Oh, for crying out loud.
I need to take a minute for that last comment.
‘Twas a full moon on the night of morrow last and I could not help myself. I have for too many years now been a creature unlike the others of this world and I’m afraid it is so deeply ingrained in my nature guilt graces not even my newly bloodied and freshly fed façade.
I mean, fucking- WOW.
I humbly disagree. There are plenty of creatures of this world that are just like you.
I believe they're called nerds.
If you were having a hard time finding them "on the night of morrow last" maybe you weren't looking in the right places. Like, I dunno- the Harry Potter fan fiction message boards?
I’ve come under cover of night and taken BeeBee from you.
Um- no you haven't.
Last night, I hopped in the cage, jerked off to a little internet porn, moved my laptop out of the cage, turned into a werewolf, ate the shit out of Beebee, and went down for a nap, fat and happy. I woke up around 10:00 this morning, had a light brunch over at S&B, and did a little record shopping. It was pretty much the best transformation I've ever had. No werewolf hunters, no trashing my apartment, no dashing through the woods and almost killing my family, no flipping over in a chinatown bus, and absolutely no waking up naked in the snow.
It pretty much rocked.
By the way, check this shit out, it keeps going:
While in human form I had intended to merely steal the lamb to free him, but then the brightest romantic call of all lunar seductions shone down on me at the very moment a million hungry howls of future cubs still tucked in wolfish wombs took hold.
And I was mercifully human no more.
What did you become? That Anne Rice character you so desperatley want to be?
Beebee has become a part of me. I have consumed most of him and left what I could not take for our raven cousins and the other scavengers of the forest.
What fucking forest?
I live in Brooklyn.
Dearest Wolfin, know your beloved lamb’s death was not in vain. The pack’s new cubs – come spring time when they are born – will bear the blood of your precious sacrifice inside them as he has now been reborn by nature’s hand as something new and pure and clean.
OK- I was under mind control for over a month and a half, and even THAT wasn't as full of shit as that last sentence.
Also let his death be perhaps your first lesson in the ways of our kind. It is not for us to capture our prey unless we have need of it for nourishment at that very moment. To ensnare such gentle beasts as those who sustain us before their deaths are required deprives them of their last days on earth and unbalances the workings of the forest floor.
Jesus, again with the forest? If you're so concerned about maintaining the balance of the forest floor howsabout you turn into a wolf and go eat Christo? Central Park is the closest thing we've got to a forest around here, and it's currently wrapped in saffron.
Never again so prematurely take the freedom of another unless your belly or the bellies of your cubs or pack growl empty and you have no other recourse but to stalk and kill to fill them. Let that hollow, hungry pit in the middle of your gut serve to remind you that in the forest, such greed and selfishness as is obviously rampant in your human nature is simply not allowed.
You know what else isn't allowed?
Boning in on the comments section and trying to change the story. I'm a fucking werewolf over here, I'm doing the best I can to deal with it, I finally have a good day, and this crazy bitch has to throw in a plot point.
This isn't fiction.
I love each and every one of my commentors, even the ones who hate hockey, say I'm a shitty writer, or are really only here from a zooskool google search, but let's keep one thing clear here- this is my life, and you don't get to add chapters.
Suggestions I love, they have even helped in the past.
But let's keep a grip on reality, 'kay?
Anyway, I gotta go, the suns coming down, and I'll be changing again tonight.
I shoulda bought another sheep.