An Exceptionally Good Night For Werewolves

April 29, 2010

The moon is full and bright. The palm trees outside are swaying like a hurricane.

I woke up an hour ago to the wind howling against my one window — a window so badly insulated that my curtains are moving even though the window is closed — and the moon shining so brightly through my other window, the itty-bitty porthole window by my bed, that I just awoke, extracted myself from my sleep cocoon, and constructed a curtain from thumbtacks and a bath towel.

It must be an exceptionally good night for werewolves.

The raccoons seemed happy earlier, their little raccoon feet scampering across the roof. Now they have likely blown away or been eaten. Or they are  making babies in the chimney. Chim, chim, cheree.

It is a good night for feeling a little crazy, for waking up in the middle of the night and whispering prayers, for ceasing the tossing and turning to reach over, snap on the light, and write. Now that I sit up, my head is drooping to the side. In the dark, I forgot I was tired. In the light, I’m so tired I can’t figure out a clever way to end this sentence.

I have a zit. I hope it’s gone tomorrow.

Sometimes it helps to cushion the real stresses in life by fretting about miniscule things.

Sometimes it helps to cushion the real stresses in life by getting a good night’s sleep.

Sometimes stresses get worse when one lies awake thinking about werewolves. Not the Twlight werewolves. Real werewolves. Gross, bony, evil werewolves with their giant, curved spinal cords, their knobby, branched fingers and razored fingernails, their dripping fangs, their rank breath, their coarse ugly hairs that grow from their stinky pores.

So, I have constructed a curtain out of a towel and thumbtacks, and I am hiding in my down blanket, hoping that now the wind will sing me to sleep. Hopefully the raccoons have satiated the werewolves’ ruthless hunger, and my towel-curtain will keep their snouts from poking in.

Good night, werewolves. Tomorrow you will just be little men again, awaking in ditches without your clothes.


One Response to “An Exceptionally Good Night For Werewolves”

  1. Steven Victor Amos said

    I wanted to be a werewolf as a child. i suppose it is something i still want. last night, as i watched the 1930’s horror movie ish, nite-time clouds swim by the bright moon, i thought i may actually be one. maybe that’s a lie.

    i once wrote a short story about a fella who had an alcohol problem and was cheating on his wife with her twin sister. at some point, out of the blue, he also realizes he is a werewolf. somehow, turning into a devilish beast to devour human flesh against his well did good for him, it gave him a nice outlet for his life anxieties that were causing him to do other bad things. he made up with his wife, he stopped drinking, everything was happy again. sure, he still hunted for human prey by the moonlight, but isn’t eating strangers better than alcoholic adultery? maybe.

    i suppose everyone needs a way to relieve stress.

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