Tag Archives: Werewolf

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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Pop-Culture Hunger Games: Part III


Note: If you missed Part I or Part II, click on the links!

The Contestants cont.

Rank: 11

Rank: 11

Derek Hale, MTV’s Teen Wolf:  Derek is what is commonly referred to as a “hunk.”  It’s a technical term, derived & abbreviated into a noun from the 20th century adjective “hunkalicious,” meaning:  to be, or otherwise possess qualities that make one, sexy, handsome, and/or panty-dropping, drop-dead gorgeous.  This evaluation of Derek holds under intense scrutiny, as it was arrived at through generous use of the scientific method, and then peer-reviewed by both male and female experts on the subject.  Below is an abridged version of the study:

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  1. Problem:  Is Teen Wolf’s Derek Hale dat sexy?
  2. Hypothesis:  He is.
  3. Procedure:  Inspect Derek Hale for something resembling sexiness.
  4. Observation:  Wolf wolf, partner.
  5. Conclusion:  Hypothesis is confirmed.
  6. Unexpected Results:  Tester’s virginity is forfeit.

The above study, available in full in the winter issue of Werewolves are Foxy, was tested & confirmed by no less than 22 scientists, the demographics of which ranged from single ladies to nuns to Mormon patriarchs.  All agreed, and all forfeited their virginities—or whatever was left of them—in the name of cold, hard, and hot (but still hard) science.  Even the famously flame-retardant Daenerys Targaryen, upon meeting Mr. Derek Hale, hailed him as, and I quote, “H-O-Double-T HOTT!”

What does this all mean for the games?  Absolutely nothing.  But Derek, in addition to being a specimen of both science and male prowess, is a werewolf, and an alpha one at that.  He’s super strong, a bit broody, and has eyebrows as dense as the core of a sun set to supernova.  He is truly a contestant to be reckoned with.

X-factor:  Derek, who boasts a similar brew of brood to Buffy’s old flame, Angel, might snare the affection of Ms. Summers.  If Derek is able to get her to let her guard down by reproducing Angel’s preferred courting method—namely, muttering cryptic & creepy nonsense, something Derek is already a pro at—he may be able to take Buffy out, which would be huge.

XXX-factor:  Because he’s so hardcore and reminds of a young, completely-different-in every-way-but-buffness Vin Diesel, Derek gets two X-factors, and the second one has the very hardcore XXX.  Derek, being an alpha werewolf, could actually infect his competitors with lycanthropy, hence forcing them into his pack.  Once in his pack and under his alpha influence, Derek could systematically kill everyone, growing more and more powerful like a less-blind, blindingly handsome Deucalion.

Stiles Stilinski

Rank: 5

Stiles Stilinski, MTV’s Teen Wolf:  Okay, so he is not a she as per the requirements of the games.  But the games decided to make an exception with Teen Wolf, as none of the possible female tributes tested well with focus groups.  That could have something to do with the severe lack of strong female characters in television and movies altogether, but that sounds like a far too real topic for these games.  So, excuse us while we Windex this glass ceiling, and then enjoy as we continue the popular trend of replacing potential female roles with male characters…  Yay for the marriage of irony and sarcasm; Stiles would be proud!   Anyway, we chose Stiles because Lydia’s Cordeila Chase impression lacked, how do you say, a certain Charisma, and Allison’s Katniss Everdeen impression reminded too much of, well, Katniss Everdeen— we’d like to avoid the comparison to the slightly more popular incarnation of the Hunger Games, ya know?  And so, we arrive at Stiles!  On the plus side, Stiles and Derek create the type of good cop, bad cop, buddy-cop bromance angle that is catnip to focus groups.  Get over it.

Aside from not being a woman, Stiles is the lovesick, wisecracking best friend who really ought to be the hero, but, inexplicably, is overlooked by fate.  He’s the Samwise Gamgee to Scott McCall’s Frodo; a million times better-suited to carry the burden, but some destiny bullshit chose the other guy.  Really, Stiles is more likable than Scott, more relatable than Scott, and is actually a rich-man’s Xander as opposed to Scott’s rich man’s Ryan Lochte—or poor man’s Ryan Lochte, I can’t tell…is it inherently good to be quintessentially something, even if that something is “bro?”.  Regardless, unfortunately for Stiles, that slight of fate is going to cost him dearly in the games.  Stiles is quick-thinking, quick with a joke, and actually pretty resourceful, but his lack of lycanthropy makes him just another sarcastic fan-favorite.  He may last a little while because he plays a funny sidekick, but jesters don’t outlive the kings they entertain.  Stiles will die.

Also, Stiles is already making enemies by parodying them.  His latest victim is Jack Shepard, the Human Slip ‘n Slide.  This photo, and apparently Stiles himself, surfaced recently.

X-factor:  Stiles will undoubtedly be one of the more popular tributes, so his death will be a sad event.  That’s something, right?

Check back for Part IV and more of the contenders…

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