A New Friend

It’s a full moon tonight!

I hope I finally see a werewolf! I’ve always wondered what it would be like to see a werewolf in person. I bet it would be like the time I shook Kirby Puckett’s hand when I was 14, except the werewolf would be taller and I would have less acne.

Maybe the werewolf will approach me tentatively, and I would have to coax him toward me by offering him food – some bread crumbs, or a severed rooster head perhaps. Once the werewolf got near, I would offer him my hand so he could sniff it and make sure I’m friendly. Then he could give me a backrub. I bet his coarse, hairy knuckles would tickle the sensitive skin along the sides of my rib cage. With all due respect to my wife and son, the day I get a werewolf backrub will be the best day of my life by a mile.

Werewolves are sometimes misunderstood by the media. They want us to believe that all werewolves only want to rip their swarthy snouts into the steaming entrails of newly dead children, or slam dunk basketballs. I know that werewolves are a lot more than that. They have feelings too. Sure, they’re tormented by hot-blooded, animalistic impulses to down warm human blood like it was Snapple, but they also like friendship and dancing and holding hands. I have spent countless hours doing research in my dream journal about this.

Once I’ve lured the werewolf toward me, and the werewolf is giving me a backrub, then we can be free to open up to each other. We will have a deep and meaningful conversation, filled with poignant silences and unbroken eye contact. I can tell the werewolf about me hopes and disappointments, and he can tell me what a human spleen tastes like.

See you soon, my new werewolf friend! I can’t wait to meet you!