I am such a jackass.

OK- you know how I skipped a couple of days posting because I was a werewolf?

I skipped yesterday for a reason less cool than that.

Yeah- so two days in a row, I turn into a beast- the first time, I eat my goddamn cat, which I'm still a little bummed out about, and the second time I use my ex-girlfriend's bondage cuffs to chain myself to the bed.

It worked pretty well- but I guess I should tell you guys first what it feels like to turn into a werewolf.

The first time was Wednesday, the night the Sox clinched the World Series, and I was feeling great all day, but that may have been anticipation about the game. I had all my superstious Sox clothing on- the El Guapo shirt, bruins hat, and my lucky jeans, which I was wearing on the night of game 4 against the Yankees. As the pregame hype started, the excitement turned to horror.

I got hit with an incredibly intense bolt of pain in all of my bones, forcing me down to my knees. And from there, it was strange, I don't know if any of you guys have ever had a panic attack, but it's kind of like a feeling of gradually intensifying fear, building and building until you are at the level of terror that you have when you accidentally step out in front of a fast moving car. It's like that except that the terror stays there.

Constantly.

It's made worse by the fact that there really isn't anything to be scared of, you're just sitting in your house freaking out, wondering why your body is doing this to you.

It was kind of simliar to that when I was changing into the wolf, but instead of fear- it was a growing sense of- I guess, power. As the feeling intensified, there was a lot of pain, but the narcotic of power made the pain irresistible, kind of like pulling off a scab that hurts, but the satisfaction of seeing that scab come off supercedes any pain you feel from the pulling.

Of course there was very little will involved.

I heard my bones stretching, snapping, and groaning, and I do have a very vivid memory of wanting to look at my hand, like in American Werewolf in London, but at the time, my forehead and jawline were stretching and expanding outwards, forcing my eyes closed.

I also could hear my hair growing, probably becuase it was growing in my ears, which were also being pulled beyond their normal dimensions by what felt like a peice of cartilege pushing up and out of my ears, but instead of piercing the flesh and bursting out of my body they were guiding the expansion of my flesh.

It's kind of a drag, cause I bet my hands looked pretty cool.

The next time I got a chance to check them, they were pretty much paws.

It was then that my cat jumped out at me.

I don't want to talk about what happened next.

At any rate, the strangest thing about this, is I remember what it was like- my vision was a little more clouded, and I was by no definition in control, but I can remember what it was like- it's like being on mushrooms or something, but really angry mushrooms.

After I finished off the cat- I was insatiably hungry- I leapt into the kitchen- which was awesome. I'm talking clear over the couch and on all fours in front of the fridge- tore the door off and ate the raw steak and hamburger in there.

That's when it got frustrating.

Although I could see what I was doing, it was a lot like being under the influence of a drug as there were certain things I just couldn't do, like unlock the front door of my apartment. I live on a 6th floor walkup so I remember bounding to the window, seeing how far down it was and just being stuck. I might have been a ravenous beast, but I wasn't stupid enough to jump to my death.

All things considered, a Brooklyn apartment is a lot safer place for a werewolf to be than say, a country house on the moors of Scotland. I have a fire escape, but there are bars over it, designed to keep people out, and in my state I couldn't figure out how to work it, so I railed at the window for a while and then just went nuts.

I tore the shit out of my apartment, flipping over tables, mutilating the curtains, braking windows, destroying dishes, eating the cat litter and scratching the shit out of the walls. It's a miracle my neighbors didn't call the cops. Thank God I didn't fuck up my computer. I don't remember much after that.

When I woke up, It was 9:30 in the morning, I was naked in my living room (which was totally trashed), I had blood all over my chest, and I had to get to the video store by 10:00. Long story short, I show up late to work after going to Mikey's Hookup to find out iPod's don't have batteries, they have chargers, so I buy one, and go to work at the video store.

Every single dickhead in the store wants a recomendation for "something scary."

I finish my entire shift without saying much.

I get home, start charging the ipod, and while it works now- Dan isn't there.

Fuck.

I remember Kristen's handcuffs. If I'm going to be this fucking monster again, I can't be destroying my apartment every goddamn night. I put the key in the breast pocket of my shirt, handcuff myself to the bed, and again, I change. I remember ranting against the cuffs for a while, but they held true, and I woke up naked again, with the tatters of clothes all around me.

On Friday, Dan still isn't on the iPod, and I'm really scared. I figure all I can do is go for the handcuffs again. Still, I don't want to ruin my clothes again, so I strip naked this time, and fasten the cuffs. I was pretty terrified as it started to get dark, and was gripped in full-on panic attack mode as it got darker and darker.
Then, nothing.

Oh fuck.

Is it really possible that it's not a full moon, and now I'm chained to my bed for nothing?

Yes. So where was the key?

In my pants.

Across the room.

Nice job genius- it's not even a full moon, I'm naked as the day I was born, handcuffed to my bed, and I can't do a damned thing about it.

I stayed there all night Friday, all day Saturday, and all Saturday night, which is why I haven't posted. Sunday morning, I managed to get the attention of the newspaper delivery guy, who I heard putting my Times outside my door. He got the landlord, who walked into an apartment literally torn to pieces, and found me naked and handcuffed to the bed.

I told him where the keys were and as he was uncuffing me, I sheepishly said- "Yeah, my girlfriend's kind of a psycho. Oh, and can I get a new fridge?"

I might need to find a new place soon.

If you have any leads, leave a comment- I guess I'm looking for a loft space in Williamsburg, for under $2000 a month, high ceilings, plenty of light, 6th floor or higher, ideally an elevator building. Any roomates should be open to alternative lifestyles. No pets.

Keep your ears open, OK?