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A Day In the Life of the Wolfman

January 3, 2011

Dr. Von German

Today we continue my seventeen part lecture series: MONSTERS, exclamation point, THEY ARE REAL question mark.  Today’s subject is taken from direct field study.  We present part six: A Day in the Life of the Wolfman.  All of this is fact!  Ladies of a weak disposition may want to leave the room now.  We begin at 6:00 AM the Wolman awakes!


WOLFMAN gets out of bed.  He yawns, scratches.  Sits at a table.  He clicks on the TV.  Low mumble of a newscast.  He goes and gets a bloody bucket labeled: “CHUM & PARTS”  He gets a spoons and eats the flesh like cereal.



Notice how he holds the spoon!  Most inhuman!



Nothing but bad fucking news.  Don’t they know we don’t want to hear this shit?  I got my own problems I don’t need to hear about Iraq or shit they call me a monster it’s the politicians that are the real–Oh there’s that hot weather chick.


Wolfman puts his hand down his pants, starts to masturbate.  As he does he makes soft barking noises.  Dr. Von German gets flustered and tries to block the masturbating Wolfman.



Uh let us move forward–


He’s interrupted by an orgasmic howl.


DR. VON GERMAN (cont.)

11:34 AM.  The Wolfman has just purchased a medium coffee beverage from a notable coffee vending chain.


Wolfman holds a paper coffee cup.  He takes a sip.



Is this soy milk?  Shit.  I hate–excuse, hey!  Excuse me is this soy milk?  No?  It tastes just like–oh, you’re sure.  Right.  Cause it really tastes . . . OK. Yeah sorry.  Five dollars for a coffee and it tastes—and they call me a monster?  Corporations are the real monsters! Hooowwwwwllllll!!!!!



Later that day, after a quick lunch at Zabar’s our Wolfman spends a few hours in some trendy Chelsea Galleries.


Wolfman looks at paintings.  He looks a little bored.  Dr. Von German wheels in an odd contraption.



Thanks to my Telepatelephonolistenatron, paten pending, we can hear the bestial thoughts of this blood thirsty monster!  Let me just tune it to Wolfman.


Dr. Von German adjusts the knobs.  It sounds like a radio.  He sets the dials.



. . . this place.  Is that pointillism?  Maybe it’s–what’s that shit Jackson Pollack did?  I wish I paid attention in art history.  Like I’m here for the art . . . check out that piece of ass.  My ruff is going up just thinking about her.  I wonder if the curtains match the drapes.

(Nods toward her.)

Yeah that’s right.  Shit.  I’ve gotta itch.  Damn fleas.

(He scratches like a dog.)

Oooh, that feels good, oooh yeah, ruff, ruff,


Wolfman makes contented barking sounds.  Then stops, suddenly self conscious.


WOLFMAN (cont.)

Shit, is everyone looking at me?  Shit.  Shit.  Shit.  Oh god, is that my hair on that painting, maybe I should .  . .


Wolfman starts to reach to take the hair from the painting, but then stops.


WOLFMAN (cont.)

Nah, I don’t want to scratch—how much is this thing worth?

(Leans in to read the price.)

1.2 million!  This is outrageous!  This artist is preying on a public interested only in fashion and taste!  Like a succubus!  You’re all the true monsters contemporary visual artists!  Hooooooowwwwwwwwl!!!!!



Later our Wolfman goes home to prepare for his date.  Freshly washed from a bath.


Wolfman’s home.  He enters in a bathrobe, freshly washed, with a towel around his head.  He picks up the remote.



Ah, what’s on?  Oooh, man Mary Tyler Moore.  I’ve loved this show since I was a pup.


Watches it for a moment.



Shit if Dracula knew I was watching this, I’d never hear the end of it.  He’d be all like: “Hey Vulfman, I vant to suck your menstrual blood, because you are such a girl, vatching this show!  Blah.  Blah!”  Fucking vampires, they’re so—

(Becomes angry at the TV.)

What!  Lou Grant you gotta let Mary leave early!  She has a date with Tad and—Lou Grant you lumbering old mummy!  You’re the true monster!   Hooooooooowwwwllllll!!!!



And later while checking e-mail . . .



Maybe I should help that guy in Nigeria, he seems.–another spam offer for penis enlargements!  They keep coming like a horrible gelatinous blob creature!  Spammers you’re the true monsters!   Hooowwwwwllllll!!!!!



That’s what he gets for still using netscape.  And now we witness something no other documentaries were ever able to capture.  The mating ritual of the feared and elusive man-wolf.


A nice restaurant the Wolfman sits talking to his date.



No, order whatever you like, I got the funds, worry not.  Fat?  No way, baby, you get any skinnier and you’ll be the invisible woman.  I actually know the invisible man.  Very tragic.  Seriously, he killed himself last Christmas right in Macy’s.   Really sad part was no one noticed until after New Year’s, you know being invisible and all.  Finally they traced this stink to his corpse, and . . . it was a lovely funeral and—you want more wine?  No it’s not a—waiter more wine!


So yeah.  You know I never thought I’d do the whole online dating, but J-Date is really a nice set up.  Yeah I’m Jewish.  Oh hey you know how they say some people are all thumbs, but I got ’em beat–

(Holds up his clawed hands.)

All paws.  Get it?  Not paws exactly.  Actually more like hideous claws for ripping flesh.  Ha.  Ha.  What?  We just ordered.  I’m not—look I’m not like.  I said in my profile I was hairy.  It’s not . . . look.  It’s those movies right!  Next you’ll be asking about silver bullets and moonlight transformations!  Those movies they made in the 40’s are complete lies!  Claude Rains should be—those Universal movies are the Birth of a Nation to the Wolfman population.  Hollywood is racist!  It’s like saying all Blacks are watermelon eating–yes, it is the same thing!  No!  Listen!  Hey you’re not fuzz free yourself, you think I didn’t see that mustache!  Yeah I said it!  Fine!  Go ahead!  Leave!  I can–I’m going to stay here and have a nice meal by myself!  You know what its people like you, you’re the real monsters!   Howwwwwllllll!!!!!!


Wolfman sighs and sits back at the table.  A pause, then . . .



Check please.



The Wolfman stops at a bodega, buys a forty stumbles on home . . .



(Between chugs.)

Cindy!  Why did you–or was it Sarah!  Sarah!!  Shit look at me, I’m acting like a–you know why!  Cause of–

(looks at the bottle.)

Booze you’re the real monster . . .

(Begins to howl but then stops.)

Awww, fuck it.



And he stumbles into bed, turns out the light and the world is safe for another day from the Wolf-Man.  Join us next week for part seven: The Bogeyman, colon, Where Is He Now question mark.  Until then, stay spooky!



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