Conversation over drinks...

Before we go any further into this evening, I want to say for the record: I do occasionally turn into a wolf.

It’s not often, every month or so, but it does happen and, in the interests of full disclosure I thought it might be best to bring it up now, at the start of the evening, so that I don’t have to bring it up later and cause you to think I might have in any way misled you.

Once every month or so I turn into a wolf and run, naked and free, through the woods out back of my house. By morning I’m myself again, though a version of myself that is frequently covered in blood and stuffed with raw meat, and the rest of the time I go about a completely ordinary life.

This has been happening since last summer, during which I was bitten by a wolf whilst on a camping trip with a few friends from work, and while initially it was a terrifying experience to be sure, once I realized what was happening provisions could be made to get the situation under control, and I think I approached my new circumstance with a clear-headedness that I rightly deserve to be proud of.

Every problem, after all, can be dealt with if you approach it clear-headedly. I’ve always believed this, and to this point in my life it’s always proved true.

Overall, the situation has been challenging, but ultimately very manageable, and after nearly a year of changing into a wolf with the cycles of the moon I’m confident enough that I have it under control that I decided the time had come to date again.

Hence the OKCupid account. Hence the two of us, here, now.

I know this is a little heavy to spring on you during a first date, but I honestly do believe that no relationship can be expected to work if there isn’t honesty between the people involved, and this IS an important part of my life, so I’m getting it all out in the open in the hopes that you’ll understand and find it in yourself to look past it. I do turn into a wolf once a month. It’s not ideal, but hopefully it’s not a deal-breaker for you. And even if it is something you don’t think you can handle, it’s better for me to tell you now rather than wasting both of our time on something that obviously won’t work out. I’m in my thirties now; I’m done apologizing for who I am. I like me and I want the person I’m with to like me too.

So yeah, I turn into a wolf during the full moon, and I probably always will. That’s just me. Deal with it.

After all, if I’m going to be a wolf, I can at least be a self-aware-wolf…

The Moon

Since the dawn of time, it’s been the dream of every human being to reach up into the sky and destroy the moon.

What do you mean, no it hasn’t?

Just me? Huh, weird. I’d assumed everyone felt the same burning hatred I did when they looked up at that big smug sphere floating up there in the sky, dickishly smirking down at us as we go about our lives like a hideous, unblinking eye, watching what it has no right to watch.

FUCK YOU, MOON!

I’m serious, I’m sick of that thing, I’m sick of it’s arrogance, the way it just sits there in the middle of the sky like it owns the place, like it thinks it’s somehow better than the rest of us down here, somehow above us, I’m sick of how it comes and goes as it pleases without so much as a how-do-you-do or an attempt to ask our permission to intrude upon our night. And most of all, more than anything else, I am sick of the Werewolves.

You guys, I can’t even with the Werewolves. For reals. If I never have to fight another werewolf again in my life it’ll be too soon.

And, with a little bit of luck, I’ll never have to fight another werewolf again in my life, because we’re finally, finally doing it. We’re going to blow up the moon!

No need to thank me.

Oh, right, right, it’s just me that wants that and you have no reason to thank me, I’d forgotten.

Anyway, we’re going to blow up the moon. We’ve built the rocket, my team’s in place and we’ve bought a number of tactical nukes from breakaway former soviet satellites, a process that was distressingly easy to do. We seriously have got to crack down on loose nukes at some point, you guys. I bought, like, a LOT of nukes and never once even felt like I was in any danger of being caught, and I’m not even that smart.

But that’s a project for another day, methinks. Today, the moon must die!

Or, to be more precise, Tuesday next the moon must die, because that’s when we’re scheduled to launch. When the sun rises on Monday, be sure to say goodbye to that fat, evil orb for the last time, because you’ll never have to suffer under its oppressive gaze again! And finally, FINALLY we will be free, free of werewolves but most importantly free of the moon itself! Free!!!

Oh, I know what you’re thinking, something-something-the-tides-worldwide-destruction-something. And also: But what if astronauts some day go to a planet that has more than one moon, and they don’t know until they get there that one of them is a werewolf and he transforms into a wolf ALL the time because two moons and there’s nothing any of them can do because they didn’t pack a gun with silver bullets for their trip to outer space because who even brings a gun with silver bullets to outer space anyway?

And to that I say: Try not to worry.

Oh, worry about the tides, that’s going to be disastrous in ways I can’t even begin to predict, that will be just horrible.

But don’t worry about the astronaut-werewolf thing, it probably won’t be a problem, and if it is, it’s a future-astronaut-werewolf problem, not a you-here-now problem. I’m sure they’ll come up with something. They’re astronauts, they’re pretty smart.

Though I’ll admit, a team of astronauts where one member is a werewolf visiting a planet with two moons that turn him into a wolf full time would make a great ‘50s B-movie.

Okay, you know what? Forget about destroying the moon, new plan: Let’s make a movie!

Werewolf

I wanted a Werewolf to guard my castle.

But that’s impossible, because this isn’t fantasy.

It’s science fiction, and nothing changes that. And I try not to delude myself about my limitations.

So in my lab, I designed self-replicating nanobots that rewrite human DNA, transforming their host into a human-wolf hybrid of the desired ferocity.

The toughest part was ensuring they’d never spread. I don’t want a plague, after all. They only function in the bloodstream, and in wine.

How is the wine?

Anyway, you’re probably wondering why I called you. Just wondering: Would you like to guard my castle?

Curse of the Were-Hipster

A month ago, I was on Whyte avenue.

He came from the shadows, brown corduroy jacket over Black Keys T-shirt, beard unkempt, fedora at an angle on his head. We collided, and it happened.

The fucker bit me!

I went home, cleaned the wound and went to sleep. I’d heard the legends, obviously, but never given them heed. They’re old wives tales, and I’ve no time for superstition.

But now a month’s past. The full moon hangs in the sky, and I’m fearful. What if the legends are true?

Because right now, I can’t stop listening to Hot Hot Heat…

Curfew

It came at sundown from the forest, as it did every night. A blur of fur and fangs, and the sort of howl that, in time, could drive one mad.

By then, we were all locked away, safe within our homes.

Except for you.

You were banging, desperate, at my heavy, reinforced oak door. Screaming at the top of your lungs, begging me, before it found you, to let you in.

In time, your screaming ended.

Perhaps there’d have been time, before it got to you. I was afraid to risk it.

Why couldn’t you obey the god damned curfew?

Running With Wolves

By night, I run with wolves.

Naked and free, wind against my skin, by the moonlight. I hear the pack howl, and howl along with them.

We run, we howl, and we hunt.

And, in the morning, I awake in my bed, wash the blood from my hair and beard, dress myself in a suit and tie, and go back to work for another day, keeping secrets of nightly adventures to myself.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m no Werewolf, there’s no such thing as Werewolves, to think there is is madness.

I’m no Werewolf.

But, by night, I run.