What is happening to me?

The final chapter.

2005-05-26T16:47:00.001-04:00

Well, here we are, at the end of this goddamn thing.

I guess the best thing to do is save the horseshit, and let you guys know, well- what happened to me.

That was the point of this whole thing, right?

As I stated yesterday, Julie had left me a message on the mirror telling me that she had kidnapped Scott, I assumed at gunpoint, seeing as one of the shotguns was missing, and that I had to meet her on the Williamsburg bridge, which whether she knew it or not, was the place where all this started for me.

She wanted to meet at 8:00, which meant that by the time I got there, she'd be changing soon, and I wouldn't have much time. I was fairly convinced that I wasn't going to change, but still, I was nervous about being out on that bridge again.

At 7:30, I grabbed the duffel bag with the other shotgun and put on the iPod, so I could talk to Dan on the walk up. It was nice to check in:

"So- what do you think, Kirk? How are you feeling?"

A little nervous, I guess- I mean, this plan- if it doesn't work-

"It'll work. It's got to work. I mean, you trust Alyssa, right?"

Yeah, I guess- I just don't know- if Julie changes before we can pull this off-

"Well, then- you'll be dead, and she'll bite somebody else, and with any luck you'll end up in this iPod with me. Then, who knows, maybe the new werewolf will find us, and we can help him- I dunno..fight crime."

What?

"Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood."

Well quit it. I'd like to say something to you.

"Oh Jesus."

No, stop it- I just want to say that if this doesn't work, well- buddy, it's been- well...

"If you say fun, I swear to God I'll figure out a way to inhabit another human body just so I can kick you square in the nuts."

No- no- not fun, I dunno, I guess- an adventure.

"Jesus, you're a pussy."

You never give me a break, do you?

"It's for your own good. Don't sweat it."

Yeah, well- for what it's worth thanks. I'm getting up to the bridge now- cross your fingers.

"I don't have fingers, remember? If I did, I'd be flipping you off right now."

Yeah, well... whatever- here's hoping that we can take care of this bitch, and send you on your way.

"Thanks Kirk... If it works out, I'll see you on the other side."

Yeah- Oh, one more thing- if you actually do move on to another plane, does that mean that this iPod will actually play music?

"How the fuck should I know?"

I dunno, I mean, shit- you're the one trapped in it, and if you move on, it'd be nice to have an iPod is all.

"You're a twisted fuck."

Yeah, well- good luck.

"Good luck to you too Kirk."

I took off the iPod and started walking up the bridge from the Williamsburg side. As I got halfway up, I turned the corner at the midpoint of the walkway and heard Julie's voice.

"Stop right there!"

She was standing in the middle of the walkway, with the shotgun leveled at Scott's head. He was tied up, had a gag in his mouth and had been beaten badly; his left eye was swollen up pretty good. I slid the shotgun halfway out of the duffel bag, and she saw me.

"Drop it!"

I dropped it.

"Let him go!" I yelled.

"Oh- I'll let him go. You're going to need something to eat when the moon rises." She grabbed Scott by the ropes around his hands and threw him to the ground. "Stop it" I said, he's innocent in all this. And I told you. I figured it out. I don't change anymore." I walked towards Scott, and Julie put the shotgun to his head. "Oh, you don't change? Really? You're a killer, Thomson. Like I am. Why can't you embrace that?"

Finally, she had said the magic words. Now was my chance.

"You're a killer, Julie? Tell me, who have you killed?"

"Who have I killed, I've torn more people limb from limb than you can possibly imagine. I'm a beast, an animal, and you'll see- soon." She turned her head towards the skyline, which was already darkening. The moon was rising.

"No Julie-" I said, "Not how many people has the WOLF killed. How many have YOU killed? Personally. As a human being. If you were really a killer, you'd pull that trigger right now. But you know what? I don't think you have the guts."

Scott looked up at me with horror, and moaned through his gag.

Julie fixed me with a glare, the evil behind her eyes shining.

"Really. You think I'm not a killer? Well watch this!"

She leveled the shotgun at Scott's back, squeezed the trigger, and as I was yelling the word "NO!" it was drowned out by the boom of the gun. Scott's body was blasted forward onto the cement of the bridge. As his body fell, I ran forward and tackled her, slamming her against a pylon of the bridge.

Now, it was time to run.

I headed down the bridge towards the Manhattan side, with her chasing about 30 feet behind me. I looked up and saw the full moon. This was it. The moment of truth. I looked at my hands.

Nothing.

I stopped running for a moment and took in the moon. It was time. I turned back and saw Julie, who had also stopped running. Looking directly at me, she peeled her sweatshirt off, and stood topless in the light of the moon. She leaned against the bridge, and started to unbutton her jeans, getting ready to transform.

I looked at the moon again, and then back to Julie.

"What's the problem?" I asked, walking back to where she stood.

Her face was transfixed by fear. She looked at the moon, which was full, and back at her hands. Nothing was happening.

"What...what is happening to me?"

"I can tell you what's happening. You have committed murder. As a human being. All you wanted most in the world was to change into a monster. Well you have. You've murdered another human being, and now you no longer require change. Alyssa was right. You have become a monster, Julie, which is what you've always wanted to be. So now- unfortunately for you, you're cured."

She looked up, and her eyes were filled with tears.

"Cry all you want, monster. Congratulations."

Silently, she rose to her feet, took a running start and leapt off the bridge. Her body made a soft slapping sound as it hit the water.

It was almost over.

I had to check on Scott.

Running back up the bridge to where he was, I saw him squirming on the pavement. I untied him, removed his gag, and he punched me in the face.

"What the fuck was that!" He screamed at me.

"Rocksalt. Alyssa always had it rocksalt shells around, so I loaded the guns with it, and just hoped that she'd try to kill someone with it."

"But why?"

"Because Alyssa's theory was right. One cannot change into a werewolf unless one desires radical change in their lives. What I wanted more than anything else was to get out of the situation I was in. When I accepted it, and embraced it, I got over this bullshit. What Julie wanted more than anything else was to be a killer. I gambled that if she thought she had killed someone, it would be enough. And it was. I'm sorry it had to be you."

"Where is she now?"

"She's gone. Now let's get you to a hospital."

I pulled out my cell phone, dialed 911, and threw the other shotgun into the water. Scott sat slumped on the side of the bridge, and I realized I had one more thing to check on.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the iPod.

I put it in my ears and said:

Dan? Dan... you there?

And then- nothing.

He was gone.

He made it. He fucking made it.
Way to go, buddy.

I walked back up to where Scott was sitting, told him that the paramedics were on their way, and said goodbye, walking back across the bridge to Williamsburg under a bright full moon.

This night, I made it to the other side.

And that's the story, folks- I hope you enjoyed it.

I mean, I guess I could keep this thing going if you guys really want to hear about my next shift at the video store or what I thought about the new Star Wars movie (it sucked), but I dunno- I think the story has been told.

So thanks for your comments, your interest, and coming and checking this thing out for the past 8 months.

I couldn't have done it without you.

But for now, I'm tired and I'm going home.

I still gotta figure out how to get that fucking cow down the stairs.

-Kirk Thomson

P.S.
If you want to read the story of this blog, why it got started, and what's happening next, feel free to click this link .

Or don't. This is kind of a nice ending, I think.

Penultimate

2005-05-25T16:15:00.000-04:00

Well, it is somewhat odd for me to begin writing this entry, as I've been doing this blog for about 8 months now, and this is the second to last entry.

I'm not kidding this time- I know that there have been a few false endings, practical jokes, and moments where I was positive that I would either be killed or take my own life, but that's not going to happen this time.

This blog was started under the title "What is happening to me, " and that is a question that has been answered. I've had a hell of a year, seen and done things that boggle the mind, gone to the extremes of sex, love, violence, joy, hatred and pain, and come out the other side ready to face my life again.

I know that several of you have commented that even if I'm not a monster, you'd still like to read about my life, but that's just it- when I was a werewolf, I needed the help- I needed to reach out to people, needed to know that I wasn't alone, and now, I just don't need that as much. As I've stated, the blog is a very personal medium, and serves the author more than the audience. While having certain segments of my life out in public has been helpful for me in the past, now, I think it's time for me to own it myself again.

I've learned a lot over the past 8 months, and not just how to properly insert a link in HTML. I've learned that change is essential, change is important, change is a vital part of life, but change is something that happens slowly, and often isn't even percieved until the transformation is complete.

You can't push the river.

Yes, I was bitten by a werewolf, and I have changed radically over the course of 20 minutes, into something that I don't think I will ever truly understand. But what I do understand is, that one cannot change into a werewolf if one doesn't also desire radical personal change. And I don't anymore. I have accepted what and who I am, and decided that any inward pain I have, can and will be made better by using the natural world around me to slowly work towards a better life.

If everything that pains us is caused by external factors of nature, it is those same external factors that can provide the cure. It just doesn't happen overnight, and I not only do I understand that now, the woman who made me understand it died in the hospital last night.

After losing her arm, Alyssa made it to the hospital OK, but lost too much blood, and passed away sometime around 3:30 in the morning.

Scott called just after it happened, I was back at the lab, cleaning up the bodies of Cameron and Chandler, and trying to make sense of what I was supposed to do. Scott broke the news to me, and I wanted to go right out and find Julie, but he explained to me that if I wasn't a werewolf, we really didn't stand much of a chance in a straight up fight, and it was better to track her using her ankle bracelet after she changed back this morning. I just hope to God she didn't bite anyone else. She ate most of Cameron's body, and in my experience, after I ate something large, I usually just looked for somewhere to sleep it off.

Let's hope that she did the same.

I checked in with Dan on the iPod, and we came up with a plan of attack.

I loaded the shotguns, and determined that we had to get to Julie before the moon rose. If she was a werewolf when we found her, we wouldn't stand a chance.

Then I went back to my place, fed the cow, and tried to get some sleep.

Scott called around 8:30, and I went back to the lab- the computers were kind of trashed, so it took quite a while for Scott to get things up and running- we needed to get a signal on Julie's ankle bracelet, providing that it wasn't destroyed. As it turned out, we didn't need it.

Scott sent me to Mikey's hookup for some supplies, and when I came back, around 3:30- he was gone. The following message was written on the mirror- in blood.

"THOMPSON. I HAVE YOUR FRIEND. MEET ME ON THE WILLIAMSBURG BRIDGE AT 8:00 PM. COME ALONE."

It was a little messier than that on the mirror, but there really isn't any kind of decent "written in blood" font, at least that I could find.

But you get the picture.

I checked for the shotguns, and one of them was gone. I picked up the iPod, told Dan about the situation, and waited.

There was nothing else I could do.

This is already a long post, and as tomorrow's will be the last- I'll save what happened for then.

Thanks to everyone who has been supportive and enjoyed this blog.

See you tomorrow.

In loving memory:

Alyssa Elizabeth Stevens
1976-2005

Julie changed last night-

2005-05-24T13:05:00.000-04:00

-and it didn't go well.

We spent the afternoon moving my cage out of the loft and into the new space where her cage was.

The idea was to have us side by side in different cages as the moon came up, just to see what effect we'd have on each other.

Might have been a bad idea.

I was in my cage trying to read as the the time approached. She was pacing around, animalistic, shrieking that she was going to kill us all.

I didn't get much reading done.

Chandler, Alyssa, Cameron and Scott were all pacing around- Chandler had this long speargun, Alyssa and Cameron had shotguns, and Scott was nervously checking several clipboards, walking back and forth from the cages to the computers, I guess monitoring Julie's ankle bracelet. I saw Alyssa loading her shotgun with shells, and it wasn't the rocksalt. This was ammo. I was a little freaked out, I must admit. This werewolf chick was out of her head- unloading some real over the top exorcist-babble.

She was saying things like "Hey Thompson- what's the matter? Don't you WANT to change? Don't you want to be a killer?! You know what it is to kill. You've felt it- it makes you strong. Why don't you embrace it?! That's what I've done. And just you wait to see what happens!"

"Fuck you!" I screamed at her.

I couldn't help it.

All of a sudden there was a hand on my shoulder. It was Alyssa.

"Here," she said- handing me the iPod. Talk to Dan. It'll relax you."

Julie's voice pierced the moment- "Well isn't that sweet! Little impotent werewolf with his girlfriend that's fucking someone else. Yeah, that's it, check in with Casper the friendly iPod. "

I turned to her, angry, and actually felt a snarl come to my throat, which scared me, a feeling that subsided as Chandler's gun butt slammed through the bars and into Julie's face, knocking her to the ground.

Alyssa was not pleased.

"Goddamnit Chandler! There will be NO VIOLENCE while the subject is still human! We were clear about that!"

Chandler glanced to Cameron, who nodded, backing her up. Chandler turned back to Alyssa.

"I'm sorry, M'aam. It's just she was-"

"Forget about it." Alyssa waked back around to the door of Julie's cage, joining Chandler. "Goddamnit, she's out- we're going to have to-"

I put the iPod on, and closed my eyes. I needed to relax.

Dan- buddy, you there?

"Yeah, I'm here, pal, how goes the full moon fever?"

I don't know- I'm here in the cage, the moon's about to rise, and Julie's right here next to me-

"In the same cage!? Are you fucking nuts?"

No, different cages, Alyssa just knocked her out- it's just...it's just, she got to me.

"What did Alyssa say about your changing?"

She said- if I don't desire radical change, then I won't change- she read me this passage from one of her books, it said 'all situations are changeable, but you can't push the river.'

"Sounds like a fortune cookie to me."

Yeah, me too- still, there's some wisdom to it- you see, change is inevitable. Change will come. I can improve my life, but it's not going to happen overnight. You can cross the river if you build a bridge- you know? You just can't push it away overnight.

"Yeah, I hear you. Wait. What the fuck is going on out-?"

The tremendous BANG of Julie's cage door slamming open blotted out my ears for a moment, obliterating my conversation with Dan. The rest was kind of a blur. Julie, now a large werewolf, had thrown a large chunk of Chandler's torso up against the door of the cage knocking it wide open, and splattering Cameron, who was trying to close it, with gore. Alyssa cocked her shotgun, and ran around to the front of the cage.

The whole scene was kind of nasty.

Apparently, Julie had been knocked unconcious, or at least led everyone to believe she had been, and when Chandler walked into the cage to give her smelling salts, she began to change. I'm still a little amazed that they thought that two minutes before the moon rises was a good idea to climb into the cage with a werewolf, but Chandler was always a little cocky. Also, I might just be a little more attuned to the timing of that kind of thing than he was.

Whatever, now he was in pieces, and all hell was breaking loose.

As Alyssa raised her shotgun, the wolf slammed directly through the door of the cage, sending Cameron flying through Scott's computer desk. I couldn't see Scott anywhere. There was a deafening boom as Alyssa fired her shotgun, and a high pitched screaming as the wolf wheeled around on her, sinking it's teeth into her arm, and tearing it out of it's socket with a disgusting wet splashing sound.

Alyssa's body hit the ground just as a geyser of her blood shot at least 7 feet into the air. I heard screaming, and realized it was coming from me.

I tried to change.

It's the first time I ever tried to do it. All I could hear was screaming, crashing, the roaring of the beast and the multiple blasts from Cameron's shotgun, and I was staring at the moon. If ever there was a time that I should have changed, that I wanted to change, that I needed to change, it was then.

I stared at the moon though the window of the cell and tried to concentrate.

Nothing.

I stared at my hand.

Nothing.

I began clawing at my face and chest, drawing blood, trying to lure the monster out of me, but it was gone.

I was helpless, pushing the river, and had to sit and watch, as the carnage unfolded.

Julie, now a werewolf, had roared when Cameron's shotgun blast hit her in the back, distracting her from Alyssa, who was slumped in a corner, missing an arm, in a pool of blood. The wolf turned, and what happened next was difficult to describe.

It leapt at Cameron from across the room and blasted him off his feet. I saw his feet under the wolf, and heard the frenzied feeding, and then an arm just sort of skidded across the room. There was so much blood that it didn't really move that fast, it just sort of drifted towards the wall, away from where his body had been. Then one of his legs did the same, kind of twisting on the bloodsoaked floor like a piece of driftwood on a slow moving river. It kind of parted from his body and just slowly spun clockwise, away from his body.

The wolf rose from the kill and looked at me.

Like, stared at me, with those same piercing eyes that I remembered Julie having from when I first met her. Then, everything human was gone from her.

She howled. It was a long, victorious, baying howl of triumph. She looked at me once again, with a look of scorn, if an animal can truly possess such an emotion, and turned away. She took a running start, hurled her body at the front door of the apartment, smashing it, and was gone.

What seemed like an eternity of silence passed, and then I heard sobbing.

It was Scott, from beneath a pile of shattered wood. He'd been hiding under his desk when Cameron's body shattered it, and he stayed down. I hated him at the time, for his cowardice, but it was probably the smartest thing he could have done.

I yelled at him to check with Alyssa, who was slumped in a corner. He applied a tourniquet, and they left for the hospital. He unlocked the cage, but I stayed in there.

I just couldn't move.

After he got back, he told me that Julie was still wearing her ankle bracelet when she left.

So today, we have to find her. Me and Scott. The ex-werewolf and the bookworm. Alyssa is alive, but might not stay that way- she's in a hospital bed minus a limb. And she was one of the lucky ones.

So now it's up to us to find Julie. You know, before the moon rises again.

We're leaving now- according to the signal on the ankle bracelet, she's somewhere in Greenpoint.

It's been a while since I've been this scared, but I have an idea.

I gotta go now and load up the shotguns.

Christ, I hope it works.

Well, tomorrow's the day-

2005-05-22T23:43:00.000-04:00

Full moon tomorrow night, and then it's three in the cage next to that wacko chick werewolf, and I'll see if I'm really over this shit.

Part of me wishes that I was a werewolf, cause it's gonna be no picnic trying to sleep next to a werewolf, raging against the bars of it's cage.

Amybe Alyssa will let me out if I don't change.

I had a hockey game today and I'm pretty goddamn tired.

Here's a little more Emerson for you-

2005-05-19T17:23:00.000-04:00

This is from an address he gave at Harvard in 1837, called "The American Scholar" back when Harvard meant something other than a guaranteed TV writing job right out of college.

I mean, shit- didn't a degree from Harvard used to mean something? I mean, something other than "You went to Harvard, and you're 22? well feel free to have a job ruining the Simpsons!"

Anyway, here's the passage that turned me on, about the role of "great literature" in education:

The theory of books is noble. The scholar of the first age recieved into him the world around; brooded thereon; gave it the new arrangement of his own mind, and uttered it again. It came into him life; it went out from him truth...But none is quite perfect. As no air pump can by any means create the perfect vaccum, so neither can any artist entirely exclude the conventional, the local, the perishable from his book, or write a book of pure thought, that shall be as efficient, in all respects, to a remote posterity...

Each age, it is found, must write it's own books; or rather each generation for the next succeeding. The books of an older period will not fit this. Yet hence arises a grave mischief... The (original) writer was a just and wise spirit: henceforward it is settled the book is perfect; as love of the hero corrupts into worship of his statue. Instantly, the book becomes noxious: the guide is a tyrant...Meek young men grow up in libraries, believing it thier duty to accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, which Bacon have given; forgetful that Cicero, Locke and Bacon were only young men in libraries when they wrote those books. Hence, instead of Man Thinking, we have the bookworm...

What he is saying here, over a century after his death, now reknowned as one of the classic geniuses in American literature is this:

"Don't fucking feel like you have to read me."

"If you are sitting inside, poring over the classics, worshipping them because some college tells you it's great, well then you're not a scholar, you're a douchebag, and you should be absorbing the universal truths that nature presents to you, and turn that universal truth into your own book, that speaks the language of the times. And if I'm too old and stodgy by that time for you to get into my stuff, well- fuck it. Put down my fucking book, don't believe the hype, get the fuck out there, live life and write about it!"

I'm paraphrasing, of course.

I haven't read all of Emerson's works, but I'm fairly sure he didn't call a lot of people "douchebags."

Maybe James Boswell.

I know, Dr. Johnson was pithy as hell, but seriously, what a suckup.

Oh, and I'm working over at the store tonight.

So on the exterior, while it might look like I'm merely repeating the phrase "Yeah, we have Team America, but they're all rented out"; what I'm really doing is getting out into the natural world, gaining experience, and adding new possibilities of metaphor to my constantly evolving soul.

By the way, who woulda thunk that in a year with no playoff hockey, I'd decide to fill that void with transcendentalism?

Weird.

OK- time to go to work.

I got my Star Wars tickets.

2005-05-18T13:18:00.000-04:00

I know, I know.

I'm going Friday, during the day, so no spoilers in the comments section, OK?

It's a nice day today, and I just got back from my buddies place in Brewster, where I went last night and did a little outdoor barbequing.

Jesus, it's nice to get out of the city for a little while and just hang out in somebody's yard.

I stopped by the lab today and checked in with the were-nerds.

They're all hopped up cause the full moon is coming up, and that girl werewolf has started to freak me out. She's all talking about how she's going to kill all of them, and get out of the cage, and I noticed that Alyssa had unloaded a whole bunch of her lethal weapons, which is odd- normally she's all about rocksalt in the shotguns and tranqulizer darts.

It was Williamson that was the lunatic.

Of course, I killed the shit out of that guy.

I can still see that motherfucker's head bouncing across the floor like a soccer ball.

It's funny, I don't even really feel too bad about it. I mean, I guess that sometimes it crosses my mind that I've you know- killed people, but in the cases of Williamson and that mind control guy, I don't really have remorse. They came into my environment and fucked with me.

I do feel bad about the bus accident, though.

I still wonder what happened to that kid.

I hope he's OK.

It's interesting that I'm thinking about all this stuff as I get ready to see the Star Wars movie, which is going to be all about a man's slide into evil, and using his great power to kill and destroy, and I dunno- it just gives me the willies is all, especially when I think about that girl werewolf.

I've been reading Emerson recently too. Actually, just the essay "Nature" which is pretty phenomenal. I've tried to tackle it in the past, but it just was too dense, or I'd get into it, appreciate it, and then immediately forget it.

But this time I've been getting into it.

It takes me about an hour to read even 20 pages of it, cause there are so many ideas combined with so much poetry, but damn- while it's nice to read that a few commentors on the last post think that I write well, but fuck that-

That guy writes WELL.

I mean, no fucking around, he basically sits down, asks what the meaning of life is, comes up with the idea that if we are to determine the meaning of life, we have to define the parts that make it up. He comes up with only three things in the entire universe: Nature, Art and the Soul.

All three pretty big topics.

Then, he just says well- let's look at nature. What do we get from nature? What is the meaning of nature? What does nature bring to us as human beings and what do we bring to it?

And then he fucking answers the question.

Like hashes out EVERYTHING, in a solid outline, and just starts breaking down human existence and how it relates to, and is a part of, nature.

Me, I mean, fuck- I'm writing a foulmouthed blog about werewolves, hockey and video stores.

Still though, that is art.

And as Emerson would say, the role of the artist is to concentrate the beauty of of the world on a single point, illuminating it. Then, the soul- which has a natural inclination towards beauty, is satisfied and contented for a moment, leading him to conclude that one reason the world exists is to satisfy the soul's need for beauty.

And you know, if you have the kind of that soul finds a foulmouthed blog about werewolves and hockey satisfying, well then, that's how this thing fits into the overall meaning of life.

You know, without accounting for taste.

Certainly we're talking about big picture/little picture stuff, but sometimes taking a step back and appreciating the big picture makes the details of the little picture all the more vibrant.

Speaking of vibrant, I'm gonna get baked to the gills and see Star Wars in a digital theater on Friday.

It's gonna be fucking sweet.

You know what's funny?

2005-05-17T00:58:00.000-04:00

I'll tell you.

It seems like the happier I get, the less interested I am in updating this blog.

That's fucked up, seeing as when I was at my worst, this blog was tremendously important to me.

It was all that I had.

Not only as an outlet, but because of the commentors.

The positive responses I got to my posts really helped me when I was at the end of my fucking rope.

I guess I'm posting now not because I have anything interesting to say, but more because I feel like I owe it to those people who hung in with me when it was bad, and gave me some feedback.

OK- I'm drunk right now.

You know what else I think is funny?

The fact that me being drunk is SO not a problem when compared to some of the other stories I've openly and honestly told you about.

I'm sorry, but I just don't care about werewolf shit anymore.

The girl werewolf, the scientists, the rest of it, I just don't care.

I've been a werewolf for like, months now, but I didn't change last month.

I don't think I'm going to change again.

And if I don't, would anybody care about my life?

I mean, really- that's an interesting question. I've taken a lot of shit about this blog from commentors, but really, think about it- if I wasn't a werewolf, would anybody care?

I guess I'm asking because I feel like I may have found someone who cares about me.

And if I have that person, and I'm not a werewolf- would anybody read this?

It's an interesting question is all.

I dunno, maybe.

What a day!

2005-05-14T22:41:00.000-04:00

I worked all day at the store, got to watch Team America while I was working, met up with an old friend, and watched the entire 3 hour Clone Wars segment on Cartoon Network.

Now, I'm getting ready to go meet this girl I'm nuts about, and all is well.

And you know what?

The comments on the last post were so negative, that I kind of almost want to take that guy on, but you know what?

I just don't care.

All is well in the world of Kirk Thomson.

I mean, even if there is a guy named Mike dropping off notes at the video store, and there is some evil bitch werewolf who wants to go nuts when the full moon happens so she can be exactly who she needs to be- I don't care.

I have a girl I like, friends who I love, a job that could suck a hell of a lot worse than it does, and I'm just living.

New York City in the springtime.

What beats it?

Maybe New York City in the fall, but let's be honest, last fall kind of sucked for me.

Red So not withstanding.

So bring it on, douchebags!

Go ahead and hate all you want- I'm having a great time, and lest you forget- blogs are not for the audience.

Blogs are for the writer.

That's why they exist. Sure there is some interesting stuff out there, but it's a different medium. When blog is done well it is done well because it is personal, because it is worthwhile to put yourself out there, because it is, in a sense, a work of exhibitionism.

And if I am an exhibitionist, so be it.

This is my life.

And it's going well these days.

If you don't like it, go somewhere else.

I'm having fun.

Hey- you know what?

2005-05-14T03:35:00.000-04:00

The commentors are too mad today.

Take it easy, guys.

The more important news is that there has been a guy dropping off notes at the video store.

There have been two so far, and I'll let you guys know about them soon, they claim to be from a fan of the website, butI'm still a little nervous.

As cool as this blog is, I don't like getting messages at work.

You know?

Talked to Dan today-

2005-05-12T16:57:00.000-04:00

He seemed in good spirits, even though he always seems to be a bit of a wet blanket. Here's how it went-

Dan? Dan you there?

"Shit yes I'm here- where the fuck do you think I'd be, Florida?"

I dunno, I was sort of thinking that you'd be, I dunno- gone.

"Why the hell would I be gone?"

Well, for one thing, I didn't change into a werewolf last month and I-

"Holy shit! Really?"

Oh. Yeah. You see, I-

"On what fucking planet do you live that you thought I wouldn't want to hear that information?"

It's just...I-

"Shit Kirk, what the hell did you think I've been doing here? Watching movies?"

You can do that?

"No."

So you've been-

"Waiting around. You'd think saving your ass from a lifetime of mind control and dog fucking might be worth checking in every once in a while with, I dunno- a Yankee game or something."

You're a Yankee fan?

"Goddamn right."

I knew there was a reason I thought you were a dick.

"Nice. No what's up with the no changing?"

That's just it- I don't know. Alyssa thinks that it's because I-

"Alyssa's back?!"

Um...yeah. And she brought some scientists. And a girl werewolf.

"Jesus- you coulda told me."

Sorry.

"Is she hot?"

The girl werewolf?

"No dickbag, the scientists. OF COURSE THE GIRL WEREWOLF!"

Geez- I'm sorry, OK?! And no, she's not hot. Well, kinda. She's evil, though.

"Great. So you're fucking an evil werewolf, and I can't even get a Yankees score. You are a mammoth dick."

I'm not fucking her, and for your information the Yankees are like 6 games under .500. The Dirt Dogs are calling them the Fortune 500's, cause they cost a fortune and are .500.

"That's hillarious. Wait till September. Can we get back to the issue? You're NOT a werewolf?"

Well, no. I mean, maybe yes. I don't know. We have to wait until the next full moon to see if I don't change again. Anyway, I was kind of hoping that if you weren't here, it might mean that I definately wasn't a werewolf, cause I first started talking to you when-

"When you stole my iPod?"

Um- well, I would have said when I was bitten, but yeah- those two things did kinda happen around the same time.

"Great- well, sorry to bust your balloon, fangs- but I'm still here."

Did you just call me 'fangs?'

"Yeah- you like it? I think it could stick."

I have no idea why I keep talking to you.

"I'll tell you why you keep talking to me. Becuase you'd be a dumbass not too. We were both attacked by the same werewolf. I died, you didn't. We're pretty well linked in this, and I've had some time to think about it. What does Alyssa think?"

She has a theory that as soon as a person who was bitten doesn't require any change in their life, they are cured of the lycanthropy. And my life's been going rather well, so I thought that- I dunno, maybe I'd be-

"Cured? Yeah, well- I got bit by that hairy motherfucker and I'm certainly not happy with my life. So great- you get to go on and live a happy life and I'm just fucking stuck here?"

I'm sorry, I just...I don't know.

"Cause I had a thought. In order for me to be satisfied with my life, I'm pretty sure I need to know that you have redeemed me. You are my last link to life on this earth, and sure, my first thought was for you to kill yourself, but now I wonder if my fate- might, I don't know... rest with you."

I don't get it.

"Look- I've had a lot of time here to think. And the fact is, the werewolf that killed me and bit you ended my life, and connected me to yours. In order for me to move on, I think you need to put this werewolf stuff behind you. You need to use your gift to do something good. My death was a horrible casualty, but you also were given great power. And with great power comes-"

Great Responsibility?

"Sorry to go all Spiderman on you there, but I think I'm right. We're in this thing now, and I want to move on. If there is a place like heaven out there, and I'm pretty sure there is, I think you bear the responsibilty of not just yourself, but also me. You need to do some good."

Like what?

"Well, you could start with a couple of fucking Yankee scores."

OK- lemme check. OK- they aren't playing today, but they've been on a small winning streak and Tino Martinez has hit a home run in his past 5 games.

"We got Tino back! Sweet!"

Whatever. I'll check in more often. I promise.

"And think about the greater good thing, will you? I have a feeling about this."

Yeah, sure. Alright.

Things have been going great!

2005-05-10T15:13:00.000-04:00

I have a date with my new lady this week, and the Werewolf scientists have given me a clean bill of health.

They confirmed that there are abnormalities in the girl-werewolf's blood that do not exist in mine, and they just have to wait out the next transformation to see if last month's non-transformation was a fluke.

Alyssa seems to think that it's related to her idea that one cannot change into a werewolf unless they need change in their lives. And that kind of bears out. I've been managing my lycanthropy, got into a pretty steady pattern of handling the livestock, was able to hold down my job, and now, well- Jesus, I'm dating again.

I'm not sure how to deal with the whole werewolf issue with the new girl (and by the way, the fact that one of you knew the name of my hockey team means you definately aren't getting her name), but it's still early, so- I'm gonna see if we can get through drinks.

One thing that's odd is that the werewolf girl is kind of a psycho.

I got a chance to talk to her over the last few days, and I was hesitant to post it here, because it seemed so, well- evil, and I really wanted to like her.

Like- I REALLY wanted her to be great, and as such, was reluctant to record some things that might have made her look lousy in your guys eyes.

For example, she told me how much she likes killing humans. She's killed a lot of people, and said she enjoyed it, and would do it again. I asked her if she had ever killed anybody in human form, and she said she'd do it in a heartbeat if it would mean she could escape. She hates the scientists, and strangely, hates Alyssa most of all, even though Alyssa's philosophy of attempting to cure werewolves instead of killing them is the only thing that has kept her alive.

We had a very real discussion about what it was to be an animal, with her taking the side that an animal was what she was, and with me saying that an animal was only a part of me, and could be controlled.

After a while, it seemed like we were chasing our tails.

You know, not literally.

Anyway, the full moon is May 24th, which means if we change, it'll be on the 23rd. I'm not sure if I will, but I'm pretty sure she will. She seems to want a hell of a lot of change in her life.

We'll see.

Either way, I have to take into account that I COULD die on the 23rd. That's been part of accepting my situation, you know, the acceptance that I really could die each and every month. Which, of course, is part of being human, the awareness of one's own mortality. It's just odd that I had to become a beast to realize what it is to be a man.

Hmm.

That also means I guess I'm gonna have to go and see Episode III on opening weekend.

I'd kinda hoped to hold out for a while, just to let Lucas know I've been displeased with the first two prequels. But now, fuck it- if I could die, let's be honest- I'm not missing a fucking Star Wars movie.

I'll try to post more regularly- it's weird, when there is more on my mind it's actually harder to post. It's easy when I'm just pissed off about there being no hockey.

Life goes on.

Right?

Well, I guess I oughta pipe in here-

2005-05-08T01:54:00.000-04:00

-

Holy cats- are the commentors going apeshit or what?

Sorry it's been awhile, and I know that people get weird notions in their heads when I take time off of this thing, but here's the deal:

I met a girl.

Like, a GREAT girl.

Just saw her one night, hung out, talked, and socialized.

Friend of a friend kind of deal.

I haven't kissed her, haven't slept with her, haven't spent awesome days hanging out in central park with a couple of sandwiches, a newspaper, a hackey sack, a frisbee and a blanket (You know, just in case we wanna lie there in the park looking at the skyline of New York City in the springtime for a while).

I haven't done any of that.

But, with this one, I dunno...

I get the feeling that I might.

Or who knows- it could all be shit.

But I gotta tell you- It's nice to feel this way again.

In response to yesterday's comments-

2005-05-03T11:54:00.000-04:00

-I may or may not be on the Mighty Squirrels.

Either way, they are a team in the Blacktop Street Hockey League, which I am in, and they should be left alone.

In terms of the second question, "Onyxwolf" wants to know if "there is any more werewolf stuff."

Let me address that. First off, I am a werewolf, or until recently was. I still may be one, I just didn't change last month, and I'm still trying to figure that situation out.

Now listen.

I've said this before, and I'm sorry if I'm repeating myself, but fuck- Werewolves are people. You know, most of the time. For three nights a month, I turn into something awful, or did until recently. But this is not just a blog about a werewolf, it a blog about a man.

If you were to read a woman's blog, would you say "Um- yeah, that stuff about your life is interesting, but is there any more menstruation stuff?"

Cause, you know, that's something that happens three days a month to some people, and is not the sum total of their experiences, despite the equitable levels of savagery towards their fellow man that can result from it.

Also, if you can't spell "hockey" you're probably not that big of a fucking fan.

Still, I am a curious person, so I went to Onyxwolf's profile and found a blog.

Well, Christ- if that isn't the MOST CREATIVE THING I'VE EVER SEEN!

A blog from the perspective of a werewolf!

Holy shit!

What a genius!

Let's read from the first (and only) post:

"Welcome-
to my blog. The days of a wolf. Why would I want to read about your life you say? Well its simple. I am no ordinary person. I am a werewolf. "

Really?

Hey shithead, guess what? There are no comments and no follow up posts!

Hey asshole- if you're really a werewolf, let us know about it. I'm curious, the scientists who are currently probing and questioning me are curious, and I'd guess that my readers are curious.

If you are not- go the fuck home.

I happen to be a huge fucking hockey fan, and at ten past twelve on the fourth of May, the fact that I am responding to this bullshit instead of watching Jerome Iginla tearing the ass out of the Stanley Cup playoffs has me pissed off enough without dealing with you.

If you have a problem with me taking some time on my blog to talk about stuff that is actually making me happy, then you are not a real werewolf, you're some kind of gamer douchebag who is making trouble on my blog because, I don't know, you're having trouble updating your own fucking blog without taking off the gloves of your fucking "furry" suit.

Kiss my ass.

Sorry if this was harsh, but I'm doing my best to police this thing, and I'm sick of having my life be the fucking playground of fetishists.

And while I'm at it, here's a hearty "fuck you" to all you zooskool degenerates who found your way here.

I know, I shouldn't keep typing the word, cause it only makes it worse, but I get a fair amount of pleasure from the idea that some scumbag who wanted to jerk off to photos of women blowing dogs found his way here.

So if that's you, fuck off.

And what really sucks is I had a really interesting conversation with Julie, the werewolf girl today, and I was planning on talking about that today.

I think she's crazy.

Either that, or I am.

Fuck it, I'm going to bed.

I'm tired-

2005-05-02T23:41:00.000-04:00

I played hockey yesterday, and worked all night at the store.

We got spanked 10-nothing, but it was against one of the best teams in the league, and I haven't really got my legs back yet.

We'll be back.

Still, I'm a firm believer in the notion that getting your ass kicked in hockey is still a hell of lot more fun than winning in any other sport. You know, unless you're playing "single elimination oral sex Parcheesi." Winning in that is pretty awesome, but again, it kinda depends on who you're playing with.

Plus, I had a really good bid on a goal when I crashed the net, called for my winger to shoot, had two good whacks on the rebound and the goalie came up huge. Couple more games and I'm not missing that shot.

Working at the store was a hassle, cause I was working with Keith, who is like the most annoying son of a bitch at the store. It's gotten to the point where he says shit that if it was ANYBODY else saying it, it would be no problem, but becuase it's him asking, I get annoyed at the question.

Here's an example- at one point he said "How's your cat?"

Which is annoying for two reasons.

First off, I ate my cat last year, around late October I think. I obviously haven't told anybody this, but I have mentioned that he passed away, and that's the kind of thing any dickhead should be able to remember.

Second, even if my cat was alive, how the fuck are you going to answer that question? I mean, shit dude, it's a cat. It walks around, eats food, and purrs when you pet it. I mean, what the fuck does he expect?

"Oh my cat? Well, I gotta tell you he's been a little depressed of late- you see this Iraq situation really has him down. On the one hand, he's apprehensive that the war is being mismanaged at the higher levels, but he feels if he publicly speaks out about it, it could somehow undermine the morale of the troops. And you know, sometimes he pukes."

Fuck it.

I'm beat.

I did the interview yesterday-

2005-04-30T23:44:00.000-04:00

And I'll tell you what, it pales in comparison to the real news in my life-

I'M ON A HOCKEY TEAM!

Fuck yeah, this potentially former werewolf is facing off at 4:00 PM tomorrow at Corelears Park.

It's street hockey, which isn't as good as ice or roller, but Jesus, Mary and Joseph- it's about fucking time.

Of course, it occurs to me that I haven't actually exercised in over 9 months, you know, if you don't count the times I was running around as a werewolf.

I might be a little winded tomorrow.

If anybody cares, I can tell you about the interview, but it was pretty much a bunch of bullshit about "How do feel moments before the transformation" and shit like that that.

It's like, fuck- read the blog, douchebags.

Jesus, I wanna score a goal.

The cow-

2005-04-29T16:36:00.000-04:00

Is seriously starting to stink up the joint.

I tried to get it down the stairs, and guess what?

That little folk tale is true.

You can't get a cow down the stairs. They just stand there.
I really don't know what the hell I'm going to do.

It won't fit in the elevator, and I'm not bright enough to be able to figure out a pulley system to get it out the window.

I mean, maybe it's for the best- if I do change on the next moon, I'm going to need something to eat, but Jesus. I'm kind of screwed right now.

I asked Scott and Chandler what they thought, and Scott said that unless the cow was actually a man who transforms into a cow due to a combination of mystical and physiological factors, it really wasn't their specialty.

Great.

In terms of everyone saying that I shouldn't trust these guys, I know- but the vibe I'm getting is a helpful one, even if I do occasionally feel like they look at me as somewhat less than a man and more of an lab animal.

If they can help me understand what is happening to me, and perhaps use what is going on to help establish a cure for others, well honestly, I can live with being treated like I'm under a microscope from time to time.

Later today, I go into what they call "The Interview."

I'm going to be sitting in a room with Alyssa, Scott, Chandler, and Cameron, and they ask me a series of questions based on my activity over the past few months.

Who knows?

Maybe it could help.

Still, I'd be a lot happier if there was some goddamn hockey on TV. If I'm not mistaken, we'd be in the middle of the second round of the Stanley Cup playoffs around now.

Damn.

I'll let you guys know how it goes.

Drama.

2005-04-28T21:31:00.000-04:00

Jeez what a couple of days-

I guess I should let you know who's been hanging out.

First of all, there's Alyssa, who you guys know.

She's been all over this Cameron guy- a Scottish werewolf hunter she hooked up with a few months ago. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned him before. He's just over six feet, has red hair, is in great shape, and has one of those scottish accents that you fucking love when you hear it from a bartender, and want to puke when it starts condecending to you. He's kind of a dick, but I don't really blame him- he knows that me and Alyssa used to be together, and I think it kind of burns his ass.

I say good.

Fuck him.

Sure, Alyssa's a real catch, dickbag- wait till she convinces you she's there to help, and you end up in a catatonic trance in a New Jersey basement with your cock in an Irish setter.

The other two dudes are OK, they are both Scottish too, and work for Cameron in the Lycanthropy center in Edinborough. Their names are Scott and Chandler, and all I've gotten out of them is that Scott does the book stuff and Chandler handles the werewolves, a task that led to his nickname "Chandler the Dog-Handler" which Scott finds hillarious.

Scott's a little nerdy looking, but a decent guy, and Chandler the dog handler is big, beefy, and although very affable, keeps giving me the evil eye, like he'd just as soon drain a pint with me as beat me down with an electrified baton.

The werewolf girl's name is Julie, and I can't read her yet. They brought her as a sample group, in that when they were testing my blood and hair samples, they needed someone who definatley did change in the last moon cycle to compare it to.

While I'm sure all of you want to know how "hot" she is, it's kind of hard to say. She seems to be in her mid 20's, and is not unattractive, but certainly not "model hot." I wouldn't really call her "my type" except for the obvious fact that, well- she is my type, if "turning into a werewolf on the cycle of the full moon" can be called a "type."

Unless, you know, I don't do that anymore. But still, she has something behind her eyes, and the way she brushes the hair out of her face is strangely compelling to me. We really haven't talked much, but we also haven't been alone. Every time they come over, she's had this leg bracelet on that Chandler has the controller of. Clearly, she's afraid of him, and that makes me like Chandler even less.

But you know- maybe we'll get a chance to talk soon.

I should ask Alyssa about that.

Oh, and I worked at the store today.

Watched Blade 3.

Not as good as the second one, but still a lot of fun.

Sorry-

2005-04-28T01:25:00.000-04:00

I wish I had more to say-

They've had me in blood testing all day, and I just drank a few beers.

I also had Graham Crackers!

OK- I'm loopy.

G'night!

Alyssa's here.

2005-04-27T01:24:00.000-04:00

Apparently what happened to me this week, or rather DIDN'T happen, is a big fucking deal.

Alyssa is here with three other Scottish scientist dudes, and that chick who is a werewolf.

Apparently, they decked out a plane with a cage in it so she could change while they flew.

From what I'm told, people don't really "get better" from this. All I know is I used to change into a werewolf on the full moon, and now- well... I don't.

Or- didn't.

This time.

And I thought getting the cow down the steps would be drama.

They seem like cool folks though- after an initial formal encounter, we broke out a bowl, ordered some Sparky's and watched the Star Wars "Clone Wars" DVD.

It wasn't a bad night- it was nice to be around people again.

Well-

2005-04-25T18:00:00.000-04:00

Once again, full moon, no changes.

And- come to think of it, I really haven't been peeing on stuff as much as I used to.

Maybe this is it?

Hmm.

Of course, tonight is the last night, so I'm gonna be in the cage again.

I'm going to take a chance, and move my bed in there, so I can actually sort of sleep.

The fucking chickens run everywhere, have me up at dawn, and the cow fucking stinks.

If this is it, and I actually am not a werewolf anymore, didn't one of you commentors mention that it's impossible to get a cow to walk downstairs?

I might have a problem there.

Still, if I'm not a werewolf anymore, that would be awesome!

We'll see after tonight.

Sundown is in two hours.

This is nervewracking as hell.

Fuck!

2005-04-25T00:43:00.000-04:00

It's quarter to one in the morning right now, and the moon is full.

And- I'm, well- typing this.

I'm not a werewolf again.

I'm still in the cage, because, well- anything could happen- but ...Jesus!

I mean, is it wrong for me to ask what ISN'T happening to me?

This is the scariest thing that has happened to me since all this started.

This is weird-

2005-04-24T03:26:00.000-04:00

-It's pushing four in the morning on the night before the full moon, and I'm not a werewolf. I got all ready for the change, the cow was in the cage with me, the moon rose, and then...

Nothing.

I've been totally normal all night. It's weird to even be typing this, cause I feel like I might change at any minute.

But I haven't.

The thing that sucks is, I'm getting sleepy and I want to get out of the cage to get a pillow, but I'm afraid.

I think I'm going to chance it.

OK- I went out and got a pillow.

That was terrifying.

I guess I''m going to put my laptop away and try to go to sleep.

As a person.

On the night before a full moon.

This is really, really scary.

Good night?

Christ!

2005-04-23T02:00:00.000-04:00

These fucking animals are killing me.

I haven't posted in a while because I keep having to take naps during the day as the goddamn chickens keep making a racket at dawn, and the cow wakes up with them.

Also, cows shit a lot.

Like seriously.

A lot.

I'm thinking about just keeping the chickens in the cage tonight, and saving the cow for later.

This is bullshit.

I miss the pigs.

The goddamn chickens-

2005-04-20T23:56:00.000-04:00

Had me up at dawn.

OK- it was one rooster.

But Jesus- in case you thought that was just a folk tale, I'll tell you- roosters crow at daybreak.

And there was no shutting him up.

The fucking cow started mooing, and the chickens were making crazy noise, I mean Jesus, I can't wait for Saturday night just to eat those motherfuckers.

And I want it to hurt. I took a nap around 11:00, and had to go to work at 1:00.

I'm going to bed now, and I'm exhausted.

If they are crowing tomorrow, I'm gonna shit.

Jesus fucking Christ.

The cow-

2005-04-19T22:33:00.000-04:00

-showed up today, along with the chickens.

That fucking cow is HUGE. I guess I just misjudged how big it was. The son-of-bitch didn't fit in the elevator, so I had to walk her up the stairs. The chickens were easy as hell though.They're all hanging out in the cage now, and it smells like a fucking barnyard. Next time, somebody remind me to not buy an animal that shits so much.

And chicken shit is EVERYWHERE.

The chickens pretty much go in and out of the cage at will, and are shitting on everything. Thank God the bedroom door locks.

Oh, and thanks for all the suggestions on books. I was thinking about joining a book club, but I don't know- it just sounds like kind of a sissy thing to do. I mean, I'm looking to meet somebody, and it just doesn't sound that manly to say "Later baby- I'm going to book club."

Actually, that gives me an idea.

What if I were to kind of toughen up my book club by running it like Fight Club?

I'd get a bunch of guys, and a stack of literature, and we'd meet every week in a dirty basement with our shirts off. Then I'd stand up and say-

"The first rule of Book Club is - You do not talk about Book Club. The second rule of Book Club is - you DO NOT TALK ABOUT BOOK CLUB! And if this is your first night at Book Club, you HAVE TO READ."

I'd get into the middle of the circle and explain that while I feel that Walker Percy is an outstanding philosophical/religious voice, his novels ultimately fail as they are merely attempts to tell the same story over and over again from different perspectives. Then I'd puff up my chest, turn to my opponent and say "Now- I want you to refute my central thesis AS HARD AS YOU CAN."

Then we're off to the races.

I think it could work.

Thanks for the suggestions-

2005-04-18T18:40:00.000-04:00

But-

I've read all of those except Garp and As I Lay Dying. I'm not wild about either of those, though, as The Sound and The Fury is one of my favorites, and AILD just plain old isn't going to be better that that. Also, John Irving's kind of 1989, you know?

I ended up an English Major too, and I remember in High School if you wanted to pick up a literary type girl, (and I always did) the best thing was to walk around with a copy of Prayer For Owen Meany, and you were in. These days, I'm not sure what the hot book is. For a while there it was Kavalier and Clay, and then Fast Food Nation for a while, and around these parts Motherless Brooklyn. Speaking of that last one, I think I'm the only one in the world who thinks that book sucked. Yeah, I get it. He has turrettes. Behold the mighty genius.

Fuck that.

Maybe I'll tackle Master and Margarita again.

I never got through that one the first time.

Still, thanks for the suggestions.

The cow's due on Tuesday.

2005-04-17T22:40:00.000-04:00

Just got the e-confirmation.

Again, it occurs to me that I might have the same problem as the sheep, in that I only ordered one, so I went ahead and got 6 chickens.

They show up faster, and If I'm lucky, I might even get some eggs before the full moon. Thanks ot the commentor, I looked into getting a full moon display for the site, but I couldn't get it to work. We'll see. Honestly, it's not something I really need. I mean, I can usally tell when the moon is full.

I work the day shift at the video store tomorrow, and I don't think it'll be too bad- it's supposed to be a nice day, so it'll probably be slow. Maybe I'll read a book.

I haven't been doing much reading lately- honestly, I haven't cracked a book since Frankenstein, and that was while I was under mind control, so I don't know if that even counts. I've read some comics, some old Evan Dorkin stuff and some Optic Nerve, but nothing with too much heft.

I'm kind of in the mood for a classic, something maybe from the modern era. Hemingway maybe. I've read Farewell to Arms, For Whom the Bell Tolls, To Have and Have Not, and that one about Bullfights- fuck what was it called? Anyway I liked all of those ones- any suggestions?

I'm goin' to bed.

Sorry about that-

2005-04-15T20:08:00.000-04:00

I was drunk and depressed.

It happens.

By the way, full moon is 8 days away.

I better check on the cow.

OK people-

2005-04-15T04:19:00.000-04:00

-just because some woman in Scotland might be a werewolf doesn't mean I could fall in love with her.

Look- here's the real deal.

Love, as it has been portrayed in Hollywood, doesn't exist.

It's a myth.

I wish it was real but it's not.

I'm drunk.

Wow-

2005-04-14T02:57:00.000-04:00

I'm either really awesome, or you guys just weren't looking that hard.

It's close to three in the morning, and I'm watching Northern Exposure on, I think- the Hallmark channel. It's odd that such a great show is on such a pussy-ass channel.

It's the one where Maggie turns 30, and goes on a river trip where she has a fever dream due to an inflamed appendix and sees visions of all her dead ex-boyfriends, hanging around and eating at a picnic table.

First of all, how great is that, to have a show where the female lead's boyfriends keep dying?

One of the boyfriends was played by Patrick Warburton, whose birthday party I got to go to last year in LA. There's an entry about it somewhere, but I'm too tired to fuck around with links right now.

It was a kick to see him all young, and he did well, but it kind of throws a wet blanket on your escapism when you're just trying to lie on the couch, drain a few Yuenglings and zone out with a show that takes place on the shores of a river in Alaska when all of a sudden you see a guy and say- "Hey- I've been to his birthday party."

Which honestly, was sort of what the episode was about.

That's the scene you don't get in the werewolf movies.

They just kinda seque through most of the off month. Actually, come to think of it, you usually don't get an off month in werewolf movies. You get the bite, the denial, the transformation, and then he's pretty much dead by the third transformation. I skipped out on that step. I guess I was lucky.

I wonder if the dude in American Werewolf in London (had he managed to find a cage to crash in) would have ended up like me. It's strange. I just find myself having a hard time really embracing the future with this. It's not worth killing myself- I mean, Jesus- there are a lot of great things in the world, and if I can keep this thing contained, which I've mostly been able to do- well then, fuck- why should I die before I see the Bruins win the cup?

It does make relationships hard.

I mean, when is the right time to explain to someone that you are a werewolf?

I mean, with sex- the 3rd date rule is a good fallback, but damn, admitting you have lycanthropy?

That would take longer.

Maybe it's a month- you know, that way you can say- "Hey baby- we've been going out awhile- and you know how I said I couldn't see you for the past three days? Well check out this almanac."

I suppose I shouldn't be bitching about it, I haven't even met anybody.

Still, it'd be good to have a plan.

You know how yesterday-

2005-04-13T02:42:00.000-04:00

I didn't do much?

Today I did less.

That's the thing about being in a rut. You roll around in it trying do get out, and you're just making it deeper.

So I sat today out.

In good news, according to the old site meter if you google the words: "31 years old single bored depressed"

You get me on the first page.

First page baby!

Another search term that got somebody here was the following: "watching my sister pee"

That was a third pager, and I was more than a bit relieved to find that it was a commentor, not me who tricked it off.

Boy, this post kind of sucks.

In fact, it might be the worst one ever.

Any of you longtimers want to vote on which of my posts has sucked the hardest?

Cause this one is in the running.

Unless, you know, people get really into it, and it starts getting fun, which might push this one out of the nominations.

Screw it, I'm hitting the hay.

This sucked.

I didn't do much today.

2005-04-11T03:01:00.000-04:00

Kicked around, did some writing, ordered my cow online and started to stress over my taxes.

I wonder if there is some kind of magic affliction like the one I have where you get bit by a crazed accountant, and on the first full moon before tax day, you fall to the floor, start screaming uncontrollably, and transform into a CPA.

Like, the most viscious combination of man and accountant ever. A supernatural beast that can run, jump, and motherfucking deduct ANYTHING.

That'd be better than what I am.

I mean shit, under the right conditions I can decapitate a moose without even thinking about it, but itemizing deductions thing is a bitch.

I wish I could get paid for this.

Hell, I could have written off the cow.

New York City

2005-04-10T04:35:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking a lot about it latley.

I mean, the scene that I grew up in, the guys that used to make up my community, a lot of them have moved on.

I have friends with kids, friends who are married, friends who are moving out of New York and friends who are becoming dissilussioned.

And I think of my own problem.

I'm a werewolf.

On the full moon, I turn into an animal.
A very dangerous animal.

And part of me wonders, is New York the best place for me?

I mean, I have a cage in a loft apartment that I can get into when I need to, but the fact is I'm reallly only looking as far forward as the next full moon. Now that I'm kind of acclimated to this fact, it's hard not to look toward the future.

I mean, am I going to be a werewolf for the rest of my life?

Can I get a real career?

Can I really ever grow up and experience some of the cultural signposts of an older American?

Can I get married?

Can I have children?

If I do, wil they be infected with this curse I have?

Shit.

Maybe New York is the only place I can be.

God, I'm horny.

2005-04-08T21:57:00.000-04:00

Seriously.

I know it's springtime, but I'm rapidly approaching three-balled Tomcat territory here. If my horniness were terror alert levels, it would mean Chicago had just been leveled by a dirty bomb.

I hate to tell you, but If something doesn't break loose soon, the leg of my couch is gonna be in a family way.

Holy crap.

It gets worse walking around Williamsburg, cause the women are starting to dress really sexy. I mean not REALLY sexy, it's just when you've been on a steady diet of seeing women wrapped in puffy coats and Han Solo parkas, it's that first baby tee of the season that can just floor you.

I was on the way to the bodedga for a paper this morning and was waiting to cross Bedford as a cute girl with dirty blonde hair passed in front of me on an old retro bicycle. She was maybe late 20's, early 30's, and wearing one of those thrift store t-shirts that was just well-worn enough for me to notice the color of her bra.

Green.

As she passed me by, she rolled over a bumpy stretch of pavement, causing her soft, apple sized breasts to perform recorded history's most breathtakingly wonderful confirmation of Newton's Third Law.

My eyes watered, the wind went out of me, my palms hit my knees and I started wheezing.

And just like that, she was gone.

I bought a newspaper, but didn't read much of it.

It's been that kind of a day.

What a day yesterday-

2005-04-07T20:41:00.000-04:00

God damn, do I love the Red Sox.

Beautiful day, beautiful outcome, and then a great evening hanging out with a few friends I hadn't seen in a while.

Here's another pretty amazing fact about yesterday- I got drunk TWICE.

TWICE!

Think about it, it's like- all the fun of getting drunk once- but TWICE!

Filled up on beer at the Stadium, got home, ate a little raw hamburger and watched the replay of the game on Yes. I took a quick nap in the middle innings, woke up sober-ish to watch Mariono and A-rod melt down again in spectacular fashion from all different angles, and headed over to my friend Joey's place for booze and scrabble.

I forgot how much fun Scrabble is, and was more than a little pissed that "Pez" isn't a word, especially when there was a triple word score on the line. But it was a good night, and my thoughts were almost entirely werewolf free, which I have learned is a blessing these days. Maybe I should play scrabble more, and earn a reputation as one of the best players in the world. I figure if I can get to a strong level of Scrabble, it would make my lycantharope status that much more interesting.

You see, in New York, it's not so much what you DO that makes you interesting, it's what ELSE you do. Like if you meet a woman, and she's a world renowned playwrite or something, sure that's cool. But what puts her over the top is when the OTHER interest is revealed. You know it's like cool- you're a playwrite, bitchin- and then her friend is like "She also was in the band Talking Heads for a while. You know, Tina was sick for a few weeks on the tour and she filled in." Then you're like "holy shit! That's amazing!" She'll be shy and modest about it, but it's that second goddamn thing that makes you fall in love.

I'm tellin' ya, do only one thing in this city and you're on a one way path to nowheresville. Which in case you're wondering, is a lot like Queens.

So I was thinking, I have a pretty cool first thing. I 'm a goddamn werewolf. That's something. But what is my second thing? I'm thinking word games. All of them. Like someone introduces me at a party, and thery're like, "Hey- this is Kirk Thomson. When the full moon rises into the sky, he physically transforms into a ferocious bloodthirsty monster, cabable of running up to speeds of 25 miles an hour and with the strength and power to take down an elephant in less than 11 seconds." Then, the woman who I was introduced to would be like "Really, you're a werewolf- facinating." Then my buddy pipes in with "you know what else he just did? Faced the North American Regional 'Boggle' Champion and handed him his fucking ass."

Actually, that's doesn't have the quite the same ring.

I'm gonna die alone.

If anybody wants to see a picture of me-

2005-04-06T09:13:00.000-04:00

Order the Yes network.

I'm going to the Sox and Yankees today.

We're due.

Oh-

2005-04-05T15:02:00.000-04:00

Of COURSE that was an April Fools joke.

I mean, Jesus.

You silly bastards think for one second that I'd off myself without seeing the Red Sox get their rings?

Of course, I should have posted earlier I guess, but blogger was down yesterday.

In fact, I might end this blog pretty soon anyway- I made up the whole "getting out of the cage" thing just to set up April Fools. Actually, the whole transformation went great, I ate Cam Neely on the third night in the cage, and am currently shopping for something in a large baby cow for next month.

There's just not a lot of drama in it anymore for me.

It's pretty much wake up, eat food, work at video store, drink beer, fall asleep, wake up and repeat. Then, for three days a month it becomes: wake up, eat food,work at video store, get into cage, transform into wolf, eat livestock, fall asleep, wake up and repeat.

You know?

Still, sorry if you're pissed about the April Fools thing.

Call me a dick if you want.

This is Alyssa- writing from Scotland.

2005-04-01T23:00:00.000-05:00

This is a sad day.

I am very sorry to report that last night, around 7:00 PM, Kirk Thomson took his own life.

He sent me an email along with his password so he could have me post his final message. He wanted me to let you know how much he appreciated all of your comments, encouragements and support, but the incident when he escaped from his cage scared him too much, and he felt that suicide was the only way to be sure he wouldn't hurt or infect others.

I have known a lot of werewolves in my time, but Kirk was one of the finest. He dealt with his affliction with courage, strength, and a sense of humor that is rare. Perhaps most importantly, he maintained his moral compass, something that many are not strong enough to do. He did not deserve this fate, and I would like to take this opportunity to let you know that in my eyes, he was more than a werewolf.

He was a man, and he wanted to die one.

Which, although it is hard, makes sense.

I know that he is in a better place.

In accordance with his wishes, this entire blog, and all comments will be delivered to his parents so that they might know what he was going through, and that it wasn't their fault. If you have comments you would like to add about Kirk the man, the blog in general, or anything you feel his parents might like to read, I suggest you do so after this post, as in a week's time, I will be freezing the comments section entirely so I can deliver the entire body of writing to Kirk's family as a completed record.

Now, I present to you the last words of Kirk Thomson- irreverant though they may be, they are Kirk, and he wanted you to see them. God bless you Kirk. You will be missed. Here is what he wrote:

Well.
Here we are.

The end of the ride.

As I'm sure Alyssa has explained, I have made the decision to take my own life tonight, which is a tough decision to make. As you are reading this, I will already be dead, which is sort of creepy. It's kind of like I'm a ghost right now.

Boo!

Ha. Sorry about that.

Anyway, I don't want to get maudlin about this, or get all weepy, I feel like my last post pretty much covered that, but the fact is, I don't want to be a killer. Unfortunately, that's the hand I've been dealt, and whether I hurt anyone or not on the night I got of the cage, the fact remains that I could have, and it's simply not realistic to assume that I'll be able to avoid doing it in the future. Worse than killing someone perhaps, was the possibility that I could infect others with this disease, and cause another human being the same angst that I have gone through since last September.

But fuck all that- this is my last post, so I'd like to say some thank yous. First off, to everyone who linked to me- Amy at Kangatopia, All the live journal guys, Girls are Pretty, Fanatical Apathy, Rick's Cafe American, Winner of the SAT, Memepool, Nycbloggers, Catharsis 101, Confessions of a G33K, Voodoo Madness, Liam Mceaneany, Andres du Bouchet, Kyria Abrahams, Dan McCoy, Monkeyfilter, Stray Pride Day, Grkgrl88, Liadnan, Hunterdane, HappyRobot, Pjammer, the Metro newspaper, and everybody else- if I forgot you, I'm sorry, but I'm killing myself over here, and spending my last hours on earth combing through the referrals on my sitemeter seems like an asine way to shuffle off this mortal coil.

But honestly, thank all of you who thought my little story was worth passing on to a friend. Having an audience for this thing kept me going, and I appreciate all of you.

Even you creepy zooskool fucks. I suppose if coming to my blog delayed you for even a few minutes on your quest to jerk off to jpegs of some girl swallowing the red rocket of a cocker spaniel, well then, I guess I've done SOME good.

And most of all, thanks to Alyssa and Dan, who were my allies and friends.

Danny Boy, maybe I'll be right next to you in that iPod, who knows.

Either way, I oughta sign off if I'm gonna kick it before the Pope. And I'm not shitting on the Pope, I'm just saying that he's gonna get a hell of a lot of press, which might push me to the side a little bit. Sort of like when Robert Mitchum died the day before Jimmy Stewart.

OK- I guess it's nothing like that at all.

I guess the good part is I'm gonna die without witnessing the dissapointment of how shitty the third Star Wars prequel will be. If only this had happened pre-Jar Jar. It woulda been nice to see the Bruins win the cup, too. Of course, I got the Sox in the World Series, which is better than a lot of New England Sports fans got. All things considered, I can't bitch about how what I got to see in sports. And who knows, maybe I will get to see some of those things, you know, if I come back as a ghost. Stranger things have happened.

Rest assured, if you were a fan of this blog, and I do return as a ghost, I will visit you. If you happen to be an attractive female, I will probably be getting to you first, ideally when you are showering. The rest of you I'll get around to when I can.

Ahh well- now I'm just rambling. I guess this is it.

Thank you and Goodbye.

I love you all, and I'm sorry.

Kirk Thomson.
1973-2005

Bad things have happened.

2005-03-30T04:16:00.000-05:00

I got out of the cage on the third night.

I don't know how it happened, I just know I hit the bars the right way and just- I don't know- got loose.

The scariest thing about it was I actually don't remember what I did. I remember the cage, I remember eating the last pig, I remember breaking free, and then- nothing.

It's like-the wolf took over.

In the past, there was always memory.

But not this time. I woke up under the Williamsburg Bridge, and there was blood on my chest.

I'm afraid I've done something awful.

Jesus, Christ- my life is spinning out of control.

I don't want to be a killer.

I'd rather die.
Maybe I will.

Last night-

2005-03-25T16:01:00.000-05:00

Turned into a wolf, ate Bob Joyce, and woke up late.

Today I was all about the Buffy reruns on FX and Lost in America on HBO2.

Ho hum.

Another pig tonight.

This werewolf shit is easy.

Tonight-

2005-03-23T02:44:00.000-05:00

I saw "Rent" with my dad.

We left after the first half.

Can anyone explain to me why in God's name this was considered a good show?

Seriously!

From what I was able to determine, just about everybody had AIDS, it was Christmas, and they were bitching about how they could pay last year's rent. Then there wa a dude who owned a building, and there were some homelss people, and a few junkies who were way more limber than any junkies I've ever seen.

There was a cute girl who showed her ass, but I gotta tell you, I think it misfired, as it seemed to be a move that was intended to offend, and that ass was dynamite.

Also, It took place in an east village loft, and I wasn't sure why they wanted to stay there. I mean, everybody who I've ever known who has voluntarily gone to live in a shithole in the city was doing so becuase they were persuing something. These douchebags, they weemed like they were just hanging out in alphabet city so they could run around in their barney rubble bras and yelp.

After the first half, me and my Dad looked at each other and said- " Do you have any idea what is going on?"

I was all for leaving, but I figured, Jesus, this guy is in New York, maybe he wants to give it a chance. We were smoking cigarettes outside the theater and he says " Do you want to watch the rest of this?"

The old man knows not to waste his time.

So, Like General Washington back in the day, we got the fuck back to Brooklyn with all due haste. We ended the night watching the Daily Show, which was very funny, and he had never heard of.

That's the problem with this country, that a guy like my dad has heard of Rent, and has never seen the Daily Show.

Ahh well-

Who knows.

Broadway sucks.

He leaves tomorrow.

I'll be a werewolf the day after that.

Bob Joyce is toast.

Hung out-

2005-03-22T05:46:00.000-05:00

-with my Dad today.

It really was pretty cool, actually.

I mean, so long as I kept the conversation away from "what I've been up to" and focus on "what he's been up to" we're gold.

And it has been pretty fun.

The funny thing is he has been actively avoiding addressing what he percieves as "the problem," which in his mind is me doing heroin, which I've actually never done. Of course, the actual problem is the fact that I'm a werewolf, but I'm actually managing that pretty well I think.

That's the difference between lycanthropy and heroin, I think, is that lycanthropy is, well- managable.

Or, at least, I think I'm managing it pretty well.

And therein lies the problem. You tell one lie and it leads to many lies. I don't know anybody who was in trouble with heroin, stopped, got better and walks around talking about it. So I don't know what to tell him.

I mean, maybe heroin is like lycanthropy in that way- I mean, if I somehow beat this thing, and it turns out that I don't have to change into a monster on every full moon, well shit- am I going to walk around bragging about how I beat it?

Fuck no.

I'm gonna keep it to myself, and hope it never happens again.

Which is what I assume heroin addicts would do.

So here's what I think I'm going to do.

I'm going to tell him that I really don't have a problem with heroin except during the full moon. I mean, it's well documented that the full moon causes intense reactions in people, so I figure I'll just say that during that time I go a little nuts, but have been able to contain myself. Then I'll be able to stick to as much of the truth as possible, and maybe try to salvage some kind of honest relationship with him.

I told him that the pigs belonged to a friend, and I was holding them for a while.

Jesus Christ.

My life is really, really, really not turning out the way either me or my dad had expected.

We may go see The Producers tomorrow.

I need some serious help.

My Dad is visiting tomorrow.

2005-03-21T02:58:00.000-05:00

This is stressful.

By the way, sorry I haven't been posting as regularly last week. I was sick as a dog, which I suppose, as a man who is half-wolf wouldn't be THAT sick, but still.

It sucked.

Anyway, I'm feeling much better now, and all I have to deal with next week is turning into a wolf. It's cool with my Dad's visit though, he shows up Monday and will be gone on Wednesday, which is the 23rd. I'll have to make something up about the pigs. He still thinks that the problems that happened on thanksgiving were because I was on heroin. At least I don't have to worry about changing while he's here.

Full moon is the 25th, and if the normal pattern of changing the night before, night of, and night after keeps up, well he'll be back in Massachusetts while I'm feasting on Bob Joyce's bones.

That's one of the pigs, for those of you who aren't Bruins fans.

Joyce, Janney and Neely are the pigs, after one of the greatest lines in the history of Bruins hockey. Jesus, I miss hockey. Today, on ESPN classic, I watched the Detroit Red Wings beat the Carolina Hurricanes for the 2002 Stanley Cup.

God knows, a 3-1 win with an empty netter in a game that Carolina was never really in is a modern classic. I mean, if you wanted to watch Glen Wesley not winning the cup, isn't the '88 Bruins vs. Gretzky's Oilers the better game?

Ah, well- Christ, who am I kidding, it was brutal, but is it wrong to want to watch some Bruins hockey?

Oh, by the way, here's yet another brilliant idea some in the NHL are considering to garner viewers: Blue Ice.

Yep, the minor league team in Buffalo is experimenting with painting the ice surface blue, making the blue lines orange, and the red line, well, darker blue.

So the blue lines are um...orange, the red line is now...blue and the ice is as they describe it "electric powder blue?"

Great. I'm sure that the reason people weren't watching hockey was that the playing surface didn't look enough like Danny Partridge's summer tuxedo.

One problem that is continually brought up by people who aren't used to hockey is that they can't follow the puck. So what's the answer? That's right, make the ice darker.

Christ.

The ice is white.
The puck is black.

Can it be any more clear?

Look- here's the deal with hockey, and yes, this is the way they should market it:

If you can't follow the puck, go watch basketball. We don't need you. Hockey is the best, fastest, toughest, ballsiest, hardest sport to play and exel at. Utility players in hockey are better trained athletes than the starters in any other sport. Hockey players can outdrink you, outhit you, outwit you and cook you a dinner that is not only as delicious as any you would find in any of the world's finest restaurants, but would be laid out upon your plate in such a way as to cause even the most meticulous of culinary designers to gasp at the humble artistry.

OK- maybe I'm getting beyond myself.

But fuck it.

Hockey is great, and if you can't see that, well- fucking go to a game and make your life better.

I equate those who have not yet appreciated Stanley Cup playoff hockey to those who haven't yet read Catch-22.

I am jealous of them.

To be able to have something that pure, that true, that great lying yet undiscovered in your future would be incredible. It would mean that something in the future yet unseen contains beauty, truth, poetry, comedy and wonder beyond that of the ordinary same old- same old.

I mean, I know there are things like that out there for me, but God knows what they are. Playoff hockey and Catch-22 are available.

Well, Catch-22 is.

Fuck.

Can you tell I'm a little stressed over my Dad coming?

Maybe we'll go to a museum.

I've been watching-

2005-03-17T18:46:00.000-05:00

This steroid bullshit on TV today.

It's kind of refreshing to sit around with a three pigs, and watch this slobbering waste of time and taxpayer money.

All in all, it seems to me to be a pretty good attempt by congress to give people who have been totally disinfranchised by the Bush Administration a reason to maybe pay attention to something the government does ever again.

As a country, we paid attention a lot over the past few years, even protested quite a bit, and got jack shit for our efforts. I for one, am sick to death of investing myself in the process and having that leering jackass of a president giggle and smirk at us, and then just go ahead and do whatever the hell he wants for himself and his rich buddies.

Along that vein, Karen Hughes, a woman best qualified to push lemon squares at a church bake sale, has been nominated to a top post in the State Department in order to "improve America's image in the world." That would be great if "improving America's image in the world" could be accomplished by keeping my dad on the phone for 20 minutes during dinner, passively aggressively begging him to write a 20 dollar check to "help the choir get some nice new robes for Easter services." That woman is a stupid cunt.

Oh, and Wolfowitz is gonna be in charge of the World Bank.

So sure, this steroid bullshit is a waste of taxpayer money, but we gotta get some asses back in the seats in a "citizenry-paying-attention-to-the-acts-of-our-government" kind of way.

I know,it's not Bill Clinton blowjob numbers, but that was the moon landing, for Christ's sake. We gotta start somewhere, and maybe, I dunno, get people aware again that we still HAVE a fucking congress.

I mean, who knows- today, we have Major League baseball players testifying before congress, maybe tomorrow someone will decide to give half a shit about news that's sure to come down the line that Bush is giving Rumsfeld the continent of Australia as a birthday present.

If this doesn't work, I am starting a letter writing campaign getting congress to look into the distructive influence on our children of "Porno-Chic." Jenna Jameson, Ron Jeremy, and Rocco Siffretti will be testifying.

Fuck this.

I'm gonna go feed the pigs.

I'm feeling a little better-

2005-03-17T02:22:00.000-05:00

-these days.

Jesus, did this week suck.

Awful.

Of course, now that this cold is receding into the past, I look at the calendar, and I'll be a fucking werewolf in a week.

Hoo-fucking-ray.

I hate my life.

Wow-

2005-03-15T16:39:00.000-05:00

My head is still full of snot.

I hate this.

I've been taking a shot of Nyquil before I go to bed every night, and today, I casually yawned, rolled over and woke up to see that it was 3:30 in the afternoon.

Jesus.

Also, my goddamn DVD player broke. I'd go get another one if I hadn't already blown 12 hundred bucks on the pigs.

They better be tasty.

I mean, I know that I need to start looking at my livestock expenses as a necessary expense, seeing as it could potentially be saving lives, but Jesus! "The Incredibles" just came out on DVD and I really wanted to see those bonus shorts.

It's no wonder you don't see a lot of werewolf movies taking place in cities. The living expenses just kill you.

Sorry I haven't been posting.

It sucks being sick.

Sick again.

2005-03-13T23:53:00.000-05:00

You know what?

It turns out that rum isn't the BEST thing to drink when you want your head cold to go away.

I'm loopy on Nyquil right now.

It's the sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever, won't do a damn thing for your lycanthropy but still makes you woozy medicine.

The room is spinning.

The pigs, they mock me.

I'm goin' back to bed.

The pigs showed up!

2005-03-12T01:55:00.000-05:00

I've still been feeling a bit under the weather, but I'll tell ya, a green tea with some vitamin C power, a spoonful of clover honey, and a couple of fingers of rum does wonders for the soul.

In so far as the names, I went for Janney, Joyce and Neely.

They only have a couple weeks left, but their namesakes had a short, yet glorious run as well.

Jesus, I miss hockey.

The pigs make a lot of noise.

I wasn't expecting that.

Ah- well.

Any suggestions for next months feast?

I also googled "female werewolves." Didn't get much to report on. I keep thinking about that girl werewolf in Scotland that Alyssa told me about.

Ahh well- it probably doesn't matter.

That always happens, when you start thinking about an ideal woman, the reality never matches up to the fantasy.

Plus, we'd probably kill each other.

Really.

I mean, it's nice to think about hanging out with someone who you have shared interests with, but really, we would tear each other apart.

Ahh- screw it.

I'm watching more Deadwood and going to sleep. I just finished the episodes where the chick from Veronica Mars plays a teen whore. It didn't end as cleanly as it does on the WB.

Life often doesn't.

Sick.

2005-03-11T00:16:00.000-05:00

My head is filled with every kind of mucus known to man and wolf.

Jesus, my mouth tastes more disgusting than I can remember, and you're talking to a guy who once woke up in the woods with a mouthful of moose intestines dangling from his chin.

I feel like death.

I'm gonna go eat some beef stew and watch Deadwood. I started the DVD's of season 1 yesterday, and am facinated by how many cowboys are saying "cocksucker." I didn't know that cowboys said "cocksucker." I mean, they very well might have, but I wasn't aware of it, maybe because I've never seen a western where they say cocksucker a lot.

Still, it's working for me, once I got over the initial shock of it. It kind of makes me wish that more classic westerns had cowboys saying "cocksucker." By the way "Cowboys Saying Cocksucker" is my new favorite indie rock band. They have a new album out on Matador, I think.

In fact, I'm so entranced by the idea of cowboys saying cocksucker, that I have for you, reproduced some lines of dialogue from classic westerns, with cocksucker added. I think you'll appreciate the additions. I certainly do:

From The Good, The Bad and the Ugly:

Man with No Name (Clint Eastwood) : "You see, in this world there's two kinds of cocksuckers, my friend: Cocksuckers with loaded guns and cocksuckers who dig. You dig."

From True Grit:

Mattie Ross (Kim Darby) : Who's the best Marshall they have?
Sheriff (John Ducette) : Bill Waters is the best tracker. The meanest one is Cocksucker Cogburn, a pitiless man, double tough, fear don't enter into his thinking. I'd have to say L.T. Quinn is the straightest, he brings his prisoners in alive.
Mattie Ross: Where would I find this Cocksucker?

From The Man Who Shot Liberty Vallance:

[Valance (Lee Marvin) has tripped Rance (Jimmy Stewart) in the diner causing him to spill a tray of food]

Tom Doniphon (John Wayne) : That was my steak, Cocksucker.
Liberty Valance: [Laughing] You heard him, Cocksucker. Pick it up.
Ransom Stoddard: You are such a cocksucker. I won't pick...
Tom Doniphon: Hold it, Cocksucker. I said you, the other cocksucker ; you pick it up.
Liberty Valance: Three against one, Cocksucker.
Tom Doniphon: Kitchen door; cocksucker.
[Valance looks and sees Pompey at the door holding a rifle. He is wearing a sandwich board reading: "Liberty Vallance Sucks Cock" ]
Valance: Cocksucker!

OK- that oughta do it.

God I hope I feel better tomorrow. That's when the pigs arrive.

Still no pigs.

2005-03-09T15:13:00.000-05:00

Damn this weather.

I'm getting a cough, too.

These 60 degree temperature swings really do it to me.

Still, I got up early, (for me) and was smart enough last night to load up the crock pot with Beef Stew fixins. I got up at 10:00, and by quarter to twelve, I was living it up with beef stew. Also, there is a Star Trek marathon on Sci Fi. I know that I have a lot of problems, but lemme tell you, he ins and outs of lycanthropy go down a little smoother with tasty-ass beef stew and Original Trek on the TV.

I was never into it when I was a kid, but I've been enjoying it recently. I never got into the newer Star Trek shows either, but lemme tell you- it's fun to see Captain Kirk just sitting around making tough calls. He has hard decisions to make and he fucking MAKES em! Maybe I just enjoy seeing someone named Kirk actually taking charge of his life.

Hmm.

The pigs were supposed to arrive two days ago, and I just got off the phone with the guy. He says Friday at the latest, and gave me a window where I had to stay at home.

He said, "Anywhere between 9:00 and 3:00."

It's like the fucking cable guy, but with pigs.

I'm at the video store tonight. Stop by if you're around.

Alyssa called today.

2005-03-08T19:04:00.000-05:00

It was sort of awkward.

I mean, she called to see how I was doing, and if I made it through the last change OK, but shit- it's been like 3 weeks since that happened. If she was really concerned, you'd think she'd pick up the phone a little earlier. Or, you know- BEFORE it happened.

She said that she'd been following it on the blog, so she knew I was OK, but still- a phone call wouldn't have killed her.

I told her as much, and by writing this, and knowing that she checks this blog, I guess she's reading it, but I'm not going to censor myself just cause she might be reading. I know it's kind of fucked up, to talk shit about her, but when you are infected with the disease of lycanthropy, being passive-aggressive just doesn't rank that high on the old affliction list. She said that she missed me, and that she's captured one werewolf, and had to kill three. She started in Italy, which she admitted was more vacation than vocation, and worked her way up through the Alps, where she was investigating a report of an Abominable Snowman to see if it was some kind of cold weather lycantharope. According to her, that whole legend is bullshit, and there was no real evidence she could find, so she went skiing for 2 weeks.

I have my doubts.

After the trip, she travelled through Germany, killed a pair of werewolves in Munich, after getting a distress signal from another werewolf hunter that used to know Williamson. They communicate online, and apparently have these coded websites devoted to werewolf activity. I asked her for the link and she said that she might lose a bit of her street cred if she gave out the werewolf hunter weblink to a werewolf. She has a point, I guess.

Oh, and don't bother googling it. I tried. If anybody has any leads on that, send me a link, I'd appreciate it.

Apparently, I'm fairly well known on the message boards, and on more than a few shit lists for killing not only Williamson, but Bruce as well. Fuck, for all I know, they read my blog too. Alyssa said she didn't tell them about it, but you know, she also conspired against me in a mind control plot that ended up with me having sex with dogs. So, you know- there's some fences that need rebuilding there is all.

Fuck it, I'm not doing any harm.

Still though, if anybody can figure out how to crack that, I'd appreciate it, I mean, sure- right now I'm pretty happy living here in Williamsburg eating livestock in a cage, and I can't imagine how I constitute a threat provided that the cage holds, but it'd be nice to know if some pissed off European Werewolf hunter is heading my way with a score to settle, you know?

Alyssa said she'd give me a heads up if that happened, but really- if you were a werewolf hunter with a vendetta, would you drop that info to the ex-girlfriend of the werewolf in question?

Who knows. I probably shouldn't worry about it. I've lived through worse problems.

Anyway, from Munich, Alyssa headed up to Scotland to do some research. Scotland is to werewolf study like Toronto is to Ice Hockey. They are really fucking into it up there. I wouldn't mind going some day, you know- provided that nobody wanted to kill me, cut me open, or do experiments on me. It kind of makes sense that Scotland would be the secret spot for werewolves and the study of them. I mean, is it really possible that a country's most impressive export would be men in plaid skirts and bagpipe music?

Seriously, they HAD to have something else cool going on over there.

So Alyssa met with this guy Cameron over there, and they went out on a double capture expedition that got a little hairy, so they had to kill one of the werewolves. Here's the kicker, the one they caught alive was female. It was fucked up too, the way Alyssa told me about her. She described the female werewolf in that annoying "Isn't THIS interesting" tone of voice.

You know the one.

It's the voice that that ex-girlfriends always use when they are trying to set you up with somebody. Except they never are trying to actually set you up with somebody,what they are saying is: "Hey- under the pretense of doing you the favor of letting you know about a woman you might relate to, I am actually letting you know that not only are we "still friends", but our relationship is totally fucking over."

I hate that.

Oh, and it's fucking snowing again today.

The pigs were supposed to show up, but the trailer couldn't make it through the snow.

And....Cameron?

What the fuck kind of name is that?

Screw it.

I'm gonna go make some soup.

Holy Crap!

2005-03-07T16:14:00.000-05:00

It's like 60 degrees!

Fuck blogging, I'm heading outside!

I've been exploring pig recipies.

2005-03-06T20:14:00.000-05:00

I mean, I know- when it comes right down to it, I'm gonna eat 'em raw, but I couldn't help myself.

One of my favorites has been a blog about bacon, called "bacontarian." It's for people who love the fuck out of bacon.

This link is to a post entitled: "best bacon you've ever ate."

Their are 19 comments.

Needless to say, these motherfuckers love bacon.

Here's a sample:

"My worthless friends were finally roused only when I began to yell as I returned to the scene of the disaster. The bacon had been burned so severely that the only sign of its former potential was a black residue on the cooking grate. This was not the best bacon I have ever had it was the worst bacon, I never had. But this tragedy has taught me to savor life’s bacon as never before. This post is directed particularly to Ellen, who I hold primarily responsible for the death of the bacon."

I left a comment, explaining my situation, but I bet it won't get approved.

Ah, well.

I think we all can agree, however, that Ellen is a fucking bitch.

And people, whatever your individual situations, let's all remember to "savor life's bacon."

I wanna get that on a T-shirt.

Dickhead, this is Giggsy and Rhonda. Rhonda and Giggsy, Dickhead.

2005-03-05T21:52:00.000-05:00

OK- I'm REALLY done with that now.

But the dude's tag is "Dickhead," I just couldn't lay off.

By the way, that was a weak-ass bunch of reproachals. Ah well, I suppose if I wasn't a werewolf this blog would be far less entertaining.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't want to be a werewolf anymore, but really, would any of you bastards check in on this thing if it was called "What used to be happening to me?"

It doesn't have the same zing is all.

By the way, the weird thing about this site is I'm pretty much aware of what is happening to me. I turn into a werewolf on the full moon. So, yeah. That's it.

Again though, is it really worth a whole new url just to start up "http://Imfairlysureimawarewhatishappeningtome.blogspot.com"?

Screw it, I'm sticking with this one.

And who knows?

Crazy shit has happened in the past, maybe my life will pick up. I'm justa little bored right now. I worked at the store today, and watched "Bride of Frankenstein." Damn that's a great movie. That's pretty much how my relationships go by the way- you meet a woman who was made for you, she ends up not liking you, and the entire house falls in on top of you.

I also brought home Cube Zero. Looks cool.

I'll let you know what I think.

Giggsy, this is Rhonda. Rhonda, Giggsy.

2005-03-03T17:56:00.000-05:00

OK- I think that's out of my system now.

I appreciate the suggestions on pig names. I'm leaning towards Janney, Joyce and Neely, but I think I might just have to make a call when they arrive. Sometimes you need to see them to name them.

So I've been reading the site meter and have found some interesting search terms that have led people to this site. Here's a random sample:

liberace piano bench cartoon
kristen isn't cool.
fuck hockey
for every body candles los angeles
how can i shapeshift physically the easy way?
"clockwork orange"+"opening dialogue"
lycanthropy cures and treatments

Of course, there are a ton of "werewolf" , "zooskool" and "what is happening to me kirk" type searches, but that makes sense to me.

I just love the idea that someone was sitting alone in their home and desparately needed to take action to find a cartoon about Liberace's piano bench, and instead, found there way here.

I also like "fuck hockey", which sounds to me like an entertaining game, depending on the participants.

I must admit that I was kind of shocked to see "lycanthropy cures and treatments." I wasn't surprised that someone was searching for that, but I was sort of stunned that I hadn't thought to do it yet. So I did it, and I found some interesting, if not necessarily helpful stuff.

This from Answers.com:

Various methods also existed for removing the beast-shape...To kneel in one spot for a hundred years, to be reproached with being a werwolf, to be saluted with the sign of the cross, or addressed thrice by baptismal name, to be struck three blows on the forehead with a knife, or to have at least three drops of blood drawn have also been mentioned as possible cures.

Great.

Kneel in one spot for one hundred years.

With my attention span these days, I have a tough enough time sitting through a Buffy re-run.

Next!

To be reproached for being a werewolf.

Worth a try I guess.
Let's hear it commentors, reproach my ass, and make it good! But try to keep the reproachment pretty solidly on the "being a werewolf" thing. Don't muddy it up with saying how much hockey or Boston sports teams suck. Better safe than sorry, if this thing's gonna work.

to be saluted with the sign of the cross
I dunno. It might work, I guess I really haven't seen a cross in person in quite a while. I've been to church, but it was a Unitarian Universalist church and they aren't big on saluting each other with crosses over there. Who knows. Also, it begs the question whether that would work on werewolves who were Jews, Muslims, or proponents of Eastern Religions. But I guess that's the Unitarian in me talking. I guess I could try it.

addressed thrice by baptismal name
Well, let's try the other ones first. I'm still a little embarrassed about my middle name. Granted, I have no problem letting you guys know that I was shut up in a basement for months, having sex with dogs, but what can I tell you? Some things are personal. Maybe I'll get my parents to do it.

to be struck three blows on the forehead with a knife
Hmm. I wish Alyssa was here. She'd do that for me in a heartbeat. That's just not the kind of thing you ask a casual aquaintence for. You know, unless you're in some kind of bondage-y cash for abuse situation. And wouldn't know how to start looking for that. Plus, most of my disposable income is being tied up in livestock these days. I don't think bondage hookers are gonna be in the budget.

to have at least three drops of blood drawn
Jeez. That sounds icky. And vague. Drawn by who? And how much is in a "drop?" And what happens is more than 3 come out? Does that ruin it?

Ahh well, it was worth a look.

But let's hear those reproachals!

Don't spare my feelings here, people. Let's make them good.

Hi Rhonda.

2005-03-02T16:15:00.000-05:00

What's up?

Oh, c'mon people- she said she checks in every day.

I think she said that I'm "addictive."

aww, yeah.

Who wants some sugar! First one's free, motherfuckers!

Oh, and I totally ordered pigs this morning. They get here at the end of the week. I ordered three. And yes, if you're concerned, I'm gonna huff and puff, and eat the fuck out of those guys in a couple of weeks.

Any name suggestions?

OK, I'm going to work.

Wish me luck.

Sorry I didn't post yesterday-

2005-03-01T19:28:00.000-05:00

My internet was all wonky in the snowstorm.

I've been pretty solitary these days, and having your internet connection go down is rough going. I pretty much stayed close to home, ate some soup, and watched the movie "Werewolf of London." Watching werewolf movies can be fun when you're a werewolf, cause there are so many things about them that are just ridiculous.

It's sort of like watching one of those "hot doctor" shows with a real doctor. Actually, I've never done that, but I have watched "Boston Public" with my dad, who was been a teacher in the Massachusetts public schools for over 40 years. It's funny, when I watch that show with him, he basically explains that every serious dramatic plot point in that show would be solved in real life by one of two options, either firing the teacher or expelling the student.

Kid steals a human hand and puts it in his locker? Kid gets expelled.
Teacher sleeps with a student without knowing she's a student? Teacher gets fired.

No handwringing, no bellyaching, it'd be pretty cut and dried.

Werewolf of London was like that for me. My favorite part in the movie is when the dude changes into a werewolf, looks around his labratory, and before leaving, puts on his cloak and hat.

I mean, sure he's a werewolf, but there's a chill out there, for God's sake.

Another conceit that I enjoyed in that movie was the idea that the werewolf always seeks out that which he most loves.

If that were the case, every time the moon was full, I'd be a bloodthirsty beast on a murderous quest for a large raspberry lime rickey from Brighams, the Boston area ice cream chain.

Goddamn, that's a delicious beverage.

I wish I could go get one right now.

Well, if the average keeps up-

2005-02-27T22:34:00.000-05:00

I should hit 20,000 visitors to this site some time tomorrow.

I realize that a lot of people come back over and over again, so I have no idea how many people have really read this thing, but fuck- 20 thousand. Since last October? Not bad for a goofy little diary about a werewolf and his dating troubles. That's pretty good I think, although I'm not really sure what constitutes a "successful" blog.

I usually average a little over a hundred a day, with spikes on those days when some big link site picks it up. Those are fun days.

You know, traditionally, you'd expect a werewolf to spend his down time prowling around, tracking down potential victims, and agonizing over how to deal with his affliction, not- you know, obsessively checking his site meter, and pondering the fact that there are dudes in Australia who are really into this thing.

But fuck it, it's a new century I guess.

That's weird too, that it's a new CENTURY.

I mean, I'm not even really fully reconciled with the fact that the 90's are over. I'm still a little pissed off that it's fucking 2005 and we haven't got our jet packs yet. I guess we did get the internet, which is awesome, but it's not a jet pack either, for crying out loud.

I mean, on New Year's day 2000, I took a dump in the middle of my living room floor and patiently waited for a robot to come clean it up.

Didn't happen.

Still, you can't help but be a little disapointed by the internet, and what it's done as opposed to what it could have been. I mean basically, it was to be a combination of all the information in the world, and also Porn! It was like- the Library of Congress, but you could fuck it! It's hard to not want to invest in something like that. And now- well, we have a newer, faster way to shop at Barnes and Noble, and you get to read the online personal journal of a werewolf, for Christ's sake. Not exactly the giant leap for mankind that was heralded, is all.

That's kind of the overriding feeling I have about the 90's, especially when contrasted to what we have right now. It seems to me that if the 60's were the rock and roll decade, the 70's were the hangover, and the 80's were the money decade, the 90's are shaping up to be remembered as the decade of wasted potential. I mean, Bill Clinton was in office, Ben Stiller and Jeananne Garafalo were funny, the internet boom took off, and when you thought about George Bush, you thought "One term President." Fuck, I mean, sure, I guess we had enemies who wanted to blow up the World Trade Center, but back then, they sucked at it.
And look where we are now- we still have all of the shittiness we used to have at the beginning of the 90's, and none of that optimisim to go along with it. We have a shithead named Bush in the White House, a war in Iraq, a splintered, wounded and completey out of touch Democratic party, and this time time around, I'm a motherfucking werewolf.

Shit.

I mean, what good has come so far from the new century?

Seriously- what good?

OK, we got Duran Duran back.

That's something, I guess.

Happy 20,000 everybody.

Slow day today.

2005-02-26T21:31:00.000-05:00

I went into work, watched the Spongebob movie and Silent Night, Deadly Night Part two.

The spongebob movie is pretty good, but boyoboy does SNDN2 (That's what people in the industry call it) suck. And you're talking to a guy who thinks SNDN1 is something of a holiday classic. It's kind of like "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" if instead of having the Grinch steal all the Who's presents, he chops off his dog's head with an axe, and rapes and murders Cindy Lou Who.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not condoning rape and murder, but when it happens in a Santa suit, it's a tad more compelling.

But SNDN2 honestly begins with a 40 minute marathon featuring all the murder scenes from the first one. You know how they do that sometimes in the Friday the 13th sequels, where they kinda recap some of the Jason mayhem from previous sequels? Yeah, well when they do it, it lasts about 30 seconds.

In this movie, I shit you not, it take 40 minutes before the main character does anything. And by anything, I mean putting on a Santa suit and chopping the head off a deformed nun in a wheelchair.

So you, know- the film isn't without it's merits.

In terms of the question in the comments about the new Wes Craven werewolf movie, I haven't seen it. And this is the video store clerk rather than the werewolf talking here, but apparently, it was supposed to come out last year, but it had to be almost totally rewritten and re-shot, and it was shelved for a year. Then, they dumped it theaters in February, so I have a hard time believing that it's not going to suck.

Also, I've heard rumors of CGI werewolves, which are the fucking worst. I mean, if you're gonna have CGI werewolves, you need something awesome to counterbalance that, like Julie Delpy naked.

(Julie Delpy is naked in American Werewolf in Paris.)

Fuck it, maybe I should get in touch with Wes Craven- I guarentee you, I could transform onscreen for those sons of bitches and get some dumb patsy an Academy Award for makeup.

Also, those of you who think I'm gonna be eating kittens, well- rest easy- I've already eaten one cat, and it didn't agree with me. I think I'm gonna stick with sheep, or other livestock. It's expensive, but based on that one night when I ate Beebee, it was pretty awesome, and it kept me relatively docile, so that's cool.

I just don't want to hurt anybody.

Maybe I'll buy a pig this time.

That would be sweet.

When I woke up today-

2005-02-25T19:02:00.000-05:00

-the nail polish was gone, but my hair was still red. Not as red as before, but still red.

From what I can figure, the hair does recede back into my body when I change back, but just the process of growing that much hair causes some replacement to take place. And, before all this shit happened, there was the onset of some male pattern baldness, but that's all gone now. It's impossible that all that hair is just ingrained in my body somewhere, so the best I can figure it, there must be some kind of enzyme or something that causes it to deteriorate as it re-enters my body. When I change, I can definately feel and hear the hair growing, it makes a kind of nasty bristling sound. I'm always asleep when I change back, so God knows what happens.
With the fingernails, I think they just expand and recede, meaning that the paint simply flakes off as the nail under it grows. I found some flakes of nail polish on the floor of the cage, so that solves that one.

Am I wrong, or is discussing this whole process more than a little nasty?

Also, you guys were right about the dog food. I like the taste of it when I'm human, but I pretty much just tore up the bag and threw it all over the room. It isn't that bad though, it's like everywhere I walk now there's a little snack waiting for me.

I think I oughta clean up a little.

I mean, peeing on stuff helps to a certain extent, but it's really just covering up. Pissing on things is sort of the "sweeping under the carpet" of lycanthropy. Also, I have a bunch of newspapers laying around that need to be recycled.

I think I'm gonna go get on that.

The hair thing.

2005-02-24T17:47:00.000-05:00

Good call on reminding me about that.

Unfortunately, I didn't see it until I'd already transformed last night, so I didn't do anything about it. By the way, I think I'm really gonna need to get more sheep next month. I was much angrier in the cage last night and bent the shit out of the door last night, kind of raging to get out.

I did my best to fix it up today, and bought a length of chain to fortify it tonight. I also went ahead and bought a couple big bags of Alpo to leave in the cage, but I'm gonna have to go out and get another one soon, as I've already finished about half of one of the bags.

Sorry, but that shit is tasty, yo.

Also, I'm working on the hair issue. I don't have a webcam, but I had an idea. I went to the drugstore today, got some Manic Panic and dyed my hair red, both upstairs and down, (if you know what I'm saying.) The way I figure, if when I wake up tomorrow and it's not red, that means that the hair doesn't recede back into my body, but rather is replaced by new hair. Still, the question remains as to where the hell all that hair goes. I also got some nail polish and painted my fingernails.

I know that I am doing this in the name of science, but I gotta tell you, it's bizzare that in order to learn more about myself I have to dress up like a drummer in a ska band.

Christ.

I look ridiculous.

Oh, for crying out loud.

2005-02-23T20:25:00.000-05:00

I need to take a minute for that last comment.

Dearest Kirk,

‘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.

Wow.

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.

Holy shit.

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.

Sorry.

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.

Fuck.

I shoulda bought another sheep.

Tonight's the night.

2005-02-22T16:44:00.000-05:00

First night before the full moon.

I should be changing tonight, that is, if I've finally figured out how this works.

Beebee's in the cage, and just walked over to me and ate some grain out of my hand. He's cute. Part of me wonders if I can bring myself to eat him.

He's a pretty cool sheep.

I'll let you know what happens.

Beebee's here!

2005-02-21T15:52:00.000-05:00

I loaded him right into the cage and he's trotting around as happy as can be.

I'm pretty tired, as I got up early to wait for the U-haul.

And to- you know- reflect on the contributions upon the country that our Presidents have had. That's sleepy work, boy- lemme tell you.

OK- I'm off to work, but first, I gotta stop by that greek place. I'm gonna have a lamb kabob. Just to get in the mood.

Hey! Hockey's cancelled again!

2005-02-20T05:55:00.000-05:00

Well, lets hear it for blue balls.

Whatever, fool me once shame on...oh fuck it, you know what I'm saying.

Either way, I wasn't THAT much more dissapointed to hear it.

I mean, shit- you decide to ruin the sport on Wednesday, and you're going to un-ruin it on Saturday?

Let us take this opportunity to throw a huge "F- You" to Mario Lemieux and Wayne Gretzky.

Sure, they are two of the best players in the history of the game, but what did they accomplish?

Jack shit.

Fuck 'em.

I'm guessing that for the entire negotioations, Mario was hanging out by thte red line waiting to cherry pick a breakaway for all the glory.

Fuck that guy.

I still like Wayne, but c'mon, dude.

When he moved to LA, he precipitated the most false inflation in the popularity of hockey ever.

They say we can thank Wayne for the expansion of hockey into areas where hockey was never popular. Well, thanks, dickhead- now they aren't selling tickets.

Michael Jordan was popular too, and you didn't see him trying to sell basketball in Alaska.

On the other hand, if Bobby Orr and Don Cherry headed into those negotiations- well- heads up jimmy, we're gonna see the puck dropped.

Ah well-

Screw it.

I'm from Boston- I've had a pretty good year.

Plus, Beebee shows up on Monday.

Hooray!

What a day!

2005-02-19T12:17:00.000-05:00

OK- not only does it seem like a hockey season is imminent (I'll withhold offical rejoicing until after it's definate), but I'm gonna get my sheep!

I just got off the phone with the dudes at the farm, and there is a Barbados Blackbelly getting loaded on a U-haul early Monday Morning, and will arrive that afternoon!

I think I'm gonna name him Beebee.

You know, before I... well, eat him.

Well, I've done a little homework-

2005-02-18T21:03:00.000-05:00

And it turns out that getting a sheep to Brooklyn is difficult, but not impossible.

I've had my eye on this gorgeous little beauty for a while now.

It's an American Blackbelly Sheep (aka Barbados Blackbelly), and it's looks as adorable as it does delicious.

The sheep, or as it will henceforth be called, The Barbados Blackbelly, is 125 bucks, but sadly, it looks like I won't be able to get here by the next full moon. I might just buy a couple of huge bags of Alpo and leave them in the cage. I wonder if I'd eat that when I'm all wolfed out.

By the way, if I was a professional pool player, my nickname would be Barbados Blackbelly. It's gotta nice ring, is all.

I found it on AniBid, which is a site where you can pretty much bid on almost any kind of live animal out there. One of their banner ads is a company called Wild Animal World , which is worth checking out, if just for the banner picture which should be entitled "I have the worst parents in recorded history."

All this animal shopping has me thinking though- I mean, about the power of money. I mean, if I say, wanted to have a Bobcat in my apartment, I could do that. I'm sure it's illegal, and dangerous, but shit- if I had the money, I'm pretty confident I could have a Bobcat in my apartment in less than a month. Just walking around and snarling and shit.

It kind of makes you doubt the morality of capitalism, is all.

I just looked at the Wild Animal World website, and I could get me an 8 week old male cougar for 1,500 bucks.

Damn.

I wonder what they'd pay for a real live werewolf?

Something to think about, is all.

Sorry about that last one-

2005-02-18T00:40:00.000-05:00

I mean, yeah- I'm still mad, but, damn.

Maybe that was a bit intense.

I can always tell that I've been avoiding my own problems when I get too stressed about sports. Still, that pic in the Times today of the Stanley Cup as trash can made me die a little inside.

The full moon is 6 days away.

I think I need to get some supplies.

I wonder how much a live sheep costs?

I was upset before-

2005-02-17T05:17:00.000-05:00

-Now I'm furious.

I know that this blog has been a place where profane language has been used and enjoyed, but I'm furious about this goddamn NHL cancellation, so for those of a delicate sensibility, I'm telling you that I'm not holding back here.

If you are less pissed off than I am, I recommend you move on before I directly address Gary Bettman and Bob Goodenow, the NHL commissioner and NHL Player's Union Head.

Ahem.

Dear Gary and Bob,

I hope you guys realize what you have done.

You have destroyed our sport.

To come so close, and to not get a deal done, to put the future of the National Hockey League in Jeopardy, to deny fans the spectacle of the winning of Lord Stanley's Cup for the first time in 86 years, especially when a deal was so close, you deserve nothing less than a vigorous throat-fucking from the dead penis of Louis Sutter.

You dispicable, moneygrubbing assholes not only deserve the violence and humilation of the act, but let's be honest here, that guy's dick has done more for hockey in the span of time it takes to shoot 6 loads than you could do in 6 lifetimes. If even a microscopic, decaying neutrino of what that man possessed were to rub off in your mouths as you choked on him, it would represent an introduction of integrity that exceeded anything you have ever possessed by several orders of magnitude.

Fuck you and your money.

And as the taste of decaying cock causes you to gag on your own rising bile, know that whatever vile acids your bodies produce to combat the sensation, they pale in comparison to the awful taste your shameful performance has left in the mouths of hockey fans everywhere.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have sports to watch, and by sports, I mean 14 straight hours of baseball steriod gossip and 87 totally useless college basketball games.

Go fuck yourselves,

Kirk Thomson

This-

2005-02-16T18:07:00.003-05:00

-is the darkest day in the history of the NHL, and let's remember, last year, one guy broke another guy's neck.

I'd say it was one of the darkest days in my own personal history, but there was that day where I got bit by a werewolf.

That day sucked too.

I've said it before, but this is different than baseball canceling the World Series. This is different than football and basketball stoppages. What is potentially going on here is the end of professional hockey in America as we've known it over the last 30 years.

This is a bit of a jokey way to illustrate my point, but it's funny that the only way you can get ESPN to spend more than 35 seconds on hockey is when there isn't any.

But that's just it. The vast majority of sports fans in America just don't give a shit. You can blame terrible marketing, you can blame the collective bargaining agreement, you can blame clutch and grab, you can blame the trap, you can blame less scoring, or you can blame expansion into areas without a tradition of hockey.

Whatever.

It doesn't matter now.

Whichever problem you choose to blame, the answer is definitely NOT to cancel the Stanley Cup playoffs.

Whatever you think about hockey during the regular season, any sports fan with a pulse has to enjoy playoff hockey in overtime. If it's happening during the Stanley Cup finals, and you can see guys hoisting up the indisputably coolest fucking trophy in the history of sport, people are gonna come back for that.

If they would have managed to make a deal this weekend, the lengthy lockout would have provided incredible publicity for the return of the game, and the shortened season would have been a perfect place to try out new rule changes that could spark debate and passion.

What we have now is a 180 degree spin the other way.

What is going to get fans interested is hard hitting, brilliant passing, mind-blowing goaltending, and the jaw-dropping artistry in the midst of seemingly anarchic brutality that makes up the game of hockey played at it's highest level.

What is not going to help is 30 seconds of B-roll footage of Gretzky scoring his 802nd goal sandwiched by 15 minutes of lawyers talking about revenue sharing and cost certainty.

And from a fan's perspective, particularly in America, this is devastating. In addition to the tremendous loss of casual attendance that all teams will suffer, they are losing a remarkable opportunity to give some of the greats from the past 20 years their chance to skate in their final game.

Mark Messier, Steve Yzerman, Brett Hull, Scott Stevens, Mario Lemieux, and many, many more who were not only tremendously exciting to watch, but were integral in promoting or selling the game are now just going to fade away.

Additionally, the new younger superstars, who were just beginning to build real excitement are still relatively unknown, and this gap will not only rob them of a year or more of their prime production, but will make it that much harder for them to market the game in the future.

Guys like Martin St. Louis, Ilya Kovulchuck, Vincent Lecaviler, Joe Thornton, Andrew Raycroft, Jerome Iginla, and more are nowhere close to household names in this country, and they aren't going to be for more than year at least.

That said- it may not be over.

Bettman seemed to not deny a middle figure at his press conference, and I'd be stunned if the players were not flooding his office with calls in an attempt to get SOME kind of deal done.

If they don't, we could be talking about all kinds of awful things from new leagues, to replacement players, to a total shitcanning of all the tradition that has made this game as great as it is.

And if you think people don't give a shit about hockey now, wait until they are faced with a brand new hockey league with no decent TV contract, inflated XFL type "asses in seats" rules, and clashes between storied new franchises like, oh I don't know, say- the New York Urbanites vs. the Boston Ice Devils.

You gotta be kidding me.

Jesus- we have an hour.

Make a deal, Goodenow.

Please.

I'm a fucking werewolf over here, which sucks enough.

Don't force me to try to watch Nascar again.

The moon-

2005-02-16T01:39:00.000-05:00

looked like a soup bowl tonight.

Or maybe I'm just hungry for some soup.

It was kind of hot out today, so when I was walking to work I felt like I had too many layers on. I wonder if that's what it will feel like when I'm a werewolf in the summertime.

I wonder if werewolves shed. And if they do, does the hair that gets shed out disappear once I change back, like the hair on my body does?

Come to think of it, I don't know if it dissapears, or just kinda recedes back into my body. That's kind of a nasty thought.

What the hell does happen to all that hair?

I'm gonna get on that question when I transform next. I mean, it doesn't just fall out, cause I've woken up in my apartment after a change and there wasn't hair everywhere. But still, it seems weird that it would just dissapear.

I don't know if you guys are learning anything from this post, but what I'm learning is I have no idea how to correctly spell the word "dissapear."

Maybe one "s?"

Let's see- "disapear."

Doesn't look quite right- I'm adding another "p"

"disappear."

Yeah, dude- that's it.

I think.

I may be a crappy speller, but at least I have tigerkitty beat.
I hope she's OK.

So, we find out if there is hockey tomorrow around noon. The players have to accept the owner's offer of a 42.5 million cap by 11:00. The press conference is at 1:00.

Jesus, I hope they take it.

I'm not saying that living with the curse of lycanthropy is fun by any stretch of the imagination, but it will certainly bea lot more pleasant if I can turn on the TV and see Joe Thornton blasting out from behind the net like a fucking freight train.

And Sergei Samsonov- that guy has moves that can literally make defenders disappear.

That looks right, doesn't it?

I've been a little bored today.

Jesus, God.

2005-02-14T22:15:00.000-05:00

OK- so I can deal with it being fucking cold and rainy.

I can deal with the fact that it is Valentine's Day and I am lonely.

I can deal with the fact that Bush is President.

I can deal with the fact that every month, I turn into a savage beast with a bloodlust beyond human understanding.

But on top of all that, I gotta tell you, did they have to pick today to fucking cancel hockey?

I mean, for Christ's sake!

There's only so much bullshit I can handle on any one given day.

I guess I'm gonna go watch the AHL All Star game.

Let's hear it for Andy Hilbert and Patrice Bergeron!

If you need me, I'll be over in the corner of the cage.

OK-

2005-02-14T02:48:00.000-05:00

Well, Christ.

I guess what I'm hearing from people is that this is my own problem and I have to deal with it.

So I will.

Fuck it.

I guess I just have to live my life in a cage for 3 days a month.

I dunno, I mean- if you really think about it, there are people that live in cages for their entire lives.

I only have to do it for a couple of days.

The full moon is coming soon.

The only really big drag is that when I put the TV in front of the cage, the bars block off a lot of it.

I feel like if I keep going the way I am, TV will be the only thing I find important.

I don't want to live that way.

OK- so here's the deal:

2005-02-12T21:14:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking more and more about the idea of biting someone, and although I have gotten some responses, I feel like people might need some more information in order to make a well informed decision.

Therefore, I have decided to present the following list of pros and cons about being a werewolf:

Pro: When transformation occurs, you get an overwhelming sense of power.
Con: You want to eat people.

Pro: Side effects when not transformed include heighted sense of smell and reversal of any hair loss.
Con: You pretty much piss all over everything you own.

Pro or Con: You like to walk around naked a lot. (this could be either pro or con depending on your thoughts vis-a-vis nakedness. I'm firmly in the "pro" camp, but God knows how you were raised.)

Pro: When transformed, you get bigger, stronger and faster.
Con: You will use this enhanced power not to fight crime or clean up around the house, but to eat people. Or animals. To date, I've eaten a cat a moose, and some pretty big chunks of a dude from New Jersey.

Pro: If you are, like I was, somewhat unmotivated and in need of some routine, you will find that needing to keep track of the cycles of the moon will add a certain amount of structure to your life.
Con: That structure revolves not around something conventional, like steady employment, or a long term relationship, but the more unconventional, AKA falling to all fours, growing a shaggy coat of hair and a tail, sprouting claws and fangs, and losing yourself in a blood orgy of pure fury. If this is the only "pro" that appeals to you, I'd say for now, get a temp job, and see if that doesn't add a little structure. Career Blazers isn't bad. Ask for Diane.

Pro: You will be different from most everybody else on this planet, which can help build identity.
Con: Your identity will be "turns into a wolf and commits murder guy" which might not be what you are looking for.

Pro: It only happens three days a month
Con: It happens EVERY month for the rest of your life. You know, like herpes. But hairier.

Pro: You will feel healthier and more athletic with every passing day.
Con: You will probably cease to enjoy time-honored pop tunes like "Fly me to the Moon" and Hollywood films like "Moonstruck" as the connotations tend to bring your mind elsewhere.

Pro: You get to write a blog from a unique perspective that no one has ever seen before.
Con: Well, actually- I guess now it wouldn't be all that unique. I mean, I kinda beat you to that one. Sorry, dude.

Pro: While transformed, you can get shot in the head and pretty much be OK the next day.
Con: You are more likely to have someone want to shoot you in the head.

OK- I guess that's a decent enough list for now.

Last call- any takers?

Or questions?

Let's hear 'em!

Jesus-

2005-02-11T18:40:00.000-05:00

I ask who wants to be a werewolf, and I get 100 "furries" and an Episcopal priest.

C'mon people, I'm not writing a bar joke, I'm seeing who wants change in their lives.

Really?

Nobody else wants to be a werewolf?

Sorry I didn't post yesterday.

2005-02-10T19:39:00.000-05:00

I know I was going to update you on the Dan conversation, but here's what happened.

I got home kinda late, and decided to reheat some soup.

It was split pea, with lentils, carrots, onions, and big chunks of leftover ham steak.

It was pretty good when I made it, so I was looking forward to it.

Last night, when I thawed it out and heated it up, I found that the soup had become a far more savory meal than it ever was in the first place. Where there once was just ham, peas and vegetables, now there was harmony. This soup was not just soup, it had become unity, it had become bliss, and as I found out 15 minutes later, it had become a rather shockingly effective laxative.

So, yeah- I was kind of busy with- well... you know- shitting.

Anyway, I did talk to Dan-

I got out the iPod, and scanned down to his name.

"Dan?"

Hey Kirk, what's up?

"I dunno, kinda bored, a little lonely. Alyssa left, and I don't have anybody to-"

-Have sex with? That's a tragedy. Did I tell you about how I haven't had a penis for the past 5 months?

"No- not just have sex with- I mean, you know, talk about things. Um- hold on. You don't have penis?"

Nope. no corporeal form at all, really- hence: zero in the way of the brass danglers. I'm over it.

"Yeah. OK."

So, you're a little mopey and you figured you'd rattle the ghost's chains, huh?

"Well- I had this idea. Oh, and by the way, thanks a lot for your help when I was..you know..."

-A total fucking vegetable?

"Well, I'd put it another way-"

Braindead recluse?

"No- not really, I think I'd say-"

Dog fucker?

"CHRIST! Lay off, would ya?"

Sorry, I still get a kick out that. So what's your idea?

"Well- what if I, you know- just for little companionship.."

Are you asking my permission for you to get a hooker?

"No! I mean- it's not that. It's just- I just, don't have anybody to talk to about this- wolf stuff. I mean, Jeff was a dick, but at least we could sort of- I dunno, talk about stuff. I mean, what we were going through and- I guess I just thought, what if I...

What?

"What if I....bit somebody?"

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!!

"No- I mean, I know- it seems crazy at first-"

AT FIRST?! AT FIRST? That seems crazy at first, at last and all over the fucking planet! You get a little mopey and you want to ruin someone's life and create another murderer? If you do that, I'm gone. I don't know how I'll do it, but I guarentee you, even if I'm trapped in this F-ing thing forever, I'll never talk to you again!

"Well- look- I mean, I just-"

Conversation over. talk to me again when you're less crazy.

And then he was gone.

I mean, I know that it's a morally questionable thing to do, but that's just it. It's questionable. So why not ask the question? I mean, isn't it possible that someone WANTS to be a werewolf? I mean, I'd have to make sure they were cool with staying in a cage, and they weren't gonna go all murder-happy, but there have got to be people out there who earnestly desire radical change in their lives, and who knows, maybe we could actually create the beginnings of some kind of ACTUAL werewolf community somewhat like the one that Bruce built in my mind.

Why couldn't that be possible?

OK that's enough.

I have to go take a crap.

Again.

I talked to Dan-

2005-02-08T22:12:00.000-05:00

I pitched him the whole "me biting somebody idea."

Needless to say, he's against it.

I'll give you the dialogue tomorrow, but now I'm off to see that awful Clint Eastwood girl boxing movie.

In other news, I watched "Resident Evil: Apocolypse" today. Or rather, I popped "Resident Evil: Apocolypse" in my DVD player, and attempted to sit still in front of it. After about 15 minutes, I was walking around, doing some dishes, and peeing on the drapes. I turned it off after an hour or so.

By the way, it's a testament to how much a movie sucks when it's chock full of zombies and scantily clad women, and I still find it boring. Normally, it would be the other way around- like, you know- if a movie gets boring, I say, add some scantily clad women and some Zombies, and I'm good to go.

For example, the movie "Portrait of a Lady" with Nicole Kidman is one of the most goddamn boring movies in the world, yet I woulda perked right up if at some point, while she was sitting in her anteroom, silently pining away for the love of a nobleman, a zombie smashed through the window and tore off her petticoat.

I'm not saying that would make a BETTER movie, but it wold be less boring is all.

Actually fuck that.

That would be better movie.

OK- I'm out-

I'll tell you what Dan said tomorrow.

Jesus, I'm tired.

2005-02-08T04:16:00.000-05:00

I helped a friend move today.

Or, more accurately, a guy who I watched the Pats with yesterday was moving, and in the course of celebrating the win, I mistook that for friendship, and when he asked if anyone wanted to help I said "Yeah, sure!"

I am such a dumbass.

I guess I'm still lonely is all.

I wonder if it would be the worst thing in the world if the next time I transformed, I bit somebody. I mean, you know, just so I'd have somebody to hang out with.

I mean, Jeff was a dick, but, you know- at least he kinda knew what I was all about.

I'm going to bed.

My back hurts.

Damnit.

OK- let's hear it, commentors!

2005-02-07T02:48:00.000-05:00

Seriously, bring it on!

I wanna hear from all you doubters and douchebags who made fun of me when I called DYNASTY even before the Pats sent Payton Manning home with three fucking points.

Or how about the douchebag who commented that Big Ben over in Pittsburgh "knows how to win in the NFL"

Let's hear from that guy!

Titletown, motherfuckers. Titletown.

Apologies should begin "Dear Kirk, I'm sorry I doubted you."

Oh, and I howled at the superbowl party. When McNabb through that last interception, I was up and howling like that was my dayjob, and I needed to make rent.

Got some funny looks, but it passed.

All is well.

Titletown.

Let's Go Pats!

2005-02-06T17:31:00.000-05:00

Finally!

Today is the day- the first time in over five months I've been able to watch a Boston area sports team compete for the ultimate prize while not also turning into a monster!

I'm going to a superbowl party in Jersey to watch it, making this the best trip to New Jersey I will have had in over five months provided I can manage to keep my dick out of the host's Springer Spaniel.

Also, here's an idea- STOP CALLING THE VIDEO STORE!

I love that I'm doing an intimate blog about turning into a motherfucking werewolf for fuck's sake, and the part of the plot that has you douchebags spinning off into conspiracy theories is the implausible whimsy that I actually work at a video store.

Christ!

I watched Taxi Driver today.

2005-02-05T22:07:00.000-05:00

You know, I kind of forgot how goddamn great that movie is.

I think I'm getting sick.

I mean, not like- werewolf sick or anything, just kind of a chest-cold kind of thing. I'm smoking too many cigarettes too. I wish I had more to report today, but it's just been a big blah.

I know, you probably want some werewolf stuff, right?

OK- here goes:

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Fuck it, I got nothing.

Lessons

2005-02-05T06:37:00.000-05:00

This has been a hard time for me.

I've been lied to. In a pretty serious way.

People that I thought I loved have lied to me.

When that happens, you start to question the power of love. And when that happens, you have no alternative but despair.

Love is the answer, love makes things possible, love, in the movies at least, brings the dead back to life.

And when that power lies to you, it can be devastating.

But other than that, I'm doing great!

I'm working at the video store tomorrow.

Stop by if you want.

Coffee with Kristen was weird.

2005-02-03T05:01:00.000-05:00

I mean, I knew it was going to be weird, but check out this opening dialogue:

Kristen: Hi sweetie! It's so good to see you!

Kirk: Hey, Darlin!

Kristen: So what have you been up to?

Kirk: Well, lemme think. Hmm- since September? OK- well- I got bit by a werewolf, was visited by the spirit of a ghost in an iPod, transformed into a beast on the full moon, ate my cat, handcuffed myself to a bed for three days, terrified my family, and was inadvertantly responsible for a bus crash that killed a lot of people. Oh, and I beheaded one werewolf hunter, fell in love with the other one, and fought to get free from a mind control genius that falsely led me to believe I was the rogue champion of a national werewolf syndicate.

Kristen: National...national werewolf syndicate?

Kirk: No! I mean, yes- It wasn't real. I was under mind control. In reality, I was living in a basement in New Jersey having sex with dogs.

Kristen: Are you being funny?

OK- it didn't really go that way. But that's kind of what was on my mind when I was heading to the coffee shop. What happened was far more reserved:

Kristen: Hi sweetie! It's so good to see you!

Kirk: Hey, Darlin!

Kristen: So what have you been up to?

Kirk: You know- the same shit...but...

Kristen: But?

Kirk: But...

Kristen: But what?

Kirk: But more so.

I think I need to work on my communication skills.

So this is a trip-

2005-02-02T04:26:00.000-05:00

Kristen came into the video store today.

I haven't seen her in months.

We're having coffee tomorrow.

I hope she doesn't want her handcuffs back.

This is gonna be weird.

Lonely

2005-01-31T21:53:00.000-05:00

That's the best way to describe my state of mind these days.

I guess "confused" fits too, but then again, I can't really think back to any day since all this shit started when that word wasn't applicable.

Basically, almost all of the past month was bullshit.

The gladiator fight, Lars and Mickey, Bruce, The purebloods, all of it was part of an artificial construct designed to, well- neuter me.

Not literally of course, but to make me harmless to society, trapped in a dream world where I am the king, and so complacent that I no longer felt the need to change. The worst part is, Alyssa was in on it. You see, before I killed Williamson, Alyssa was helping him to hunt werewolves. He'd been doing it for years, and the way it worked was, if you can't kill a werewolf straight out, you put them in cages and enter them into this program, run by- well, I thought his name was Bruce, but really, it was something else. Or maybe it was Bruce, I dunno. All I can tell you is his dogs aren't actually movie stars and sex kittens, but I don't really want to talk about that. That whole thing still gives me the willies.

When I woke up the next day after Alyssa got me out of the snow, she told me everything.

I think.

I mean, God knows how I could ever trust her, or anybody, really again, but she laid it out, and I guess it's true. Or, at least, more true than the world I had been living in since Christmas.

Incidentally, if you read back in the blog, I had a New Year's resolution not to kill anybody this year. Looks like I made it all the way until late January. Which honestly, is better than I did with the quitting smoking last year.

Basically, Bruce was this guy who knew how to control people's minds, or more specifically, werewolves' minds. He worked with Williamson for a while, and Williamson cut him off when he started to suspect that it was more merciful to simply kill werewolves than it was to fuck with their heads the way this guy did. So they broke off their relationship. Unfortunately, when I killed Williamson, and got entangled with Alyssa, she said she didn't have the heart to kill me, so she called this guy, and hooked him up with Jeff. She said she wanted to try it with Jeff first, and if that worked out OK, she'd hand me over to him, seeing as having the both of us living in cages didn't seem to be a great long term solution.

The problem was, Jeff took to it too well, and over the course of his mind control, he began to be obsessed with me. If he was to be the king of the werewolves, where was I? What was I doing? He began to revolt from the control, and began seeking me out, which is why I smelled him all over town, and why he came by the video store. The only way that Bruce could keep Jeff in the fold was to include me in the storyline somehow, create the gladiator fight concept, which would draw in Jeff. Bruce must have picked up on the fact that the only thing that would draw my interest was Alyssa.

So he conspired with her to "disappear" and have me show up in Mcarren park on the eve of the transformation, when my mind would be at it's most vulnerable for control.

The whole scene in Mcarren Park was kind of a 50-50 blend of reality and mind control, and there were signs, like him controlling the policemen with the Jedi mind trick, and getting me into the van to Jersey. Those weren't cops by the way. They weren't even real.

Apparently, I was just standing in kind of a trance, only taking in the bits and pieces of reality that he allowed me- Alyssa, the van, my clothes, Jeff.

I know, it's weird.

Anyway, he had Alyssa move certain familiar elements of my life into the basement to link to me, and that I could use as anchors to reality. Some of that was my computer, which had been vitally important to me in terms of sorting out what's been going on in my life, and he let me watch the Patriots and television and movies to keep me somewhat sedated, and the rest of it was easy for him. The blog helped me break it too, a little- he knew that I was typing, but he didn't know what it was, and didn't care. He was more concerned that I was staying put and not hurting anyone, and he couldn't have been happier to have me sitting there typing away. And the visions he created were so easy for me to believe. I mean, you believe what you want to believe and who wouldn't want to accept that they are a champion, they are having sex with porn stars, that they are being bred for something bigger, and that they are truly learning control?

I still kinda believe that there are werewolves in Corporate America, though. That would explain a lot.

The problems started when he killed Jeff.

The fantasy had begun to grow too large for Bruce to control both of us, so when he staged our werewolf fight, he had both Jeff and Lars, who were impediments to my relaxing and accepting the control wipe each other out. And that's when Alyssa decided she'd had enough.

According to her, she tried to free me, and shake me out of this, and Bruce reacted badly. He drugged her, tied her up, and proceeded to let my fantasy world spin out of control, even to the point of adding sex-nymphs (yes, they were dogs) into the mix.

What saved me was the iPod.

She convinced him to let me listen to music, as it would soothe me further, and gave me the iPod. He had no idea that Dan was in it. As it turns out, there was no place in the fantasy he had created for me for a ghost in an iPod, I mean, the whole thing is pretty goddamn unbelieveable, so Dan simply manifested himself in one of the characters that were already there.

So basically, he became Mickey.

Which is why Mickey disappeared for a while. Dan didn't know where he was, and he couldn't talk to me traditionally, so his spirt inhabited Mickey, at least in my mind, and it took him a while to learn how to reach me.

When I became agitated about Mickey, it disturbed my fantasies, and Bruce sensed he was losing control, so he set it up that I would smell him around my things, and kill him myself. Apparently, it's easier to eliminate fantasy characters from someone's mind when they eliminate them themselves, and so Mickey became "the victim."

All thoughout this, the supposed goal was to get me to control myself, to get to a point where I wouldn't have to change, and when that was mastered, to I guess, cure me. And the fucked up thing is, it worked early. Towards the end of the fantasy, I had learned to control my changes, and knew that my mind was stronger than anything else. Unfortunately, it was that very control that allowed me to spare Mickey, put the concept of Dan back in my head, and return me to thoughts of Alyssa. As soon as I had control over my changes, I also had control over my mind, or at least partial control, and when the vision broke down, there was so much rage, that the change took over again, and I killed Bruce.

I don't feel bad about that by the way. I mean- sure, maybe I was a bad doggy, but that dude was dealing out some seriously evil clockwork orange shit, and he deserved what he got. I mean, shit, he kidnapped Alyssa, and deep down, I feel that if I had allowed myself to kill Mickey, eliminating Dan from my subconcious, she would have been next, in one way or another.

I was going down a bad path with that guy, and I can't imagine that it would have ended well.

You know, as if the way it did turn out was so goddamn peachy.

Fuck.

Anyway, when we got back to Brooklyn, Alyssa hooked me up with the cage so I could safely transform, I called the video store so I could at least support myself, and she left. She said she was going to Europe to do research on how to help me, but she might just be gone. And it might be for the best. I mean, I've had trust issues with women before but never to the point where I tell a woman that I love her and in exchange she throws me in a mental prison where despite what I think is going on, I'm actually living in a basement in New Jersey commiting unnatural acts with trio of Rottweilers.

And I know, it got out of her control, but damn- that's a step above, oh I don't know- fucking one of my friends and lying about it, you know?

So she's gone, and I guess it was the only thing to do.

The other thing that pisses me off is that the only time I was actually able to control my transformations it was in a fantasy world. The next night, back in the cage in Brooklyn, I changed again, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I tried to think about the swimming pool, how I didn't need change in my life, and all the rest of it, but when everything you've known for a month of your life is a complete and total lie, it's tough to get that confidence back up.

So now- I'm just lonely.

And it's cold as balls outside.

I hate January.

Boy-

2005-01-30T21:20:00.000-05:00

Sorry about that last post.

I was a little drunk.

I mean, whatever, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that Napolean Dynamite is not the enemy here.

I guess I should get this story down though- it's horribly embarrasing, but really- the truth is the truth, and I guess embarrasment is part of that.

After Bruce told me that I had "passed with flying colors" I entered the house and began walking up the stairs towards his chambers. As I was walking, the stairs kind of flashed. It was weird- like the carpeting on the stairs, normally a rich burgundy, kind of flashed into black and white for a moment, resembling the stairs of a cellar. I heard Alyssa's voice from behind me.

"Kirk! Don't!"

I turned around, and the house was as it had always been.

I resumed my climb, and saw Bruce standing at the top of the stairs.

"Kirk!"

Alyssa again- from behind me.

I turned, and was in a basement. Like grungy walls, dirty floors and she was there. Tied to a wall.

"Alyssa?" I started to say, and my head started spinning again.

"Fight it." She said- and I closed my eyes, waiting for the spinning to stop.

I heard Bruce's voice again- "Kirk- come up to me." I looked up at him, and it- well- wasn't him. There was a short, balding middle aged man wearing a wife beater T-shirt at the top of the cellar stairs with several dogs at his feet. "You have done well, and you deserve your reward." That wasn't Bruce's voice.

Who the fuck was that guy?

"Enjoy the fruits of your labors, my boy-" came the unfamiliar voice which as he talked, turned into Bruce's voice at the same time as the carpet suddenly reappeared in full lush red. "these purebloods are here to service you."

OK, now that was Bruce.

I looked up the stairs, back in the mansion, and Bruce, as I knew him, regally dressed in a cape and holding the cane that he had with him when I first saw him in Mccarren Park, with two naked women draped around him- that I recognized as Kate Frost and Katie Holmes.

"Come to us Kirk" said Kate Frost.

"We've missed you" said Katie Homes, blowing me a kiss.

I faltered on the stairs for a moment and took a step upwards.

As I gazed into the eyes of the women, and then to Bruce I saw a flash of terror in his eyes as Alyssa's voice cut through the illusion.

"Kirk! Goddamnit! Snap out of this!"

I had another crippling headrush, and Bruce's eyes's, widened in terror, were the only things that didn't change, as his body, the mansion, the women and the stairs reverted back to the cellar scene. Bruce wasn't Bruce. He was short and fat, and women were not women, they were dogs, and I was in a dirty basement.

And as the illusions fell away, the memories returned.

Memories.

I wasn't living in a mansion. I wasn't any kind of chosen werewolf, I was living in a basement and I had been....

Oh fuck.

Had I been having sex with dogs?

My knees buckled under me and I fell down the cellar stairs. Shaking my head, I turned around and saw several things I recognized from Alyssa's old loft. My computer, a bed, two cages.

What the fuck was happening to me?

I rolled over and saw Alyssa.

"Kirk! Kirk! Can you see me?"

"Yes" I said. "I can."

"Well untie me, dipshit, we have to get out of here."

She was never much for tact.

I turned to her and untied her hands, when the unfamiliar voice cried out from the top of the stairs. "Kirk. You're sick. Let me take care of you- you are going through something awful, and I can help. Remember the Patriots- have I ever been wrong about anything?"

It wasn't Bruce's voice. I had another violent headrush, and when my eyesight returned, I was back in the mansion, and I saw and heard Bruce, walking down the stairs towards me. "That's it my boy. You have learned control. And with control, comes power. You do want power, don't you?"

I looked over my shoulder, and Alyssa was gone.

I was in the foyer of the mansion, and Bruce was standing over me, with the two women by his side.

"Get up my boy."

I struggled to get to my feet and as I was trying to rise, I was knocked to the floor as, of all things, a mailbox, disconnected from it's post and travelling with a great deal of speed, shattered though the glass doors, sending flying glass into my face, and knocking me to the ground. It was the voice that truly shattered things though. A familar voice- Mickey's.

"No! Stay down!"

As I heard his voice, the mansion disappeared and I was back in the cellar, with the short man standing over me, his dogs licking my face.

"It's me, Kirk- It's Dan."

This time the voice was in my head. Dan's voice, from the iPod. I touched my ears and I wasn't wearing headphones but it WAS Dan, and he WAS speaking to me, in my head.

"He's tricking you Kirk. It's mind control."

"Dan?" I put my head in my hands, and squeezed.

I opened my eyes and I was on red carpet again, with the two women stroking my hair.

"There, there" said Katie Holmes. "It'll all be better soon. It'll all be better."
"Take it slow lover," said Kate Frost. I've seen this happen, and everything will be fine."
Bruce's voice, as I remembered it, boomed into my ears.

"Rest is what you need Kirk. Give me your arm."

I felt his fist clench around my arm as the women stroked my head and I saw a syringe coming towards me. As it got closer and closer to my arm, Bruce was knocked off his feet by something invisible. When he landed, I was back in the basement and the short man was rolling on the ground with Alyssa. She had tackled him, and there was a struggle. The two dogs, which were right up in my face, barked sharply, startling me, and causing me to sit up straight.

"Kirk. It's Dan- you there, buddy?"

The voice in my head was back, and it was Dan.

"Get that motherfucker off Alyssa, and let's get out of here."

And then. Only then, did I truly know. Did I truly remember.

A rage consumed my entire body, and a deep snarl started in the back of my throat.

I was changing, and this time, I didn't want to fight it.

"ALYSSA!" My voice was more of a roar than a human voice, but I made no effort to calm myself.

"RUN!"

There was power in my body and there was rage. I was awake, and fucking pissed.

The short man, who I had known as Bruce, rolled off Alyssa, and she took off up the stairs, followed by the dogs, tails between their legs. I felt my spine snapping and expanding and my jaw stretching and jutting out of my head. My ears were filled by the sounds of bristiling hair.

The man got to his feet.

"Kirk. Listen to me."

It wasn't Bruce's voice.

"You need control."

It wasn't Bruce.

But it didn't really matter either way, becuase at that point, I wasn't Kirk.

"You have to understand- this was the only way- it HAD to be thi-"

I didn't get the rest of what he was saying, mostly becuase it's hard to really comprehend what someone is trying to say when you're busy tearing his throat out. Most of what happened was a frenzy. I heard gurgling and snapping, I felt a the warm spray of blood across my muzzle, and I gotta be honest with you guys, I just killed the fuck out of that son of a bitch.

Afterwards there was silence, sporadically broken up by the involuntary snarling that came from my blood-filled throat. I paced around the cellar, examining the chunks of bone and flesh that remained. They were pretty much littered all around the basement and the wall where Alyssa had been tied was dripping with blood.

I raised my head in the air, filled up my lungs with not only the stuffy air of the basement but also the adrenalene of the kill, and howled. Like, really, really, howled. In a flash, I was bounding up the steps of the cellar, smashed through the front door of what appeared to be a country home of some kind and just ran towards the woods.

I ran, and ran, and ran- and that's where everything got fuzzy again.

The next thing I remember I was waking up naked in the snow by a frozen creekbed.

Which totally sucked, cause it was fucking cold as a motherfucker.

I felt myself dying, and just didn't care. The cold was so intense that it felt warm, nice, kind of narcotic. My mind phased out and I settled into the swirling darkness. I saw a light and was moving towards it when I heard yet another voice.

"Kirk. My God- come back to me!"

It was Alyssa- I tried to blink, but my eyelids were frozen shut. My whole body shook, in an involuntary spasm. I realized there was a blanket around me, and I felt a snap in my legs as she rolled me over. I passed out again, and woke up in Brooklyn.

I can't fucking believe that I fucked those dogs.

I mean, shit.

I hope you zooskool fucks are enjoying the irony here, but that's just nasty.

Holy fucking shit.

Alyssa left.

2005-01-30T05:52:00.000-05:00

I don't know where to start.

I mean, fuck.

I don't even know if this blog is a good idea.

I gotta tell you people, I feel weird even posting this, but I'm telling myself that posting every day is the right thing to do, seeing as I slacked off so much when I was in that goddamn phony-ass werewolf syndicate.

The thing is, I know that there are a lot of people who read this thing now, and I'm feeling a lot of pressure to, oh I don't know- keep the story moving, but that's just the thing.

Life isn't a fucking story.

I had a long, shitty day at work, and for all the assholes who said that they called the store earlier, when I actually work there the only goddamn phone calls I get are from shitheads who want to know if Napolean Dynamite is in.

And it isn't.

By the way, that movie sucks, people.

For fuck's sake, there are so many movies out there that actually ARE cool, and you fucking sheep just want the latest fucking flash in the pan ripoff of something that Wes Anderson did WAY better?

I mean shit- rent Schizopolis, rent Wings of Desire, rent a fucking Hal Hartley movie, you assholes! There are great, cool quirky movies out there, and you shitheads need Napolean Dynamite? Crack a fucking book, read a website, do something!

Now don't get me wrong, I have no problem with somebody walking into a video store and just getting something to pass the time. Fuck- rent Secret Window, rent Collateral, rent that fucking totally average thing with the dude from scrubs and Natalie Portman, I don't give a fuck, that's fine, but you gotta call ahead for an epic piece of phony garbage like Napolean Dynamite?

And no, I don't care if I spelled it wrong.

Incidently, "Vote for Pedro" should really only be interpreted as a way to get behind the motherfucking World Champion Boston Red Sox.

I guess I just object to the idea that you are renting the "cool" movie because you have pretentions that you actually know what is cool, and I hate to tell you people, that ain't it.

The best part of my day happened around 11:30 AM, when there was no one in the video store and I watched the Buffy musical.

Buffy, by the way, on it's shittiest day, is way cooler than that colostomy bag of a movie.
And I haven't even seen it.

I've had it up to fucking here with all this "Geek Chic" shit. That ended in 1999, Get the fuck over it.

Nerds aren't cool, goddamnit, that's why they're nerds.

Fuck it.

I'm sorry, I know you probably want to hear the whole goddamn story of how I got out of there, but guess what dickheads?

I don't feel like doing it tonight.

Go fuck yourselves.

Back at the video store.

2005-01-29T02:28:00.000-05:00

You heard me.

11:00 AM tomorrow, I open the gates. I'm on till 5:30, call then if you want, douchebags, you'll find out if Kirk Thomson really works there.

Still, it's a little frustrating. I go through a measure of hell that I thought unimaginable, commit horrible acts of violence, come face to face with something I abhor, realize that it is in me to a certain extent, and come out the other side unscathed, well physically at least.

I never want to look at another dog again.

So I get back, call John at the video store, and what do I hear?

"Hey! How was Prague? Can you open tomorrow?"

"Sure, fuck it."

I guess you guys wanna hear the story.

When the guys knocked at my door, I was so confused that I literally was led from the room in a daze. I was glad to see that the post turned up alright, cause as they dragged me away, Blogger was still doing that wonky "Your blog is being published" screen, which means it is:
a) really being published
b) isn't publishing at all and you lose your whole post
or
c) posts it about 17 times.

But my head was swimming. I mean, Mickey had just told me that he was actually Dan Reilly, the ghost who was trapped in my iPod (Well, actually, HIS iPod, but why nitpick) that Alyssa had sent him into Mickey's body, the Bruce was evil and I was walking into a trap.

He was kinda right.

First, I thought, well -duh- he read my blog.

I mean, I had smelled him in my room and next to my computer, and he had been real shifty around me ever since I was sort of responsible for feeding his buddy Lars to another werewolf, but let's be honest, fuck that guy. He was a dick. I mean, if you get work as a werewolf wrangler, you gotta expect to get scratched up a little. I mean, fuck- don't sign up to be a rodeo clown if you're gonna bitch when a bull steps on your nuts, is all I'm saying.

You know, let's just to take a moment here, sit back and reflect on how fucking intimidating my skill with metaphor is. I truly paint a picture with the written word.

OK, sorry about that. Back to our gripping tale-

I mean, the whole thing just seems off. Why would he avoid me? I wasn't pissed at him until he had been in my room. And I hadn't seen him in my room, just smelled him. And now here he was all tied up waiting to be slaughtered? And why was Bruce so cool all of a sudden with me eating one of his employees? Granted, I don't exactly know how he hires these guys and keeps their morale up, but I'd wager that when you allow a bad employee to be tied up and eaten it might make for a few awkward moments at the company Christmas party is all.

But what the hell do I know.

I did telemarketing for a couple years, and being ripped to peices by a bloodthirsty beast would have at least broken up the monotony.

So anyway, the handlers got me down to this holding area, and tied me to the wall. I could see through the open glass doors as the sun was setting, and could see the tracks in the snow where Mickey had run after his release. More importantly, his scent, still fresh in my nostrils, blazed a clear path of where I had to go. The power panic hit me like a thunderbolt, and with an involuntary spasm of my arms, broke the ropes that held me. I smelled the scent on the wind, lept up on all fours, and was enjoying the sound of a low, rumbling snarl that I startled to realize was coming from my own throat.

Then- I don't know...I just sort of...stopped.

It's funny what you think of when you get in these situations, and what is important to you. I felt the air around me, the thoughts inside me, and all confusion started falling away. My mind returned to the swimming pool, and what it felt like to walk into it slowly, with CONTROL.

Then, all of a sudden, like a thunderbolt, I saw Alyssa.

In my mind.

She was there.

"You see Kirk, no one can become a werewolf unless they desire a radical change in their lives. It's impossible."

Slowly, yet surely, I made a decision.

I made a choice.

I was not going to change.

Sure, I was feeling the urge to change, but why should I embrace it? Am I not my own man, standing on the earth with every right to be there as anyone else? And really, what kind of change was I looking for? Did I want more money? I dunno, I guess so, but not really. Did I want sex? I'd had all kinds of crazy sex with the purebloods, and that didn't cheer me up THAT much. Did I want love? I already had it, with Alyssa.

So what the fuck was I complaining about?

I stood up and walked into the light of the full moon as a man, for the first time in, well- honestly, in my whole life.

And it felt pretty good.

Just then, I heard a voice.

"Congratulations Mr. Thompson. You have passed with flying colors."

It was Bruce. From the second floor, he was calling to me from his chambers.

"Come up and see me. We have much to discuss."

And so I did.

I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, and believe me, it's worth it. But right now, I'm tired as hell and have to work in the morning.

To be continued.....

There's a Full Moon Tonight.

2005-01-24T21:03:00.000-05:00

So I'd like to get this post in quickly, because it might be my last.

I feel awful, and almost totally confused.

But it's worth bringing up this interesting fact.

I didn't change last night. In the past, the night before the full moon had caused me to change, but as I look back though the blog, it hasn't always.

I asked Bruce about it, and he said that I am gaining control. Also, I wonder about what Alyssa said. She said that when one is content with his life, it is impossible to change into the wolf. And aren't I content? I mean, I live in a mansion with my own private quarters, enjoy the services of my own personal harem, and am given the appropriate respect due a rogue champion.

Still, in order for this existence to really be ideal, I'd have to still be a werewolf, right? I mean, if I get too complacent, when the time comes to face Bruce in the ring, if I can't change, well- that would be a problem.

I've begun to wonder if I should be trusting this guy.

I went down to his chambers this afternoon to ask him about it, and to discuss what would happen tonight on the change, and when I got there he welcomed me warmly.

"Kirk!" He said, sweeping the door open wide upon my arrival. "It is wonderful to see you. And I have something for you. Your victim."

He pulled a curtain, revealing a sprawling view of the grounds. About sixty feet away, shackled to a large elm tree and standing in the snow was Mickey.

"He will be released on the grounds at 6:00 PM." You will be released when you change. I suggest you go out to visit him, and get his scent."

I kept quiet, for the most part, and decided to go out there. Bruce was kind of freaking me out, and I was still wondering if I could even change. I felt the panic rise, and thought it was happening, and then it just turned out to be plain old panic. Which is also scary.

I walked out the front door, and crunched through the snow towards where Mickey was shackled. He had been gagged with a thick piece of burlap, and looked as though he had been beaten badly. I looked behind me, and saw Bruce standing a safe distance away. He could see me, but I wasn't sure if he could hear.

As I got closer, Mickey surged at his shackles. His guttural attempts at speech seemed so persistant, that as I approached him, I was consumed with a burning curiosity to remove his gag. I looked back at Bruce. He was watching, but definately keeping his distance.

I really wanted to find out what he had been doing in my room and on my computer.

Fuck it.

I reached out and untied his gag.

"Kirk! Kirk! You've got to list-"

I stopped his diatribe with a backhanded slap across his face. Hard. He shut up.

"I don't want to hear it. You'll get a chance to talk soon. What were you doing in my room Mickey? And where the hell have you been the past week?"

"My name isn't Mickey. Anymore...I'm...this is gonna sound weird..."

I looked down at the back of my hand and saw his blood on the back of my hand. I stared at it, brought my hand to my face and smelled it. I could see the fear in his face paralyzing him. I liked it. His scent was as clear to me as the beam of a flashlight in a pitch black room. "Whatever, asshole- I don't care who you are."

I turned and started walking away.

"This is a set up! You know me Kirk! I've been to see Alyssa!"

I stopped in my tracks.

He went on: "You know me Kirk, I used to be Mickey but he is gone now, and I'm in his body."

I turned around

"So who are you then? And make it fast."

"You know me. You know me.." He kind of started to cry a little. "My name is Dan. Dan Reilly."

Holy fucking shit.

"KIRK!"

The voice was Bruce's, and I heard his purposeful steps striding towards me though the snow.

Mickey's face looked up at me and I stared into his eyes.

"Kirk!" He whispered. "You know it's true. Don't do this. It was Alyssa...she got me out...We taked about the series, you hate the Cure, you thought voting for Kerry was more important than this werewolf shit...you...you..." he started blubbering a little more. He looked up at me. "Your cat's name was...he was named.... Grapes."

Now it was my turn to be paralyzed.

"Don't....don't trust him....."

A hand came down on my shoulder.

It was Bruce.

"You'll be changing soon. You have his scent. It is time to prepare."

He steered me around with his hand and with a light but persistent pressure, directed me back towards the house. It was already getting darker even though it wasn't yet 5:00. I couldn't resist him. I don't know if I was just stunned by what Mickey...or was it Dan had said. I mean, how the hell could Mickey have possibly known about Grapes? I mean-

I rush of blood went to my head and I stumbled.

"Everything will be fine. You are making tremendous progress."

Bruce's voice was soothing, and I just kept walking away.

He led me back to my room, and got me inside.

"Now is the time to prepare. You will be hunting and killing the victim tonight, and it is an important step. I'm sure you don't want to give this up."

"I...I'm just a little bit.."

"Confused?"

Fuck! He was right. Bruce is always right. He grabbed my hand, which still had the blood on it and thrust it to my face. The scent was still there, still strong, and it focused me.

"That is all you need to know. Now, rest. Attendants will come for you before the change. They will knock, and you must answer. Now- prepare."

As he left, I heard the lock click behind him. I wasn't going anywhere.

I rushed to my computer and started writing this thing out- maybe it will clear my head, maybe It'll give me some answers- maybe- maybe...

Oh God.

Someone is knocking.

It's a few minutes past six.

Wish me luck.

I'm in the New York Times!

2005-01-24T02:53:00.000-05:00

So check it out.

Scroll down.

It's worth it my friends.

So it was written, and so it was done.

As a good friend of mine recently commented to me- Renee Price should have a lot of reassessing to do after seeing her weak plan next to mine.

By the way-

HOW 'BOUT THOSE PATS?!

Yeah, Rothlesburger knows how to win.

Cause, you know- causeTom Brady has never won in the postseason.

Oh, wait- HE'S NEVER LOST.

By the way- I've been wondering about this- what the hell was the name of that sleazy nighttime soap opera from the 80's? You know- it's right on the tip of my tongue- the one with Joan Collins, where she played this super, mega bitch? What the hell was that called?

Oh- I remember- DYNASTY!

That was it, Dynasty. I know that people haven't been saying that word very much recently, but maybe they oughta.

It was a good show, is all.

Still, the weird thing about the Times article is, I don't remember saying that to a reporter. I definately said it- but to who?

It's funny I remember saying it, but the person I was saying it to- my memory is still a little fuzzy.

Maybe I should ask Bruce about it. He knows everything. I mean, he even covered the spread with the Pats.

He's a smart guy.

The purebloods-

2005-01-18T17:48:00.000-05:00

OK- I know I said I would explain this, but my head has just been a little muddled of late.

So while I'm trying to sort that out, I guess I'll let you know what the deal is on the community and the purebloods.

From what I've learned so far, there are several packs of werewolves throughout the globe, and very few rogues.

I'm a rogue, or I guess, I was until I started working with Bruce. Whatever. Now I guess I'm the rogue champion.

Anyway, the way it works is the community of werewolves that were born werewolves, that is to say, with two werewolf parents, stay normal kids until puberty, at which time they are trained to get through their first transformations by their mothers and the pack. Seeing as they started at such a young age, many purebloods are able to go farther with their transformations than others, which explains why the females that were courting me were able to transform into whatever fantasy I desired.

Which by the way, is still awesome.

Seriously.

Can I stress that any more?

Sorry about that.

The downside is, for all the power that purebloods possess in mental control and transformative ability, they cannot maintain it beyond one generation. Many werewolves have tried to create mutigenerational families, but the relative smallness of the available gene pool inevitably leads to offspring who begin the transformation process too young, before the onset of puberty. This can permanantly warp and damage their bone and nerve structures, causing them to become horribly deformed, lumpy and twisted, often with irregular hair growth all over their bodies. I've seen some pictures, and it's not pretty. They live in agony, not knowing what is happening to them, until one transformation inevitably wounds them mortally, with perhaps one side of their ribcage growing too fast and piercing their heart or lungs. Sometimes, their skulls and brains will transform at unequal rates, which can causing irrevocable brain damage. Most often, though, their young spinal cords simply can't handle the strain of monthly expansion and reduction and just snap, leaving them totally paralyzed.

It's pretty awful, and leads to a pretty shitty young life for pureblood male werewolves, who are monitored quite closely from a young age. The particulary aggressive ones are neutered right off the bat, and the others get vasectomies fairly quickly after thier first transformation. I've felt the hatred and jealousy from several young male purebloods, who resent the kingly treatment accorded the rogue champion.

But they do OK. They compensate for their impotence by using their superior powers of shapeshifting to accrue vast amounts of wealth in the business world. You'd be amazed how easy it is to get a promotion when you can get a rival fired by assuming his form and hitting on the boss's wife at the holiday party. And it's not like they never have sex. Everyone knows that purebloods love human prostitutes, yet it's just never openly discussed, kind of like the porn industry in America. The community doesn't even really care if the purebloods kill the prostitutes.
The only unforgiveable sin is to create a new rogue, without the OK of the Alpha Male.

When you have a rogue running around, bad shit happens, the rogue flips out, and often kills people. Needless to say, the one thing werewolves do not need is bad press, or really, any press at all. At this stage, Bruce has pureblood males at key positions within all the local police departments and crime syndicates, and the attitude is pretty much live and let live, but still. Werewolves are fucking scary, and I don't give a crap if this is 2005, if the villagers get spooked, they'll still be coming with pitchforks and torches, and these days, those pitchforks are just as likely to be automatic weapons and grenade launchers. And yes, a werewolf can survive getting shot a few times, but conventional wisdom says don't push it.

I got shot in the head once and it fucking hurt like a motherfucker.

At any rate, when their are enough female purebloods of breeding age (15-21) the Alpha, who sired them, goes out to seek a rogue challenger. This means that he will bite two or more human males, and closely monitor them, until they have changed at least three times. He waits for three transformations because the new rogues often cannot handle their newfound gift, and either kill themselves ( I tried a couple times) or are killed by humans (one tried- it didn't work out so well for him).

The rogue challenger is picked on a select criteria- Age, Sexual Potency, Life Experience, and Outsider Status.

Seeing as they are bringing in an outsider who would potentially lead them, they want someone as old as possible, with enough accrued wisdom to help them deal with the human world, and not completely lose touch. Sure, an 18 year old can fuck like a beast, but you give a kid that much power that early, and 9 times out of 10 you get a psycho on your hands who lets his id run wild. Bruce was chosen young, but his Alpha was so impressed with his intelligence and fighting ability, that he took a chance. This worries me a little, but I'm no slouch. Plus, he has helped me, is interested in training me, and I do feel stronger. So- well- yeah.

Hmm.

Back to the story.

Anyway, they need an Outsider, becuase in order to take on this responsiblity, one must be willing to drop out of human society completely, and entanglements like a wife or children make that difficult.

Either way, as a 31 year old video store clerk in Williamsburg who graduated from a good university with a degree in English Literature, I was kind of a sitting duck. I was older, had life experience, was sexually active, knew a thing or two about the world, had no idea what my future would hold and a job that wouldn't miss me. Add to that the fact that I thought it would be a good idea to walk across the Williamsburg bridge in the middle of the night of a full moon, while drunk and high, and you pretty much have some choice-ass werewolf bait there.

So there you have it.

The Alpha runs the pack, services the female purebloods and when the time is right, selects and faces a challenger from the pool of rogues he creates. The entire community is funded by the economic efforts of the male purebloods, who rise though Corporate America, and make the whole thing possible. So yeah, if you ever mouth off about corporations being evil, you don't know the half of it. Some of those guys are fucking MONSTERS.

Necessary monsters, but still- yeesh- it gives me the willies to think about it.

Also, I haven't seen Mickey in days. It's got me a little worried.

Fuck it, I'm taking a swim.

I saw Bruce today

2005-01-17T21:20:00.000-05:00

It wasn't the best visit.

I stopped by his quarters cause I wanted to tell him about Mickey sniffing around my stuff.

When I walked in, he seemed to be nowhere around. No scent, no sign no nothing. Then, out of nowhere, came a hand on my shoulder.

"Kirk. You've come."

I whirled around to face him, visibly startled- "Oh- uh, hey Bruce, look- I"

"I startled you. No matter. I was hiding my presence from you. In time, you will learn to do the same. It will benefit you when you face me."

"I am facing you."

"No no, I mean FACE ME face me. Like, in the ring."

"Oh. Yeah. Look, anyway, I have this probl-"

"Mickey."

"Yeah. Um- how'd you?"

"There is little that goes on here that I am not completely aware of. Who is Kate Frost by the way? I'd never heard of her."

"Oh, man- she's dynamite- this cute little blonde with.. wait- I had something I wanted to say- it's..umm, it's Mickey. He was- "

"In your room. I know."

"Yeah- you see I-"

"You smelled him."

"Yes!"

That must have made you feel powerful."

"Yeah, totally!"

"Well good, you're making progress."

"Yeah- I guess. I mean, sure but why-"

"Why would he enter your space?"

"Yeah."

"Does it matter?"

"Well, yeah- I mean, that's my room, and"

"He's a human. You are not. Do not distract yourself with insignificant gnats. Do you want to kill him? You can, you'll need a victim on this full moon."

"Wait- a victim?" My head was swimming.

"Yes. Now don't think just now. You're probably hungry."

"Yeah, I am- I could really go for-"

"One of these?"

He walked to the corner of his chamber, and pulled a tablecloth off a rolling room service cart. On it was a plate containing a grilled Ham and Cheese, fries and can of coke.

"Wow! Yeah! Solid, thanks!"

I headed over for the food.

"Jeez- you know everything." I took a bite, and it was delicious. "By the way, do you have any idea how the Pats are going to do against the Steelers next week? Wait- don't tell me I kinda wanna..."

"Ahem. I believe the Patriots, with Corey Dillon elevating their ground game, Troy Brown playing well on both sides of the ball, Tom Brady's skill and experience leading his team down the field in big games and the frankly lethal accuracy that Adam Vinatieri brings to the field in any weather, I think you don't want to count the Pats out. The Steelers are formidable, but Rothlesburger is a rookie, and frankly, they had a really hard time with the Jets. Pats by 13."

"Oh. Well- hmm. OK then. Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Did you have any other questions?"

"No. I guess- I mean...no. Thanks."

"Enjoy your sandwich."

When I looked up, he was gone.

Did he say victim?

How 'bout those Pats!

2005-01-16T20:20:00.000-05:00

Damn!

What a game.

From beginning to end, top to bottom, the New England Patriots treated Peyton Manning like the candy-ass, crybaby, really-good-when-he's-winning-by-20 motherfucker he is.

Of course, the victory celebration was only enhanced by the senusal full body massage I recieved after the game by three purebloods resembling a modern day Kate Frost, a late 70's Marilyn Chambers and early 80's Jacklyn Smith. I'd give you some links, but I'm still a little logy.

I'll tell ya, it's hard to make a decision on which one of these women I'm going to impregnate when they keep shifting forms on me. Of course, the problems I'm having now are not the worst problems I've ever had.

I haven't seen Mickey around. I've been distracted a bit I guess, but still- I usually see him everyday, and today, he's been nowhere.

Whatever- there are some new Family Guy's on tonight, and even though the Simpson's are sucking, I'm glad to have a break to do this update and figure out what I want the purebloods to look like when I go to bed tonight.

The next full moon is January 25th, which means I can watch the Pittsburgh game, and if they pull it off, I could watch the Pats in the Super Bowl. I'm not sure if you know what that means to me, but let's remember- I MISSED THE FUCKING RED SOX WINNING THE WORLD SERIES.

Yeah, it's awesome that they won it- but you know where I was when Foulke fielded that one hopper to the mound?

I was covered in hair, raging around a Brooklyn apartment, with a dead cat in my mouth.

It's just not a traditional "where were you when" story, ya know?

And now, I'm going to have the chance to see a Boston sports team going for a championship, and even though I have this- affliction- I know I can live with it, and actually look forward to a life and a future beyond the next full moon.

That is a confidence I haven't felt in almost half a year.

I feel great.

Mickey was in my room today.

2005-01-14T22:36:00.000-05:00

I didn't see him, but I smelled the son-of a-bitch.

I'd just gone out for a dip in the pool and diving exercises, and when I got back to my room I smelled that something was up. I've been swimming every day, as Bruce recommends spending as much time as possible in or under the water when human. He figures that learning to maximize the use of the muscles in a different medium helps a new werewolf to acclimate to another form. He says that if you concentrate when you are a wolf, it feels somewhat like being underwater, like you can see things, and react to them, but you aren't always in control, and everything feels foreign. Supposedly, when I change, if I do my best to imagine that I am not shifting form, just shifting mediums, it will help me maintain an element of control, and be able to deal with the rage that overtakes me in a more constructive manner.

According to him, if I actively attempt to rethink my transformation as not a loss of control, but a transition into a different plane of existence, I could be the better for it. It's the difference between being pushed into a raging river, or easing into a warm pool. When I begin to change, I must look at it like entering the water on my own terms. Once I am in the water, everything will look slightly different, my motion and breathing patterns will be altered, and I need to behave, react and think differently in order to survive. I need to understand that the pool is a metaphor for what I have become, and everytime I enter it, I am in fact entering a part of myself.

With that in mind, I should probably feel more guilty than I do about about pissing in it so much.

Ah, well.

When a man's gotta go, a man's gotta go.

Plus, the purebloods all have to clear out when I want to swim, and the pool is there for the protegee. I'm sure some of them bitch about it, but fuck 'em, I'm marking my territory. I didn't see any of them fighting in the arena for crying out loud.

Still, I couldn't figure out what Mickey wanted in my room. According to the scent trail, he sat at my computer for a while, stood in front of my clothes dresser, opened and closed all the drawers, and messed around with my bed, possibly lifting up my mattress. I didn't have anything under there, but it seems he was looking for something.

I think we're gonna have to have a little chat.

I've been learning a lot.

2005-01-12T04:27:00.000-05:00

I've been reading, and I've been talking with Bruce about what I'm going through.

What I have found is that there is a lot about monsters that people don't understand. Monsters are everywhere. Monsters are among us. And there is nothing wrong with that. OK- I'm not saying that it's OK for monsters to run around killing people willy-nilly, in fact I'm not even condoning the use of the term "willy-nilly" but still.

There is evil in this world.

And it's not easy to quantify.

Sure, it's quick and easy to turn on the History Channel and see tape of Hitler and see evil, but it's the everyday evil that is more pervasive. And, I might say, necessary. You see, what I've been learning is that evil doesn't take over the world. Evil doesn't care about the entire world, Evil only cares about itself. And really, who can blame anybody that puts themself first?

And in a way, it relates to this blog.

I've read Shelly's Frankenstein, and Stoker's Dracula, and both of them, like this blog, are epistolary. I know it might be odd for me to refer to this blog as an epistolary novel, but honestly, what else is it? Sure, I have shrugged off the pretense of writing letters to others and including the narrative with them, but really, if you are reading this, then is this not a letter to you?

And are you not, by reading it, a willing accomplice in whatever it is I do?

Sorry, but you are.

I met three women recently, all pureblood werewolves, who all seem very interested in me. I think one of them was named Julie. Who knows? Apparently, I am destined to impregnate a female, as I have come out of the combat as the champion, and there are quite a few purebloods who have come courting.

It seems that the only male who can impregnate the female purebloods are those who have experienced not only combat with another wolf, but life before the bite. And that male is to have his pick of any of the pureblood females (that is to say women who were born werewolves) in order to advance the species with a combination of experience and purity. But there are a lot of them. And any kind of foreplay is pretty much an....audition.

Also, purebloods have the unique ability to not only shapeshift into wolves, which they do every full moon, but to shift into any human form at will.

So, not to brag, but in the past three days, I've gotten a series of vigorous blowjobs and handjobs from the likes of Natalie Portman, Katie Holmes and Anna Kournikova.

Sorta explains why I haven't posted in a while.

It's funny.

Four months ago, I was nothing.

Now, I am something of a king.

I'm getting used to this lifestyle.

My motherfucking morals-

2005-01-09T01:59:00.000-05:00

-are fine.

Thank you very much.

I mean, Christ!

Why is it that whenever I try to do the right thing some son-of-a bitch calls my morals into question? I mean, really- what are morals, after all? Rules? Internal safety zones to protect you from straying...well- where? Into evil?

Wake the fuck up people.

I have morals. I have done my best to live morally, given my "unusual circumstances" which I include in quotations because the problem I have is not your traditional "Bill finds a wallet with 40 dollars in it. Does he return the wallet with the money in it or does he steal it?" kind of morals, here.

I'm a motherfucking werewolf, and before that happened, I worked in a fucking video store for Christ's sake. I didn't really have anything going on! Yeah, I wrote, and yes- I've done some music, but fuck! Let's look at the real deal here. I wasn't doing that well!

And now- this thing happens to me, and all of a sudden there's a guy here who is going to teach me to become what I have the potential to become- somebody. And it doesn't matter if that somebody is a writer, or a musician, or any specific detailed thing, I just need to become....something.

And if that something is a werewolf, and there is a guy who knows how to make me the best werewolf I can be, then shouldn't I be allowed to explore that?!

I mean, fuck!

On page 99 of Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" the monster speaks for the first time. I know, maybe to those of you who only saw the movies, you think that the monster couldn't speak. But in the original, it can, and it does. It comes face to face with it's Creator, who hated it, like my parents hated me, and the Creator says:

"Devil! Do you dare to approach me?And do you not fear the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head? Begone vile insect! Or rather stay, that I may trample you to dust! And oh! that I could, with the extinction of your miserable existence, restore those victims that you so diabolically murdered!?"

At this point, it is worth bringing up that in the novel, the monster had in fact, murdered several people close to the Creator. But he was pretty scared. It is also worth mentioning that I have only killed one guy myself, who was trying to kill me at the time, and was only indirectly responsible for the death of another, who- really, just fell into the wrong enclosed cell at the wrong time. And, yes, I caused a bus accident, but I was suicidal at the time, and anyway- I ended up saving a kid's life. So whatever, call Peter Singer, figure it out, fuck, I don't care, but I feel like however the moral calculus works out, I did the best I fucking could.

Just saying.

But now- even though Frankenstein's monster had killed, listen to his eloquence in response to the hatred he had just endured from his Creator:

"I expected this reception. All men hate the wretched; how, then must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet you, my Creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You purport to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life? Do your duty toward me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of mankind. If you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and you at peace; but if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until it be satiated with the blood of your remaining friends."

OK- kinda fucked up, but eloquent, and he has a point.

First off, let's deal with the Monster's intelligence. In the movies, how fucked up is it that Frankenstein is some chock-a-block manchild without a thought in his head, yet the original text gives him such eloquence? I mean, if you watch a werewolf movie, the werewolves are all, well- animals. So does it not follow that werewolves in real life could be thoughtful members of society? Why must a werewolf be vicious? Does the possibility not exist that there could be a werewolf with a brain? I mean, when I was on Ativan, I was a real chill werewolf- why couldn't I learn to control that without the benefit of drugs?

Secondly, in terms of dealing with his bitterness, the monster has a point.

He is saying to his creator, or in my case, society, I will treat you the way you have treated me. Treat me as a monster, and a monster you will breed.

I am a member of a fraternity that is extremely rare. I can transform into something with incredible power. That power is to be respected and honored. I f you honor it, there is no reason for you to come to harm. If you attack me, I will strike back with terrible ferocity, and believe me, I have the capability to do so.

And those who are weak should die anyway.

Hmm.

It's funny.

I'm in the same apartment, but the video store seems pretty far away.

Werewolf training

2005-01-07T02:08:00.000-05:00

Isn't that bad.

I called Alyssa, and told her that I was OK, and for now, she's cool with it.

I can't see anybody when I'm going through this, and I called the video store and told them I was going to Prague. That's the beautiful thing about Williamsburg is you can tell anybody that you are "Going to Prague" and everybody buys it. It's like a month long reprieve from your life.

Actually, now that I'm human for a month, It's pretty boring. There's a lot of reading. I got in a fight with Bruce becuase I was trying to explain that film is just as much literature as books are, but he wasn't hearing me. He just wants me to read the classics.

But when I'm a werewolf, training is exciting- the day after the arena fight, I changed into a werewolf and Bruce put me in this maze. I wasn't sure sure what the point was until I came upon this old man. He was weak, and dressed in rags, and seeing as I was a wolf, I was definately into eating him. So I walked up to him, kinda slowly, sort of digging the fear he was sending off, and just as I was about to strike, he pulled out a handgun and shot me right in the fucking head.

Like, drilled a bullet into my brain.

Now, I'm not sure how many of you have ever been shot in the head, but I'll tell you, as a supernatural being who can wake up and survive that shit, it sucks.

Like, it really fucking hurts.

That bullet hit me in the head and I went DOWN, man.

Like I fell hard, and it fucking hurt.

Have you ever heard anybody say that they have a "skull-splitting" headache?
Well, I've had one, and it's because a fucking bullet spilt my skull. Granted, given my situation, I'm no Jim Brady , I mean, the bullet eventually oozed out of my head and my brain reconfigured itself, but shit- it's no fun to have a bullet in your brain.

Trust me on this one.

I guess what Bruce was going for was to warn me that every opponent, no matter how weak, could have a hidden strength, and to prepare for that.

Which is cool, I guess.

He's also got me reading the original "Frankenstein" by Mary Shelly.

It's interesting.

Alright guys-

2005-01-06T01:58:00.000-05:00

- now look.

I wouldn't normally post at this time, but I'll be honest with you. It's late at night, I'm a little drunk, and I'm more than a little upset at one of the commenters of late.

A couple entries ago, the one that described the werewolf arena fight, someone mentioned that Jeff's stripes would make him a were-skunk.

Cool, OK- I'm down with that, whatever-

THEN, some other dude chimes in with:
"But then, of course, the African were-skunk is non-migratory."

Look people.

I know that I am doing a blog about being a werewolf, and that is going to appeal to a certain nerdy element within the internet community. I'm fine with that, I'm a bit of a geek myself, and I can handle it.

However, I'd like to take this space to say that if there is going to be some nerd shit out there- can we hold off on the Holy Grail references?

That's some weak-ass nerd shit right there. I mean, like that's some shit that like, 9 year old nerds can bring.

If you're going to bring the nerd shit from now on, BRING THE REAL NERD SHIT.

None of this "Tis a flesh wound!" garbage.

Fuck that.

If you're going to bring that tired shit , the only thing you'll be trying to chop down with "a herring" is my fat dick. Seriously, if you're coming to my door with a Holy Grail reference, you should go back to nerd school, cause you failed. In fact you're such a shitty nerd, maybe you should pick up a Lacrosse stick, cause I bet you're pretty good at it, you just never tried before. Whatever, you're not a nerd. And if you are, FUCK, do you suck at it.

Been there, done the Holy Grail thing, way back in Mrs Windhol's third grade classroom.

Wanna reference Star Wars? Go nuts. Buffy? What the hell. Throw a Slap Shot reference in there- I'm as good to go as Hanrahan's wife . Lord of the Rings? Sketchy, but I'll allow it. Fuck, make a Zooskool reference! According to my sitemeter, 15 people a day come to this site on google searches for Zooskool alone!

Zooskool, for fuck's sake!

In case you don't know, that's a site featuring graphic pictures of people having sex with animals. And sorry, you're not getting a link. If you want to see it, you'll have to go ahead and google it yourself, dog-fucker. And when you do, THIS site will come up in your search.

Yeesh.

Still, I understand why, I mean, I turn into an animal sometimes, and I have sexual relations with other humans. The guy who put the link in wasn't doing something totally unrelated to the topic at hand. Still, it's worth clearing up. I do have sex with women, but ONLY when I'm human as well. Never when I'm an animal. I suppose if I WAS horny when I was a werewolf, I'd be capable of it, I mean, damn- I don't have a hell of a lot of control over what I do when I change, but the fact is, plain and simple, when I turn into a werewolf, sex is the farthest thing from my mind.

If you want me to break down the emotions I do feel, I can. Here goes:

-Hunger
-Rage

That's about it. Occasionally, pain enters into the equation, but never really fear- just rage, discomfort with the pain, and dealing with that discomfort with rage. You know, unless I get hungry again.

Come to think of it, I'm hungry now.

I think I'm gonna go make a grilled cheese.

I'll tell you about werewolf training tomorrow.

And lay off the Holy Grail shit, OK?

I mean, fuck- The Holy Grail?

For crying out loud.

As it turns out-

2005-01-05T17:49:00.000-05:00

He wasn't pissed at me.

He was pretty impressed.

He told me that he had Jeff executed, and thanks to my intelligent avoidence of the situation, I had displayed the kind of skills a master werewolf needs. Then he asked me if there was anything on earth that I desired right now.

I went for a grilled cheese sandwich with bacon, and he came through.

It was pretty goddamn good, and I know what you are thinking, when you get asked if there is anything on earth that you desire, perhaps you wouldn't waste that on a grilled cheese, I offer up the following two arguments:

1) He didn't say it in that "Genie in a bottle" way, and it didn't seem like it would be the last time he would ask.

2) I really desired a grilled cheese with bacon at that time. I hadn't eaten, and I was hellahungry.

Anyway, so I'm gonna start "werewolf training."

Rad, huh?

Maybe I oughta call Alyssa.

Lars and Mickey

2005-01-04T13:14:00.000-05:00

Were two BIG dudes.

One white, one black, but both united in the purpose of getting my ass out of the van. As the door opened I saw them standing before me and said "Hey Lars." The white guy looked up. "Hey Mickey!" I said, and as the other guy's eyes met mine, I clapped my hands: "clap-clap clap-clap."
"Hey Mickey! *clap-clap* *clap-clap* Hey Mickey!"

I guess I saw Lars' fist coming, but there was really nothing I could do about it.

I awoke in a sandy cage with a wooden portcullis type door, and could already feel myself changing. I was pretty pissed at Lars for sucker punching me. I would have gone along, I mean, what the fuck- it was a dumb joke, you have to slug me? Unfortunately, my crazy getup had been stripped off me, so I can't tell you if it would have worked. As the power-surge began, I started to see some physical changes, and the wooden door began rising upward, revealing what looked to be a large bullfighting ring, about as big as a the defensive zone of a hockey rink, with the same sandy floor as the pen I was in. I looked up and saw Lars, standing about 20 feet above the ceilingless pen, holding the rope of the door and hauling it up. I growled at him, and kind of phased out a little, as the wolf took full control of my body. Transformation complete, I prowled cautiously out into the ring, and kept staring up at Lars, until I smelled Jeff. I turned and saw an identical door to the one I had emerged from opening. I glanced up and saw Mickey, hauling a rope.

Jeff, by the way, is a big fucking werewolf. I'm not quite sure why he's so much bigger than I am, seeing as we are of similar body types, but there you go. He also has this weird white streak though the back of his fur that makes him look even meaner. I'm sure I would have been paralyzed with a pant-shitting fear if I was not somewhat formidible myself at the time.

In almost a blur, Jeff bounded out of the pen towards me, and I remember thinking that he was not my enemy.

Lars was.

He was the one who had recently hurt me, and was on top of my pen. Yes, I was concerned about the large werewolf charging me, but maybe as my rage was not focused on him, I was able to deftly roll to the side to avoid his full on attack and added a nice roundhouse swipe of my paw across across his back, drawing blood and using his momentum to send him somersaulting into my pen where he hit the wall with a satisfying cracking sound. My eyes flashed up at Lars and I roared- right at him. I could see the fear in his eyes, a fear I didn't recognize from our last meeting, and it gave me strength.
I was going to get that son-of-a bitch.

With a remarkable fluidity, I jumped from the sand, to the bars of the pen, to the top of the gate and launched myself towards the platform on top of the arena. I heard Lars shout as he stepped back, holding tight to the rope. I didn't quite have the distance to get all the way to the top of the ring, but at the highest arc of my jump, I must have tried to grab the rope and it parted, sending me, the rope, the door of the pen, and Lars all crashing to the ground.

Unfortunatley for Lars, he fell INSIDE the pen.
The door fell closed with him.
Jeff was in the pen.
Our Jeff.

Quint: [singing] Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies / Farewell and adieu you ladies of Spain. / For we received orders for to sail back to Boston / And soon never more will we see you again.

I felt a sharp dart strike me in the back. Everything faded to black and I awoke in a strange bed in a single room I did not recognize. I heard the door unlock from the outside and saw Bruce stride into the room.

He did not look happy.