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The Werewolf...a politically incorrect fable
#1 - 22nd Jan 2003 19:03:00
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Total Posts: 1340
Last Online: 7th Aug 2008 23:08:31
Registered: 14th May 2004 00:00:00
The Werewolf was long and lean, and his steady, relentless pace hinted at great stamina. The mud-grey mat of fur that covered his body, obscured his lines, and one could only guess at the strength of the rippling muscles that lay beneath. He had hunted far and wide that day, and with each giant stride his taloned feet dug deep into the earth, increasing his speed as the water scent grew stronger.
Suddenly the Werewolf stopped...he had seen the woman.
The woman was not old, yet not young.
She was not tall, yet not short.
As a matter of fact, the only thing that could be said about her with any certainty, was that she was ugly.
Holy Snapping Duck-@#%$ !!! Was she ugly ???
Her face had more holes in it than a good Swiss cheese. Her head looked like somebody had turned her upside-down and used it to sweep away broken glass. She was lumpy where she should have been flat, and was flat where she should have been lumpy. The overall effect was of a slightly spastic baboon, with a bad case of mange. There were subtle undertones of Charles Laughton doing the Hunchback of Notre Dame...or Phyllis Diller doing anything.
As she squatted by the stream having a pee, her long, filthy, lice-ridden, vaguely blonde hair hung to the ground. She was definitely not Liz Taylor, but, werewolves not being the fussiest of folk, she might as well have been.
With a roar, a bellow and a ti-yi-yippy the Werewolf leapt from cover and bounded to the woman's side.
As he grabbed her, the woman, with the innate ability of all her gender for hammering the obvious, shrieked "Eek, a werewolf!"
"Not really, madam." said the Werewolf.
"What?" said the woman.
"I said, not really madam." insisted the Werewolf.
"Not really what?" insisted the woman.
"I mean that i'm not a real werewolf. Or rather that i'm not really a real werewolf...really."
(There was a short pause whille the woman appeared to be considering the situation.)
"Eek, a werewolf!" she eventually settled for shrieking, and, almost as an after-thought, "What???"
(Nothing vague about her being blond now is there?)
"Look, it's this way..." began the Werewolf "...My name is actually Barban the Kack-Handed and i used to be the chief of a small tribe up in the mountains. We were your average sort of tribe...steal a few sheep, kill a few innocent travellers, that kind of thing. Then one day this dude in a pointy hat turns up and tells us he's a wizard, and if we don't do exactly what he says, he's going to turn us all into frogs. Well, needless to say, i told him exactly where he could shove his magic wand. So the bastard starts changing everyone. There they all were, leaping about, croaking and catching flies...it was bloody frightening i can tell you. So we made a deal, we gave him a nice cave and kept him supplied with chickens and prisoners and stuff like that, and he used to make the crops grow and keep away V.D. and all the usual things that wizards do. Everything was going fine, until one day he walks up to me and, bold as bloody brass, tells me that he wants my daughter and my goat for a sacrifice him and a couple of mates are having up at his place. Well, i figured that was going just a little too far. That goat was a bloody champion, won ribbons at all the local shows, worth a small fortune. So, i says to the miserable bastard, "You, ya miserable bastard, you keep your theiving hands of my goat. I aint afraid of you, and i don't care if you do try to turn me into a frog." But, he says that a frog is too good for the likes of me, and he changes me into a full-time werewolf. Full bloody time. There i am, day and night, full moon or not, hunting far and wide, dodging silver bullets, avoiding patches of wolvesbane, running all over the bloody joint with no-one to talk to...it's a pain in the bloody arse i can tell you lady!!!"
Now, whille the Werewolf had been delivering his sad tale, the woman had been getting less and less nervous (primarily due to the fact that he hadn't actually ripped her throat out,) and more and more her true nature had been coming to the fore.
"Yeah, well i knew you weren't a real werewolf all along." she boasted.
"You did?" queried the Werewolf, "How?"
"Well, um, oh yeah...who ever heard of a mud-grey werewolf? They're black or sorta reddish. And taloned feet? Werewolves don't have talons. They've got claws and fangs and stuff. And everybody knows werewolves can't talk. They howl and bark and slaver a lot. They certainly don't stand around boring you to death with the story of their pathetic little lives. And whille i'm at it, what's the freaking idea of jumping out of the bushes at me anyway. Things have come to a pretty pass when a poor defenceless woman can't even have a quiet pee without some hairy nut-case that looks like a Koala Bear gone wrong leaping out at her. So why don't you just bugger-off and let me get on with it?"
"I'm afraid i can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because i have not yet done that which i came leaping out of the bushes to do."
"And what might that be?"
"What do you think, sweetie?" leered the Werewolf. (With a wink, too.)
"I think you can take a running jump up your own nose, ya pervert."
"Oh come on lady, be reasonable. With that face you can't get a lot of offers."
"Screw you Lassie."
"Real bad choice of words sweetie!"
...and so saying, the Werewolf knocked the woman to the ground and proceeded to ravish her, or 'sexualy assault' as a police report might have it, or "Jabba Jabba Hump Hump" as the boys back in the tribe were known to chant from time to time. The woman, of course, resisted, but it was only token resistance. For, as the Werewolf had pointed-out, with her face she really DIDN'T get a lot of offers. So, on the whole she was quite pleased with the turn of events. However, she couldn't show it. Good heavens, no! What would happen if someone came by and saw her being raped by a werwolf, and actually enjoying it. Think of the scandal. What would the neighbours say.
So, she shouted for help, but not too loudly, and she hit him, but not too hard, and she bit him, but not too deeply, and all in all she had a pretty darn good time.
...When it was over, the Werewolf apologised most graciously and asked her name. And she cried and called him a cad and a beast and said it was Jasmine. And the Werewolf offered her a smoke and asked if she came there often. And she cried and said she'd have to kill herself out of shame but if she didn't then she'd probably be there tomorrow. And the Werewolf kissed her on the cheek and said she wasn't all that ugly. And she cried and said she hoped the villagers caught him and hung him up by his nuts for about a week but she didn't really think he looked like a Koala Bear gone wrong. And the werewolf said he'd like to rape her again. And she cried and begged him not to and then she grabbed him by those cute fuzzy ears and pulled him down. And in the end the Werewolf raped her about half a dozen times, before he sort of staggered, unsteadily off into the forest.
The next day Jasmine came back to the stream and she waited, and she waited, and she waited, but, of course, the Werewolf didn't come. Because you see, she'd been right all along, and he really was a cad and a beast, and whille she sat there patiently waiting...he was twenty miles away raping someone else.
Suddenly the Werewolf stopped...he had seen the woman.
The woman was not old, yet not young.
She was not tall, yet not short.
As a matter of fact, the only thing that could be said about her with any certainty, was that she was ugly.
Holy Snapping Duck-@#%$ !!! Was she ugly ???
Her face had more holes in it than a good Swiss cheese. Her head looked like somebody had turned her upside-down and used it to sweep away broken glass. She was lumpy where she should have been flat, and was flat where she should have been lumpy. The overall effect was of a slightly spastic baboon, with a bad case of mange. There were subtle undertones of Charles Laughton doing the Hunchback of Notre Dame...or Phyllis Diller doing anything.
As she squatted by the stream having a pee, her long, filthy, lice-ridden, vaguely blonde hair hung to the ground. She was definitely not Liz Taylor, but, werewolves not being the fussiest of folk, she might as well have been.
With a roar, a bellow and a ti-yi-yippy the Werewolf leapt from cover and bounded to the woman's side.
As he grabbed her, the woman, with the innate ability of all her gender for hammering the obvious, shrieked "Eek, a werewolf!"
"Not really, madam." said the Werewolf.
"What?" said the woman.
"I said, not really madam." insisted the Werewolf.
"Not really what?" insisted the woman.
"I mean that i'm not a real werewolf. Or rather that i'm not really a real werewolf...really."
(There was a short pause whille the woman appeared to be considering the situation.)
"Eek, a werewolf!" she eventually settled for shrieking, and, almost as an after-thought, "What???"
(Nothing vague about her being blond now is there?)
"Look, it's this way..." began the Werewolf "...My name is actually Barban the Kack-Handed and i used to be the chief of a small tribe up in the mountains. We were your average sort of tribe...steal a few sheep, kill a few innocent travellers, that kind of thing. Then one day this dude in a pointy hat turns up and tells us he's a wizard, and if we don't do exactly what he says, he's going to turn us all into frogs. Well, needless to say, i told him exactly where he could shove his magic wand. So the bastard starts changing everyone. There they all were, leaping about, croaking and catching flies...it was bloody frightening i can tell you. So we made a deal, we gave him a nice cave and kept him supplied with chickens and prisoners and stuff like that, and he used to make the crops grow and keep away V.D. and all the usual things that wizards do. Everything was going fine, until one day he walks up to me and, bold as bloody brass, tells me that he wants my daughter and my goat for a sacrifice him and a couple of mates are having up at his place. Well, i figured that was going just a little too far. That goat was a bloody champion, won ribbons at all the local shows, worth a small fortune. So, i says to the miserable bastard, "You, ya miserable bastard, you keep your theiving hands of my goat. I aint afraid of you, and i don't care if you do try to turn me into a frog." But, he says that a frog is too good for the likes of me, and he changes me into a full-time werewolf. Full bloody time. There i am, day and night, full moon or not, hunting far and wide, dodging silver bullets, avoiding patches of wolvesbane, running all over the bloody joint with no-one to talk to...it's a pain in the bloody arse i can tell you lady!!!"
Now, whille the Werewolf had been delivering his sad tale, the woman had been getting less and less nervous (primarily due to the fact that he hadn't actually ripped her throat out,) and more and more her true nature had been coming to the fore.
"Yeah, well i knew you weren't a real werewolf all along." she boasted.
"You did?" queried the Werewolf, "How?"
"Well, um, oh yeah...who ever heard of a mud-grey werewolf? They're black or sorta reddish. And taloned feet? Werewolves don't have talons. They've got claws and fangs and stuff. And everybody knows werewolves can't talk. They howl and bark and slaver a lot. They certainly don't stand around boring you to death with the story of their pathetic little lives. And whille i'm at it, what's the freaking idea of jumping out of the bushes at me anyway. Things have come to a pretty pass when a poor defenceless woman can't even have a quiet pee without some hairy nut-case that looks like a Koala Bear gone wrong leaping out at her. So why don't you just bugger-off and let me get on with it?"
"I'm afraid i can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because i have not yet done that which i came leaping out of the bushes to do."
"And what might that be?"
"What do you think, sweetie?" leered the Werewolf. (With a wink, too.)
"I think you can take a running jump up your own nose, ya pervert."
"Oh come on lady, be reasonable. With that face you can't get a lot of offers."
"Screw you Lassie."
"Real bad choice of words sweetie!"
...and so saying, the Werewolf knocked the woman to the ground and proceeded to ravish her, or 'sexualy assault' as a police report might have it, or "Jabba Jabba Hump Hump" as the boys back in the tribe were known to chant from time to time. The woman, of course, resisted, but it was only token resistance. For, as the Werewolf had pointed-out, with her face she really DIDN'T get a lot of offers. So, on the whole she was quite pleased with the turn of events. However, she couldn't show it. Good heavens, no! What would happen if someone came by and saw her being raped by a werwolf, and actually enjoying it. Think of the scandal. What would the neighbours say.
So, she shouted for help, but not too loudly, and she hit him, but not too hard, and she bit him, but not too deeply, and all in all she had a pretty darn good time.
...When it was over, the Werewolf apologised most graciously and asked her name. And she cried and called him a cad and a beast and said it was Jasmine. And the Werewolf offered her a smoke and asked if she came there often. And she cried and said she'd have to kill herself out of shame but if she didn't then she'd probably be there tomorrow. And the Werewolf kissed her on the cheek and said she wasn't all that ugly. And she cried and said she hoped the villagers caught him and hung him up by his nuts for about a week but she didn't really think he looked like a Koala Bear gone wrong. And the werewolf said he'd like to rape her again. And she cried and begged him not to and then she grabbed him by those cute fuzzy ears and pulled him down. And in the end the Werewolf raped her about half a dozen times, before he sort of staggered, unsteadily off into the forest.
The next day Jasmine came back to the stream and she waited, and she waited, and she waited, but, of course, the Werewolf didn't come. Because you see, she'd been right all along, and he really was a cad and a beast, and whille she sat there patiently waiting...he was twenty miles away raping someone else.
#3 - 24th Jan 2003 20:06:00
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#4 - 30th Jan 2003 22:38:00
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Registered: 14th May 2004 00:00:00
"> 
#6 - 4th Feb 2003 18:20:00
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"> - nice one DM!
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Last Online: 1st Dec 2008 12:38:35
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Dragon,
Please please please tell me you write short stories.. and that you are planning an epic novel - something like a fantasy version of hitchhikers guide ...... thank you for sharing that with us
very funny,
- you have a talent.... now I'm off to find out what it is... hmmmm where is my book of "tequilla powered celts and other unexplained phenomina" ?
#10 - 23rd Feb 2003 21:43:00
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Total Posts: 146
Last Online: 30th May 2004 17:42:00
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#11 - 30th Mar 2003 20:54:00
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Total Posts: 79
Last Online: 5th May 2003 21:32:00
Registered: 14th May 2004 00:00:00
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