Mooning the World

Today's the day I change! Or, more accurately, tonight's the night I change. The moon will be full and I will, in the immortal words of my 12-year-old son, Stone, "Wolf Out."

My name is Pembrothy Van Aucken, and for the past 5 months, every month, for at least 1 night, I become a werewolf. I am also an ACH dwarf! And, trust me, having achondroplasia all my life was nothing compared to the last 5 months from hell!

Stone has always felt guilty about my current situation because it was on a camping trip with him that I got bitten by the wolf, or should I say the man-wolf that caused my current intermittent canine condition. A little factoid I found out about approximately 20 days after I was bitten and the full moon came out.

You see Stone was staying with me the weekend I first wolfed out and had it not been for his quick thinking and fleet feet, I might have killed him or a few other people that first night.

By the second night my average size son, which I always resented him for, but could never truly could find it within myself to hate him for, had it down to a science.

Stone chained me up to the lead piping in the basement of my house and covered his head with a pillow as I growled, snarled and howled all night!

That worked for that first weekend but I knew I had to have a better battle plan for the subsequent months. Stone wouldn't always be visiting me during the times of the full moon. That's when I decided, not being Catholic mind you, to visit a Franciscan monk named Padre Pisano. Pisano occupied an old cathedral near the woods, not very far away from my ex-wife's house. Where Stone lived most of the time

I confessed to the good Padre, and as I hadn't killed anyone yet, or even bit or scratched someone to cause another member of my newfound beastly brethren to be born, he decided to help me. You see underneath his very old mission we're a series of catacombs and within those catacombs were prison quarters, with no windows and doors so thick that even with my enhanced strength when I'd wolf out, I could not break through.

I didn't have much time left, as evening was fast approaching, but as was my tradition before every such night I went to see Stone.

As was always the case, I crept into his second story bedroom thru his window, so his mother wouldn't know that I was visiting him when it wasn't my weekend or our appointed every other Wednesday night dinner.

As always, as I scanned his room, it looked very much like he was bound to be featured in a future episode of Hoarders. I gave him the usual arched eyebrow and look of disdain I always gave him over his squaller-like conditions, and he gave me what he always gave me (lately): attitude.

"Would you believe maid's day off, Dad?"

"No, but I'd believe maid's decade off." I said as I removed the smelly jockey shorts from the chair I thought of sitting on, but changed my mind.

"Why do you always do this?"

"Do what?"

"Sneak in to see me, like it's going to be the last time we ever get to talk? This thing with the Padre is working out? Why do you always have to be so dramatic?"

"Why have you kept my condition from your mother and every other living soul on the planet for the last 5 months? I think you think the situation's rather dramatic too."

"Hey, I'm not a little kid anymore. I can keep secrets. Especially one THIS big. Speaking of big, you do know when you wolf out you become more than average height, right?"

"I do? Cool, at least I'm not a twerp when I'm a werewolf."

"Don't talk like that, Dad. You know I never cared abo--"

"You? Maybe... The rest of world? Not too sure. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Well, that first night, I was too busy keeping you from killing me, and making sure you didn't get out of the house to kill somebody else, but I DID notice it. Maybe I was afraid to tell you, because I didn't want you to think there was a good side to your wolfing out."

"Trust me, Sport, I know there's no good side to this monthly curse."

"It's like you got your own furry menstrual cycle." Stone said with a snicker.

In the past a snarky statement like that might have been met by my small hand across his large cranium, but these days I'd have to jump up to make solid contact, so I just gave him my customary clearing of my throat to indicate my displeasure.

"Well, in case anything happens this month you know what to do?"

Stone sighed and rolled his eyes as only someone approaching his teenage years could possibly pull off with such panache.

"Claim I didn't know anything about it, otherwise if you kill somebody or eat somebody, I might be considered an accessory. I got it, Dad. Do you really think I want to be known as the complicitous son of the canine murderer?"

Did I mention Stone has a recorded IQ of 163?

"Excuse me for being concerned. I thought you might miss me if I had to go on the run." I said as I pivoted toward his window and began to walk toward it.

As I straddled the windowsill I heard Stone running toward me. He grabbed me pulling me back into the room.

"You better not ever have to do that! And, if you do, you better take me with you!"

That's when he did something he hadn't done in the last 2 years. He embraced me. Giving me a hug these days was weird as he stood 5' 3" and my head fit perfectly under his chin. He hugged me so hard, it was almost like he sensed a dread in the air. And as I hugged him back I was hoping he was wrong.

I had a few errands to run so I got out to the church later than I planned expecting to be greeted by Padre Pisano, but instead...

"Yes, I am Padre Gilberto, and you are?" asked the fat Franciscan monk with the bad skin and the very ugly horn rimmed glasses in the thickest Italian accent I had ever heard.

"Where the hell's Pisano?!?"

"Padre Pisano has been... Uh... Relocated."

"Relocated? WHY?! I need him!"

"Apparently Padre Pisano was a touch... Over affectionate with some of the boys in his care."

Holy crap! No wonder Pisano was so forgiving and understanding of me being a little were-man, since he was a little queer man. All I could think of was how glad I was that I never brought Stone here.

"You mean Pisano was a pedo?"

"Oh, no, nothing that drastic. But, these days, Pisano bouncing a young one on his knee, giving hugs of encouragement, a kiss on the cheek.... All that... Is a no-no."

"I guess that depends on which cheek he was kissing, but Padre... Did he... Tell you about me? Pembrothy Van Aucken?"

"No, your name didn't come up. I'm pretty sure I would have remembered it."

"Look, Giberto, you've got to get me down to the catacombs! You got to lock me up!

"Padre Pisano confessed many things to me, but nothing about kinky games in the catacombs with a midget" said Gilberto, his face turning an ashen gray color as he spoke.

"I'm not a midget! I'm an achondroplastic dwarf! And you've got to get me into one of those cells down there before it's too late!"

"My son, you're upset I can see that, and I didn't mean to suggest anything improper between you and Padre Pisano, but the catacombs are seldom used. Except for wine storage, but we don't tell the public about that."

"You don't understand. Pisano and I had an arrangement."

"For the wine? I could probably get you a couple of bottles, but not the good vintage."

"No, about holding me!"

"He held you too? Maybe because your so... Child size."

At that point I let out a scream that must have convinced the good Padre Gilberto that I was the main conductor on the crazy train.

"Listen, my son, it's dark already. Why don't you let me find you a room in the rectory?"

"Dark! What are you talk..." That's when I looked out one of the only clear, non-stained glass windows to notice the darkened night sky. It would be happening any minute. "It's not supposed to get dark already! It's barely 6 o'clock!"

"We changed the clocks last night. Didn't you fall back?"

"Apparently NOT!" I seethed, but that's when I saw it. The full moon rising. It's glow piercing the clouds. And I felt the transition upon me.

I fell to the ground writhing in pain, frothing at the mouth, as I always did during the transition. The poor Padre grabbed a crucifix and held it up at me.

"I'm a werewolf, not a vampire, you idiot! RUN!"

From my position on the ground, I saw the not very fleet of foot Padre run in his open-toed sandals as fast as his toothpick legs could carry his meatball body. He looked like an ambulatory hor d'oeuvre. And that's the last thing I remembered from that night.

The next thing I remembered was waking up leaning against a trash dumpster in an alleyway that reeked of urine and rat droppings.

My shirt was ripped away, my pants were in tatters. In short I looked like the LP version of Bruce Banner after a night of having been The Incredible Hulk.

As I rose to my feet, I noticed the taste of blood in my mouth as though my werewolf fangs had found a victim last night. My first victim... Maybe more than one.

The amnesia was common, but the insecurity and anxiety of knowing I hadn't been locked in somewhere wasn't. My one thought was of Stone. Had I sought him out last night? Is he dead? Did I kill him? I had to find out.

As I began to move I noticed a huge flap had been cut into the back part of my pants. The trap door to an old style pair of long johns couldn't reveal more of my buttocks. So there I ran, mooning the world as I went, if I hadn't been so worried the absurdity might have made me laugh.

I managed to steal another pair of pants from a homeless guy on a street corner before I got to my ex-wife's house. They weren't exactly my size, but over the years I'd become quite an expert at rolling up pant legs, and anything was better than the draft from my own ripped up pants.

It was Monday. Stone always had early dismissal on Mondays. I knew he'd be there alone, but almost as a matter of routine, I climbed up the trellis anyway to his window.

I found the window open. I breathed heavily as I went in hoping not to see a site that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

Instead there was Stone, at his desk, working at his computer. I cleared my throat softly so not to startle him. He turned to see me and the smile on his face was broader than I'd seen in years.

"Dad!"

He hugged me again. This time was such intensity he picked me up off the ground, which I wasn't too pleased with, but for which I couldn't really condemn him.

As he put me down I began feeling him all over. Checking his bones to make sure there wasn't a break anywhere.

"Are you alright?"

"You don't remember, do you?

"Oh, my God, I did come here last night. Did I hurt you? How did you get away?"

"I didn't have to. You came busting in last night. Thank God my window was open otherwise you'd have broken it. You grabbed me and for a second I thought you were going to bite into my throat... But then you looked at me. Into my eyes. And I saw you, Dad. I saw you in there. That's when it all made sense. That first night... Dad you are a werewolf. Stronger, faster than any kid my age. How was I was able to avoid you? How was I able to lure you down to the basement to trap you in? Because you didn't WANT to kill me. Because even when you're wolfed out part of you is still there, the part that couldn't kill me. That wouldn't kill anybody."

"But I had the taste of blood in my mouth this morning. I killed somebody last night."

"Sure, you did. When you ran out of here I tracked you."

"You followed me?! You know how dangerous that was?!" I said shaking him, angry and proud at the same time. The kid had guts. No common sense, but a lot of guts.

"I know, Dad. But I couldn't let you... I had to! Anyways, you ran past the bike trail into the woods. You killed a couple of deer, Dad. A couple of big 7-point bucks. It seemed to calm you down. I tried to get closer to you but you ran away. I wasn't fast enough to follow. You did kill last night, Dad, but I think that's the only things you killed."

"What did you do with the deer?"

"Dressed them in the green space, put the usable meat in the freezer in the garage. Left the rest in the woods for scavengers. Just like you taught me. If we ask real nice maybe we can get Grandma Ida to make her famous venison stew."

I had to laugh out loud at that. Some was tension release. Some was the knowledge of how much he detested going hunting with me and his Grandfather (my Dad, Louis, the great acromesomelic hunter, yeah, Pop's a LP too), but it was tradition. I was also shocked at how much he learned and retained.

"But that was early in the evening, Sport. We have no idea how much more damage I might have done before moon set."

"I listened to my police scanner way into the night. Didn't get much sleep, but I also didn't hear about any murders, or calls about ripped up bodies. I think you did alright last night, Dad." Stone said with a grin etched into his face that showed a mixture of pride and relief.

I had forgotten I bought him that stupid police scanner 2 Christmases ago. I guess everything can come in handy at some point.

I pressed my forehead against his as I squeezed his shoulder. Our customary intimate exchange that long ago replaced the good night kiss.

"I better get back to the church. I got a new Padre to break in."

"What happened to--?"

"Pisano? Not a story you want to hear... Or I want to tell. New one's named Gilberto."

"Is he going to believe you?"

"Trust me, kiddo, Pisano believed me without seeing. At least at first. This one saw first, and now I think he's a believer. I just got to get to him before he tries to tell the authorities about it, and they put him in a rubber room. I'm guessing he might just be waking up about now from all the wine I'm sure he drank to calm himself down last night."

"Good luck."

"Hey, I got another month to convince him. It won't be full tonight."

I said flippantly as I made my way out his window. But what I didn't know then, as Stone watched me walk down the block toward the Church, was the huge scratch on Stone's upper arm from where I had initially grabbed him last night. A little souvenir of his encounter with my wolf self that would come back to haunt him... In a month's time.