Tag Archives: Diary

If I Were a Werewolf…


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My face, mid-transformation! Okay, you caught me…this is just an excuse to show off the beard…

If I woke up to discover I were a Teen Wolf werewolf, what would I do?  It’s easy to invade the hypothetical with ridiculous ideas, because, of course, the idea of being a werewolf is, itself, ridiculous.  I am wont to say I would transform and haunt the hillside; that I would use my wolfish form to terrorize my nemeses (that’s right, I gots more than one); that I would surprise my friends with my anamorphic secret; and that, generally, I would indulge in the hunt & the howl.  But, really, how would the world encounter a real werewolf?  The old trope of a government lab?  Public fear?  A witch-hunt on werewolves?  In the real world, how would you react to a man who turned into a wolf?  You can’t really say, right?  It’s like if a nefarious individual stepped at you in a dark alley.  Are you going to pop that fool with a right hook, or are you going to fetal-position the nearest corner or crevice?  You don’t know until it happens.  So, if some dude sprouts tufts of fur, *howl are you going to react?  You can’t be sure until it happens…

Taking that into consideration, my hypothetically being a werewolf takes on a new meaning.  See, I’m the type of person who, when littering, puts the to-be-littered item down on the ground, pretending I will pick it back up while pantomiming what I think it looks like to intend to pick it back up, all in service of the off-chance that someone is watching and actually gives a shit that I’m leaving my straw-sleeve on the pavement.  And, at the end of the day, I don’t even litter in the first place.  **Because I’m too scared.  Now apply that mindset to lycanthropy–hells-no am I haunting the hillside!  You never know, the hills might have eyes (#horrormovieallusion), and I might get caught, and people own guns (#thankyousecondamendment).  I’m not trying to die here, you know?  And with that preamble out of the way, welcome to my maybe recurring segment of If I were a Werewolf: How my Day would be Different if I were a Wolf-man

Dear Diary,

Today I almost felt insecure at Starbucks as patrons effortlessly remembered which sizes corresponded to small, medium, and large.  I don’t frequent this place.  I know enough to know that saying small, medium, or large in here is a faux pas (or faux paw, as my wolfy condition may warrant).  Which is to say, I know enough to be self-conscious about not knowing the names of things.  Damn you, Starbucks!  And so, almost feeling stupid, I ordered a Grande Vanilla Blonde Roast because I like vanilla, knew enough to know that Tall was the smallest (#thereisnologicinthisplace), and knew enough to know that  I didn’t want the smallest (#Iamnotachild).  I still don’t know what the other option is.  Did I get the largest?  Grande seems like it should be the largest.  But, then again, so does Tall.  Who knows?  Probably all of you.  You are all reading this, wanting to insult my ignorance.  And yet, I am a werewolf, lest you forget.  I could devour you.  So watch the judgment, fella.  Back to the story.  That smarmy cashier could sense my trepidation–my wolfish senses could sense him sensing it.  And I would have felt small…grrr…Tall, but I didn’t because I was a werewolf and a werewolf feels tall, not Tall.  That’s right, Starbucks, I re-appropriate your nomenclature to make jokes at your expense!  Anyway, so the cashier has no idea that I could have transformed and mauled him for taking the time to ask my name, yet not taking the time to consider that “Rice” is never someone’s name!  Who names their child Rice?  C’mon now.  My name is Reese.  Reese!  Like the candy.  Not Rice.  Like the Asian dish.  Just take the time to re-ask my name, because it is clearly not Rice…  But, because I was a werewolf, I forgave him.  He’ll never know I was a werewolf, or that I had brief plans to hound him like the sometimes-hound I am.  But I know that I am a werewolf.  And that gives me confidence.  And that’s enough.  It’s a good thing I am a werewolf, even if the world will never know.

Bestest,

Not Aware Wolf

*Not a typo.  I’m just being stupidly clever.

**And because I’m a good person.  Shit, I’ll citizen’s-arrest your ass if I see you littering.  This has been a public service announcement in the guise of a blog entry!

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