Dear Friends and Family,
I know the little intervention we had yesterday didn’t go quite as well as you had hoped. You all still seem to think that I’m in denial about my “drinking problem.” However, this and several other events have lead me to reevaluate my current way of life. Particularly my late night habits. You, and the authorities have told me over and over again, that after the sun sets, and usually only on nights with a full moon, my behavior becomes uncivilized, violent, and erratic. You’ve told me stories of how I “really overdid it.” How I tore my shirt off, screamed at strangers, snarled at security guards and, on several occasions, carried women off into the darkness. But I can’t admit to it because I just I don’t remember doing any of it. I’m going to tell you something, and you probably won’t believe it, but you’re going to have to. I’m not an alcoholic, I’m a werewolf.
I’m sitting here, now, trying to recollect some particular memories from a specific summer night when I was eighteen years old. I remember, some friends and I decided to steal a case of beer from my dad’s garage and head off into the woods. It was my first time getting drunk. I got wasted incredibly quick and I announced to everyone there that I was making it my mission to hook up with Kristen Andrews before I left for college in the fall. (That was going to be a nearly impossible task, seeing as though she already had a boyfriend and had no interest in me.) I remember walking off into the woods to take a leak. When I did so, my friends thought it would be funny to ditch me. I heard chuckling, then I heard a splash, and the fire went out. I was too far away to catch up, but I figured I knew my way out of there anyway.
I walked back to the fire pit and proceeded to drink what was left of the beer while I tried to get my bearings. I woke up the next morning, with no shirt and no shoes on, feeling beaten up and slightly bloody, in a tree lawn across the street from Kristen’s house. I walked home in the blazing heat and tried to figure out what had actually happened.
When the friends I was there with contacted me that afternoon, they told me what had transpired. They said the more drunk I got, the more agressive I became. They said I started howling at the moon and peeing on things. When Stanley tried to calm me down, he said I threatened to bite him in the throat. Then according to Stanley, I actually tried to bite him in the throat. Does that sound like normal, human behavior to you? I didn’t think so. But, regardless, the other guys said they were so frightened, they ran off. I also later found out from Kristen, via the statements made in the restraining order she issued against me, that I apparently tried to break into her home and confess my love for her. The only thing that stopped me was her boyfriend. Does any of that sound like normal behavior for me? No, it doesn’t. Obviously, supernatural evil forces were involved — I was bitten by a werewolf. I was attacked from behind, and in a panic, I started to run toward’s Kristen’s house, since I knew she lived close by. At some point along that run, I went full werewolf, which would explain why I don’t remember anything, and why I didn’t make it all the way into Kristen’s house.
It would also explain the last several years of my life. It would explain all the late night blackouts, the mysterious cuts and bruises I often have, and all the intense philandering I tend to do when the moon is full. It all makes perfect sense to me. Yes, there is a strong correlation with my alcohol consumption. But who doesn’t like to have a six pack or two to take the edge off after a long day? Thank you. I am a werewolf, ok? Now if you would all accept this fact, we can move forward.