A WEREWOLF BONDS WITH HIS NEW IMPROVED OFF SPRING... 9/23/13 .. part of the LYCANTHRO-SHARK story arc

The alpha played with the newborns. Well, maybe they were too newborn for that, but he held them and examined them. Shimmy Kate pressed back against the rocky wall and watched. She didn't say a word. She just looked. Avoided eye contact, but she took it all in. 

He sniffed the babies and studied their faces, so different from his own. And they looked back with the cloudy eyed stare of the innocent. The other females pretended not to notice, but they did. Made like they were grooming each other, but that was just an act. Betas chased a couple live rabbits down in this pit they had. That was a big game with them... like werewolf pinball. Only rabbits ain't ball bearings and if you chase 'em too much they die. But werewolves don't care. It's only a hobby. 

Alpha flips one a the babies over and gently runs his index claw over the tail bump. He smiles as much as his lupine features allow. Remember, his 'caste' exists locked in wolf-mode, or semi-wolf-mode. Not human. Not wolf. Not nothin'.
Looks like they gonna have tails. Not big ones. Not like what timber wolf got, or even Lassie. Still, some a them 'daddy' traits gonna live on. Other youing'uns watch from the shadows. They got a paper sack full a Hershey Buds (old name for Hershey's Kisses). One a the females took 'em off a victim. Some guy waitin' for a bus late at night. You know how lonely the bayou can be. Wolf-kids munch on 'em. Sometimes they take off the foil. Sometimes they don't. Domestic dogs is allergic to that shit. Wolf-folk ain't.

Shimmy Kate find her tongue. She scared, but she talk. She go - I don't wanna keep 'em like that. Get 'em clothes. They need clothes..... But he don't answer. Maybe he glance at her a second, but that's it. Then he rub their bellies. The babies, I mean. Makes 'em purr, almost like kitties. One pees, but he a fast mover, so it don't get him.... He make with another stiff, wolfie smile. Then he whisper their names... 'Romulus and Remus.' ..... Shimmy Kate don't like when he say it. He know it, so he say it again. She get agitated and kick over a candle. Female wolfie-folk set it right. Other one start laughin' like a crazy woman. Alpha slap her 'cross the muzzle. That shut her up real good. She do curl up in a ball though.

One a the betas, down in the pit, get tired a the game and crunch that rabbit all the way through. Bones ain't nothin' to wolfie-folk. Young'uns howl when he do it. Beg for scraps too. Other one scream like a banshee. Most folks do not know rabbits can scream, but they do. It fixin' to die a fright, but not yet.

Female what ain't been slapped start nuzzlin' down in the pit. Make like she wanna lick the blood off the beta's face. Alpha don't like when they mess with the betas, 'cause it jazzes 'em up and makes 'em uppity. Gettin' 'jiggy' what he do, not them.

But he all occupied with them babies, so he don't pay no mind.

Shimmy Kate see he a good 'baby-daddy.' Least she got that. So she smile at him a little. Don't mean it, but she do it.

He ain't fooled. Wolfie-folk smart that way.
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THE SCIENCE OF FANTASTICAL HUMAN ODDITIES... 9/22/13

Whatever force it is that deems to call unusual forms of humanity into existence (aliens, spiritual manifestations, our own descendants from the future) is constrained by a simple fact... life is hard. 

Mere frivolities, such as giants (the really big ones), delicate limbed, ethereal elves and the like MUST be able to survive in nature. That's why we don't see 'fire' people who swim through granite, or glass maidens with amethyst eyes. Poetic license is one thing. The isolated, organic life form may be compelling and irresistible to look at, but that 'magic' thing only goes so far. The phrase 'comfortable in his own body' says it all. Would you enjoy being half spider, or having a psychotic, parasitic, profanity spewing twin sprouting out of your body? Be mighty hard buying clothes, if you know what I mean. 

That's why them that messes with us usually stick to a few basic forms.... 'vampires' (actually life-force-absorbers), 'werewolves' (shape-shifters, some of whom can adopt forms much more unusual than simple feral canines) and manipulators of matter, or witches, if you will. 

Please know that I do not speak of self-taught manipulators, who are able to learn certain things... 'wizards' of the Harry Potter type. True manipulators are born that way and need no special training to accomplish their feats. In the distant past they were demi-gods, remote and often rather sad.

The advanced being responsible for our bayou band of lupine-humans knows all of this. Our talented explorer is a juvenile among his own kind, though possessed of a certain well developed responsibility. He wants his hamsters to live.

But that doesn't mean his all-powerful, alien classmates won't make trouble. 

You know how 'kids' can be...
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Don Jon Trailer Official 2013 Joseph Gordon-Levitt Movie [HD].. BAYLAH, our BEYONCE LOOK-ALIKE VAMPIRE who has a cool piano bar in Center City, Philadelphia & a rich boyfriend down the shore turned me on to this...

Although we go off on a million tangents in '... the Wonderland' our vampire 'besties' are still here. And Baylah really likes this. You wouldn't think so, but she does. So, please watch the video and see the movie. Maybe after, go tip toe through~>  THIS ... then join me on TWITTER at ~> @wilkravitz ... Can't channel no werewolves tonight because I keep slipping into a catatonic trance caused by the hypnotic, 'white noise' hum of my refrigerator. Klactu borada nicto, y'all... Til next the world spins again....please COMMENT

THE LUPINE TWINS ARRIVE... 9/19/13 .... The Lycanthro-Shark Arc continues

They were hungry, so the wolf-women wrapped each twin in old sheepskin and presented them to the mother. Shimmy Kate felt the weight on her belly, but that was it. Maternal she was not. An old she-wolf stimulated her teats with a bit of grease. Shimmy Kate didn't care. She just stared. 

Each baby weighed about four and a half pounds... small for humans, but big for wolves. And they didn't look 'wolfie' at all... No muzzles... No fur... although wolf-folk cubs are only born with a light pearl-gray down. Their eyes were closed. Their fists were clenched. They yawned and they trembled. Each had a tiny bump... no more than a bug bite... at the base of the spine. Maybe later there'd be a little tail... And maybe not. 

Their sire was pleased. High caste... He wanted 'high caste.' And he got it. But they had to feed. She had to nurse. Shimmy Kate had to play 'mama.' So he picked up the twins, placing each on a breast. Remus locked on first and the mama-woman did bleed just a little bit. Lupine newborns are born with teeth, even 'high caste.' When Romulus heard the contented mewing he latched on too.  After a few heartbeats the mama seemed a little bit interested. The wolf-folk liked that. She'd come along. Might not be no big love affair between her and that alpha, but she'd settle in. They were her babies... and that's a whole other thing all together. 

So in a deep, dark cave ('cept for a few fat, sputtering, wolf-folk candles) a strange clan welcomed new members. Outside, along the banks of nameless, shadowy waterways, isolated piroques made the rounds. Them gator boys like those hides, you know. Buys 'em drink. Buys 'em cigs. Makes 'em fat.... Wolf-folk like 'em that way.

Shimmy Kate (she the mama) commence to singin' a little song. She go - I got joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, down in my heart, down in my heart... It the only 'churchie' song she know.  An' considerin' the occasion it like a baptism too. When it done she croon 'Happy Birthday,' 'cause in a very real way, that what it is.

But Romulus and Remus don't care. They eatin'.  An' if you stick your head in close and look, she ain't even bleedin' much no more...
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THE CIRCLE OF LIFE.... WEREWOLF STYLE... 9/19/13

The females all squeezed into a little niche, a warm, dark pocket at the back of the cave. The alpha male didn't enter. He never does, preferring to stand imperiously away from the rest.... Scipio Africanus  surveying the troops, attended by his loyal, for now, betas.

They helped the human mother crouch down on a pile of rabbit skins and straw. ...'Daddy's gone a hunting to get a baby bunting. To get a little rabbit skin to wrap the baby bunting in...' Pity the poor rabbits. They get it every time. This 'daddy's' obviously accumulated a lot of skins. 

Shimmy Kate (the mama) groaned. She wanted to lay down, but they wouldn't let her. Hard, lupine hands peeled off her torn, thin rags. Someone drizzled water on her head, using a wadded up piece of moss for a sponge. Another wolfie female shoved a leaf in her mouth. She chewed... an instinctive response, releasing a drug-filled resin... It helped.

Now we (the disembodied spirits who narrate everything in The Vampire wonderland) could tell you 'bout contractions and pains and rivulets of fluid squirting out from nether regions, but you've heard that before. A birth is a birth is a birth, at least among mammals. Some take place in sterile environments surrounded by shamefully high priced 'concerned do-gooders for hire,' and others happen in humbler places.

Romulus and Remus were coming. Two little organisms jockeyed for position, waiting for their chance to survive the birth canal and breathe. And as far as these wolf-folk could, they prayed, or rather radiated a desire for a particular outcome.

The mother might provide that. She had it in her blood. Let them look human. Let them blend in. Free them from the shadows and the swamps of the bayou. Other werewolves, higher castes, live that way. They talk. They look. They go and they see.... wolves when it's right and men when it isn't. 

The alpha 'prayed' too. Such a selfless thing he did, though the reluctant mother wouldn't think so. But if this worked, his band, in their present state, would disappear... rather like the Neanderthals. Yet permit us to tell you, oh 'human' children, that first-formed lines do not disappear, not truly. They are with us still, running through creation like underground streams... cold, dark and abiding.

Romulus and Remus are coming. They bite and gouge and scratch even now, fighting to be first. And 'le monde lupiniere' will never be the same....

Allez le bon temps roullez.......

Pardon our French, but we disembodied spirits hail from another part of the forest.

And now the wolf-folk keen...
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THE DECOMPOSING CORPSE GHOST ISSUES JUDGEMENT.... the Lycanthro-Shark story arc... 9/18/13

It's funny how much you can see by moonlight. I guess we forget what it was like before fire. The control of fire, I mean. Simple souls wandered through the night... looking at things. They saw, because they had to. And the cool, silvery disc in the sky was enough. Sometimes it wasn't even a disc. 

Shimmy Kate saw. She saw quite clearly, not like someone in a laboratory under harsh florescent lights, but she was able to interpret shapes, lines and masses. There were trees (lots of trees) and murky puddles filled with wriggling things. Tiny, buzzing, singularities danced about the clammy air. They bit too. She itched, but she was used to that. 

The decomposing corpse ghost laying in the chill, soupy water looked at her. Well, the eyes were gone, but a presence behind the bug eaten, flaccid lids saw her anyway. It breathed a raspy breath, nodded toward the strangely pregnant, near nude hootchie-woman-alligator-wrestler and spoke. She heard it. Shimmy Kate heard it. It said, or rather whispered - Go back.... And even the drowsy crickets seemed to echo those words. The flesh cracked and peeled off from the bones. Not everywhere, but along the arms and around the rib cage. One shoulder joint was clearly visible. It's amazing how white bones appear in the night. She wanted to run. She NEEDED to. But her muscles wouldn't move. Animals know that. They know, so they freeze. Monsters only 'get' you if you run. But stones pose no attraction, so she became a stone, there in the presence of the man she had killed. I suppose someone dragged him from the truck and dumped him in the swamp after, when they stole it. But she didn't know that. A few moments later the dead thing said it again --- Go back.... She whimpered a little. She did do that. But she still couldn't move, til the wolf-gal touched her spine. Then she got up. Her big belly, filled with Romulus and Remus made it hard, but she managed and together they went back to the cave. There was no escape. Neither made a sound and although no one saw it, the corpse-thing disappeared.

The birthing time was near...
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SHIMMY KATE AND WHAT A GHOST TELLS HER WHEN SHE RUNS... 9/17/13 .. LYCANTHRO-SHARK

She get real docile. Shimmy Kate, I mean. Lay next to big, boss wolf-man. Eat all them grubs they give her. Wolf-folk like grub. Give 'em to all what 'spectin' babies. Taste like warm, salty taffy candy set in pickle juice... all sticky and gummy. Guess you gotta be part like a dog. Shimmy Kate gag. She cry a little. But that jus' make them give her more. She mostly numb, so she don't care. 

One day she say - I wanna go someplace. Y'all gotta let me outta here... 'Cause you gotta remember. They in the back of a cave. But not like he gone take her for no pancakes, or nothin'. An' she ain't no good when they go people-killin'. Sit in mud. Go - Eww! Eww! Eww!..... One a the wolfie-woman wanna take her snail huntin'. Snails is better than grubbs. They sweeter. Taste like funny oyster. Big, boss wolf-man say - OK.... He not say 'OK,' 'cause he don't make that sound, but that what he mean. So nex' night they go off.

Wolfie-woman got like a little basket. It really dried up bird nest, but they use it like basket. Snail slide out at night. Go down tree trunk. Go up tree trunk. Move slow, but snails good hunters. People think mouth up where head is, but it not. It down the neck near the stomach. Got like a tongue... a rough tongue. Dig into all kind a meat... bugs... silver, little fish what dart through mangrove root.... tiny, little, marsh people what like two peanut tall. They don't fly like Tinkerbell, but they still there. Wear spider web clothes. That like silk when you scrape the sticky crap off. Wolfie-woman snatch one right off a root. hold it up so Shimmy Kate can see. Got like a little, gray, baggy wife-beater. Jus' long enough to hide what for. But they so little it don't make no difference. Shimmy Kate go - Oh!..... This big surprise to her. She wanna touch it, but wolfie-woman jump back. That how she say 'no.' Put little person in her dried up nest. Think it a little man. Try to climb out, but she put a snail on it. Call Shimmy Kate over to look. Snail glide all over that little body, silver in the moonlight and greasy-like. It shake. It tremble. Tongue scrape half the skin off. Blood run out. Then it go over again an' start diggin' out flesh. Shimmy Kate don't wanna look. Make her think 'bout how she slice up that truck driver. Wolfie-woman don't feel that way. She like to look. Do it all over with another one. Tiny marsh man, I mean. This one cry jus' loud enough so you can hear.... Wolfie-woman like it. She hypnotized . Jus' wanna look. Guess little people meat make 'em sweeter. Snails, I mean.

That when Shimmy Kate slip away. Now wolf-folk good tracker, but bayou got water and water wash scent. It cool at night an' she mostly naked, but she don't care. Wanna jump in a gator pool. Wanna get herself chomped up real good, all dead an' all. Kill off that Romulus an' Remus she got growin' there inside her. Snappin' turtle cut her feet. Spider bite back a her hip. An' that not like bug bite. It almos' like snake bite. She cry. She shake. Not like she no delicate flower. She a trashy gal. Once ate a smoked up cigarette butt on a bet. It time for her to die. She cut up a fella. She livin' wit' monsters. She carryin' two inside her.

Shhhh... That when she see the ghost... layin' right there in the mud An' from how he cut up she know who he is.... even before he open his malf...
(more next time)
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