Michael's Texas Embrace

“Well, like I said, as far as I know they are what you’d call a localized phenomenon.  They’re Appalachian werewolves.  Like good ole boys who tear it up on the weekend, except they happen to be secretive, cursed, half-wolf creatures hell-bent on murder.  Although, I ain’t convinced they’re all hell-bent on murder.  I seen one outside Big Pig’s pub one night, ‘bout two in the a.m.  I didn’t have my gun on account of being off duty and drunker than hell.  I thought I was likely a goner.  Conventional werewolf wisdom is they’d assume kill you as look at you, but this one was just lookin’ at me.  I put my hands up like I was under arrest, too.  Said ‘easy there boy,’ and told it I weren’t keen on killin’ or being killed.  You know, I swear, it tilted its head like it was trying to figure what I was sayin’.  Then it sort of grunted and took off.  It could of killed me if it had a mind to.  It just didn’t.  And for the life of me, I can’t figure what that means.  Does it mean they’re more like people than they get credit for?  That there’s good and bad, like regular folks?  I don’t know, but I might think twice before takin’ a shot at one.”  Lyle fell silent and glowered at the heads along the wall.  “Let’s get out of this room.  It’s stuffy.”

# posted by Michael : 6:09 PM