Terror on the Loose
By Mike Stevens
Jefferson Jowls woke to that same bowel-loosening, sickening feeling. He looked out his bedroom window, and saw shafts of light from the full moon. Oh no! The change wouldn’t be too far away. Every night that there was a full moon, he would change into a werewolf, who’d hide in the shadows, and look for his next victim to mutilate. He’d tried to tell this to the police, so they could stop him from making the change and killing another unsuspecting victim, but all the police did was look at one another, shake their heads, and call the loony squad. At first he had thought maybe they were right, that maybe he was crazy, but the more he thought about it, the more he discounted that notion. He knew he wasn’t crazy, he was a werewolf! He only pretended to go along with their treatment, and having been deemed “cured” by his doctors, he was released. But he wasn’t “cured”; he was a werewolf, who would kill again, the next time the moon turned full!
Harry Sack was sound asleep, when he was awakened by that same strange noise. Damn! His loopy neighbor, Jefferson Jowls, was at it again. He heard his wife and their two children stirring around, and knew they too had been awakened by the crazy bastard living next door. He angrily stormed to the bedroom window, flung it open, and at the top of his lungs, screamed,
“Jefferson, how would you like to be castrated, you crazy bastard? You go off the deep end every full moon; you come howling like a banshee, my friend, and wake up the whole family. Well, you nut-job, I’m pissed. Why don’t you go hob-nob with your imaginary friends, and leave me and my family the hell alone?”
Hob-nob? he thought to himself, who in the hell talks like that?, before realizing they knew his name and who he was, but how could that be? They must be able to see super-well in the dark. He had to get home, pack a bag, and get away from here. He ran into his house and threw some clothes, shampoo, deodorant, and his toothbrush in a suitcase, and once he was outside, started running, desperate to get away. His claw feet made it hard to run very fast. There were flashing lights on the street in front of his house, then he heard somebody say,
“What are you on, guy, huh?”
He was still stumbling along, when suddenly he was snared in a net. He looked wildly around to see who had thrown it, and saw a man wearing cop uniform who walked over and stood over him and said,
“Got you, you pain-in-the-a**; you’re a fruit cake, I’d be willing to bet; either that or you’ve got one hell of a buzz!”
Jefferson Jowls let out a low moan and kicked his hairy paws at the rubber-padded wall of his cell. They had finally locked him away from society. Now that he was a hideous-looking wolf-man!
Dr. Wally Shank peered in at his latest patient, one Jefferson Jowls. This guy was really out there, thinking he had turned into a werewolf, when in fact he looked exactly the same as he usually did, a sad little delusional man.
The door to his cell opened, and in walked that same dumb-a** doctor, the one who kept insisting he looked like he was still a regular person, when all he had to do was look at him. It was obvious! When Jefferson saw his reflection in the mirror, he saw a hideous monster-man, with huge sharp fangs, pointed ears, hairy paws, and an evil glint behind his beady, yellow eyes. How the doctor couldn’t see those things was beyond him.
Dr. Shank thought to himself, ‘why do I always get stuck with the hopeless nut-jobs who slobber and crap on themselves?’ To his patient he said only, “Go on, look for yourself. There’s a mirror right there. You see, you’re not a werewolf, you’re a normal-looking man.”
Jefferson took one look at himself and promptly smashed his fist into the glass, shattering it.
“Why did you do that? Security!”
He was exhausted. When Dr. Shank had called for security, Jowls had tried to run, but he was met in the hallway by lumbering goons, who overpowered him and knocked him to the ground. He had thrown off all 4 and resumed running, making it to a window, where he leapt through the glass. If only he’d seen that the windows had steel bars on the reverse side. He had regained consciousness in the prison hospital, his arms and legs had been chained down and he was unable to move.
Dr. Shank couldn’t believe this crazy bastard. He’d actually tried to jump out a window, a barred window, after first physically throwing off about 900 pounds of men who were trying to hold him down. The loony fruitcake was strong, more like an animal; an animal desperate to escape from captivity. He’d had to tranquilize him to keep him under control.
‘Wow, would you look at that; why those are multi-colored flying rock-dogs! They’re beautiful beyond words’, thought Jefferson Jowls. It didn’t matter in the least he had no clue what a rock-dog was. All he knew was he was so peaceful.