But he definitely noticed the reptilian eyes when they crashed through his window, propelled by a meaty, half-ton dino-piston of rage and mounted in a sturdy, bone-plated skull.
It crashed right into Jonathan, sending him flying out the front door.
Jonathan jumped up off the lawn, dusted himself off and sauntered back into the house, punching down a couple loose hanging door boards as he went.
"Hello, Rumpbeard," he said, stepping over the threshold. "Fancy seeing you here."
9.24.2014
9.22.2014
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Jonathan Mooseknuckles had just stepped inside his home, feeling pretty swaggy after the sex-in-public, when the phone rang.
"Mooseknuckles, talk me" he said. He was, like, 600 years old and sometimes went a little too far trying to sound young.
"What up, Ebrola?!" It was Marco, one of his friends from school and also from being a vampire.
"Yo, yo, yo!"
"Broseph!"
"What it is!"
"What's uuuuuup?!"
"Que pasa?"
"Ça va?"
This went on for some time. Eventually they got down to business, though. Vampire business.
"You comin' tonight, dawg?" ask Marco, the matter-at-hand finally penetrating the thick fog of his bro brain. His broin.
"I already came once!" yelled Moosknuckles and the conversation once again spiraled into a horrible loop of bro-isms and dudeology.
It was hard to hear and not super pleasant to write.
"Hey, Marcoroni, can we drop it for a minute? I'm alone here."
"Oh, thank Christ," said Marco.
"Yes, the original vampire. What'd you want to talk about?"
"Oh, I was wondering if you were planning on coming to the soiree tonight?"
"Maybe I am. Where is it?"
"The Beef Curtain."
"Ugh. That place is tacky," whined Mooseknuckles.
"Yeah, but they're good to us."
"Yeah, OK. I'm in."
"Great, see you there."
"Lates."
For the entire course of the conversation, Jonathan Mooseknuckles failed to notice the reptilian eyes watching him from the tree line.
"Mooseknuckles, talk me" he said. He was, like, 600 years old and sometimes went a little too far trying to sound young.
"What up, Ebrola?!" It was Marco, one of his friends from school and also from being a vampire.
"Yo, yo, yo!"
"Broseph!"
"What it is!"
"What's uuuuuup?!"
"Que pasa?"
"Ça va?"
This went on for some time. Eventually they got down to business, though. Vampire business.
"You comin' tonight, dawg?" ask Marco, the matter-at-hand finally penetrating the thick fog of his bro brain. His broin.
"I already came once!" yelled Moosknuckles and the conversation once again spiraled into a horrible loop of bro-isms and dudeology.
It was hard to hear and not super pleasant to write.
"Hey, Marcoroni, can we drop it for a minute? I'm alone here."
"Oh, thank Christ," said Marco.
"Yes, the original vampire. What'd you want to talk about?"
"Oh, I was wondering if you were planning on coming to the soiree tonight?"
"Maybe I am. Where is it?"
"The Beef Curtain."
"Ugh. That place is tacky," whined Mooseknuckles.
"Yeah, but they're good to us."
"Yeah, OK. I'm in."
"Great, see you there."
"Lates."
For the entire course of the conversation, Jonathan Mooseknuckles failed to notice the reptilian eyes watching him from the tree line.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Let's check in on Jonathan Mooseknuckles.
When last we saw him, he was nutting in some lady in a bar after tearing apart a racist misogynist. Also, some pirate dinosaurs or dinosaur pirates, I guess, were looking for him.
You may remember the pirate captain, Rumpbeard, as a T-Rex.
That's different now. Now he's a pachycephalosaurus. I can make changes like that. I'm the narrator.
If you can't quite picture a pachycephalosaurus, here's a snapshot. They're about nine feet long, bipedal. They weigh about 250 pounds. And their heads! Oh man, their heads. They've got a hard, domed noggin with a crown of nubbly horns it can use to ram stuff. Like a police car. Or a teenage boner.
Rumpbeard was a pretty typical specimen.
When last we saw him, he was nutting in some lady in a bar after tearing apart a racist misogynist. Also, some pirate dinosaurs or dinosaur pirates, I guess, were looking for him.
You may remember the pirate captain, Rumpbeard, as a T-Rex.
That's different now. Now he's a pachycephalosaurus. I can make changes like that. I'm the narrator.
If you can't quite picture a pachycephalosaurus, here's a snapshot. They're about nine feet long, bipedal. They weigh about 250 pounds. And their heads! Oh man, their heads. They've got a hard, domed noggin with a crown of nubbly horns it can use to ram stuff. Like a police car. Or a teenage boner.
Rumpbeard was a pretty typical specimen.
9.19.2014
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Shersh caught Vonce up to speed on Snuffles. They wolfed up and began to search.
"No eating him when we find him, though."
"Right!"
She lobbed him his leather coat.
They trotted around the carnage in increasing circles. Shersh was the one who found Mr. Snuffles' tracks. They followed them about 20 yards where they ended... and another set of bloody moleperson footprints began.
They led toward one of the tunnels.
Shersh and Vonce sprinted after them.
"No eating him when we find him, though."
"Right!"
She lobbed him his leather coat.
They trotted around the carnage in increasing circles. Shersh was the one who found Mr. Snuffles' tracks. They followed them about 20 yards where they ended... and another set of bloody moleperson footprints began.
They led toward one of the tunnels.
Shersh and Vonce sprinted after them.
9.17.2014
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
The sex thing wasn't the unjust universe thing, just to be clear.
That's about to happen right here.
"I love getting your motor running," Vonce said, his fingers tracing lazy curves along her human belly.
"You remind me of my first car, which is crazy for me to be nostalgic about because I'm a teen and so far it's my only car."
"Oh yes?" said Shersh, happy to have some chatter occupying her otherwise empty, orgasm-cleared head.
"Yeah," said Vonce, simultaneously pinching her nipple and his. "It's a Volkswagen Rabbit."
Shersh sat bolt upright.
"Mr. Snuffles!"
That's about to happen right here.
"I love getting your motor running," Vonce said, his fingers tracing lazy curves along her human belly.
"You remind me of my first car, which is crazy for me to be nostalgic about because I'm a teen and so far it's my only car."
"Oh yes?" said Shersh, happy to have some chatter occupying her otherwise empty, orgasm-cleared head.
"Yeah," said Vonce, simultaneously pinching her nipple and his. "It's a Volkswagen Rabbit."
Shersh sat bolt upright.
"Mr. Snuffles!"
CHAPTER FIFTY
Vonce and Shersh lay in a panting, furry cuddle on the Bilf skin rug.
Bilf had been an insufferable, selfish, rich, spoiled, controlling, rich prick and his ex-boyfriend flaying him, turning his skin into a parachute-cum-rug (not that cum) and then defiling his soft pink skin with an act of wild lupine jubilation lends credence to the idea that there is justice in the universe.
There's an upcoming thing, though, that may make you question that.
"Your heart," said Vonce, his head resting on Shersharmjorp's furry chest, "It's beating like a rabbit."
'Rabbit,' thought Shersharmjorp. What did that remind her of?
Oh, right!
"Be right back," she said, darting into the house.
She came out a human. A fully naked human.
"Use this on me," she said, handing over the sex toy.
Vonce did.
Bilf had been an insufferable, selfish, rich, spoiled, controlling, rich prick and his ex-boyfriend flaying him, turning his skin into a parachute-cum-rug (not that cum) and then defiling his soft pink skin with an act of wild lupine jubilation lends credence to the idea that there is justice in the universe.
There's an upcoming thing, though, that may make you question that.
"Your heart," said Vonce, his head resting on Shersharmjorp's furry chest, "It's beating like a rabbit."
'Rabbit,' thought Shersharmjorp. What did that remind her of?
Oh, right!
"Be right back," she said, darting into the house.
She came out a human. A fully naked human.
"Use this on me," she said, handing over the sex toy.
Vonce did.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Once again, Mr. Snuffles saw everything.
He was a rabbit, so his vision in the dark was pretty good. And he just felt comfortable in earthen holes.
In fact that eyesight, coupled with the fact that he was neither giving nor receiving a faceload of wolf junk let him see something the wolves had missed.
There was one more moleperson. She'd been hiding under one of the many piles of molecorpses.
She slid her way out now and slowly, carefully made her way toward the rabbit.
Mr. Snuffles twitched with excitement.
He was a rabbit, so his vision in the dark was pretty good. And he just felt comfortable in earthen holes.
In fact that eyesight, coupled with the fact that he was neither giving nor receiving a faceload of wolf junk let him see something the wolves had missed.
There was one more moleperson. She'd been hiding under one of the many piles of molecorpses.
She slid her way out now and slowly, carefully made her way toward the rabbit.
Mr. Snuffles twitched with excitement.
9.15.2014
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
The molepeople had circled Shershie. Despite all her rage, she was trapped like a rat in a cage. Or a werewolf in a circle of genetically mutated molemen.
They hissed and gesticulated at her. She snarled and snapped back, her ferocious bites causing the attackers to pause a moment and really consider the full implications of the bite.
Shersh was unsure of what was about to happen. She did know one thing, though: for once in her teens she wasn't horny.
Then a fluttering from above. A sound like a sail luffing in a farty breeze.
It was Vonce, wolf-Vonce, gliding down from the surface on his Bilf-a-chute. He landed gracefully on the pads of his paws.
"Shersh," he nodded at her, "Sup?"
And now she was horny again.
She kept it at bay, though.
"Wanna help me take out these mole... people?"
Vonce then noticed the circle of filthy, ugly, stinky motherfuckers.
"Yeah," he said, "let's... rock and MOLE!"
(sorry)
He tugged hard on the Bilf-a-chute straps. It had been slowly settling but with the jerk he sent it down and sideways. Bilf's flayed skin trapped a handful of molemen with a sick, sticky sound.
Vonce charged the skin mound and caromed off it, vaulting into the mole horde. Shersh charged in toothfirst, biting as many grubby legs as she could.
She reasoned it'd be harder for them to fight if they couldn't stand up.
She was right.
The strategy had the added benefit of making it super easy to bite their heads off.
Shersh and Vonce started off actually eating the heads, popping them off like, well, there's not really an analogous human experience for it. Maybe, like, the free samples at the grocery store? But there are way more than you could possibly eat. Also: they're filthy. Eventually you wind up taking the sample, biting into it, smiling and nodding and rubbing your belly at the vendor as if to say, "So good! I would totally eat a million of these!" and then turning around and discreetly spitting the cheese or whatever into a napkin.
Shersh and Vonce didn't have a napkin, though. They just spat the heads onto the ground. And by the time they were done, the ground was slick with brain and blood and lousy with bone and whisker.
Which somehow made the post-slaughter porking even hotter.
They hissed and gesticulated at her. She snarled and snapped back, her ferocious bites causing the attackers to pause a moment and really consider the full implications of the bite.
Shersh was unsure of what was about to happen. She did know one thing, though: for once in her teens she wasn't horny.
Then a fluttering from above. A sound like a sail luffing in a farty breeze.
It was Vonce, wolf-Vonce, gliding down from the surface on his Bilf-a-chute. He landed gracefully on the pads of his paws.
"Shersh," he nodded at her, "Sup?"
And now she was horny again.
She kept it at bay, though.
"Wanna help me take out these mole... people?"
Vonce then noticed the circle of filthy, ugly, stinky motherfuckers.
"Yeah," he said, "let's... rock and MOLE!"
(sorry)
He tugged hard on the Bilf-a-chute straps. It had been slowly settling but with the jerk he sent it down and sideways. Bilf's flayed skin trapped a handful of molemen with a sick, sticky sound.
Vonce charged the skin mound and caromed off it, vaulting into the mole horde. Shersh charged in toothfirst, biting as many grubby legs as she could.
She reasoned it'd be harder for them to fight if they couldn't stand up.
She was right.
The strategy had the added benefit of making it super easy to bite their heads off.
Shersh and Vonce started off actually eating the heads, popping them off like, well, there's not really an analogous human experience for it. Maybe, like, the free samples at the grocery store? But there are way more than you could possibly eat. Also: they're filthy. Eventually you wind up taking the sample, biting into it, smiling and nodding and rubbing your belly at the vendor as if to say, "So good! I would totally eat a million of these!" and then turning around and discreetly spitting the cheese or whatever into a napkin.
Shersh and Vonce didn't have a napkin, though. They just spat the heads onto the ground. And by the time they were done, the ground was slick with brain and blood and lousy with bone and whisker.
Which somehow made the post-slaughter porking even hotter.
9.12.2014
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Shersh's wolf howl just faintly escaped the event horizon of the hole.
It was hard for Vonce to hear it, though, because Bilf was shoving him into the pit and yelling "I just knew you'd fall for me again."
They both grimaced. It wasn't a great line.
Vonce grabbed Bilf's hand as he fell back into the nothingness and they plummeted together.
"We'll die as one!" Bilf shouted triumphantly.
Vonce didn't say anything. He just turned into a wolf and ate Bilf's head.
Then he filleted Bilf and turned his skin into a parachute.
It was hard for Vonce to hear it, though, because Bilf was shoving him into the pit and yelling "I just knew you'd fall for me again."
They both grimaced. It wasn't a great line.
Vonce grabbed Bilf's hand as he fell back into the nothingness and they plummeted together.
"We'll die as one!" Bilf shouted triumphantly.
Vonce didn't say anything. He just turned into a wolf and ate Bilf's head.
Then he filleted Bilf and turned his skin into a parachute.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Shersh finally got the mole person pinned and bit its throat, tearing out a long stretch of gross stuff that's supposed to stay on the inside of living things.
She howled in triumph.
Then she realized there were about fifty more of the mole things watching her.
She howled in triumph.
Then she realized there were about fifty more of the mole things watching her.
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
You can imagine Vonce's expression when he came across where Shershie's house had been. And if you can't imagine, Google a video of horse breeding while looking at yourself in the mirror.
Clods of dirt and grass were still falling off the rim of the chasm and raining into the void below.
Vonce peered down. He couldn't see anything but the edges of the hole fading into blackness. Like looking into a big dirt butthole. Or Sarlaac, I guess.
"Man," thought Vonce, "I'd sure hate to fall down there."
Bilf quietly approached from behind.
Clods of dirt and grass were still falling off the rim of the chasm and raining into the void below.
Vonce peered down. He couldn't see anything but the edges of the hole fading into blackness. Like looking into a big dirt butthole. Or Sarlaac, I guess.
"Man," thought Vonce, "I'd sure hate to fall down there."
Bilf quietly approached from behind.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Shersh wheeled around and swatted at the hand on her shoulder.
It was a moleman! Or molewoman! Hard to tell, really.
The thing shrunk back from her flashlight.
"Who are you?!" she shouted.
But, of course, molepeople don't speak English.
Instead it just reared up and attacked.
Shersh got wolfy real quick and fought back.
It was brutal! Fur, teeth, claws, dirt, blood. All illuminated dramatically by the flashlight rolling in the dirt. If only this were a movie! Then we'd see what was happening in an intensely dramatic, cinematic battle.
It was a moleman! Or molewoman! Hard to tell, really.
The thing shrunk back from her flashlight.
"Who are you?!" she shouted.
But, of course, molepeople don't speak English.
Instead it just reared up and attacked.
Shersh got wolfy real quick and fought back.
It was brutal! Fur, teeth, claws, dirt, blood. All illuminated dramatically by the flashlight rolling in the dirt. If only this were a movie! Then we'd see what was happening in an intensely dramatic, cinematic battle.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Vonce hated himself.
He'd never thought of himself as a cleave-it-and-leave-it sort. That's referring to his penetrating Shersh's wolfy vagina with his boner pole and then parting ways in the woods.
So he resolved to make it up to her.
He picked up some gifts at the Walgreens then headed for Shersh's home.
Bilf followed at some distance, seething.
He'd never thought of himself as a cleave-it-and-leave-it sort. That's referring to his penetrating Shersh's wolfy vagina with his boner pole and then parting ways in the woods.
So he resolved to make it up to her.
He picked up some gifts at the Walgreens then headed for Shersh's home.
Bilf followed at some distance, seething.
9.10.2014
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
At first, Shersharms attributed the falling sensation and utter blackness to the killer orgasm she'd just given herself with her rabbit.
Not her pet rabbit, Mr. Snuffles, but the sex toy.
Sexy Supernatural Teens isn't sponsored by Rabbit (yet), we just recognize a fine product. Also, Mr. Snuffles was in the room and had watched her self-abuse with a surprising amount of understanding, horror and fascination. Like if you were trapped in a room where god was masturbating.
Shersh eventually realized, though, that the weightlessness was different from her normal, post-orgasmic euphoria and she gingerly made her way to the window. Not quite pitch black out there, but close.
She opened the window and a rush of wind blew her back, carrying the smell of earth. And Geddy Lee.
Then the impact of landing.
The whole house shook pretty hard. Books fell off shelves, the china hutch was ruined and Mr. Snuffles' cage was sent sidelong across the floor.
Shersh landed on her bed and was no worse for wear.
She grabbed a flashlight and opened her bedroom door.
The halls and stairs were in surprisingly good shape.
S-rock slowly made her way out of the house, Mr. Snuffles following like an obedient dog.
The air was hot and musty and thick. Like a dirt floor basement. Or a coal miner's taint.
She cast the beam of the flashlight about like she owned the damn battery factory. The house had landed in a rather large cave that appeared to be made of dirt. And it appeared to have been dug out. Several dark holes indicated a handful of tunnels, hence the cool breeze she was feeling.
She looked up.
Her house had fallen quite a distance. She had no way of knowing exactly, but she saw a hole of daylight way above her about the size of a quarter.
"No way the house fell through a hole the size of a quarter," she said to Mr. Snuffles, "Must be perspective."
She was correct, of course.
Shersharmjorp nearly leapt out of her skin when she felt the clawed paw grab her shoulder.
Not her pet rabbit, Mr. Snuffles, but the sex toy.
Sexy Supernatural Teens isn't sponsored by Rabbit (yet), we just recognize a fine product. Also, Mr. Snuffles was in the room and had watched her self-abuse with a surprising amount of understanding, horror and fascination. Like if you were trapped in a room where god was masturbating.
Shersh eventually realized, though, that the weightlessness was different from her normal, post-orgasmic euphoria and she gingerly made her way to the window. Not quite pitch black out there, but close.
She opened the window and a rush of wind blew her back, carrying the smell of earth. And Geddy Lee.
Then the impact of landing.
The whole house shook pretty hard. Books fell off shelves, the china hutch was ruined and Mr. Snuffles' cage was sent sidelong across the floor.
Shersh landed on her bed and was no worse for wear.
She grabbed a flashlight and opened her bedroom door.
The halls and stairs were in surprisingly good shape.
S-rock slowly made her way out of the house, Mr. Snuffles following like an obedient dog.
The air was hot and musty and thick. Like a dirt floor basement. Or a coal miner's taint.
She cast the beam of the flashlight about like she owned the damn battery factory. The house had landed in a rather large cave that appeared to be made of dirt. And it appeared to have been dug out. Several dark holes indicated a handful of tunnels, hence the cool breeze she was feeling.
She looked up.
Her house had fallen quite a distance. She had no way of knowing exactly, but she saw a hole of daylight way above her about the size of a quarter.
"No way the house fell through a hole the size of a quarter," she said to Mr. Snuffles, "Must be perspective."
She was correct, of course.
Shersharmjorp nearly leapt out of her skin when she felt the clawed paw grab her shoulder.
9.08.2014
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
"Lower the sails, shutter the cannons and drop anchor, ye scurvy dogs!"
The pirate ship stopped in the river.
"We're here."
The pirates scuttled off the boat. Some by rope ladder, some on lifeboats and some just tumbling over the side. The pirates were pretty frickin' pumped to be off the dumb boat.
They immediately busted out some bungs of liquor and also into some of each other's bungs in some consensual, celebratory sodomy.
"All right, all right, all right," said their leader Rumpbeard, shortly after his ecstasy. "That's enough. Let's get a move on."
At this point, the river nymph stepped forward. These guys were interesting.
"Hey, I'm the river nymph," she said by way of introduction. "You boys seem like you really know how to party."
Rumpbeard agreed that they knew how to have a good time but he also wasn't super into sharing his booze.
"So," began the Nymph, "What brings you guys to Hormonetown?"
Rumpbeard was relieved he wouldn't have to share.
"We're looking for a man most peculiar," said Rumpbeard, "Most peculiar indeed."
The Nymph raised an eyebrow. Intriguing! So much better than the soul searchers.
"Go on," she said, "Perhaps I can be of assistance."
"He's said to be handsome. Young seeming, but actually quite old. He's smart, aye, but he's arrogant too. Ring any bells?"
The Nymph yawned. She was over the pirate thing. "This man have a name?"
"Mooseknuckles," Rumpbeard rasped, "Jonathan."
"What are you, a ringwraith?"
Rumpbeard said nothing. He hadn't seen the Lord of the Rings trilogy.
"Yeah," sighed the Nymph, "I know the guy. He was doing some shitty soul searching on my river the other day. Head in town."
"Thanks, m'lady," said Rumpbeard. He felt she'd earned some rum and offered her a small bottle. It was a big act for the pirate.
"I'm a river. I don't really need to get drunk."
"Oh, good. I'll just keep this then."
There was an awkward moment.
The Nymph coughed.
The pirates shuffled their feet a little.
"Well."
"Goodbye."
The pirates lumbered off, the land rumbling under their feet.
That's what happens when a herd of pirate-dinosaurs moves all at once.
Rumpbeard was a t-rex.
The pirate ship stopped in the river.
"We're here."
The pirates scuttled off the boat. Some by rope ladder, some on lifeboats and some just tumbling over the side. The pirates were pretty frickin' pumped to be off the dumb boat.
They immediately busted out some bungs of liquor and also into some of each other's bungs in some consensual, celebratory sodomy.
"All right, all right, all right," said their leader Rumpbeard, shortly after his ecstasy. "That's enough. Let's get a move on."
At this point, the river nymph stepped forward. These guys were interesting.
"Hey, I'm the river nymph," she said by way of introduction. "You boys seem like you really know how to party."
Rumpbeard agreed that they knew how to have a good time but he also wasn't super into sharing his booze.
"So," began the Nymph, "What brings you guys to Hormonetown?"
Rumpbeard was relieved he wouldn't have to share.
"We're looking for a man most peculiar," said Rumpbeard, "Most peculiar indeed."
The Nymph raised an eyebrow. Intriguing! So much better than the soul searchers.
"Go on," she said, "Perhaps I can be of assistance."
"He's said to be handsome. Young seeming, but actually quite old. He's smart, aye, but he's arrogant too. Ring any bells?"
The Nymph yawned. She was over the pirate thing. "This man have a name?"
"Mooseknuckles," Rumpbeard rasped, "Jonathan."
"What are you, a ringwraith?"
Rumpbeard said nothing. He hadn't seen the Lord of the Rings trilogy.
"Yeah," sighed the Nymph, "I know the guy. He was doing some shitty soul searching on my river the other day. Head in town."
"Thanks, m'lady," said Rumpbeard. He felt she'd earned some rum and offered her a small bottle. It was a big act for the pirate.
"I'm a river. I don't really need to get drunk."
"Oh, good. I'll just keep this then."
There was an awkward moment.
The Nymph coughed.
The pirates shuffled their feet a little.
"Well."
"Goodbye."
The pirates lumbered off, the land rumbling under their feet.
That's what happens when a herd of pirate-dinosaurs moves all at once.
Rumpbeard was a t-rex.
9.05.2014
CHAPTER FORTY
Bilf plotted.
He dreamt up murderous schemes. Falling pianos and anvils, pitfalls and traps. Running Vonce's body through a grid of chicken wire. Cutting the car breaks. The bus breaks. The life breaks.
He conjured bird attacks, dog attacks, piranha attacks. Bombs, explosions. He fantasized about the white heat of the fire he would cause, seeing Vonce's final second in slow motion as the force of the blast tore off his skin like a rotten apple sliding out of a peel. He imagined catching an extremity as it flew through the air, hollowing it out, coating it in shellac and then using it as a cup.
He imagined a sniper's bullet hitting Vonce's head in history class. The class where they'd first fallen in love. Vonce's dumb stupid handsome face exploding with all this brains and feelings.
He cooked up some real mean stuff for Vonce's trenchant junk. Clamps. Caustic lubes, vaginae dentatae. Guillotine-like traps. Thousands of biting ants. Slowly cooking his weiner with a magnifying a magnifying glass.
Just really abusing it.
Oh! And sticking stuff in the dickhole. Definitely that, too.
Bilf thought of all this because it gave him pleasure. None of it would happen, though.
Vonce would die at Bilf's hands but it would be intimate. Personal.
Simple.
He dreamt up murderous schemes. Falling pianos and anvils, pitfalls and traps. Running Vonce's body through a grid of chicken wire. Cutting the car breaks. The bus breaks. The life breaks.
He conjured bird attacks, dog attacks, piranha attacks. Bombs, explosions. He fantasized about the white heat of the fire he would cause, seeing Vonce's final second in slow motion as the force of the blast tore off his skin like a rotten apple sliding out of a peel. He imagined catching an extremity as it flew through the air, hollowing it out, coating it in shellac and then using it as a cup.
He imagined a sniper's bullet hitting Vonce's head in history class. The class where they'd first fallen in love. Vonce's dumb stupid handsome face exploding with all this brains and feelings.
He cooked up some real mean stuff for Vonce's trenchant junk. Clamps. Caustic lubes, vaginae dentatae. Guillotine-like traps. Thousands of biting ants. Slowly cooking his weiner with a magnifying a magnifying glass.
Just really abusing it.
Oh! And sticking stuff in the dickhole. Definitely that, too.
Bilf thought of all this because it gave him pleasure. None of it would happen, though.
Vonce would die at Bilf's hands but it would be intimate. Personal.
Simple.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Tina's ghostly adventure turned out to be real dull.
Just another instance where Shersh failed to learn anything important from her mother.
Tina made her meatloaf, made a mess trying to eat it (because she's a ghost and has no body), refrigerated the leftovers and then disappeared as she slid up the stairs.
Shersh sighed, went up to her room and rubbed one out. Not because of anything she'd just seen, mind you, just because she was a teen.
Just another instance where Shersh failed to learn anything important from her mother.
Tina made her meatloaf, made a mess trying to eat it (because she's a ghost and has no body), refrigerated the leftovers and then disappeared as she slid up the stairs.
Shersh sighed, went up to her room and rubbed one out. Not because of anything she'd just seen, mind you, just because she was a teen.
9.03.2014
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Man, Jonathan Mooseknuckles had seemed like kind of an unredemptive douche before but I'm kind of rooting for him now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Jonathan chipped a couple nails and swole up his right fist in the exchange.
Prepneck lost an eye, most of his teeth, swallowed a cue ball and traded some skin for glass.
He'd be in the hospital for a while and die in about three years, sad, drunk and alone in a gutter. Like all misogynist racists should.
Jonathan, meanwhile, enjoyed a night of no-strings-attached, vigorous, consensual sex with the lady right there in the bar.
He did it billiards style, which is to say balls first. And the other patrons all cheered them on.
Prepneck lost an eye, most of his teeth, swallowed a cue ball and traded some skin for glass.
He'd be in the hospital for a while and die in about three years, sad, drunk and alone in a gutter. Like all misogynist racists should.
Jonathan, meanwhile, enjoyed a night of no-strings-attached, vigorous, consensual sex with the lady right there in the bar.
He did it billiards style, which is to say balls first. And the other patrons all cheered them on.
9.01.2014
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The seduction was going EXTREMELY well, thought Jonathan.
He was already horny and turgid and could feel heat coming off her. Laughing. Eye contact. Slightly brushing his junk against her.
She'd brushed first, of course, he wouldn't jump to that part of the game without a signal.
"So," he said, licking the fatty deposits off the rim of his glass.
"I knew it!" yelled the bartender from across the room.
Jonathan ignored him.
"Wanna take this somewhere else?" suggested Mooseknuckles.
She hadn't quite responded when a meaty spatula of a hand swatted the glass out of Jonathan's grip.
"The hell you do!" the hand's owner yelled.
Chairs squeaked. Jonathan stood. The DJ played the "record scratch" .mp3.
"Is you hitting on my woman?!" It was the handowner again.
He was beefy, over tan. Wearing a polo and overalls, improbably. Somehow he had both HGH-fed glamour muscles and a cornfed beer belly.
"I'm just trying to get to know her," said Jonathan.
"Yeah, know her carnally," said the handowner.
"...Carnally," said Jonathan a little too late.
"You think this is funny?!" said the redneck-prep... the prepneck.
"No, it's kinda bringing me down," said Jonathan. His halfsie boner had wilted.
"You stay away from my woman," said the prepneck, pointing a girthy finger in Jonathan's eye. Jonathan could see a callous on his fingertip and surmised it was from playing a Jimmy Buffet/Dave Matthews medley.
"I think she's free to do what she wants. If your relationship's good, what do you have to worry about?"
"What are you," said prepneck, dropping his finger and stepping chest-to-chest with Mooseknuckles, "...some kind of race traitor?"
Jonathan was confused. Yes, she was black. And Jonathan white. But prepneck was also white.
"But wouldn't that make you a ra-"
"IT DON'T HAVE TO MAKE SENSE!" shouted prepneck, "It's racism! It's by definition irrational!"
Jonathan had had enough.
"Ok," he exhaled, "It's gonna get nasty."
He was already horny and turgid and could feel heat coming off her. Laughing. Eye contact. Slightly brushing his junk against her.
She'd brushed first, of course, he wouldn't jump to that part of the game without a signal.
"So," he said, licking the fatty deposits off the rim of his glass.
"I knew it!" yelled the bartender from across the room.
Jonathan ignored him.
"Wanna take this somewhere else?" suggested Mooseknuckles.
She hadn't quite responded when a meaty spatula of a hand swatted the glass out of Jonathan's grip.
"The hell you do!" the hand's owner yelled.
Chairs squeaked. Jonathan stood. The DJ played the "record scratch" .mp3.
"Is you hitting on my woman?!" It was the handowner again.
He was beefy, over tan. Wearing a polo and overalls, improbably. Somehow he had both HGH-fed glamour muscles and a cornfed beer belly.
"I'm just trying to get to know her," said Jonathan.
"Yeah, know her carnally," said the handowner.
"...Carnally," said Jonathan a little too late.
"You think this is funny?!" said the redneck-prep... the prepneck.
"No, it's kinda bringing me down," said Jonathan. His halfsie boner had wilted.
"You stay away from my woman," said the prepneck, pointing a girthy finger in Jonathan's eye. Jonathan could see a callous on his fingertip and surmised it was from playing a Jimmy Buffet/Dave Matthews medley.
"I think she's free to do what she wants. If your relationship's good, what do you have to worry about?"
"What are you," said prepneck, dropping his finger and stepping chest-to-chest with Mooseknuckles, "...some kind of race traitor?"
Jonathan was confused. Yes, she was black. And Jonathan white. But prepneck was also white.
"But wouldn't that make you a ra-"
"IT DON'T HAVE TO MAKE SENSE!" shouted prepneck, "It's racism! It's by definition irrational!"
Jonathan had had enough.
"Ok," he exhaled, "It's gonna get nasty."
8.29.2014
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Jonathan Mooseknuckles walked right into Shaftholes, a divey sorta bar.
He didn't have Bilf's cock aura, but he had a pretty firm grip on his confidence and that tended to impress bouncers, who generally don't share that grasp.
Jonathan ordered a drink at the bar. "Bloody Mary, extra bloody," he said, winking.
The bartender eventually slid a sludgy crimson glass to Jonathan.
"That'll be $7.50."
"I'm not a vampire," said Jonathan, recycling a joke from earlier.
"Then you're gonna wanna avoid the cholesterol on the rim," shot back the bartender. He then turned into a bat and flew down the bar to the next customer.
"Hey," you could hear him saying in the distance, "Since I just took the shape of a bat and I'm about to take your drink orders, does that make me a 'bat render bartender?'"
It was a pretty weak play on words.
"Please don't tip based on that," he continued, "What'll you have?"
Jonathan tuned him out. There was a woman in front of him.
He was fixated.
She was gorgeous. Black hair, pulled back. Brown eyes. High, round cheeks.
And she was curvy in all the places. Which turned out to be all the right places. If you've got curves, flaunt it.
She was also straight in all the right places. Her teeth, mostly. The edges of her fingernails. Her rectum, Jonathan assumed.
I mean, he didn't know yet. But he wanted to find out.
"Hey, how's it going?" he said, sliding up to her. "I'm Jonathan."
He didn't have Bilf's cock aura, but he had a pretty firm grip on his confidence and that tended to impress bouncers, who generally don't share that grasp.
Jonathan ordered a drink at the bar. "Bloody Mary, extra bloody," he said, winking.
The bartender eventually slid a sludgy crimson glass to Jonathan.
"That'll be $7.50."
"I'm not a vampire," said Jonathan, recycling a joke from earlier.
"Then you're gonna wanna avoid the cholesterol on the rim," shot back the bartender. He then turned into a bat and flew down the bar to the next customer.
"Hey," you could hear him saying in the distance, "Since I just took the shape of a bat and I'm about to take your drink orders, does that make me a 'bat render bartender?'"
It was a pretty weak play on words.
"Please don't tip based on that," he continued, "What'll you have?"
Jonathan tuned him out. There was a woman in front of him.
He was fixated.
She was gorgeous. Black hair, pulled back. Brown eyes. High, round cheeks.
And she was curvy in all the places. Which turned out to be all the right places. If you've got curves, flaunt it.
She was also straight in all the right places. Her teeth, mostly. The edges of her fingernails. Her rectum, Jonathan assumed.
I mean, he didn't know yet. But he wanted to find out.
"Hey, how's it going?" he said, sliding up to her. "I'm Jonathan."
8.27.2014
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Bilf opened the door and welcomed Vonce into his parents McMansion.
Vonce had momentarily forgotten about the cock aura and found it slightly disarming for the likely difficult conversation ahead.
"What's going on, V?" asked Bilf casually, "The 'rents are out, wanna touch weiners or whatever?"
"Well, yes, always. But there's something I need to say first and then we can decide what's the next step."
Bilf stopped. "Should we be sitting down? This sounds kinda serious. You're not, like, pregnant or diseased or suddenly straight, are you?"
Vonce opened his mouth, paused a moment.
"Oh god." said Bilf.
"Look, I didn't expect it to happen but there was this hot werewolf lady and we just had this junk connection. I know I shouldn't have but I did borf her and I wanted you to know about it A.S.A.P."
"Well," said Bilf. That's all he could manage. Generally the cock aura lured people in. It'd been working since he was three. He had babysitters wrapped around his little ... finger.
So he wasn't used to being let down.
"Well, dang." said Bilf. "Any chance she wants to get in on our action? I mean, we are all hot teens with unbridled libidos and could use some more holes."
Vonce thought a moment. That could be interesting. But he remembered smelling that devlish Mooseknuckles' cologne on Shersharmjorp and decided he didn't need to complicate the storyline any further.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," said Vonce.
"Well, then get out."
"Okee doke. That's a reasonable outcome. Have a good one."
"Yeah, see you at the Buttsack."
Bilf closed the door on Vonce.
"I'm gonna kill him," Bilf said, complicating the storyline.
Vonce had momentarily forgotten about the cock aura and found it slightly disarming for the likely difficult conversation ahead.
"What's going on, V?" asked Bilf casually, "The 'rents are out, wanna touch weiners or whatever?"
"Well, yes, always. But there's something I need to say first and then we can decide what's the next step."
Bilf stopped. "Should we be sitting down? This sounds kinda serious. You're not, like, pregnant or diseased or suddenly straight, are you?"
Vonce opened his mouth, paused a moment.
"Oh god." said Bilf.
"Look, I didn't expect it to happen but there was this hot werewolf lady and we just had this junk connection. I know I shouldn't have but I did borf her and I wanted you to know about it A.S.A.P."
"Well," said Bilf. That's all he could manage. Generally the cock aura lured people in. It'd been working since he was three. He had babysitters wrapped around his little ... finger.
So he wasn't used to being let down.
"Well, dang." said Bilf. "Any chance she wants to get in on our action? I mean, we are all hot teens with unbridled libidos and could use some more holes."
Vonce thought a moment. That could be interesting. But he remembered smelling that devlish Mooseknuckles' cologne on Shersharmjorp and decided he didn't need to complicate the storyline any further.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," said Vonce.
"Well, then get out."
"Okee doke. That's a reasonable outcome. Have a good one."
"Yeah, see you at the Buttsack."
Bilf closed the door on Vonce.
"I'm gonna kill him," Bilf said, complicating the storyline.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Meet Bilf.
Vonce's hunk ex(?) boyfriend. Or maybe they'll work it out? Who knows! You'll just have to read on to find out.
Anyway, yes. Bilf.
Bilf was a skinny, sort of unassuming boy but he had a really cocky aura. And I don't mean confident, although as a teen he certainly had more confidence than he'd earned.
I mean cock. Weiner. Penis.
To be in Bilf's presence was to be in the presence of his wang. You know the type. There's just something about the person that suggests he has a fantastic horn. Like it's calling to you from his chinos. One can almost feel the heat radiating from his beefy crotch oven to the point where you can't help but picture yourself kneeling before him, pulling at the hem of his tighty-whiteys and gripping his meaty dong.
Maybe not even for sex. Just, you know, to feel it or something.
Anyway, Bilf had that kind of an aura and is not something that leads to a well balanced teen.
Vonce rang the doorbell.
Vonce's hunk ex(?) boyfriend. Or maybe they'll work it out? Who knows! You'll just have to read on to find out.
Anyway, yes. Bilf.
Bilf was a skinny, sort of unassuming boy but he had a really cocky aura. And I don't mean confident, although as a teen he certainly had more confidence than he'd earned.
I mean cock. Weiner. Penis.
To be in Bilf's presence was to be in the presence of his wang. You know the type. There's just something about the person that suggests he has a fantastic horn. Like it's calling to you from his chinos. One can almost feel the heat radiating from his beefy crotch oven to the point where you can't help but picture yourself kneeling before him, pulling at the hem of his tighty-whiteys and gripping his meaty dong.
Maybe not even for sex. Just, you know, to feel it or something.
Anyway, Bilf had that kind of an aura and is not something that leads to a well balanced teen.
Vonce rang the doorbell.
8.25.2014
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Shersh went down to the fridge. All the sweaty man/wolf/vampire porkings had left her dehydrated and hungry.
She pulled out some leftovers from last night. Mom's special, meatloaf. She thought for a moment about how she herself was kinda like this meatloaf, dry and salty. But instead of a bunch of meat stuck together with food glue, she was a bunch of feelings stuck together with heart glue, or something.
Also like the meatloaf, she changed shapes depending on its environment. You could bake it in any shape dish you want. And Shersh had been baked in a human shaped dish. And a wolf shaped dish.
She realized the metaphor wasn't perfect and wouldn't fly in English class as she slid the plate into the microwave.
Now it was starting to look like something she really wanted: steaming hot meat.
Yep. She was horny again. Man! Teens!
The microwave beeped and she pulled out her plate of meatloaf.
And then she nearly dropped it because her mother was standing right there.
Well, more like floating.
"Mom?!" she exclaimed.
Ghost Tina didn't acknowledge her. She just started going through the fridge and cupboards gathering ingredients.
"Mom! Can you hear me!? Mom! Mom!"
Shersh set down her plate.
"Hey, Mom, look at me!" she started doing jumping jacks and flailing her arms.
Ghost Tina just kept collecting ingredients. Beef, tomato, bread crumbs, onion.
Shersh reached a hesitant hand out. She pulled back a moment. What was she doing? Touching a ghost? That's crazy!
But what did she have to lose? She reached forward again as her mother set out the eggs and - GROSS!
Ghosts are cold, sticky and weird.
Shersh immediately regretted it.
And it didn't seem to do anything anyway. Ghost Tina kept going with the ingredients.
Ingredients for meatloaf.
It clicked for Shersh.
"Mom. Are you reliving your last night?" she asked expositionally.
Ghost Tina cracked an egg.
Shersh pulled up a chair.
She pulled out some leftovers from last night. Mom's special, meatloaf. She thought for a moment about how she herself was kinda like this meatloaf, dry and salty. But instead of a bunch of meat stuck together with food glue, she was a bunch of feelings stuck together with heart glue, or something.
Also like the meatloaf, she changed shapes depending on its environment. You could bake it in any shape dish you want. And Shersh had been baked in a human shaped dish. And a wolf shaped dish.
She realized the metaphor wasn't perfect and wouldn't fly in English class as she slid the plate into the microwave.
Now it was starting to look like something she really wanted: steaming hot meat.
Yep. She was horny again. Man! Teens!
The microwave beeped and she pulled out her plate of meatloaf.
And then she nearly dropped it because her mother was standing right there.
Well, more like floating.
"Mom?!" she exclaimed.
Ghost Tina didn't acknowledge her. She just started going through the fridge and cupboards gathering ingredients.
"Mom! Can you hear me!? Mom! Mom!"
Shersh set down her plate.
"Hey, Mom, look at me!" she started doing jumping jacks and flailing her arms.
Ghost Tina just kept collecting ingredients. Beef, tomato, bread crumbs, onion.
Shersh reached a hesitant hand out. She pulled back a moment. What was she doing? Touching a ghost? That's crazy!
But what did she have to lose? She reached forward again as her mother set out the eggs and - GROSS!
Ghosts are cold, sticky and weird.
Shersh immediately regretted it.
And it didn't seem to do anything anyway. Ghost Tina kept going with the ingredients.
Ingredients for meatloaf.
It clicked for Shersh.
"Mom. Are you reliving your last night?" she asked expositionally.
Ghost Tina cracked an egg.
Shersh pulled up a chair.
8.22.2014
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
It was a pretty rigorous pipe-cleaning.
Shersh was really enjoying the sexuality she was discovering. They breathed in ecstasy a moment as a sort of denouement.
"Did you learn that from your mother?"
Shersh did not respond.
"Oh, right. Insensitive. Sorry."
Mooseknuckles got up, dropping the panties he still held clutched in his fist.
"Welp." He said, "I gotta go."
He put on his pants and cape and opened the window.
"Oh," he turned from the windowsill, "Have a grapefruit or something. Your Ph is off."
He was gone.
Shersh was really enjoying the sexuality she was discovering. They breathed in ecstasy a moment as a sort of denouement.
"Did you learn that from your mother?"
Shersh did not respond.
"Oh, right. Insensitive. Sorry."
Mooseknuckles got up, dropping the panties he still held clutched in his fist.
"Welp." He said, "I gotta go."
He put on his pants and cape and opened the window.
"Oh," he turned from the windowsill, "Have a grapefruit or something. Your Ph is off."
He was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Shersh stepped into her empty home.
"Mom, I'm ho- ...oh, right. This is going to take some getting used to."
She dropped her bookbag at the door and stomped up to her room.
Throwing herself on the bed, she first sighed with the weight of the world, then screamed at the man in her room. Then demurred.
"Oh, hey Jonathan Mooseknuckles. I didn't expect to see you here."
"Sup."
"Cuz it's my room and all."
"Oh, I was just..." he started, closing the top drawer of Shersh's dresser slyly, "I was just... is this not my room?"
"No," said Shersh, "It's mine."
"Rightio. Well, I've been bewitched by you since the moment you noticed me in the hallway before, or whatever." He slid close to her, "But what if this were our room?"
"Ew," said Shersh, "That was super douchey."
"Yeah, well, I'm kinda trying to tap dance around explaining what I was doing in here."
He brought his clenched fist to his nose and inhaled deeply.
"Not that I'm not into it," she said, "It's just... things are weird."
She thought of that lusty, musty-gym wolf romp from earlier.
"Oh, with your mom dead and all?" offered Jonathan.
"Oh, right."
She thought further. Here was the strapping Jonathan Mooseknuckles standing before her. Shirtless, for some reason, and sniffing his fist again.
And where was Vonce? She'd just come home for the first time since her mom died and where was he?
Probably overlooking a majestic canyon in that jacket and thinking about the world while the sun set.
And here she was. Alone. In her time of need.
No. That's not right. Not alone.
"Come here," she said to Jonathan Mooseknuckles.
"Mom, I'm ho- ...oh, right. This is going to take some getting used to."
She dropped her bookbag at the door and stomped up to her room.
Throwing herself on the bed, she first sighed with the weight of the world, then screamed at the man in her room. Then demurred.
"Oh, hey Jonathan Mooseknuckles. I didn't expect to see you here."
"Sup."
"Cuz it's my room and all."
"Oh, I was just..." he started, closing the top drawer of Shersh's dresser slyly, "I was just... is this not my room?"
"No," said Shersh, "It's mine."
"Rightio. Well, I've been bewitched by you since the moment you noticed me in the hallway before, or whatever." He slid close to her, "But what if this were our room?"
"Ew," said Shersh, "That was super douchey."
"Yeah, well, I'm kinda trying to tap dance around explaining what I was doing in here."
He brought his clenched fist to his nose and inhaled deeply.
"Not that I'm not into it," she said, "It's just... things are weird."
She thought of that lusty, musty-gym wolf romp from earlier.
"Oh, with your mom dead and all?" offered Jonathan.
"Oh, right."
She thought further. Here was the strapping Jonathan Mooseknuckles standing before her. Shirtless, for some reason, and sniffing his fist again.
And where was Vonce? She'd just come home for the first time since her mom died and where was he?
Probably overlooking a majestic canyon in that jacket and thinking about the world while the sun set.
And here she was. Alone. In her time of need.
No. That's not right. Not alone.
"Come here," she said to Jonathan Mooseknuckles.
8.20.2014
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Vonce caught up to Shersharmjorp in the woods beyond the wretched athletic fields.
"Shersh," began Vonce, "Shersh, I've had the genital hots for you since the first time I saw you. Back at the gym. I just knew that you're special. A sweet and sincere soul. And the connection we felt is real. And the doggy style boning was real. And super hot. And I've never felt as close to any one as I do to you. And that includes my boyfriend, Bilf, and man is he going to be confused! and anyway I just want to say I think we can make this work."
At least, Vonce thought he said all that. But then he remembered they were both still wolves and wolves don't really have language and while they can speak, it takes some effort.
So what he said came out as more of a mewling whine.
Vonce turned humany again and waited for Shersh to do the same. She did, eventually, but she took her time. She knew who held the real power here.
"Wow," she said, "You really do have an annoying, high-pitched whine. Like a bitch."
Vonce looked down.
Dang.
"But that leather jacket is still totally hot."
Vonce sighed. The moment was gone.
He changed tacks.
"Hey, what was that bummer Principal Pocketwatch had to tell you?"
"Oh, nothing, really. Just that my mother was brutally murdered."
"Harsh."
"I know, right? Hey, you weren't in biology. How'd you hear that announcement? Superheightened werewolf senses?"
"Oh," explained Vonce, "he said it to the whole school, remember?"
"Oh, right. Yeah."
"That seemed comically cruel."
"Yeah, like something out of a satire or something."
"Anyway."
"Anyway," Shersharmjorp shifted her weight to her other leg. Vonce shuffled some leaves.
"So..."
"You know," said Vonce, changing tack again. He was like a regatta captain with this damn conversation, "You might want to work some more citrus into your diet. Your Ph is off."
That was the superheightened senses.
"Shersh," began Vonce, "Shersh, I've had the genital hots for you since the first time I saw you. Back at the gym. I just knew that you're special. A sweet and sincere soul. And the connection we felt is real. And the doggy style boning was real. And super hot. And I've never felt as close to any one as I do to you. And that includes my boyfriend, Bilf, and man is he going to be confused! and anyway I just want to say I think we can make this work."
At least, Vonce thought he said all that. But then he remembered they were both still wolves and wolves don't really have language and while they can speak, it takes some effort.
So what he said came out as more of a mewling whine.
Vonce turned humany again and waited for Shersh to do the same. She did, eventually, but she took her time. She knew who held the real power here.
"Wow," she said, "You really do have an annoying, high-pitched whine. Like a bitch."
Vonce looked down.
Dang.
"But that leather jacket is still totally hot."
Vonce sighed. The moment was gone.
He changed tacks.
"Hey, what was that bummer Principal Pocketwatch had to tell you?"
"Oh, nothing, really. Just that my mother was brutally murdered."
"Harsh."
"I know, right? Hey, you weren't in biology. How'd you hear that announcement? Superheightened werewolf senses?"
"Oh," explained Vonce, "he said it to the whole school, remember?"
"Oh, right. Yeah."
"That seemed comically cruel."
"Yeah, like something out of a satire or something."
"Anyway."
"Anyway," Shersharmjorp shifted her weight to her other leg. Vonce shuffled some leaves.
"So..."
"You know," said Vonce, changing tack again. He was like a regatta captain with this damn conversation, "You might want to work some more citrus into your diet. Your Ph is off."
That was the superheightened senses.
8.18.2014
NOT A CHAPTER, A PICTURE
This is a rough draft. You are more than welcome to submit your own or to modify this version.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The door opened again.
Shersh looked back past the still thrusting Vonce, kind of hoping it'd be Jonathan.
It wasn't.
It was the gym teacher, Ms. Sack, and a whole bunch of kids.
"Hey!" yelled Sack.
Shersh ran off, leaving Vonce to ejaculate into the air. He then took off too.
"Come back here!" shouted Sack again, "We'll find you! There's only, like, 30 werewolves in this school!"
Shersh looked back past the still thrusting Vonce, kind of hoping it'd be Jonathan.
It wasn't.
It was the gym teacher, Ms. Sack, and a whole bunch of kids.
"Hey!" yelled Sack.
Shersh ran off, leaving Vonce to ejaculate into the air. He then took off too.
"Come back here!" shouted Sack again, "We'll find you! There's only, like, 30 werewolves in this school!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
They did it. They jammed together their junks in all the sexy ways a wolf can.
So, just the one style, basically.
So, just the one style, basically.
8.11.2014
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Shersh turned.
It was that strangely alluring, leather jacket wearing new boy, Vonce. Vonce Wolfer.
"Hey, sup," said Vonce. Damn, he was cool, too.
Shersh started to get all humany again but Vonce just looked at her. "No," he said, "You look hot like that."
And then HE turned into a wolf! WHAT!!!
For Shersh that was pretty dang sexy. Sure she'd never had a convo with him before or gotten his digits or smelled his hair but, dang, man. So assertive and sure of himself.
Plus the leather coat stayed with him as a wolf. That coat was really working on her.
Vonce approached and they circled each other a bit. They sniffed butts - Vonce had eaten chicken nuggets and coke and maybe, like, a lilac plant? Or used scented toilet paper? Or maybe he just took care of his b-hole. He's a werewolf, after all. Butt sniffing and butt brandishing are part of the life. Shersh was suddenly self-conscious about her butt.
But Vonce seemed to be pretty into it, judging from the snorting and how he'd occasionally bump his nose into her, cool and wet and soft. Like what sitting naked in a dewy mushroom patch must be like.
Butt sniffing complete. This Vonce thing really seemed to be happening.
"So..." said Shersh.
"I couldn't help but notice you," said Vonce sexily, "Not like in a stalker way. But in the way that I've got heightened senses cuz I'm a werewolf.
"Also, you're the only other thing in this gym."
Shersh thought a moment about the shiv-wielding hamster, decided not to mention it and was also glad Vonce had entered when he did. She'd been about ready to put her sensitive nose in primo shiv-stabbing country.
"I noticed you, too," she said, "Because you came in here as a person and turned into a wolf."
"Being a wolf suits you," he said, "I've never seen such a fine, clumpy spring molt, "he nipped playfully at one particularly large clump on one of her haunches.
Was this really happening?
Shersh had always dreamed of hot teen gym sex.
But she'd also always dreamed Jonathan Mooseknuckles.
But here was this hot wolf man. Who was interested in her.
Oh yes.
It was that strangely alluring, leather jacket wearing new boy, Vonce. Vonce Wolfer.
"Hey, sup," said Vonce. Damn, he was cool, too.
Shersh started to get all humany again but Vonce just looked at her. "No," he said, "You look hot like that."
And then HE turned into a wolf! WHAT!!!
For Shersh that was pretty dang sexy. Sure she'd never had a convo with him before or gotten his digits or smelled his hair but, dang, man. So assertive and sure of himself.
Plus the leather coat stayed with him as a wolf. That coat was really working on her.
Vonce approached and they circled each other a bit. They sniffed butts - Vonce had eaten chicken nuggets and coke and maybe, like, a lilac plant? Or used scented toilet paper? Or maybe he just took care of his b-hole. He's a werewolf, after all. Butt sniffing and butt brandishing are part of the life. Shersh was suddenly self-conscious about her butt.
But Vonce seemed to be pretty into it, judging from the snorting and how he'd occasionally bump his nose into her, cool and wet and soft. Like what sitting naked in a dewy mushroom patch must be like.
Butt sniffing complete. This Vonce thing really seemed to be happening.
"So..." said Shersh.
"I couldn't help but notice you," said Vonce sexily, "Not like in a stalker way. But in the way that I've got heightened senses cuz I'm a werewolf.
"Also, you're the only other thing in this gym."
Shersh thought a moment about the shiv-wielding hamster, decided not to mention it and was also glad Vonce had entered when he did. She'd been about ready to put her sensitive nose in primo shiv-stabbing country.
"I noticed you, too," she said, "Because you came in here as a person and turned into a wolf."
"Being a wolf suits you," he said, "I've never seen such a fine, clumpy spring molt, "he nipped playfully at one particularly large clump on one of her haunches.
Was this really happening?
Shersh had always dreamed of hot teen gym sex.
But she'd also always dreamed Jonathan Mooseknuckles.
But here was this hot wolf man. Who was interested in her.
Oh yes.
8.08.2014
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
She played with the hamsters.
The gym was always free during third period, so she'd bring in a hamster, get all wolfy and chase 'em around.
She didn't generally care for eating them but the thrill of the chase was too much to ignore.
OK, yes. Sometimes she ate them. The taste of rodent fur is pretty nasty but there is a particularly satisfying crunch.
She tried not to eat them, though. She always felt bad.
"That was a mean old thing you did, Shersh," she'd think. Although she hadn't done it with her new name yet. But she assumed it'd probably go like that.
She was just playing with one hamster today. Bouncing and leaping. Snorting after the thing and drinking with delight every petrified squeal.
Oh, and this was a good one, too. A cunning little bugger. A tiny, furry wizard of zigs and zags. Adept at knowing exactly the right moment to dart under the bleachers or skitter into a u-ey, sending Shersh sprawling as her paws lost traction on the waxed hardwood floor.
Shit. What time was it? Ok 5 more minutes and -
Where'd it go?
Shersh sniffed around. The thing was nowhere. She listened but only heard the tick of the wall clock reverberating through the gym. That and, somewhere, a leaky faucet.
She sniffed the floor, trying to discern the scent of hamster foot from sketcher and reebok tread. Was that it?
Oh, she was onto it now. Trotting after the rodent's trail. The water fountain. Of course. Hiding behind the fountain.
Shersh approached slowly, gathering herself up to spring on the hamster.
She inched forward. Tensed her stomach muscles. Held her breath. She leaned around the corner, mouth open an... nothing.
No hamster.
OW! Something bit her tail. She turned quickly, whanging her head off the fucking bubbler. Broken. Stupid.
It was the hamster. Holding her tail like corn on the cob and just going to town.
Dang, hamster.
She snapped her tail, launching the creature toward her mouth and... was that a tiny knife?
The hamster had made a little hamster shiv!
She dodged the flying rodent and managed to give it a little nip on the butt as it completed it's flight plan.
The hamster turned its landing into an effortless drift under the bleachers.
Shersh was about to put her nose under there when the door opened.
The gym was always free during third period, so she'd bring in a hamster, get all wolfy and chase 'em around.
She didn't generally care for eating them but the thrill of the chase was too much to ignore.
OK, yes. Sometimes she ate them. The taste of rodent fur is pretty nasty but there is a particularly satisfying crunch.
She tried not to eat them, though. She always felt bad.
"That was a mean old thing you did, Shersh," she'd think. Although she hadn't done it with her new name yet. But she assumed it'd probably go like that.
She was just playing with one hamster today. Bouncing and leaping. Snorting after the thing and drinking with delight every petrified squeal.
Oh, and this was a good one, too. A cunning little bugger. A tiny, furry wizard of zigs and zags. Adept at knowing exactly the right moment to dart under the bleachers or skitter into a u-ey, sending Shersh sprawling as her paws lost traction on the waxed hardwood floor.
Shit. What time was it? Ok 5 more minutes and -
Where'd it go?
Shersh sniffed around. The thing was nowhere. She listened but only heard the tick of the wall clock reverberating through the gym. That and, somewhere, a leaky faucet.
She sniffed the floor, trying to discern the scent of hamster foot from sketcher and reebok tread. Was that it?
Oh, she was onto it now. Trotting after the rodent's trail. The water fountain. Of course. Hiding behind the fountain.
Shersh approached slowly, gathering herself up to spring on the hamster.
She inched forward. Tensed her stomach muscles. Held her breath. She leaned around the corner, mouth open an... nothing.
No hamster.
OW! Something bit her tail. She turned quickly, whanging her head off the fucking bubbler. Broken. Stupid.
It was the hamster. Holding her tail like corn on the cob and just going to town.
Dang, hamster.
She snapped her tail, launching the creature toward her mouth and... was that a tiny knife?
The hamster had made a little hamster shiv!
She dodged the flying rodent and managed to give it a little nip on the butt as it completed it's flight plan.
The hamster turned its landing into an effortless drift under the bleachers.
Shersh was about to put her nose under there when the door opened.
8.06.2014
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The bell rang.
Miss Professor shouted a reading assignment out to the class as they packed up their books, left apples on her desk and resumed finger-banging.
Shersh spilled out into the hallway and slinked off alone toward her locker. The day had been wearing on her. Miss Professor's naked hate, her douchey classmates and the whole murdered mother thing was a real downer.
She needed release.
Supernatural release.
She exhaled in front of her locker, dialed in the combination.
The box was there. Always was. Always there when she needed it.
Her fix.
She looked down the hallway. The last students were slipping into their classes. The last door shut.
She crouched over the box and traced one cardboard flap.
Something stirred inside.
Inside the box and inside her teenage body.
It wasn't an animal stirring in her body, though. Well, maybe a metaphorical one. Desire. Hunger. Yearning. Freedom.
Release.
The animal inside her that needed to be uncaged, unshackled. Let loose to carve a wild canyon on the surface of humanity.
She slowed her breathing. Not yet. Patience.
Open the box.
Ah, yes.
The hamsters.
Miss Professor shouted a reading assignment out to the class as they packed up their books, left apples on her desk and resumed finger-banging.
Shersh spilled out into the hallway and slinked off alone toward her locker. The day had been wearing on her. Miss Professor's naked hate, her douchey classmates and the whole murdered mother thing was a real downer.
She needed release.
Supernatural release.
She exhaled in front of her locker, dialed in the combination.
The box was there. Always was. Always there when she needed it.
Her fix.
She looked down the hallway. The last students were slipping into their classes. The last door shut.
She crouched over the box and traced one cardboard flap.
Something stirred inside.
Inside the box and inside her teenage body.
It wasn't an animal stirring in her body, though. Well, maybe a metaphorical one. Desire. Hunger. Yearning. Freedom.
Release.
The animal inside her that needed to be uncaged, unshackled. Let loose to carve a wild canyon on the surface of humanity.
She slowed her breathing. Not yet. Patience.
Open the box.
Ah, yes.
The hamsters.
8.04.2014
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Detective Fart regretted one decision in his life: changing his name.
He thought about this while going over those grizzly murder files.
He had changed his name as a younger man in his home country.
Whoa. He'd forgotten how gross this case was. Organs everywhere. Skin in tatters. The pile of human loaded potato skins. Gross.
Fart had changed his name because the word was cool in his native language. Aggressive. A little dangerous. Just... cool.
But that was before he learned English. And his former name, it turns out, would've been pretty cool in English.
Now, this was interesting, thought Fart. Pretty gross, chaotic corpse... but on the neck... two tiny neat holes.
Could this have been the work of two people?
Fart exhaled. Should've stuck with Thunderpunch.
He thought about this while going over those grizzly murder files.
He had changed his name as a younger man in his home country.
Whoa. He'd forgotten how gross this case was. Organs everywhere. Skin in tatters. The pile of human loaded potato skins. Gross.
Fart had changed his name because the word was cool in his native language. Aggressive. A little dangerous. Just... cool.
But that was before he learned English. And his former name, it turns out, would've been pretty cool in English.
Now, this was interesting, thought Fart. Pretty gross, chaotic corpse... but on the neck... two tiny neat holes.
Could this have been the work of two people?
Fart exhaled. Should've stuck with Thunderpunch.
8.01.2014
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
This chapter starts with a person monologuing, but we don't know who is speaking yet. Mysterious, hmm? Intriguing!
"A queef," the speaker began, "Is a pussy fart."
"That's what I figured," said the other mysterious conversational participant.
"Yes, I know. I chose the word carefully.
"You see, 'queef' is one of those words... you can just tell what it means. It has that feeling, you know? 'Fuck' isn't like that. 'Fuck' is good, you know, it's visceral. You can picture fucking. But there are different kinds of fucking. Fuck can be angry, aggressive, joyful, weird. And so using 'fuck' can invoke any of those feelings.
"'Queef' only means the one thing.
"I'd like to think that there's some language, maybe a tribe those linguists care about in Papua/New Guinea, where 'queef' means something benign. Like 'butter' or 'read a book.' So then if, say, one of those tribesmen came to America and went to a juice bar in the early afternoon in Los Angeles, they'd hear something like "Oh man, my husband took me from behind this morning and I totally read a book at bikram. Like a huge book."
"Miss Professor?" asked Douche or Douché or whatever.
"What, Douche?" Miss Professor exhaled.
"While queefs have a loose biological connection, I question the value of this rant in a high school biology class."
Douche was sent to the principal's office.
"A queef," the speaker began, "Is a pussy fart."
"That's what I figured," said the other mysterious conversational participant.
"Yes, I know. I chose the word carefully.
"You see, 'queef' is one of those words... you can just tell what it means. It has that feeling, you know? 'Fuck' isn't like that. 'Fuck' is good, you know, it's visceral. You can picture fucking. But there are different kinds of fucking. Fuck can be angry, aggressive, joyful, weird. And so using 'fuck' can invoke any of those feelings.
"'Queef' only means the one thing.
"I'd like to think that there's some language, maybe a tribe those linguists care about in Papua/New Guinea, where 'queef' means something benign. Like 'butter' or 'read a book.' So then if, say, one of those tribesmen came to America and went to a juice bar in the early afternoon in Los Angeles, they'd hear something like "Oh man, my husband took me from behind this morning and I totally read a book at bikram. Like a huge book."
"Miss Professor?" asked Douche or Douché or whatever.
"What, Douche?" Miss Professor exhaled.
"While queefs have a loose biological connection, I question the value of this rant in a high school biology class."
Douche was sent to the principal's office.
7.30.2014
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"That took too damn long," Miss Professor said with tears in her eyes as Shersharmjorp entered the classroom. "So we got ice cream," she rubbed her temple, wincing from the ice cream headache.
"Where were you?"
S-jorp looked around the classroom. Everyone had ice cream in front of them. Every color of the rainbow. And all the toppings: cherries, sprinkles, whipped cream, salt, bananas, pickles, more ice cream, hot fudge, butter.
This would be an OK way for Shersh to forget about her mutilated mother for a bit.
"My mom died. Can I have some ice cream?"
"We're out. Sorry," Miss Professor stared at Shersh. They weren't out, she just didn't want to share any more.
"Sit down, Willow."
"It's Shersharmjorp now."
"That's ridiculous! Why? What?"
"I changed it just now, in the hallway."
"Your parents must be disappointed in you," her words hung in the air. Miss Professor realized the depth of that insult in this moment. She leaned in, grabbed Shersh by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes.
"So disappointed."
The loudspeaker crackled again.
"Oh, Shershmajrop?" It was Pocketwatch, "I forgot to tell you how they identified her. She'd been skinned and the patch with her tramp stamp of two arms with bulging biceps with tribal tattoos fisting her gaping vagina was found covering her eyes.
"So crazy!"
The loudspeaker clicked off.
Shersh looked out at her classmates.
Zarp coughed into the awkward silence. He always had to make it about himself.
"Where were you?"
S-jorp looked around the classroom. Everyone had ice cream in front of them. Every color of the rainbow. And all the toppings: cherries, sprinkles, whipped cream, salt, bananas, pickles, more ice cream, hot fudge, butter.
This would be an OK way for Shersh to forget about her mutilated mother for a bit.
"My mom died. Can I have some ice cream?"
"We're out. Sorry," Miss Professor stared at Shersh. They weren't out, she just didn't want to share any more.
"Sit down, Willow."
"It's Shersharmjorp now."
"That's ridiculous! Why? What?"
"I changed it just now, in the hallway."
"Your parents must be disappointed in you," her words hung in the air. Miss Professor realized the depth of that insult in this moment. She leaned in, grabbed Shersh by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes.
"So disappointed."
The loudspeaker crackled again.
"Oh, Shershmajrop?" It was Pocketwatch, "I forgot to tell you how they identified her. She'd been skinned and the patch with her tramp stamp of two arms with bulging biceps with tribal tattoos fisting her gaping vagina was found covering her eyes.
"So crazy!"
The loudspeaker clicked off.
Shersh looked out at her classmates.
Zarp coughed into the awkward silence. He always had to make it about himself.
7.28.2014
7.25.2014
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Principal Pocketwatch was snuffing out a joint when Shersharmjorp entered.
"Willow," he said, "Man do I have a bummer for you."
"Shersharmjorp," she said.
"What?"
"It's not Willow anymore. My name is Shersharmjorp," she affirmed, really starting to settle into the freedom of picking her own name.
Pocketwatch raised an eyebrow.
"It's a... thing," she said, dismissing his eyebrow.
She looked around the office and saw a bunch of things but the only one I'm going to describe is the stamp that reads "I GREW HEMP" that Pocketwatch used to mark dollar bills. Just the kind of man he was.
"Shermashnorp," he began.
"Shersharmjorp," she corrected him.
He sighed. "Shersharmjorp, I've just gotten off the phone with Detective Fart down at the - stop giggling - Detective Fart down at the police station. It's about your mother, Shersharmjorp, like I said over the speaker to the entire school."
"Yeah, that was a little cruel."
"Sure, whatever Anyway, your moms is totally dead."
Shersharmj went stony faced. Not literal stone, you understand. Just a metaphor.
"Yeah, she was pretty gruesomely killed. Like torn apart. Detective Fart -" a crack appeared in Shersh's stony facade (again, not a literal crack or literal stone) "- said it was, like, super nasty."
"My mother is dead?!" Shersh exclaimed.
"Oh yeah. Big time. Like, torn apart and disrespected. Like, organs everywhere and decapitated and - ugh - just gross stuff."
"Oh my god."
"I know!" said Pocketwatch, "and, like, it was weird because there was no blood. Like a vampire tore her apart or something."
DUN DUN DUNNNNNN
"But that's not to say there were no fluids there, oh no," he said, laughing to himself about what a strange day this had been. First the weird dream where his mother gave him all her teeth, then there was that three-legged dog in the park. Now this!
"Fart said they found, like, a pint of some dude's semen in her vagina," he shook his head, "Which they found had been crammed into her mouth."
What a weird day! Ha ha!
"And also a lot of butt lube."
"Oh my god."
"Isn't it crazy?!" he said.
She just looked at him.
"Well," he said, leaning back in his chair, "I guess it's back to class with you."
Shersh shakily got out of her seat and moved to the door.
"Oh, and Shersh?" Pocketwatch said as she grabbed the doorknob.
"Yes, Principal Pocketwatch?"
"Her eyes were, like, totally bugged out and crawling with maggots - even though she'd only been dead a few hours."
Shersh gaped at him.
"Isn't that wild?!"
Shersharmjorp left.
Pocketwatch thought again about that dog. Man, it'd been having a great time chasing a squirrel!
"Willow," he said, "Man do I have a bummer for you."
"Shersharmjorp," she said.
"What?"
"It's not Willow anymore. My name is Shersharmjorp," she affirmed, really starting to settle into the freedom of picking her own name.
Pocketwatch raised an eyebrow.
"It's a... thing," she said, dismissing his eyebrow.
She looked around the office and saw a bunch of things but the only one I'm going to describe is the stamp that reads "I GREW HEMP" that Pocketwatch used to mark dollar bills. Just the kind of man he was.
"Shermashnorp," he began.
"Shersharmjorp," she corrected him.
He sighed. "Shersharmjorp, I've just gotten off the phone with Detective Fart down at the - stop giggling - Detective Fart down at the police station. It's about your mother, Shersharmjorp, like I said over the speaker to the entire school."
"Yeah, that was a little cruel."
"Sure, whatever Anyway, your moms is totally dead."
Shersharmj went stony faced. Not literal stone, you understand. Just a metaphor.
"Yeah, she was pretty gruesomely killed. Like torn apart. Detective Fart -" a crack appeared in Shersh's stony facade (again, not a literal crack or literal stone) "- said it was, like, super nasty."
"My mother is dead?!" Shersh exclaimed.
"Oh yeah. Big time. Like, torn apart and disrespected. Like, organs everywhere and decapitated and - ugh - just gross stuff."
"Oh my god."
"I know!" said Pocketwatch, "and, like, it was weird because there was no blood. Like a vampire tore her apart or something."
DUN DUN DUNNNNNN
"But that's not to say there were no fluids there, oh no," he said, laughing to himself about what a strange day this had been. First the weird dream where his mother gave him all her teeth, then there was that three-legged dog in the park. Now this!
"Fart said they found, like, a pint of some dude's semen in her vagina," he shook his head, "Which they found had been crammed into her mouth."
What a weird day! Ha ha!
"And also a lot of butt lube."
"Oh my god."
"Isn't it crazy?!" he said.
She just looked at him.
"Well," he said, leaning back in his chair, "I guess it's back to class with you."
Shersh shakily got out of her seat and moved to the door.
"Oh, and Shersh?" Pocketwatch said as she grabbed the doorknob.
"Yes, Principal Pocketwatch?"
"Her eyes were, like, totally bugged out and crawling with maggots - even though she'd only been dead a few hours."
Shersh gaped at him.
"Isn't that wild?!"
Shersharmjorp left.
Pocketwatch thought again about that dog. Man, it'd been having a great time chasing a squirrel!
7.23.2014
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Willow walked down the hallway to the principal's office.
"Oh man," she thought, "I bet this is going to blow."
She hated the corridors. She wanted to like them but couldn't figure out a way to make them a metaphor for her teenage feelings.
Maybe halls are like the teen years of architecture or something? You pass through them on your way to other rooms? Of life?
No, that's not working.
Hey, is that Jonathan Mooseknuckles in the same hall?
It is!
Willow approached him.
"Hey," she said to try and get his attention.
It worked!
"Sup?" he said. Gosh, he's so cool.
"I..." Willow had run out of things to say.
Jonathan took over.
"Hey, haven't I seen you at the gym or something?"
Willow nodded. He'd noticed her!
"You're totally banging," he said, "I bet you'd rock red hair."
A part of her - a TEENAGE part of her she'd recently been acquainting herself with. A lot. - exploded with joy and arousal and moisture.
"I'm Jonathan," he said. "I totally beefed up a hot milf last night with my wiener," he added.
"Oh. Cool," said Willow, finding a few words. "I'm..."
Shit. She'd forgotten her name. Edward? No. Man's name. Susan? No, not quite right. Names, names... Miss Professor? No that was the teacher's name. Banana? No! That's fruit.
Damn this was taking too long.
Just dive in.
"I'm Shersharmjorp."
Dammit.
"Shersharmjorp?"
She was locked in.
"Yes."
"That's a terrible name!" he laughed. "Do you want to try again?"
She did but found that she couldn't. She stuck with it.
"Shersharmj for friendsies," she explained, "Shersh if you're really short on time or maybe are in a passionate moment of sexual ecstasy with me."
I guess she found her words! Where were they half a page ago?"
"Anyway. I've got to go. Principal's office."
"See you around, Shersh," said Jonathan Mooseknuckles.
"Oh man," she thought, "I bet this is going to blow."
She hated the corridors. She wanted to like them but couldn't figure out a way to make them a metaphor for her teenage feelings.
Maybe halls are like the teen years of architecture or something? You pass through them on your way to other rooms? Of life?
No, that's not working.
Hey, is that Jonathan Mooseknuckles in the same hall?
It is!
Willow approached him.
"Hey," she said to try and get his attention.
It worked!
"Sup?" he said. Gosh, he's so cool.
"I..." Willow had run out of things to say.
Jonathan took over.
"Hey, haven't I seen you at the gym or something?"
Willow nodded. He'd noticed her!
"You're totally banging," he said, "I bet you'd rock red hair."
A part of her - a TEENAGE part of her she'd recently been acquainting herself with. A lot. - exploded with joy and arousal and moisture.
"I'm Jonathan," he said. "I totally beefed up a hot milf last night with my wiener," he added.
"Oh. Cool," said Willow, finding a few words. "I'm..."
Shit. She'd forgotten her name. Edward? No. Man's name. Susan? No, not quite right. Names, names... Miss Professor? No that was the teacher's name. Banana? No! That's fruit.
Damn this was taking too long.
Just dive in.
"I'm Shersharmjorp."
Dammit.
"Shersharmjorp?"
She was locked in.
"Yes."
"That's a terrible name!" he laughed. "Do you want to try again?"
She did but found that she couldn't. She stuck with it.
"Shersharmj for friendsies," she explained, "Shersh if you're really short on time or maybe are in a passionate moment of sexual ecstasy with me."
I guess she found her words! Where were they half a page ago?"
"Anyway. I've got to go. Principal's office."
"See you around, Shersh," said Jonathan Mooseknuckles.
7.21.2014
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"Willow Tree," said the loudspeaker, "Please report to the principal's office for some straight up bummer shit."
Willow looked up from her school book. A real artist had had the book before her and had covered the thing in dong doodles.
"It's a real downer," the principal went on. "It's about your mother."
Willow looked at Miss Professor.
"You better go," said Miss Professor, "We'll wait."
Willow looked up from her school book. A real artist had had the book before her and had covered the thing in dong doodles.
"It's a real downer," the principal went on. "It's about your mother."
Willow looked at Miss Professor.
"You better go," said Miss Professor, "We'll wait."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The murder scene was nasty. Grizzly. Real SVU shit.
And not just because it was found by two dock workers just starting their shift.
It was a woman. Or had been. Now it was more like a pile of gross fleshy stuff.
No blood, though.
Weird.
And not just because it was found by two dock workers just starting their shift.
It was a woman. Or had been. Now it was more like a pile of gross fleshy stuff.
No blood, though.
Weird.
7.18.2014
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"OK, now that roll call's finally over... any questions about science?" said Miss Professor to the class.
Nobody spoke.
"Nobody. No one cares what you think."
Nobody shut up.
Willow raised a hesitant hand.
"Yes, Willow?"
"Um, not that I'm a werewolf or it has a direct influence on my nightly activities," she said, laughing a little to show the class the VERY IDEA of such a thing was ridiculous, "But, um, what's the deal with the moon?"
"The moon?"
"Yeah, you know. The, like, night ...sun?"
Miss Professor sighed. "It's a big rock that orbits the Earth in space."
"Excuse me, Miss Professor?" said that first douche from earlier.
"Yes, douche?"
He ignored it. "Why waste time explaining the concept of 'moon' in a high school biology class?"
"I was done, douche," Miss Professor spat, "And, douche, I'm not here to debate the philosophy of education, douche. That's a different class. Douche."
The douche looked down. The rest of the class looked at the douche.
"Douche." She said again.
"It's not pronounced 'douche'!" he finally snapped. "My name is Douché!"
"I don't see an accent mark."
"That's because we're talking out loud. If this were written in a book, say, or on a blog, it'd be there clear as day!"
"Douche!" Professor shouted, "Principal's office!"
Douché sighed. He knew what he had done.
Nobody spoke.
"Nobody. No one cares what you think."
Nobody shut up.
Willow raised a hesitant hand.
"Yes, Willow?"
"Um, not that I'm a werewolf or it has a direct influence on my nightly activities," she said, laughing a little to show the class the VERY IDEA of such a thing was ridiculous, "But, um, what's the deal with the moon?"
"The moon?"
"Yeah, you know. The, like, night ...sun?"
Miss Professor sighed. "It's a big rock that orbits the Earth in space."
"Excuse me, Miss Professor?" said that first douche from earlier.
"Yes, douche?"
He ignored it. "Why waste time explaining the concept of 'moon' in a high school biology class?"
"I was done, douche," Miss Professor spat, "And, douche, I'm not here to debate the philosophy of education, douche. That's a different class. Douche."
The douche looked down. The rest of the class looked at the douche.
"Douche." She said again.
"It's not pronounced 'douche'!" he finally snapped. "My name is Douché!"
"I don't see an accent mark."
"That's because we're talking out loud. If this were written in a book, say, or on a blog, it'd be there clear as day!"
"Douche!" Professor shouted, "Principal's office!"
Douché sighed. He knew what he had done.
7.16.2014
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Sorgum, Jumper," said Miss Professor.
"Here," said another dweeb.
We're close to the name now, scout's honor.
"Sprigblatz, Quizfish,"
Ugh. That's no hero's name.
"Here," said another stupid testicle.
"Tree, Willow," called Professor.
"Here," SAID THE WEREWOLF.
"Here," said another dweeb.
We're close to the name now, scout's honor.
"Sprigblatz, Quizfish,"
Ugh. That's no hero's name.
"Here," said another stupid testicle.
"Tree, Willow," called Professor.
"Here," SAID THE WEREWOLF.
7.14.2014
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jonathan Mooseknuckles was lounging hotly and handsomely in his chair in math class.
"I don't even need this class," he thought to himself. He picked his nose and flicked the booger out the window.
"Mooseknuckles," said the teacher, "You don't even need this class. You're a genius who has already been accepted to Yalvard College, the secret college for super geniuses. And you're one of the few models to grace the cover of Playgirl AND Playboy."
"Thanks?" said Jonathan.
"Just providing a little background," said the teacher whose name wasn't important.
"I don't even need this class," he thought to himself. He picked his nose and flicked the booger out the window.
"Mooseknuckles," said the teacher, "You don't even need this class. You're a genius who has already been accepted to Yalvard College, the secret college for super geniuses. And you're one of the few models to grace the cover of Playgirl AND Playboy."
"Thanks?" said Jonathan.
"Just providing a little background," said the teacher whose name wasn't important.
7.11.2014
CHAPTER ELEVEN
But, I mean, she didn't go in looking like a werewolf.
This whole time she's been a human looking person. Face, fingers. Coat. I don't know you've probably got an idea.
Oh, red hair. Are you thinking red hair? She doesn't have it, but she's the kind of <strike>person</strike> werewolf who always thought she could pull it off. "Tilda Swinton ain't got nothing on this," she'd think to herself, "I'd rock the ginger look."
Anyway, she sat down in her classroom. One of the science ones.
All the teens were there in the classroom doing their stupid teenage bullshit. Unpacking bags, passing notes, finger-banging.
The teacher walked in. Miss Professor. She looked like a badass, or as much of a badass as a teacher can look. But remember that Indiana Jones was kind of a teacher, too.
Miss Professor sat at her desk.
"All right, kids," she said, snapping a piece of paper, "Stop doing your dumb teenage bullshit. You two, stop finger-banging. Tim for roll call."
This is the part where we find out the werewolf's name.
Miss Professor snapped the paper again.
"Ahem," she coughed.
The tension was palpable.
"Miss Professor?" said a particularly douchey looking boy, "Why do we all feel tense?"
Miss Professor just looked at him. And by the way she looked at him, all the other students knew that she too thought he was a douche.
"Ahem," she said, "Agraplotz, Aloisius."
"Here," answered some doofus.
"Blargrophinsunston, Zarp. Ugh, that's a stupid name," Professor said, correctly.
"Here," said the idiot with the dumb name.
Teens suck.
"Ugh. There's two of them," she said, "Blargrophin- You know," Professor interrupted herself, "I'd think these names were completely made up if I hadn't divorced the jackass who gave you them."
No one in the class spoke.
"Nothing to say for yourself, Zarp?"
"Well, you kinda say it a lot, Mom," said Zarp.
She stared at him.
"Miss Professor," he corrected himself.
"That's better," she said with a punctuational cough. "Blargrophinsunston, Zorp"
"Here"
Professor looked disapprovingly at the dumb shit who said it. She coughed again. She does that a lot.
"Blargrophinsunston, Zurp."
"Here."
"God you three are intolerable.
It might take a while for this whole "name" thing to play out. Let's check in elsewhere.
This whole time she's been a human looking person. Face, fingers. Coat. I don't know you've probably got an idea.
Oh, red hair. Are you thinking red hair? She doesn't have it, but she's the kind of <strike>person</strike> werewolf who always thought she could pull it off. "Tilda Swinton ain't got nothing on this," she'd think to herself, "I'd rock the ginger look."
Anyway, she sat down in her classroom. One of the science ones.
All the teens were there in the classroom doing their stupid teenage bullshit. Unpacking bags, passing notes, finger-banging.
The teacher walked in. Miss Professor. She looked like a badass, or as much of a badass as a teacher can look. But remember that Indiana Jones was kind of a teacher, too.
Miss Professor sat at her desk.
"All right, kids," she said, snapping a piece of paper, "Stop doing your dumb teenage bullshit. You two, stop finger-banging. Tim for roll call."
This is the part where we find out the werewolf's name.
Miss Professor snapped the paper again.
"Ahem," she coughed.
The tension was palpable.
"Miss Professor?" said a particularly douchey looking boy, "Why do we all feel tense?"
Miss Professor just looked at him. And by the way she looked at him, all the other students knew that she too thought he was a douche.
"Ahem," she said, "Agraplotz, Aloisius."
"Here," answered some doofus.
"Blargrophinsunston, Zarp. Ugh, that's a stupid name," Professor said, correctly.
"Here," said the idiot with the dumb name.
Teens suck.
"Ugh. There's two of them," she said, "Blargrophin- You know," Professor interrupted herself, "I'd think these names were completely made up if I hadn't divorced the jackass who gave you them."
No one in the class spoke.
"Nothing to say for yourself, Zarp?"
"Well, you kinda say it a lot, Mom," said Zarp.
She stared at him.
"Miss Professor," he corrected himself.
"That's better," she said with a punctuational cough. "Blargrophinsunston, Zorp"
"Here"
Professor looked disapprovingly at the dumb shit who said it. She coughed again. She does that a lot.
"Blargrophinsunston, Zurp."
"Here."
"God you three are intolerable.
It might take a while for this whole "name" thing to play out. Let's check in elsewhere.
7.09.2014
CHAPTER TEN
The pride of Hormonetown, the town where this story is set, is an ugly, squat, just grumpy looking stupid fucking building. That building is Buttsack Memorial High School. You know the kind of building I'm talking about. Dumb bricks, shitty concrete. Dumpy stupid athletic fields. Just looking at the nasty thing filled everyone - students, teachers, faculty, even passing pigeons and birds and shit - with inarticulate rage.
Just an angry, miserable building.
The werewolf went inside.
Just an angry, miserable building.
The werewolf went inside.
7.07.2014
CHAPTER NINE
It's later now. The next day, probably. And with different characters. In a different place.
"I'm so much like this river," she said, hands in pockets. Looking out over a river.
"Always the same. But also always changing."
The river was beautiful. A serene spot for an angsty teenager to come and consider her feelings and things and also swat bugs. That las part wasn't a draw, really, but tended to happen out of necessity.
"If there's a perfect metaphor for the things I'm going through as a teenager, it's this river," she said, "And if it's not this river," she went on, "It's that I'm a werewolf. Ugh! I'm always dealing with things. Oh, river, if only you could hear me, you'd understand."
"Bullshit!" said someone who we didn't know was there yet.
"Who said that?!" shouted the werewolf, "I didn't know someone else was here yet!"
"It's me," said a beautiful woman dressed in a flowy blue gown. She had deep blue eyes and a blue tinge to her hair. Blue sandals on her feet. Long lacy blue gloves on her hands.
She was really committed to the whole "blue" thing.
"Who are you?" asked the werewolf.
"I'm the river nymph. This river is essentially an extension of me and vice versa.
"Hence the blue," she explained.
"Hence the blue," said the now-awed werewolf.
Awed as in astonished. Not odd as in strange. She'd always felt a little of odd. Out of place. Like she didn't quite fit in in regular-
"I'm gonna stop you right there," the river interrupted the narrator's kinda messy joke.
"Huh?" said the werewolf.
"You need to stop. You're not special," said the river to the werewolf's face.
"Excuse me?! I'm a were-"
"I don't care. For millennia I've been here and literally every single fucking person who has come to this god damn river has felt lost, out of place. Different."
"Oh. It sounds sad."
"No, it's exhausting. And stupid."
"Oh, but I'm not stupid. I'm a totally unique-"
"Fourteen," interrupted the river again. She's awfully interrupty.
"What?"
"Fourteen fucking teen werewolves have stood exactly where you're standing."
"Oh, I-"
"And that's just this decade. I've also seen ten vampires, three lizard people and once, the Loch Ness Monster. Not to mention the drifters, ex-cons, soul searchers and artists - don't get me fucking started on the fucking artists."
"You sure swear a lot," observed the werewolf.
"God damn fucking right I do. I'm a fucking river. What're you gonna fucking do? Stop drinking my damn water?"
"None of this is really helping me."
"It's not supposed to. I do not care about you at all."
"Geez! What if I just kill myself?!"
"I hope you do. There's a whole river in front of you. Jump in and drown. I'll flush your shitty corpse into the sea. Then you're Poseidon's problem."
Nothing from the werewolf.
"That's what I thought," the river said, spitting at the werewolf's feet. "Now don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"Oh, dip! School!" The werewolf ran off.
"Pussy," the river said, merging again with the water.
"I'm so much like this river," she said, hands in pockets. Looking out over a river.
"Always the same. But also always changing."
The river was beautiful. A serene spot for an angsty teenager to come and consider her feelings and things and also swat bugs. That las part wasn't a draw, really, but tended to happen out of necessity.
"If there's a perfect metaphor for the things I'm going through as a teenager, it's this river," she said, "And if it's not this river," she went on, "It's that I'm a werewolf. Ugh! I'm always dealing with things. Oh, river, if only you could hear me, you'd understand."
"Bullshit!" said someone who we didn't know was there yet.
"Who said that?!" shouted the werewolf, "I didn't know someone else was here yet!"
"It's me," said a beautiful woman dressed in a flowy blue gown. She had deep blue eyes and a blue tinge to her hair. Blue sandals on her feet. Long lacy blue gloves on her hands.
She was really committed to the whole "blue" thing.
"Who are you?" asked the werewolf.
"I'm the river nymph. This river is essentially an extension of me and vice versa.
"Hence the blue," she explained.
"Hence the blue," said the now-awed werewolf.
Awed as in astonished. Not odd as in strange. She'd always felt a little of odd. Out of place. Like she didn't quite fit in in regular-
"I'm gonna stop you right there," the river interrupted the narrator's kinda messy joke.
"Huh?" said the werewolf.
"You need to stop. You're not special," said the river to the werewolf's face.
"Excuse me?! I'm a were-"
"I don't care. For millennia I've been here and literally every single fucking person who has come to this god damn river has felt lost, out of place. Different."
"Oh. It sounds sad."
"No, it's exhausting. And stupid."
"Oh, but I'm not stupid. I'm a totally unique-"
"Fourteen," interrupted the river again. She's awfully interrupty.
"What?"
"Fourteen fucking teen werewolves have stood exactly where you're standing."
"Oh, I-"
"And that's just this decade. I've also seen ten vampires, three lizard people and once, the Loch Ness Monster. Not to mention the drifters, ex-cons, soul searchers and artists - don't get me fucking started on the fucking artists."
"You sure swear a lot," observed the werewolf.
"God damn fucking right I do. I'm a fucking river. What're you gonna fucking do? Stop drinking my damn water?"
"None of this is really helping me."
"It's not supposed to. I do not care about you at all."
"Geez! What if I just kill myself?!"
"I hope you do. There's a whole river in front of you. Jump in and drown. I'll flush your shitty corpse into the sea. Then you're Poseidon's problem."
Nothing from the werewolf.
"That's what I thought," the river said, spitting at the werewolf's feet. "Now don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"Oh, dip! School!" The werewolf ran off.
"Pussy," the river said, merging again with the water.
7.04.2014
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Wait a minute," said the handsome, young, possibly underage vampire, "Are you telling me that instead of banging the person everyone thought I was banging, I was banging her mother?"
"Who's 'everyone'?" asked Tina.
"Oh, I-"
"Doesn't matter," she said, "Yes."
"Okee doke."
"Say," Tina began, "What's your name, you handsome and probably emotionally complex teenager with parents that don't understand you?"
"Me?" asked the vampire - you know, the only other person in the room where the sex was, "I'm Jonathan."
Wait for it.
"Jonathan Mooseknuckles."
"I'll remember that name," said Tina, "Sounds important. Now, are you ready to pork me again?" she said, breathing huskily into his ear.
"Where'd all this shucked corn come from?" Jonathan asked.
"Oh, I needed the husks for my breath. I can stop if you want."
"No," he responded, "It turns out naked corn is a turn-on for me."
"Jiffy pop!" yelled Tina before they reporked.
The corn came in handy.
"Who's 'everyone'?" asked Tina.
"Oh, I-"
"Doesn't matter," she said, "Yes."
"Okee doke."
"Say," Tina began, "What's your name, you handsome and probably emotionally complex teenager with parents that don't understand you?"
"Me?" asked the vampire - you know, the only other person in the room where the sex was, "I'm Jonathan."
Wait for it.
"Jonathan Mooseknuckles."
"I'll remember that name," said Tina, "Sounds important. Now, are you ready to pork me again?" she said, breathing huskily into his ear.
"Where'd all this shucked corn come from?" Jonathan asked.
"Oh, I needed the husks for my breath. I can stop if you want."
"No," he responded, "It turns out naked corn is a turn-on for me."
"Jiffy pop!" yelled Tina before they reporked.
The corn came in handy.
7.02.2014
CHAPTER SIX
"Oh man, that was so good. My privates are so slammed," she said.
"Yeah, I know," he said, vampiricly, "I've been practicing with, you know, like, books and movies and props and such."
"And such?" she asked, askingly.
"Yeah. You know, well, like straps and things."
"Oh, OK," she said with her mouth.
"Do you know my daughter?" she continued, "She's a werewolf. I'm Tina."
"Yeah, I know," he said, vampiricly, "I've been practicing with, you know, like, books and movies and props and such."
"And such?" she asked, askingly.
"Yeah. You know, well, like straps and things."
"Oh, OK," she said with her mouth.
"Do you know my daughter?" she continued, "She's a werewolf. I'm Tina."
6.30.2014
CHAPTER FIVE
Later that night, they did.
Although they didn't touch them together so much as they just slammed 'em into each other like an overactive kid with two matchbox cars.
Although they didn't touch them together so much as they just slammed 'em into each other like an overactive kid with two matchbox cars.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Oh man. Being a secret vampire is so hard," he thought. But she couldn't hear it; he was just thinking.
"That woman is totally hot looking," he continued to think in his brain.
"I hope that sometime we could touch together our bits."
He approached her.
"That woman is totally hot looking," he continued to think in his brain.
"I hope that sometime we could touch together our bits."
He approached her.
6.27.2014
CHAPTER THREE
"Who is that?" she thought to herself, "Oh, that same sexy teen I always see.
"I hope he notices me this time."
She looked in the mirror nearest her. She was in a gym. There were mirrors all over the place.
But not "weremirrors." Not, like, werewolves but instead of turning into wolves you turn into a mirror and that's the real reason you shouldn't break mirrors.
Regular mirrors.
"Ugh," she thought to herself, "I feel so plain. I wish that hot boy had a terrible secret. Like he's secretly a vampire so I could share with him the secret that I'm secretly a werewolf and we could talk and make out and maybe find love in this crazy messed up world and also maybe he could squirt fluid inside me.
"I just want him to have a secret," she thought.
"I hope he notices me this time."
She looked in the mirror nearest her. She was in a gym. There were mirrors all over the place.
But not "weremirrors." Not, like, werewolves but instead of turning into wolves you turn into a mirror and that's the real reason you shouldn't break mirrors.
Regular mirrors.
"Ugh," she thought to herself, "I feel so plain. I wish that hot boy had a terrible secret. Like he's secretly a vampire so I could share with him the secret that I'm secretly a werewolf and we could talk and make out and maybe find love in this crazy messed up world and also maybe he could squirt fluid inside me.
"I just want him to have a secret," she thought.
6.25.2014
CHAPTER TWO
The werewolf had money now.
Now she had to figure out how to turn that into a thing to fight her werewolfism, her lycanthropy. The desire in her to be a feral, wild animal. To hunt. To stalk. To sniff out prey. To howl into the night.
To throw off everything human. To peel back the skin of civilization and pulse like a heart.
So she fought it.
"Ten hamsters please," she said.
"Weren't you in here last week getting hamsters?"
"No, that wasn't me," she said, laughing cutely to try and make the clerk think of something else. Laughter, probably, or jokes maybe.
"No runts," she said as he selected the rodents.
Now she had to figure out how to turn that into a thing to fight her werewolfism, her lycanthropy. The desire in her to be a feral, wild animal. To hunt. To stalk. To sniff out prey. To howl into the night.
To throw off everything human. To peel back the skin of civilization and pulse like a heart.
So she fought it.
"Ten hamsters please," she said.
"Weren't you in here last week getting hamsters?"
"No, that wasn't me," she said, laughing cutely to try and make the clerk think of something else. Laughter, probably, or jokes maybe.
"No runts," she said as he selected the rodents.
6.23.2014
CHAPTER ONE
The werewolf put the guitar on the counter.
"What do you want for it?" the cashier asked, like there wasn't a werewolf in front of him.
"I dunno, a hundred bucks?" the werewolf guessed.
No one knew she was a werewolf. She just looked like a person. Like a average ass person. Hair, shoulders, eyeballs.
Just a person.
"We can probably do a hundo," said the clerk.
"I'm not a werewolf," she said.
"What?"
"Oh. ...I'll take it."
"What do you want for it?" the cashier asked, like there wasn't a werewolf in front of him.
"I dunno, a hundred bucks?" the werewolf guessed.
No one knew she was a werewolf. She just looked like a person. Like a average ass person. Hair, shoulders, eyeballs.
Just a person.
"We can probably do a hundo," said the clerk.
"I'm not a werewolf," she said.
"What?"
"Oh. ...I'll take it."
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