Liliacul Lup

“It was raw, and visceral, like…KREEEEEEAAAAOOOOOOOOOORRRRRLLL—something like that.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t know. Some wolf-bat creature, maybe. It was hairy, with large fangs, and giant claws, and huge bat wings under its arms. I…thiiink it wore black dress pants because its lower half was darker. I could’ve swore I saw a belt buckle.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I could be wrong about the pants thing. It was kinda far and it was pretty dark that night.

“Would you consider yourself a very imag—"

“But it did wear a gold rosary necklace. That much I know for sure. With a gold pendant of the cross. It was clear as day! I never forgot about that rosary. It swung around a lot because the thing kept moving, but I saw it. Hairy, fangs, claws, wings, maybe pants with a belt, but definitely a gold rosary necklace. That part is etched in my memory.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“So I was outside my garage, in my driveway, kissing my new Ferrari F8. It was green—no, it was yellow. That’s besides the point. I was kissing it. I don’t see myself Frenching it but I must have because I do remember the taste of polished metal. I was gonna use it that night to flirt with women or drag race, but I wanted a Ferrari for so long that I got really excited right away.”

“Would you consider yourself a very imaginative person?”

“I think I can be very creative. When I was fourteen, I fixed a leaking faucet in the bathroom. I’m not even a plumber. I just figured it out on my own.”

“No, what I mean is, do you tend to think of things as real when they really aren’t? Perhaps you don’t say it out loud, but could you see yourself, say, attributing a name or gender and emotions to your Ferrari, despite it being a car?”

“Maybe as a joke? I normally don’t do something like that, at least not as an adult. Frenching the car was a one-time thing, really. I saved up a lot of money for it.” 

“So, you normally don’t, say, suffer from hallucinations, or lie about things you’ve seen—”

“It’s real. I know what you’re trying to say and I know it sounds crazy, but the KREEEAAAOOORRRLLL sound and the rosary—I can’t forget that stuff. It would be easier if it had a name, right? Wolf-Batman? No, that sounds like Batman but turned into a werewolf. Bat-wolfman? No. Maybe it should have a foreign-sounding name, to make more exotic—”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but ultimately you’re saying it attacked you while you were…kissing your car?”

“Sort of.”

“Okay. Tell me exactly what happen.”

“It appeared out of nowhere and destroyed my car. It didn’t necessarily attack me. Mainly the car.” 

“I’m sorry, but I’m struggling to believe that.”

“Okay, okay, I know, I know. But it yelled something before it attacked. ‘Relent gore bins’? ‘Recant or wins’? ‘Repent your sins’? I think it was the last one, but it was hard to tell because it has that wolf mouth. Plus, it wore the rosary after all. Anyhow. It yelled ‘repent your sins’ or something, then threw a fireball directly at my Ferrari, causing it to explode.”

“…A fireball?”

“Yeah, it, like, conjured a big-ass fire in its palm. I didn’t know what to think, because, you know, it was a giant wolf-bat monster with pants, and now it’s holding fire?! So, I bolted out of the way as it wound up for the throw. Next thing I know there’s a HUGE explosion. Tires and a bunch of other metal pieces were flying in the air and rolling across the street. There’s a giant flame where my car supposed to be. My house windows are shattered. I was like, oh no, my baby, but then I was like, oh shit, my wife.”

“You’re married? I thought you said you were going to pick up women.”

“No, no, I was just gonna flirt. Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking. She’s been really frustrating during that stage in the pregnancy. It was a stupid idea on my part.”

“Awww, is she okay?”

“Yeah, she was only shaken up. But when I was about to run in the house to check on her, I noticed the wolf-bat creature was gone. We should really give it a name to make talking about it easier.”

“Okay. How about El Murciélago Lobo?”

“What?”

“It’s Spanish.”

“Nah. Maybe it should be more European instead.”

“Liliacul Lup?”

“Huh?” 

“It’s Romanian.”

“No…something more menacing. It’s a giant monster that shoots fireballs.”

“Let’s come back to that a little later. Your car’s totaled. There’s damage to your home. Your pregnant wife’s shook up. You’re obviously terrified. What happened next? Did you or your wife experience any changes in mood or behavior?”

“Oh, for sure I’ve changed. For the better. Which is all the more frustrating why Sherry made me seek therapy in the first place. I replaced the sweet tea with herbal tea. I got rid of both televisions so her and I could bond over the works of authors like Jane Austen and Audrey Niffenegger. I sold the arcade machines in the basement so nothing could distract me from the baby. I opted for a minivan with great fuel economy instead of another luxury casr. Every morning, I wake up a little earlier so I can light an incense stick and meditate for thirty minutes before getting ready for work.”

“These changes are all well and good—fantastic, even—but it’s concerning that you would contribute them to a fictional creature.” 

“That monster is real and it changed my life. A week after it blasted my Ferrari to kingdom come, I had an awakening. ‘Repent your sins.’ It was trying to tell me something—that my way of living was all wrong. I kept searching for satisfaction outside myself. In a month that expensive-ass Ferrari wouldn’t mean anything to me. I would have needed to buy a boat or new boobs for Sherry just to feel something again. I was competing with myself to see how fast I can get my hands on the next cool thing. It’s a never-ending cycle. I’m connected with my inner spirit now. I’m connected with the world. I’m a father now. There are monsters among us that shoot fireballs from their hands. The universe is bigger than my next rush of dopamine.”

“And despite this revelation, your wife still wanted you to come here?”

“Sherry thinks I made up the monster to hide the fact that I did something stupid to blow up the car, and that my spiritual awakening is me suppressing my grief for the loss of my most prized possession. She doesn’t understand. Every time I see an ad for the latest smart phone I hear that sound: KREEEEEEAAAAOOOOOOOOOORRRRRLLL.”

“Let’s switch gears a bit. Tell me about your relationship with your father growing up.”

“What does that have to do with my run-in with a wolf-bat monster?”

“Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a lot.”

“He and Mom divorced when I was eight. I didn’t see him as much after that, until my mid-twenties. He’s, well, just my dad. I don’t know if he’s any different from any other dad.”

“How absent was he after the divorce?”

“My sister and I saw him most weekends. We went fishing most of the time. Or was it board games at his apartment?”

“You know, your teenage years are very important during your mental development. One’s father being constantly present during childhood and adolescence is more important than people think. It’s the missing piece to the puzzle for most people’s psychological health; the difference between living a normal, stable life with a nice car and a Hulu account, and becoming a minimalist. We therapists see it all the time. You’re lucky you’re not a serial killer right now.”

“Wow…I didn’t know that.”

“Have you ever heard of a medication called Celexa?”