We Don't Allow Their Kind in Our Neighborhood

The community meeting at Christine and Tom’s house was on the very of getting out of hand since the realtor informed Mrs. Tomlin that a pair of gentlemen had bought the old Kroger place at the corner of Wikkup and Strafford.  Looking at the prospective neighbors, neither of the gentleman seemed particularly threatening, but past history had proved that their kind had proved problematic, but city ordinances did not allow discrimination of any kind.

Tom Gehring stated it quite clearly, “We don’t allow their kind in our neighborhood.”

While his living room had over twenty in attendance making it difficult to get around, most of them began nodding their heads in agreement, but Agnes Brooch raised her hand.  Tom knew that she stirred the pot as she had most of her life living in that shabby home at the end of Coltrane Lane, but it was clear even though she was a witch, the homeowner’s association could not discriminate against her, so rolling his eyes, Tom nodded at her to speak, knowing full well what was coming.

“It is against the city ordinance to not allow them into our neighborhood.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but her eyes were expressive in the most hypnotic of ways. 

“What about the last time?” Barkley protested. “I lost my dog to the likes of their kind.”

“Perhaps keep your dog on a leash in accordance with the established leash laws would have been a better alternative.” Agnes cackled and Barkley scowled and turned his head.

“And those full moons.  The noise and baying.” Sheila Merker shook her head.  She was a short stout woman with short blonde hair and her husband Jack had learned long ago that staying silent was his best move after almost forty years of marriage. “Even the teenagers didn’t make as much noise with their parties, did they Jack?” 

“Oh no.” He shook his bald head.  His black rimmed glasses nearly consumed his face which for him was a blessing in disguise since his facial features were a bit underwhelming.  

“I have seen them.  They are a couple.” Roger pointed out as further evidence of their unworthiness to move into vacant house. Roger had just gone through divorce, but somehow maintained the house as his wife moved back to Ohio to be with her sick mother.  

“We have a decent neighborhood.” Christine began as she was known for her sermons, “And we have seen what happens if we let their kind in our neighborhood.  Full moons come and they become beasts without any sort of control or self awareness.  My husband is right, we cannot have them moving into our neighborhood.  Their kind bring down the property values, they are inclined to bring in a certain criminal element, there have been cases of inappropriate relationships with younger females, our daughters, their kind do not respect the laws and I feel it is my duty as a member of this community counsel to make sure their kind is not allowed to live in our community.” 

There was silence.  There was awkward movement among the other members as they looked at Christine and then at Agnes who sat on a hassock with her legs crossed, one of her legs moving rhythmically, and her arms crossed tightly across her chest. As the silence became even more uncomfortable, she spoke up, “So that’s it, is it?  We will prevent these two gentlemen from moving into our neighborhood, solely based on what they are, not who they are.  I see.” She put up one of her decrepit fingers and pointed at each of them in the room, “We have become those people we told our parents we would never become, people who see the flaws in others and based on our preconceived notions bar them from entering our neighborhood.” 

“We have had their kind before.  It didn’t work out.” Sid pointed out.  Sid was a much older gentleman who had lost his wife to cancer five year ago and now lived with his spintress daughter Faye who took care of him.   

“So be it, but I’m warning you that unseen consequences will fall upon your heads.” She hissed.

“Please, everyone eat the cookies." Christine stood up, “Neither Tom or I need all of these goodies around.” 

“My name is Carlin Wynot and this is my domestic partner Wolfgang Mars.” The well-dressed man sat in Harriet’s real estate office. “We were wondering about that house you showed us the other day.” 

“I am afraid that house is sold.” Harriet, who sat in on the meeting at Tom and Christine’s house, lied.

“I see in your eyes, you are not being honest with me or Wolfgang.” He folded his long fingers over his chest as he sat in front of her desk.

“There was another buyer I was not aware of.” She poked through the rolodex on her desk which was a nervous habit.

“I am gravely disappointed.” He glanced at Wolfgang who had not changed facial expressions since walking into Harriet’s office.

“I can show you another house in a lovely neighborhood.” Harriet smiled her professional smile that had sold many houses in her fifteen year career.

“I don’t want to look at other places.  I had my heart set on that one.” He snarled.

“I’m sorry, but that place is no longer on the market.” Her voice fluttered.

WHAM!

Carlin slapped the corner of her desk with such violence using his open palm.  Harriet squeaked like a mouse.  She had heard that their kind could become violent instantly.  There was a fire in his dark eyes, but Wolfgang just sat there as if he was not really part of this discussion in any way.  There was a low growl like that of a wolf and Harriet began to feel for her own safety.  She heard about that one agent who was ripped to shreds during an appointment.  Was she going to be another?  A brief headline on some newspaper with shopping ads on the bottom of the page?

“I wish to file a complaint.” Carlin stood up.  Harriet could not help but notice the superior quality of his suit, how it clung to every angle of his body so precisely that you knew his suit had been made by an expert haberdasher.  

“Oh I wouldn’t bother-” She smiled, but he cut her off.

“I am...we are tired of this underhanded way of dealing with my kind.” He snarled, “I know we are werewolves.  I know that perceptions of our kind are not favorable, but the law clearly states you cannot discriminate against our kind.” 

“Discriminate?  Mr. Whynot, you have this all wrong.” She tittered.

“Do I?  Do I?” He pounded his chest with his hands. “I wish to file a complaint that we are being discriminated against.  Yesterday, we all but had a deal signed, but now…”

“I’m sorry you feel this way…” She started, but Carlin jumped on her desk, his face inches from her own and she could smell the putridness of his breath.  This was her last moments on this earth, she swallowed hard waiting for him to reach out, grasp her throat and rip it out of her, but it did not happen.  He just stood on her desk panting.

“Wolfgang, let’s go.” He finally said as he removed himself from her desk.  Obediently, Wolfgang stood up and together they walked out her her office leaving her grateful that she was still alive.

It all started a few years ago when Wendell Marshfield filed a lawsuit against a landlord who refused to rent him a place because he was a werewolf.  During research and careful data collection, the Society for the Advancement of Werewolves of SAW brought to light new information that showed werewolves were not the fierce creatures of ancient mythology and lore, but rather a very misunderstood lycanthropes who had suffered the loss of their dignity and inalienable rights as members of society. Once the civil rights of lycanthropes was established in common law under Title XX or twenty, discrimination against lycanthropes was no longer legal.  With the passage of Title XX, suddenly everyone began to come out publicly admitting that they were closet lycanthropes.  Congressmen, professional athletes, celebrities, and people from all walks of life began to profess their uniqueness without fear of reprisals.

Some news agencies still held onto the old fears and superstitions and while Title XX favored the shapeshifters, there were those who still did not trust them.  Certain public places would refuse to serve them, because of violation of some of the rules posted in these businesses, but people knew where werewolves were not welcomed despite the Title XX laws.  

Wolfgang and Carlin sat in a Starbucks which had an advertising campaign that welcomed werewolves with open arms.  Carlin liked the double latte while Wolfgang preferred the double shot espresso. 

“Full moon in three days.” Wolfgang pointed out as he slurped his drink.  

“Knew I was feeling kind of itchy.” Carlin scratched behind his ears which had gotten quite pointed. “I was very upset with that woman today.”

“I know, but we are used to how people still treat us.  Nobody changes overnight.” Wolfgang nodded.

“Except us when it’s a full moon.” Carlin chuckled.

“Oh so funny.” Wolfgang did not laugh, but finished off his double espresso and tossed the empty cup into a trash receptacle nearby. He saw two young kids staring at him and Carlin.  He was used to it, but it still made Carlin angry at times.  Wolfgang had come from a family that was forced to live in a tent at a riverbank, because the people of the town feared that he would howl at the moon and brutally attack anyone who happened to wander through the forest at night.  His father had been a decorated veteran who served honorably in Iraq.  Due to his extra keen sense of smell, his father was able to sniff out IUDs before they became a problem.  The Veteran’s Administration promised him vocational training, but there was no one who wanted to work with him even though he was quite skilled at small appliance repair.  Some of the towns’ folk would sneak him small appliances for him to fix and then pay him when he had repaired the appliances.  Wolfgang worked at his elbow in order to learn how to do what his father did.  Still no one wanted to be seen with a werewolf since it was known werewolves weren’t really human.  Wolfgang’s mother told him that he was just as human as any of the people in town, but it sure didn’t feel that way whenever he went shopping with his mom as so many of the places refused to serve the werewolf community.  Title XX had brought some reform, but still there were plenty of places that would not open their doors to them.

Carlin was tired of feeling like some circus freak or some beast even in his state of wolf under the full moon, he was not interested in being violent and had never attacked another human in his wolf-state.  As a matter of fact, the data showed that a werewolf attack on a human was very rare, less than .001%, but the media made it sound like something that happened all the time.  He marched on Washington D.C. during the congressional deliberation of Title XX when the police were sent in to subdue the crowds even though there were no reports of violence.  One of them hit him in the head with a nightstick and them cuffed him.  He thought it was stupid, because in his wolf-state, he could easily break the cuffs, but instead he complied.  

“I am tired of complying.” He said sourly as they left the Starbucks.

“One day it will happen for us.” Wolfgang tried to sound optimistic.

“Look Ethel, it’s those things.” Someone said as they left, but Carlin did not hear it and Wolfgang figured it was better if he did not react to the person’s stupidity.  

Different and unique were a curse.  Neither of them ever hid in the closet about their lycanthrope abilities. Both of them were proud to be werewolves and saw no shame in it.

“Should we look at this new place?” Carlin asked as Wolfgang buckled his seatbelt.

“Well, couldn’t hurt.” He snorted.

“Damn that moon is looking big and bright.” Carlin glanced up at the moon which seemed to be filling out more as he looked at it.

“Three more nights.” Wolfgang nodded.

“Werewolf!” He heard the cry just as the cup full of Starbucks splattered all over the windshield of the car.

“Easy, Carlin.” Wolfgang warned as he saw the fire in his friend’s eyes.

“I am sick of this!  Sick of the ignorance and stupidity of narrow minded people who don’t have a clue about us.” His voice was drowned out by his deep panting.  He opened the car door.

“Are you going to rip me apart, werewolf?” The man standing with four of his friends asked as he watched Carlin get out of the car.

“I just want to see what stupidity looks like.” He snarled.

“He’s got a gun, Carlin.” Wolfgang warned.

One of the myths that was real was that silver bullets could kill a werewolf.

“Got me some silver bullets here, werewolf.” The man jeered.

“Don’t tempt him, Carlin.” Wolfgang put his hand on Carlin’s hand.

The warmth of his friend’s touch always tempered him and he got back into the driver’s seat again.

“Told ya, Hal, them things are nothing but cowards.” He laughed with his friends as they walked away. 

“One day...one day.” Carlin slammed his hands on the steering wheel as Wolfgang reached out and put his hand on Carlin’s shoulder.

“Our day is coming.  We may not see it, but it will come.” He laughed.

The next morning while Harriet was scarfing down some Danish with a cup of coffee, Carlin and Wolfgang walked in.  Nearly choking on her last bite, her eyes went wide and she tried to smile as she drank her coffee to wash down the piece of Danish stuck in her throat. 

“We are here to look at that other place you told us about yesterday.” Carlin sat in the chair as if he owned it.

“Gentlemen, I’m afraid there must be some misunderstanding.” She peered at Carlin through the corner of her eyes. 

“No misunderstanding.  We are in the market for a house. You promised us a house.” He began to play with the knicknacks on her desk, letting them hit the floor when he was done.  He could see this made her very uneasy. 

“Please leave my office.” She requested in a meek voice.

“Why? You can’t throw us out.” He grinned a very toothy grin and it also made her uneasy. 

“I will call-” She reached for her phone, but he was quick to pin her hand so she could not pick it up.

“Carlin.” Wolfgang could sense what was coming and it would be trouble for both of them.  He saw the thick tufts of hair gathering near his jawline.  The full moon was just a few hours away, but the effects were beginning to seep in, because if a werewolf is agitated, sometimes the beast will come hours before.  It was happening.

“You are hurting me.” She whined as blood began ooze out from where he was holding her hand to her desk. 

He smiled.

“Please let go of me. You are hurting me.” Tears began to roll down her chubby cheeks. 

“If you do this, everything they say about us will be true.” Wolfgang warned him.  If he continued he would hear the snapping of the bones in her hand since Carlin was capable of crushing her hand in his wolf-grip. His eyes were fixed on her like a wolf sizing up its prey. “Our day will come.” 

Carlin closed his eyes, but he did not release Harriet’s hand as her mouth was now open in a big O unable to scream as the pain intensified even more. It would only be a matter of seconds, but then without any warning, he let go of her hand, his eyes still fixed on her as if she was prey.  Tears were now rolling down his fuzzy cheeks.  

“Like it or not, we exist.” He put his finger in her face as she wiped the tears from her eyes, “You can pretend we are beasts.  You can pretend we are subhuman. You can continue to treat us like we belong in cages instead of homes, but we will still be here.”

He stood up snarled at her before leaving her office. 

“Werewolves!” Someone shouted as both he and Wolfgang got back into the car.

“Humans!” He shrieked as he drove away as both he and Wolfgang were laughing.