Life With A Werewolf

Graveyard Parties

          Life has a habit of changing and twisting. You plan things to go in one direction, and they take a sudden violent left or right turn when you’re just trying to keep things straight. That’s actually how it happened that I ended up in the military. Couldn’t get a job immediately out of high school, went into college, got part way through and figured before they kicked me out, I should have a fallback plan. My life took a violent turn.

          That’s honestly, how I ended up here in Crash’s place, as you well know. I planned on just drinking myself to death. Life took a violent turn and changed those plans. Coincidentally, that’s also how the whole “not going to party with the zombies” thing ended. Life took a sudden turn.

          Halloween came. Ghosts and goblins in all manners of costumes showed up and received candy. It’s cute to see what sort of outfits that the kids end up in. Honestly, I expected more super heroes, but we really got more generic things and video game characters this year than super heroes. Princesses and pirates, a few Barbies of course, and the traditional Dracula or werewolf. More than a couple Marios and Bowsers. Crash always gives out the full-sized candy bars to werewolves. Not that he’s biased or anything.

          It was strange to see him at the house for Halloween. But he assured me that this year, he’s working “the late shift”, whatever that meant. It was shaping up to be an average, normal and entertaining Halloween. No rotting ones. No “deadites” as Zack called them. The evening ended at a respectable time, with only a few stragglers after nine.

          There was less kids out and about this year than there was in decades past. I wasn’t surprised that there was less trick or treaters this year. After all, more than a few churches and businesses these days subscribe to the whole “trunk or treat” idea. Which is nice for the kids. They get a ton more candy in one place. But it kind of takes the fun out of it for everyone else; we get far less ghouls and goblins roaming around.

          After we finally turned our porchlight off, the doorbell rang. When I opened it, there was two zombies whose flesh had rotted to the point of not being able to tell who they were. I walked away and locked the door. Then the doorbell rang again and two more zombies stood there. A few minutes later, we got two more. And finally, there was a veritable zombie squad on the porch with a growing zombie platoon on our front lawn.

          I sighed, and opened the door. “You guys aren’t leaving until I come with you, are you?”

          I got a group moan and nods.

          “Fine,” I grumbled. “I’m only taking two in my car.” Which of course was a lie.

          Crash patted me on the back when I turned back inside to grab my keys. “I’m heading out soon too,” he said. “Remember, you don’t have to drink.”

          I nodded, growling and grumbling the whole way, while he laughed and waved at me from the door. “You kids have fun!”

          It’s kind of suicidal to punch a werewolf. But I did want to hit him then. Instead, I went to my car and picked up the first two zombies. Then two more. And, well, let me put it to you this way, I’m still airing out my car.

          The trip out to the cemetery was a nice one. In truth, I hardly recognized the place. They had found jack-o-lanterns and lined the highway with them for almost a mile or so in front of the old cemetery. The cemetery itself was much nicer than it had been before, being swept almost clean of leaves and debris. Vines and intruding plants had been cut down. And the zombies, in their own way, was trying to party.

          It started out with awkward talking. Me telling each of them that I’m sure their souls were in paradise, that they all looked like they had been nice people. I told stories of my own family who had passed on before, and assured them that they were remembered and missed.

          The Topaz provided some Halloween music from a local radio station. One of the zombies got me a soda, and well, the corpses basically swayed to the traditional Halloween tunes, but you get enough alcohol and drugs into people at a club or a concert and that’s all they do anyway is sway, so it seemed natural.

          Of course, I could tell which zombie was the party animal in life. He was the younger one, who managed to slip me something a bit stronger than soda. I don’t blame him, or the rest of them. After all, I recognized the flavor of alcohol. You can’t really hide it in anything. It has a heated bite in its poison that any alcoholic knows by heart.

          But once I had the first one, well, I guess the night had just begun. One became two. Two became four. And before you knew it, I was drunk counseling again on another Halloween with the horde of Zombies listening in rapt attention. I didn’t drive. I just kept drinking, and talking and listening to music while the sun slowly began to break on the horizon. As daylight began to grow, the zombies started wandering away, little by little. I imagine they were going back to their graves and places of rest.

          There is still shame in what happened, though it wasn’t my fault that I started. You see, it was still my fault that I continued. I accept that. Once you get the first taste slipped to you, it’s like being shoved down a ski slope on a snow board. Doesn’t matter if you fall over or keep your balance, you’re still going down.

          But still, I did continue drinking. No one asked me to finish the first one. No one asked me to finish the rest. No one asked me to drink the second bottle that was brought to me, whatever it was a bottle of. When Crash found me, I was sitting against a tombstone singing “Someday Never Comes” by Creedence Clearwater Revival as the first rays of the new sunrise hit.

          Crash walked up in a soft chuckle of his through the woods as the sunlight began to peak over the horizon. “Well, isn’t that ironic.”

          “What is,” I asked, then looked at the bottle of Jack I was holding. There was one swallow left. I tilted it to my mouth and finished it, then tossed it aside.

          “That person you’re sitting on died of alcohol poisoning.”

          “Oh,” I said. I sighed, then looked up at the sky. It spun just slightly in my buzzed state. I didn’t expect tears, but they came anyway. “I guess, I’m a failure. I didn’t intend to drink. I didn’t have to, like you said. But, look at me now. Just look at me.”

          Crash shook his head, and picked me up. “You’re taking the express way home,” he said, then threw me over his shoulder like I was a sack of potatoes.

          “I’m sorry,” I said to him. “I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for all…this.”

          He spun me back to the woods. “I’ll have Zack and Kris come get your car,” he said, as we started walking into the darkness.

          “You’re not upset,” I asked.

          “I will be if you puke on my back.”

          “Why?”

          “Cause, it will take me four or five showers to get the smell out. You know how sensitive my nose is.”

          I scratched his ear like he was a dog. He shook his head around a moment and looked at me. “Stop that.”

          I laughed. “Sorry, I just always wanted to do that.”

          He chuckled. “Get yourself a werewolf girlfriend then.”

          “Why aren’t you mad?”

          The trees began moving past us at a pace that would have been dangerous for me to try. Of course, for Crash it was normal. After a couple minutes, he slowed down a moment then set me against a tree. “Because,” he said, looking me in the face. “Everyone falls down sometime. It’s our job to pick each other up when we do.”

          Again, I don’t remember tearing up, but somehow, I was wiping tears from my eyes. “You’re always there for me,” I said.

          He smiled. “You’re always there for me.”

          We did hug. Then he picked me back up, and got me home faster than I could have driven it. Well, could have driven it if I was sober. When I came through the door over Crash’s shoulder drunk, I expected to have to apologize to everyone. But no one asked for one. Zack and Kris left in Zack’s car to pick up mine, and that was that. Not a word was said about it.

          It stuck with me afterwards. I think it was because I hadn’t intended to drink. I had made every effort not to drink and it still occurred. I hadn’t been in the alcohol since then, either. My streak is two days now, and counting. Each victory, though minor, is celebrated. Life is about falling down. It’s also about getting up, and who we help up along the way. A group of zombies taught me that. So, I will be at their little celebration next year, doing my duty as Undead Uber and Counselor. But next time, I’m bringing my own drinks.