The Werewolf Problem

Let's say you happen to get lucky... And you hit the heart with a million to one shot. In the seconds after you've killed one you'll start to realize that your problems are only just beginning. Because as you sit there on the floor, amongst shattered living room furniture and the shards of whats left of your sanity, it begins to dawn on you... This motherfucker is reverse transforming, into a REAL human being again. That's right. This isn't a vampire we're talking about. Werewolves don't disintegrate and fade away. When they die they change form. As if you didn't have enough to deal with already. Your body can barely move because your muscles are so taxed from fighting a mythical monster but now you're forced to sit there and watch as he slowly morphs back into your neighbor. And no matter how many times you try to tell the story, no matter what the variation... Whether you throw in that shit about "that night it was a full-moon" or not... No matter what you do, nobody's going to believe you. Not even your closest friend. You won't even believe yourself.

There's no choice...

You have to get rid of the body. There's nothing to indicate that you've done anything other than commit cold blooded murder. With one solitary piece of evidence. The silver bullet. Which, of course, is only evidence that YOU'RE CRAZY. Even if you get rid of the body you've still got to deal with a close acquaintance disappearing. The police aren't stupid. You'll be a prime suspect. It'll take a ton of fancy footwork to cover your tracks. Not only do you have to get rid of the thirty eight caliber handgun, you bought at the pawnshop, but there'll be some kind of record that you bought it. And what about that special bullet you had the gunsmith make?

"Yeah, that guy came in here... wanted me to melt down a cross... I thought it was WEIRD at the time... Of course I did it. How often d'ya get to make a silver bullet for somebody?"

"Am I in trouble?"
YES, you are...

All those google searches on "How to kill a Werewolf?" has in turn sealed your own fate. It'll be next to impossible to prove your innocence after that slip up. You're life is over...

It's
much easier to
let him take the bite
rip your clothes off once a month
and run through the streets in the cool night air
join us...

-Chris

The Joy of Sex

A few nights ago David and I were coming home from a night of comedy in the wee hours of the night. As we strolled through the still darkness my ninja reflexes alerted me to sound and movement on our immediate right. My senses detected that the movement and sound came from to two different sources. The movement belonged to a squat mexican man who left an idling pick-up behind, yards away, to investigate the sound. Once noticed, he became a little embarassed. (The truck was a weakpoint as my brother considers any lonely, running vehicle an "idling opportunity.")

But we were called by the siren song of that... Noise. As we drew closer and joined the audience of the Mexically fella we realized that it was a woman having sex. Loudly. Panting and mewing. "aaHH aaHH yES yeESS... YES..." If you've ever seen an R Rated 80s movie you know the deal. Nobody has sex like that in real life. (Even in my limited experience I know that.)

Then we heard slapping. She replied, "YES" to the slapping. She sounded like she was having fun. Who knows if there was anyone else in there. We only heard her voice. It turns out that listening to people have sex while standing outside of their window, next to a Mexican guy, can get kind-of creepy really quickly. So, we gave them an ovation before we left.

We counted down from three and then clapped. David let out a "Yaaaaay." And we ran like 8 year old boys. The only problem is that it's hard to run when you're giggling. I'm pretty sure the other guy almost crashed his truck.

Hostile Hostel III

I'm inclined to post another clip of Davey and I doing the Boston.tv thing but that would be the lazy thing to do. I figured I'd get to a couple stories that I haven't yet weaved, instead.

So, David and I decided to stay at another Hostel in Houston. There's a picture of it right beneath these words. Never mind that it looks like it's located on "Elm St."
We arrived on a Wednesday and checked in and all that good stuff. We were sharing our room with an effeminate fella named Johnathan with one of the most spectacular mullets we've come across in our travels. (Tight, tight, tight up-front and greazy curls in the back. David loved it but it creeped me the fuck out.) Johnathan was staying at the Hostel, "to write his novel." When in reality what he was doing was spending all of his time "looking at pictures of his mullet on myspace." The first night we were there two great things happened. And in perfect succession too.

David and I had come back from getting Barbacue and spent a little while in the dining room talking to a crazy progressive/non-progressive Texas guy who spent the whole time talking about fighting techniques. He told us that he had taken a Karate class where his Sensei had taught everyone Eight different ways to kill a guy. (Including taking an attacker's knife and slicing him across his eyes with it...) I was completely entranced with this guy's stories. So much so, that I didn't even notice David had left. He returned to tell me that Johnathan and some guy with a flashlight were rooting through Johnathan's bed. And that I should ask Johnathan if I could have a look at his arm. Which I did. And sonofabitch he had been attacked by some creature in his sleep. (Now, whether it was living in the bed or in his mullet we will never know...) The problem was that I had to sleep in the bed that was right next to Johnny Bed Bugs'. He went in and got settled in a new room which was also the room where Karate Man was sleeping. Karate Man actually threatened Johnny before he went in there by saying, "if you bring those bugs in with you, I'm coming after you." Eventhough he said it in a light-hearted way.

Soon after that it was time for bed. While I was packing up our lab-tob, talking to Karate Man, and some Irish guy, I noticed on the wall the LARGEST COCKROACH I HAVE EVER SEEN and I've seen my fair share of roaches. As fast as he could this guy, who was bragging about lethal killing styles, made his way over to the wall and tried to KARATE CHOP the cockroach. WHAM! Only the roach was much to agile for this guy and ran across the wall, FLEW over a doorway, landed, and then scurried into the pantry. Meanwhile: Karate Man, Instead of killing the bug, connected with the clock that was hanging on the wall and smashed it to pieces. I blurted out "Holy Shit." And Karate Man said, "what? you've never seen a roach before?" Oh, I've seen roaches before. I've just never seen anyone try to Karate Chop a roach before. As he picked up the pieces to the wall clock.

The next day I awoke with no bug bites but i did get a nice greeting from the woman who ran the Hostel. She asked me and David if we wouldn't mind moving down the hall because the last Bug Bomb didn't take. Ahah! I see. So you've had these problems before. And recently. We moved.

Moments later, as I was checking my email, this guy who was working on the house next door came in and asked for Johnathan. I told the guy that I had noticed he had gone for some breakfast. The guy seemed kind of disgruntled. Later that day as David and I were checking our email and Johnny Bed Bugs was looking at his mullet on-line, the guy returned. He walked into the room and stood for a moment staring at Johnny. "Where were you this morning?" "What?" Johnathan said with a lisp. "You were supposed to come over and help me clean up the yard..." "Oh, yeah. Well... We had a lil' prahblem lassst niighht." He said. "......" "I gaht bit by-a bed buuug. And I can't get my stuff because the room is under quarantine." Amazing. This guy was taking the roof off of the house next door and was looking for anyone who wanted a days work. Johnny had told him he'd help and then we got to watch him get fired. His first day on the job.

"So do you still want some help?" Said Johnny. Roof guy just sucked on his teeth and left the room. Johnathan followed after him, was gone for a few moments, and then returned to take up where he left off. Looking at pictuers on myspace. Pictures of his mullet. They're fabulous.

-Chris

Interview

Here's an interview that we did for a website in L.A.
The Coming

And here's a picture of the creepiest person i've seen in the last few months.













-Chris