Jones, Leeds, U.K., a thousand bucks a pair—we knew because he'd told us, repeatedly, and now here he was looking like he'd been playing street hockey in them.
"Hi," he tried again. "My name is Scott, and I'm a were-weasel."
"Hi, Scott."
He managed to look up and hold the eye-contact for a few seconds this time, and almost managed a smile. Progress.
He went back to looking at his shoes. "First off, I'd like to thank my sponsor, Tom, for getting me back into group."
Okay, no wonder he looked like something the cat had dragged in. He'd been dragged in by the cat.
"I—" he paused, gulped, swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. Yes, I've—" He looked up, around the circle, and nodded. "Yes, I've had a setback. I screwed up. I—" Another heavy sigh.
"I started doing politics again."
What could we do? Nod sympathetically. Encourage him to keep talking.
"I thought I could handle it. I thought, just a little taste. Just once, for old times' sake. I thought—" He shook his hands in the air, as if wrapping them around some invisible something right in front of his face, and then dropped them into his lap, and sighed.
"I couldn't handle it." He went back to looking at this shoes.
When it seemed like that was all he had to say, Tom cleared his throat. "Go on, Scott. Tell us the rest."
Scott locked eyes with Tom, took some kind of strength from it, and nodded. "Yeah. You're right. They need to know." He took another deep breath, sat up a little straighter in his chair, and then a bit of the Old Scott came back into his voice.
"As you've probably guessed," he said, "I've been down in D.C. for the last six weeks, angling for a job in the new administration, or at least a lobbying gig. I mean, were-weasel, politics: a natural fit, don't you think?" Everyone around the circle nodded sympathetically.
"Well let me tell you, friends, I didn't have a clue. You don't have a clue. There are things crawling through the halls of Congress now that... that...
"Look. This administration is like an enormous frickin' magnet for Dark Life."
Joe the Lion blinked. "Dark Life?"
"Y'know, dark matter? Dark energy?" Scott thumped himself on the chest. "Dark Life. Us. Cryptids. Beasties that go bump in the night. Creatures that don't officially exist—or at least we didn't, until the ALPS activists started coming out of the closet and getting into people's faces.
"I tell you, there are things going on that none of us have a clue about. There are things walking the streets of D.C. now that haven't seen the light of day since the Carter administration. You can't even get an interview for a contract job on K Street unless you're at least a sasquatch. I ran into a frickin' wendigo in the Dirksen Building!"
Joe the Lion was blinking again. "Wendigo?"
"It's Algonquin. Look it up later. While you're at it, look up cryptozoology, too.
"Look, people," he said to the rest of us, "there is—"
He paused, and pointed across the circle. "Hank, I've been following your blog. Don't worry about that Reverend Riley. Internment is the least of our worries. People, there is a frickin' war building up out there."
Joe the Lion nodded. "I knew it. Vampires versus were-beasts."
Scott scowled. "Oh, don't give me that comic-book crap. We're talking about war between the New Breeds—us—and the Old Line dark life; the ones who liked being in the shadows, because it gave them more power."
I finally had to interrupt. "War? Really, Scott, don't you think that's being just a little extreme?"
Scott turned and looked at me, and gave me the full-bore heavy sigh and rolling eyes treatment. "No, I don't think that's 'a little extreme.' Right now there are clashes going on out west between the were-cougars and the were-jaguars, who are trying to push north and muscle in on cougar territory. So far they've managed to cover it up and blame all the murders on drug gangs, but it's only a matter of time..."
He broke off, and sighed again. "Look. All I can say is, there is stuff going out there that scares the willies out of me. We are only scratching the surface; ALPS is only the tip of the iceberg. We think we understand this disease. We're only buying into the cover story. And I don't know about the rest of you, but I for one am scared beyond my capacity for rational comprehension."
He sighed one more time, then shrugged, sat back, and tried to smile.
"But hey, what do I know? I'm just a weasel."
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The Rally
"Hi everyone. I think everybody knows me by now, but in case there are some new members I'm Hank and I'm a werewolf."
[Group: "Hi Hank!"]
"I don't know what's happening lately, but it seems like my life has gotten a lot more exciting. Other than meeting Michelle, the lollipop love of my life, it's mostly been the bad kind of exciting. Last Saturday was supposed to be different but it wasn't.
"Michelle and I didn't have anything planned for Saturday. We were just going go to a movie or maybe even just stay home, cuddle on the couch and watch a few DVDs. You know, just hang out and enjoy being together.
"Luke had other ideas. You remember him? He's Michelle's brother and the scriptwriter who's working on a werewolf-vampire movie for grown ups. Based at least a little bit on what he observes from Michelle and me. Anyway, Michelle and I were trying to decide between a movie theater or DVDs when Luke suggested a walk in the park. That sounded like a fun idea, too, even if it wasn't just going to be Michelle and me. So we headed out toward the park.
"Luke grabbed his writer's notebook but that didn't seem strange to me. He never goes anywhere without that thing. He says you never know when an idea will hit you or when you'll see something that just has to be included in a story. This time, Luke knew he was going to see something worth writing down, he just didn't tell us about it.
"It was kind of nippy outside, which gave made it even more natural for me to walk with my arm around Michelle. Sharing bodily warmth and all that. We just wandered, enjoyed watching the families playing in the park and followed along behind Luke. Off in the distance we began to hear some voices coming over a loud speaker or something and some cheering. There are rallies in the park all the time, though, and Michelle and I were too busy paying attention to each other to pay attention to anything else. But Luke was leading us right to the rally.
"He tried to act all surprised when we reached it, like he didn't know what it was about, but Luke can't act worth a damn. He said something like, 'Oh my!' then dug out his notebook and started scribbling. Michelle and I just stared in disbelief.
"There were probably a thousand people or more standing before a small stage. Erected behind the stage was a big sign that read 'Alpo must go!' and another that read 'Internment or death!' People in the audience held signs like 'The only good were is a dead were!' and even 'God hates alpos!' I was stunned. I mean, I remember that stupid editorial after the big Thanksgiving Day turkey drop but I thought it had blown over. Wrong!
"The man on stage was really whipping the crowd into a frenzy. 'Why does the government let these sickos walk among us regular people? That's what I want to know!' Some in crowd called out 'Yeah!' or 'You tell them, Riley!'
"Riley was just getting started, 'President Obama promised us change we could believe in. Well, rounding up those animals is the kind of change this country needs! If the government is going to spend billions and billions of dollars, why not spend it to make our children safe from the scourge of ALPS?'
"I was still just staring at this, my good mood shot all the Hell. But Michelle got really pissed off at Luke. 'You knew this was going to be going on, Luke! Don't you dare try to deny it,' she said. 'Why did you have to drag us along and ruin our day?'
"Luke at least looked a little sheepish, 'I need to see how this kind of thing affects someone with ALPS. I needed an honest response so my script will be authentic. I really am sorry, but I've got show how much this kind of thing hurts people like Hank so the audience will sympathize with the ALPS character.'
"I think Michelle had a whole lot more she wanted to say, but things took an...exciting turn right about then. You won't be surprised to learn I wasn't the only person with ALPS watching the rally. A group of six guys in gang colors were pushing their way through the audience. They didn't look like they wanted to debate anything with Riley, either. Man, the one thing the ALPS community didn't need right then was more bad publicity. And if those guys transformed and ripped into Riley I figured we'd be one step closer to being rounded up.
"I turned to Luke and said, 'You and Michelle get out of here now. This is about to get really ugly!' Then I started running toward the stage, hoping I could get there before the gang bangers. I got lucky. The gang stopped at the front of the crowd to shout insults at Riley and try to get him mad. But Riley had loudspeakers. He just talked right over them, using them as extra fodder to build up more hatred. Finally the gang bangers got tired of shouting and transformed.
"There was plenty of screaming as the crowd scrambled to get away from them. One second there were six guys in colors, next second there were six rottweilers snarling up at Riley. I'll give Riley one thing, he went white but he held his ground and continued with his rant. I don't know if he was being brave or stupid, but he stuck to his guns.
"The were-rottweilers were taking their time, now, growling and barking and foaming at the mouth a bit. You know, putting on the whole 'we are so bad and so mean' show for the crowd. It gave me the time I needed to transform and leap up onto the stage. Let me tell you, that really got everyone's attention! If the crowd had scrambled and screamed a bit at the rottweilers, they got nearly hysterical when I showed up. The idiots didn't even realize I had put myself between the were-rottweilers and that bastard Riley. The were-doggies noticed, though, and they weren't real happy about it.
"Next thing, the leader of the pack leaped at me and the fight was on. Normally, a wolf against a rottweiler is going to go the wolf's way. But there were six of them and just one of me. I kept moving and snapping and clawing and doing my best to keep them back and away from the speaker. They seemed happy to fight it out with me before taking on Riley.
"They never did get any good bites or scratches on me, but they got lots and lots of little ones. I managed to put three of them down and out of the fight, but by then I was really tired and hurt and losing blood. I knew I wasn't going to win this one, that they were going to rip Riley to shreds and I'd probably get lumped in with them in the news stories. The leader of the pack knew I was pretty much out of it, too. He glared at me, got his other two dogs to attack me then went for Riley's throat.
"He didn't get there, though. I don't know how long Michelle had been there but she caught the pack leader by the tail and just slammed him down onto the stage. The leader was stunned a bit but rolled up and was about to try again when Michelle leaned over and flashed her fangs at him! That dog took to whining and whimpering and he and his gang ran off with their tales between their legs.
"And you know what? That Riley guy was loving every minute of it! I finally tuned in to what he was saying. 'See? Do you see, good people?' he preached into the microphone. 'Do you see what these animals are capable of? I dared to speak the truth and my very life was threatened because of it!'
"That was just too much for me. Here the very people he was railing against had just saved his life and he was claiming we were all a bunch of savage animals! Still in wolf form, I limped over to him and his eyes got wide as I came closer. He never did shut up, though. Behind me, Michelle said, 'Don't do it, Hank! He's not worth it!'
"I really, really wanted to bite that bastard on the ass and let him see what ALPS was like from our side. But I knew Michelle was right. I transformed back to human form, standing right in front of Riley. I spoke loud enough that the microphone picked up what I had to say, 'Screw you, asshole!' And then I kicked him in the balls.
"The rally sort of fell apart after that. The police showed up and so did the news crews. But Michelle and I were able to slip away in all the confusion. We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening on the couch and we even cuddled some for comfort. Mostly, we just got drunk.
"I hate to say it, people, but that whole internment idea isn't just a one shot, stupid news editorial. It's a movement now. It might be small, but we can't just sit around and hope it just goes away. We've got to figure out how to combat it and I don't think a movie that puts us in a good light is going to be enough."
[Group: "Hi Hank!"]
"I don't know what's happening lately, but it seems like my life has gotten a lot more exciting. Other than meeting Michelle, the lollipop love of my life, it's mostly been the bad kind of exciting. Last Saturday was supposed to be different but it wasn't.
"Michelle and I didn't have anything planned for Saturday. We were just going go to a movie or maybe even just stay home, cuddle on the couch and watch a few DVDs. You know, just hang out and enjoy being together.
"Luke had other ideas. You remember him? He's Michelle's brother and the scriptwriter who's working on a werewolf-vampire movie for grown ups. Based at least a little bit on what he observes from Michelle and me. Anyway, Michelle and I were trying to decide between a movie theater or DVDs when Luke suggested a walk in the park. That sounded like a fun idea, too, even if it wasn't just going to be Michelle and me. So we headed out toward the park.
"Luke grabbed his writer's notebook but that didn't seem strange to me. He never goes anywhere without that thing. He says you never know when an idea will hit you or when you'll see something that just has to be included in a story. This time, Luke knew he was going to see something worth writing down, he just didn't tell us about it.
"It was kind of nippy outside, which gave made it even more natural for me to walk with my arm around Michelle. Sharing bodily warmth and all that. We just wandered, enjoyed watching the families playing in the park and followed along behind Luke. Off in the distance we began to hear some voices coming over a loud speaker or something and some cheering. There are rallies in the park all the time, though, and Michelle and I were too busy paying attention to each other to pay attention to anything else. But Luke was leading us right to the rally.
"He tried to act all surprised when we reached it, like he didn't know what it was about, but Luke can't act worth a damn. He said something like, 'Oh my!' then dug out his notebook and started scribbling. Michelle and I just stared in disbelief.
"There were probably a thousand people or more standing before a small stage. Erected behind the stage was a big sign that read 'Alpo must go!' and another that read 'Internment or death!' People in the audience held signs like 'The only good were is a dead were!' and even 'God hates alpos!' I was stunned. I mean, I remember that stupid editorial after the big Thanksgiving Day turkey drop but I thought it had blown over. Wrong!
"The man on stage was really whipping the crowd into a frenzy. 'Why does the government let these sickos walk among us regular people? That's what I want to know!' Some in crowd called out 'Yeah!' or 'You tell them, Riley!'
"Riley was just getting started, 'President Obama promised us change we could believe in. Well, rounding up those animals is the kind of change this country needs! If the government is going to spend billions and billions of dollars, why not spend it to make our children safe from the scourge of ALPS?'
"I was still just staring at this, my good mood shot all the Hell. But Michelle got really pissed off at Luke. 'You knew this was going to be going on, Luke! Don't you dare try to deny it,' she said. 'Why did you have to drag us along and ruin our day?'
"Luke at least looked a little sheepish, 'I need to see how this kind of thing affects someone with ALPS. I needed an honest response so my script will be authentic. I really am sorry, but I've got show how much this kind of thing hurts people like Hank so the audience will sympathize with the ALPS character.'
"I think Michelle had a whole lot more she wanted to say, but things took an...exciting turn right about then. You won't be surprised to learn I wasn't the only person with ALPS watching the rally. A group of six guys in gang colors were pushing their way through the audience. They didn't look like they wanted to debate anything with Riley, either. Man, the one thing the ALPS community didn't need right then was more bad publicity. And if those guys transformed and ripped into Riley I figured we'd be one step closer to being rounded up.
"I turned to Luke and said, 'You and Michelle get out of here now. This is about to get really ugly!' Then I started running toward the stage, hoping I could get there before the gang bangers. I got lucky. The gang stopped at the front of the crowd to shout insults at Riley and try to get him mad. But Riley had loudspeakers. He just talked right over them, using them as extra fodder to build up more hatred. Finally the gang bangers got tired of shouting and transformed.
"There was plenty of screaming as the crowd scrambled to get away from them. One second there were six guys in colors, next second there were six rottweilers snarling up at Riley. I'll give Riley one thing, he went white but he held his ground and continued with his rant. I don't know if he was being brave or stupid, but he stuck to his guns.
"The were-rottweilers were taking their time, now, growling and barking and foaming at the mouth a bit. You know, putting on the whole 'we are so bad and so mean' show for the crowd. It gave me the time I needed to transform and leap up onto the stage. Let me tell you, that really got everyone's attention! If the crowd had scrambled and screamed a bit at the rottweilers, they got nearly hysterical when I showed up. The idiots didn't even realize I had put myself between the were-rottweilers and that bastard Riley. The were-doggies noticed, though, and they weren't real happy about it.
"Next thing, the leader of the pack leaped at me and the fight was on. Normally, a wolf against a rottweiler is going to go the wolf's way. But there were six of them and just one of me. I kept moving and snapping and clawing and doing my best to keep them back and away from the speaker. They seemed happy to fight it out with me before taking on Riley.
"They never did get any good bites or scratches on me, but they got lots and lots of little ones. I managed to put three of them down and out of the fight, but by then I was really tired and hurt and losing blood. I knew I wasn't going to win this one, that they were going to rip Riley to shreds and I'd probably get lumped in with them in the news stories. The leader of the pack knew I was pretty much out of it, too. He glared at me, got his other two dogs to attack me then went for Riley's throat.
"He didn't get there, though. I don't know how long Michelle had been there but she caught the pack leader by the tail and just slammed him down onto the stage. The leader was stunned a bit but rolled up and was about to try again when Michelle leaned over and flashed her fangs at him! That dog took to whining and whimpering and he and his gang ran off with their tales between their legs.
"And you know what? That Riley guy was loving every minute of it! I finally tuned in to what he was saying. 'See? Do you see, good people?' he preached into the microphone. 'Do you see what these animals are capable of? I dared to speak the truth and my very life was threatened because of it!'
"That was just too much for me. Here the very people he was railing against had just saved his life and he was claiming we were all a bunch of savage animals! Still in wolf form, I limped over to him and his eyes got wide as I came closer. He never did shut up, though. Behind me, Michelle said, 'Don't do it, Hank! He's not worth it!'
"I really, really wanted to bite that bastard on the ass and let him see what ALPS was like from our side. But I knew Michelle was right. I transformed back to human form, standing right in front of Riley. I spoke loud enough that the microphone picked up what I had to say, 'Screw you, asshole!' And then I kicked him in the balls.
"The rally sort of fell apart after that. The police showed up and so did the news crews. But Michelle and I were able to slip away in all the confusion. We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening on the couch and we even cuddled some for comfort. Mostly, we just got drunk.
"I hate to say it, people, but that whole internment idea isn't just a one shot, stupid news editorial. It's a movement now. It might be small, but we can't just sit around and hope it just goes away. We've got to figure out how to combat it and I don't think a movie that puts us in a good light is going to be enough."
Sunday, February 15, 2009
That's Amore!
Bon Jour my brothers and sisters. My name is Pierre, and I am how do you say? A were-skunk. I stand before you a broken man. For I have seen love, and she has slipped through my fingers. It was a beautiful morning yesterday, crisp and clean, like so many mornings I remember growing up in Gay Paris and Amore, she was in ze air.
I decided to take a walk down town. I wasn’t ze only one enjoying ze stroll. Many couples walked hand in hand celebrating zis most French of all American holidays, Valentines Day. As one who has studied ze ways of love and ze wily nature of ze most dangerous game, woman, I wondered when cupid might draw back his bow and strike my heart.
As I pondered ze lonely nature of a man such as I, Cupid struck. Outside of ze local zeatre, a crowd was exiting ze afternoon matinee of some show called Cats and in ze middle of ze rush of people I saw her. She was tall and gorgeous. A classic beauty. Her hair was black with two large white stripes running down her back. Surely zis creature was made just for me. I had to admire such boldness to be out in a crowd in her transformed state. I felt my heart swell and I decided zen zat I shall lover her with such passion to equal zis boldness. I knew our love would be ze stuff of legend.
I immediately transformed into my fabulous skunk self and bounded over to her. Ze crowd scattered in awe of ze power of my love. My Princess stood zere shivering with the fear of ze destiny zat waited us. Her eyes welled with ze tears of passion. I embraced her, bent her over backwards, looked lovingly into her deep pools of blue zat were her eyes and planted a long passionate kiss zat would make Aphrodite herself blush.
She looked back at me and screamed ze scream of love and ran away.
“Ahhh Mon Cherie, you want to play hard to get” I said.
“Pierre LeStinc will go to ze ends of ze earth for you!” I yelled at her.
I chased her through buildings and alleyways yet she continued to elude me. I would have my love and she will know ze true meaning of passion.
I soon had her cornered in a dead end alley. I approached her and whispered all ze sweet things we would do togezer. Her whole body shook with anticipation. I soon had her in my loving embrace. She started to struggle. She obviously wanted to keep ze game going I thought.
When all of a sudden a little white girl with blonde hair popped out below me and I was left holding an empty cat suit with spilt paint running down ze back of it.
I realized zen zat Love, She is a fickle creature and zat true love was not to be mine zis day.
Cupid-You hear me know, I will be waiting for you next year!
I decided to take a walk down town. I wasn’t ze only one enjoying ze stroll. Many couples walked hand in hand celebrating zis most French of all American holidays, Valentines Day. As one who has studied ze ways of love and ze wily nature of ze most dangerous game, woman, I wondered when cupid might draw back his bow and strike my heart.
As I pondered ze lonely nature of a man such as I, Cupid struck. Outside of ze local zeatre, a crowd was exiting ze afternoon matinee of some show called Cats and in ze middle of ze rush of people I saw her. She was tall and gorgeous. A classic beauty. Her hair was black with two large white stripes running down her back. Surely zis creature was made just for me. I had to admire such boldness to be out in a crowd in her transformed state. I felt my heart swell and I decided zen zat I shall lover her with such passion to equal zis boldness. I knew our love would be ze stuff of legend.
I immediately transformed into my fabulous skunk self and bounded over to her. Ze crowd scattered in awe of ze power of my love. My Princess stood zere shivering with the fear of ze destiny zat waited us. Her eyes welled with ze tears of passion. I embraced her, bent her over backwards, looked lovingly into her deep pools of blue zat were her eyes and planted a long passionate kiss zat would make Aphrodite herself blush.
She looked back at me and screamed ze scream of love and ran away.
“Ahhh Mon Cherie, you want to play hard to get” I said.
“Pierre LeStinc will go to ze ends of ze earth for you!” I yelled at her.
I chased her through buildings and alleyways yet she continued to elude me. I would have my love and she will know ze true meaning of passion.
I soon had her cornered in a dead end alley. I approached her and whispered all ze sweet things we would do togezer. Her whole body shook with anticipation. I soon had her in my loving embrace. She started to struggle. She obviously wanted to keep ze game going I thought.
When all of a sudden a little white girl with blonde hair popped out below me and I was left holding an empty cat suit with spilt paint running down ze back of it.
I realized zen zat Love, She is a fickle creature and zat true love was not to be mine zis day.
Cupid-You hear me know, I will be waiting for you next year!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Loathing
Hi, my name is John and I suffer from ALPS.
(Someone yells “It’s not suffering!”)
For me it is. It’s really hard for me to be here. I mean, it’s not like it’s even going to help me to share… it won't make my life less pathetic... you know, maybe I’ll just let someone else get up…
(He starts to get down but changes his mind after a chorus of encouraging voices urge him back to the podium.)
Fine. I’ll tell my story. Thank you for your support. I suppose I might as well get this over with.
So, uh, anyhow, let me just say something first.
I hate dogs. I really and truly hate them. A lot of folks probably think that’s unnatural… but heck, I think YOU’RE unnatural for liking them.
I mean – really! Who ever thought it was a good idea to start bringing large hairy carnivores into their houses? I can understand keeping a dog outside for protection… but to let it into your HOME? It’s nasty. They crap in the yard, then come sit on your furniture inside. They eat your food, beg, lick people, sniff crotches… seriously, it’s gross. It’s dirty. And the hair all around the house? And the SMELL? Ever smell a house full of dogs? It’s like entering the antechamber of hell.
(someone in the audience coughs self-consciously)
And actually, in ancient Israel, I think dogs were like considered to be an unclean and loathsome animal. And those were GOD’S people, you know? I’m with them. I can’t stand dogs. Okay… all that is background.
One day I was jogging at the park, doing my regular rounds. Fitness used to be a big thing for me before I had ALPS. And now it’s like… whatever. My muscles don’t need the toning like they used to. So I’m running along, having just finished my first mile, and I hear a bark and some rustling in the bushes beside the path. I figure, oh geez, some jerk has let their dog off its leash again… so I speed up… and yup, here comes a dog. It’s snarling and foaming… a HUGE dog, like a German Shepherd mixed with horse… so I’m like… trying to get away… and SNAP, man it totally takes a CHUNK out of my calf!
And I’m like… you BITCH!!!
(John looks around the room.)
It’s okay, see, female dogs are called bitches. So I can say that. It’s like, a, uh, technical term, you know?
(“We know. Get back to the story.”)
Sorry. So, I’m there on the ground, bleeding and the dog is nowhere to be seen. Gone. And I’m thinking about how much life stinks and how much I hate dogs and all that…
Well, I had NO idea.
About a month later, I’m up early and I’m out front watering the lawn. We had some water restrictions thanks to a slight drought, so there are only certain windows of time, you know, where you can water, and my dwarf pomegranate was looking a little parched…
(Someone sighs loudly)
Okay, I’m rambling a little. Sorry. So, I’m out there with the hose and I smell something. Like… a rich, strong, earthy urine smell. I know, it’s disgusting. But I’m compelled by it. There’s a little spot at the corner of my yard, a little rosebush, and that’s the source. Before I know it, I have the overwhelming urge to, you know, go? So I just unzip and let fly.
Then I come to my senses and think… omigosh! Did I just DO that? I look around… no one saw me… but I’m still totally shocked by my own actions.
Then comes the coup de grâce. The newspaper car drives down the road. The guy throws my paper.
And I catch it IN MY MOUTH! Like a dog! I totally couldn’t help it. I saw it in the air one second, and in the next, I had it in my mouth. I see the guy look out the window of the car at me like… WHOA! And I’m feeling sheepish. Or maybe sheep-doggish? Who knows?
Then it hits me like a ton of milk bones. That bite. In the park. That wasn’t a dog! It was a were-dog… no WONDER he was so big. And so fierce.
(“We’re not ALL fierce!” comes the voice of a were-badger.)
Sorry, I know that.
But this guy was. And he passed his doggy nastiness unto me. Did I tell you how much I loathe dogs???
I really, really REALLY hate them!
And now… I hate myself.
(Someone yells “It’s not suffering!”)
For me it is. It’s really hard for me to be here. I mean, it’s not like it’s even going to help me to share… it won't make my life less pathetic... you know, maybe I’ll just let someone else get up…
(He starts to get down but changes his mind after a chorus of encouraging voices urge him back to the podium.)
Fine. I’ll tell my story. Thank you for your support. I suppose I might as well get this over with.
So, uh, anyhow, let me just say something first.
I hate dogs. I really and truly hate them. A lot of folks probably think that’s unnatural… but heck, I think YOU’RE unnatural for liking them.
I mean – really! Who ever thought it was a good idea to start bringing large hairy carnivores into their houses? I can understand keeping a dog outside for protection… but to let it into your HOME? It’s nasty. They crap in the yard, then come sit on your furniture inside. They eat your food, beg, lick people, sniff crotches… seriously, it’s gross. It’s dirty. And the hair all around the house? And the SMELL? Ever smell a house full of dogs? It’s like entering the antechamber of hell.
(someone in the audience coughs self-consciously)
And actually, in ancient Israel, I think dogs were like considered to be an unclean and loathsome animal. And those were GOD’S people, you know? I’m with them. I can’t stand dogs. Okay… all that is background.
One day I was jogging at the park, doing my regular rounds. Fitness used to be a big thing for me before I had ALPS. And now it’s like… whatever. My muscles don’t need the toning like they used to. So I’m running along, having just finished my first mile, and I hear a bark and some rustling in the bushes beside the path. I figure, oh geez, some jerk has let their dog off its leash again… so I speed up… and yup, here comes a dog. It’s snarling and foaming… a HUGE dog, like a German Shepherd mixed with horse… so I’m like… trying to get away… and SNAP, man it totally takes a CHUNK out of my calf!
And I’m like… you BITCH!!!
(John looks around the room.)
It’s okay, see, female dogs are called bitches. So I can say that. It’s like, a, uh, technical term, you know?
(“We know. Get back to the story.”)
Sorry. So, I’m there on the ground, bleeding and the dog is nowhere to be seen. Gone. And I’m thinking about how much life stinks and how much I hate dogs and all that…
Well, I had NO idea.
About a month later, I’m up early and I’m out front watering the lawn. We had some water restrictions thanks to a slight drought, so there are only certain windows of time, you know, where you can water, and my dwarf pomegranate was looking a little parched…
(Someone sighs loudly)
Okay, I’m rambling a little. Sorry. So, I’m out there with the hose and I smell something. Like… a rich, strong, earthy urine smell. I know, it’s disgusting. But I’m compelled by it. There’s a little spot at the corner of my yard, a little rosebush, and that’s the source. Before I know it, I have the overwhelming urge to, you know, go? So I just unzip and let fly.
Then I come to my senses and think… omigosh! Did I just DO that? I look around… no one saw me… but I’m still totally shocked by my own actions.
Then comes the coup de grâce. The newspaper car drives down the road. The guy throws my paper.
And I catch it IN MY MOUTH! Like a dog! I totally couldn’t help it. I saw it in the air one second, and in the next, I had it in my mouth. I see the guy look out the window of the car at me like… WHOA! And I’m feeling sheepish. Or maybe sheep-doggish? Who knows?
Then it hits me like a ton of milk bones. That bite. In the park. That wasn’t a dog! It was a were-dog… no WONDER he was so big. And so fierce.
(“We’re not ALL fierce!” comes the voice of a were-badger.)
Sorry, I know that.
But this guy was. And he passed his doggy nastiness unto me. Did I tell you how much I loathe dogs???
I really, really REALLY hate them!
And now… I hate myself.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Blood and Bowl Games
"Hi everyone. I think you all know me by now -- Hank, the Werewolf."
[Everyone: "Hi Hank!"]
"Last time I was up here I told you about when I met Michelle -- she's a vampire -- and how we started dating. Anyway, on Sunday she took me to a vampire Superbowl party and boy was it wild!"
[Willy: "You went to a vampire party? Alone? Just how stupid are you, son?"]
"I'm up here talking, aren't I? If I was as stupid as you think I probably wouldn't be here."
[Willy: "I guess God really does protect children and fools."]
"Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah.
"Michelle's brother Luke, the script writer? He wanted us to go with him to his usual sports bar to watch the game. He was real disappointed his Eagles hadn't gotten there but he's too big of a fan to miss the game. But Michelle said she couldn't go because her sire was having a party and she had to attend.
"The whole 'sire' thing was new for Luke and I knew less than I thought I did. I just thought a sire was like the alpha in a werewolf pack. You know, the alpha's in charge and you've got to obey him on pack matters. But a sire isn't like that at all. A sire is actually an older vampire who has turned others into vampires, too. Michelle didn't want to go into the details, but apparently a vampire can either drink someone's blood or inject their own blood into the person. If they inject blood, the person usually contracts SCABS and becomes a vampire.
"You know, were-creatures can't help it when we bite someone and give them ALPS. It's not an excuse or anything, but we don't choose to create more of us. Some vampires, though, seem to live for siring more vampires. Michelle's sire, Tony, is one of those.
"Anyway, Michelle told her brother that it was impossible for her to directly disobey her sire. If he ordered her to attend his party, she had no choice by to go. Neither Luke or I liked the sound of that! Luke was all set to skip the sports bar and go with her, but Michelle squashed that idea fast.
"She told him, 'If I bring a normal with me, Tony would either become their sire or, worse, order me to do it. So you're not coming with me and that's final!'
"I couldn't let down my new friends, so said, 'Don't worry, Luke. I'll go with her and will make sure this Tony guy doesn't get out of hand.'
"Michelle wasn't happy about having me going, either, but there was no way I wasn't going with her. I told her, 'Look, you can take me along openly or I'll just follow your scent and crash the party.' It didn't end there -- and Michelle has one Hell of a temper when she's roused -- but Luke and I weren't budging. She finally gave in.
"Michelle had settled down by the time we left for the party. I'd kicked up my senses and could tell she was nervous about the party; and not just because I was going to be there. I think she was a little relieved I was going, actually. We were just going to walk from Luke's apartment because this Tony guy lives in a big loft near the university. Get this, the guy's a student! Michelle says he's already got a dozen different degrees but keeps going back to college because there's plenty of prey there.
"What a sleaze bag, right? Michelle could tell I was getting angry just thinking about this guy. She pulled me off the sidewalk to sit on a park bench, looked in my eyes and said, 'You can't let this get to you, Hank! If you go up to Tony and go alpo on him, he's going to have you killed! He'll order all of his children -- that's what he calls us -- to kill you. And we will do it! None of us will want to, but it is impossible for us to disobey our sire!'
"I hadn't realized the connection was that strong. 'So that's why Tony keeps siring more vampires? So he can have a bunch of slaves who have to do his bidding?' I asked her.
"Michelle shook her head, 'No. Or not entirely, anyway. Tony loves ordering us around, especially if he's ordering us to do something he knows we don't want to do. But the main reason he sires more vampires is so he can live forever.'
"I know I must have looked confused. Michelle took my hands, 'A vampire who feeds from other vampires doesn't age and will never die as long as he has vampires to feed from. Hank, don't let Tony' apparent age fool you. He's 319 years old!'
"What she had said surprised. Not that Tony was 319, but that vampires didn't automatically live forever. 'I thought vampires were, you know, undead and lived forever.'
"Michelle actually laughed a bit. 'That's just a typical misunderstanding. We get old and die, just like everyone else. Unless we do what Tony does, and most of us would rather die than become a sire!' She poked me in the ribs. 'Have I ever felt cold in your arms? I'm just as alive as you are. I just have a different disease than you.'
"'So you don't have to put a stake through a vampire's heart to kill him?' I asked.
"Michelle grimaced, 'That part is true, more or less. You know how you can heal from almost any wound when you're transformed? Vampires are like that all the time. As long as our blood flows, we can heal from most wounds. Something that causes us to bleed out quickly might kill us, but a stake through heart is the only sure way.'
"All of that was news to me! On the other hand, I was glad the lively, warm girl I'd been holding was, well, still a live warm girl!
"A few minutes later we got to Tony's loft. It looked mighty expensive for a student, but I guess a guy could make a lot of money in 300 years! The place was crowded when we entered, conversation buzzing. There was also something like a reception line waiting to talk this guy who looked like he was 19 or 20. He was lounging in a fancy chair, looking all the world like he was the king of the world. I figured that had to be Tony.
"The minute I stepped into the room behind Michelle, the conversation just stopped and everyone in the room turned to look at me. It's freaky having 30 pairs of eyes trained on you when you know every pair of eyes belongs to a vampire!
"Tony spoke in a voice with the whip crack of command in it. 'Michelle. Front and center. Now. And bring your...guest.'
"Michelle turned to grab my hand and I could tell she wasn't fully there. Her eyes were glazed and didn't show any emotion. I figured this must be that whole 'must obey' bit she'd told me about. With surprising force, Michelle dragged me to stand before Tony.
"Tony looked me up and down, 'Michelle, why have you brought this...creature...before me?'
"When she answered, her voice was flat and emotionless. 'He's my boyfriend, Sire. He insisted on coming so he could protect me.'
"Not exactly information I wanted spoken aloud in a room full of vampires, let me tell you! Tony turned those laser beam eyes on me, 'Most amusing, puppy boy. Don't the elders of your mangy kind pass along any knowledge to their pups any more? Don't they teach you to keep your wet little noses out of the business of your betters?'
"That was it! I snapped and transformed right there. As I leaped at Tony's throat, I heard Michelle cry out, 'No Hank!' But it was too late for her cry and too late for Tony. At least that's what I thought. Tony moved so fast I could barely see it with my enhanced senses. He was on his feet, holding me by the throat before I got within a foot of him.
"My back paws swung above the ground and my front paws weren't having any effect on the hand that was holding me. 'Bad doggy! You need to be punished,' Tony said to me. Turning to Michelle, he said, 'And you're going to do the punishing, Michelle.'
"Michelle had tears in her eyes, 'No, Tony! Please-'
"'Enough!' Tony said, using the whip crack voice again. 'You will drain this beast dry and then you will plunge a silver knife into its heart.'
"I could see Michelle was fighting against the command with all her will. And I could see she was losing. But forcing his will on Michelle was taking all of Tony's attention. It was the only chance I was going to get, so I took it!
"I reverted back to human form and my much smaller neck slipped right out of Tony's grasp. I transformed back to wolf form just as my back feet hit the floor. Pushing off from the floor, I lunged underneath Tony's outstretched hand. He attention was just turning to me when I ripped out his throat. Tony's hands flew to stop the flow of blood from his throat until he could heal. And that's when I ripped open his ribcage and feasted on his still beating heart! Tony had just enough time to look at the gaping hole in his chest before his eyes clouded over and he died.
"Everything was really quiet for a few seconds and then someone said, 'He killed Tony!' Then others took it up, too. 'He killed Tony!' and 'Tony's dead!' I started looking around for a quick exit!
"Then Michelle grabbed me in a great big hug and started scratching behind my ears. I was still in wolf form and she knows I love that. 'That's my alpo!' she said. 'Way to go, Hank!'
"And just like that, the spell broke and everyone started cheering. I transformed back to human form and got a big kiss on the mouth from Michelle. When she pulled back to take a breath I asked, 'Why aren't they trying to beat me to death for killing their sire?'
"Michelle laughed, 'You're kidding, right? None of us liked Tony! God, we all hated him more than you can imagine! But it's impossible for any vampire to kill their sire. I didn't think you could, either, really, and that's why I didn't want you to come along.' She kissed me again. 'But you did it! You freed us from Tony!'
"The rest of the evening is kind of a blur. When they're not being lorded over by their sire, the vampires turned out to be a pretty wild bunch! Everyone kept bringing me drinks. They even offered to let me devour the rest of Tony. I wasn't really hungry but I knew it would be easier for them if there wasn't a body to be found. I swear, those vampire cheered every bite I took!
"After a few hours, Michelle and I headed back to her place and... Well, a gentleman doesn't tell!"
[Miguel: "Dude! You left that part out when you told me about it.]
"Well, that's all you're going to hear, so don't bug me about it. I do have one question, though.
"With all the excitement, we totally forgot about the game. Who won?"
[Everyone: "Hi Hank!"]
"Last time I was up here I told you about when I met Michelle -- she's a vampire -- and how we started dating. Anyway, on Sunday she took me to a vampire Superbowl party and boy was it wild!"
[Willy: "You went to a vampire party? Alone? Just how stupid are you, son?"]
"I'm up here talking, aren't I? If I was as stupid as you think I probably wouldn't be here."
[Willy: "I guess God really does protect children and fools."]
"Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah.
"Michelle's brother Luke, the script writer? He wanted us to go with him to his usual sports bar to watch the game. He was real disappointed his Eagles hadn't gotten there but he's too big of a fan to miss the game. But Michelle said she couldn't go because her sire was having a party and she had to attend.
"The whole 'sire' thing was new for Luke and I knew less than I thought I did. I just thought a sire was like the alpha in a werewolf pack. You know, the alpha's in charge and you've got to obey him on pack matters. But a sire isn't like that at all. A sire is actually an older vampire who has turned others into vampires, too. Michelle didn't want to go into the details, but apparently a vampire can either drink someone's blood or inject their own blood into the person. If they inject blood, the person usually contracts SCABS and becomes a vampire.
"You know, were-creatures can't help it when we bite someone and give them ALPS. It's not an excuse or anything, but we don't choose to create more of us. Some vampires, though, seem to live for siring more vampires. Michelle's sire, Tony, is one of those.
"Anyway, Michelle told her brother that it was impossible for her to directly disobey her sire. If he ordered her to attend his party, she had no choice by to go. Neither Luke or I liked the sound of that! Luke was all set to skip the sports bar and go with her, but Michelle squashed that idea fast.
"She told him, 'If I bring a normal with me, Tony would either become their sire or, worse, order me to do it. So you're not coming with me and that's final!'
"I couldn't let down my new friends, so said, 'Don't worry, Luke. I'll go with her and will make sure this Tony guy doesn't get out of hand.'
"Michelle wasn't happy about having me going, either, but there was no way I wasn't going with her. I told her, 'Look, you can take me along openly or I'll just follow your scent and crash the party.' It didn't end there -- and Michelle has one Hell of a temper when she's roused -- but Luke and I weren't budging. She finally gave in.
"Michelle had settled down by the time we left for the party. I'd kicked up my senses and could tell she was nervous about the party; and not just because I was going to be there. I think she was a little relieved I was going, actually. We were just going to walk from Luke's apartment because this Tony guy lives in a big loft near the university. Get this, the guy's a student! Michelle says he's already got a dozen different degrees but keeps going back to college because there's plenty of prey there.
"What a sleaze bag, right? Michelle could tell I was getting angry just thinking about this guy. She pulled me off the sidewalk to sit on a park bench, looked in my eyes and said, 'You can't let this get to you, Hank! If you go up to Tony and go alpo on him, he's going to have you killed! He'll order all of his children -- that's what he calls us -- to kill you. And we will do it! None of us will want to, but it is impossible for us to disobey our sire!'
"I hadn't realized the connection was that strong. 'So that's why Tony keeps siring more vampires? So he can have a bunch of slaves who have to do his bidding?' I asked her.
"Michelle shook her head, 'No. Or not entirely, anyway. Tony loves ordering us around, especially if he's ordering us to do something he knows we don't want to do. But the main reason he sires more vampires is so he can live forever.'
"I know I must have looked confused. Michelle took my hands, 'A vampire who feeds from other vampires doesn't age and will never die as long as he has vampires to feed from. Hank, don't let Tony' apparent age fool you. He's 319 years old!'
"What she had said surprised. Not that Tony was 319, but that vampires didn't automatically live forever. 'I thought vampires were, you know, undead and lived forever.'
"Michelle actually laughed a bit. 'That's just a typical misunderstanding. We get old and die, just like everyone else. Unless we do what Tony does, and most of us would rather die than become a sire!' She poked me in the ribs. 'Have I ever felt cold in your arms? I'm just as alive as you are. I just have a different disease than you.'
"'So you don't have to put a stake through a vampire's heart to kill him?' I asked.
"Michelle grimaced, 'That part is true, more or less. You know how you can heal from almost any wound when you're transformed? Vampires are like that all the time. As long as our blood flows, we can heal from most wounds. Something that causes us to bleed out quickly might kill us, but a stake through heart is the only sure way.'
"All of that was news to me! On the other hand, I was glad the lively, warm girl I'd been holding was, well, still a live warm girl!
"A few minutes later we got to Tony's loft. It looked mighty expensive for a student, but I guess a guy could make a lot of money in 300 years! The place was crowded when we entered, conversation buzzing. There was also something like a reception line waiting to talk this guy who looked like he was 19 or 20. He was lounging in a fancy chair, looking all the world like he was the king of the world. I figured that had to be Tony.
"The minute I stepped into the room behind Michelle, the conversation just stopped and everyone in the room turned to look at me. It's freaky having 30 pairs of eyes trained on you when you know every pair of eyes belongs to a vampire!
"Tony spoke in a voice with the whip crack of command in it. 'Michelle. Front and center. Now. And bring your...guest.'
"Michelle turned to grab my hand and I could tell she wasn't fully there. Her eyes were glazed and didn't show any emotion. I figured this must be that whole 'must obey' bit she'd told me about. With surprising force, Michelle dragged me to stand before Tony.
"Tony looked me up and down, 'Michelle, why have you brought this...creature...before me?'
"When she answered, her voice was flat and emotionless. 'He's my boyfriend, Sire. He insisted on coming so he could protect me.'
"Not exactly information I wanted spoken aloud in a room full of vampires, let me tell you! Tony turned those laser beam eyes on me, 'Most amusing, puppy boy. Don't the elders of your mangy kind pass along any knowledge to their pups any more? Don't they teach you to keep your wet little noses out of the business of your betters?'
"That was it! I snapped and transformed right there. As I leaped at Tony's throat, I heard Michelle cry out, 'No Hank!' But it was too late for her cry and too late for Tony. At least that's what I thought. Tony moved so fast I could barely see it with my enhanced senses. He was on his feet, holding me by the throat before I got within a foot of him.
"My back paws swung above the ground and my front paws weren't having any effect on the hand that was holding me. 'Bad doggy! You need to be punished,' Tony said to me. Turning to Michelle, he said, 'And you're going to do the punishing, Michelle.'
"Michelle had tears in her eyes, 'No, Tony! Please-'
"'Enough!' Tony said, using the whip crack voice again. 'You will drain this beast dry and then you will plunge a silver knife into its heart.'
"I could see Michelle was fighting against the command with all her will. And I could see she was losing. But forcing his will on Michelle was taking all of Tony's attention. It was the only chance I was going to get, so I took it!
"I reverted back to human form and my much smaller neck slipped right out of Tony's grasp. I transformed back to wolf form just as my back feet hit the floor. Pushing off from the floor, I lunged underneath Tony's outstretched hand. He attention was just turning to me when I ripped out his throat. Tony's hands flew to stop the flow of blood from his throat until he could heal. And that's when I ripped open his ribcage and feasted on his still beating heart! Tony had just enough time to look at the gaping hole in his chest before his eyes clouded over and he died.
"Everything was really quiet for a few seconds and then someone said, 'He killed Tony!' Then others took it up, too. 'He killed Tony!' and 'Tony's dead!' I started looking around for a quick exit!
"Then Michelle grabbed me in a great big hug and started scratching behind my ears. I was still in wolf form and she knows I love that. 'That's my alpo!' she said. 'Way to go, Hank!'
"And just like that, the spell broke and everyone started cheering. I transformed back to human form and got a big kiss on the mouth from Michelle. When she pulled back to take a breath I asked, 'Why aren't they trying to beat me to death for killing their sire?'
"Michelle laughed, 'You're kidding, right? None of us liked Tony! God, we all hated him more than you can imagine! But it's impossible for any vampire to kill their sire. I didn't think you could, either, really, and that's why I didn't want you to come along.' She kissed me again. 'But you did it! You freed us from Tony!'
"The rest of the evening is kind of a blur. When they're not being lorded over by their sire, the vampires turned out to be a pretty wild bunch! Everyone kept bringing me drinks. They even offered to let me devour the rest of Tony. I wasn't really hungry but I knew it would be easier for them if there wasn't a body to be found. I swear, those vampire cheered every bite I took!
"After a few hours, Michelle and I headed back to her place and... Well, a gentleman doesn't tell!"
[Miguel: "Dude! You left that part out when you told me about it.]
"Well, that's all you're going to hear, so don't bug me about it. I do have one question, though.
"With all the excitement, we totally forgot about the game. Who won?"
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