Daily Archives: February 7, 2017

Clinically Depressed Werewolf – Hello, I Guess

By: Clinically Depressed Werewolf, the Bookshelf Battle Blog’s Official Sad Lycanthrope Correspondent


Arr…arr…arr..wooo….oooo…ooo…oh who am I kidding?

Seriously.  What’s the point of howling at the moon?  It’s just going to rise again.

Hello, I guess, or whatever, 3.5 readers.  Clinically Depressed Werewolf here.  I’ve been playing in Video Game Rack Fighter’s Super Violent War Shooter league for awhile and well, I don’t really play.  I just log on and steer my character into a corner and listen to other people play.  I’m so lonely that if I don’t do things like that then sometimes my mind begins to wander and then I begin questioning whether or not I’m really like, real, you know?

I mean, think about it.  Do any of us actually know if we are really real?  We think we’re real but maybe we’re just a figment of someone else’s dream.  That’s why I don’t even bother to bite people anymore.  Where’s the fun if I’m just going to disappear when the person dreaming about me is eventually going to wake up, thus shattering my branch of reality?

Anyway, Video Game Rack Fighter told me she won this blog in a divorce.  Sigh.  Divorces are so sad.  Why do people even get married in the first place when divorce is such a real possibility?

Then again, I don’t understand why people even leave their homes when getting run over by a truck, falling down a well, or being eaten by a happy, non-depressed werewolf are all real possibilities.

Don’t worry about me.  I don’t eat people.  Too much effort.  I’ll just get hungry again.

Moving on, VGRF said I should try my paw at being a columnist for her blog.  She felt there aren’t many columns written by clinically depressed werewolves and that immediately made me sad.  I mean, the idea of a column written by a clinically depressed werewolf can’t be that great if no other clinically depressed werewolf has ever written one before, am I right?

Yikes.  Why do people even blog?  Why do people read?  I just want to lie down in my cage, lock the door and take a nap.  Don’t even bother letting me out once I turn back into a human and the full moon is over.  I might as well stay in here seeing as how next month’s full moon will be here before you know it.

I’m sorry.  I’m not a very exciting columnist.   I will try to lighten the mood with some Clinically Depressed Werewolf jokes:

#1 – How Many Clinically Depressed Werewolves Does it Take to Screw in a Lightbulb?

None.  Clinically depressed werewolves prefer the dark.  The light allows us to see everything that disappoints us.  Also, why bother to change a lightbulb when the new one will blow out sooner or later?

#2 – Three Clinically Depressed Werewolves Walk Into a Bar…

…and there they sat, nursing their beers and commiserating over days gone by, talking about dreams deferred and yearning to turn back time, to get a do over at life yet accepting that just isn’t in the cards.

#3 – Why Did the Clinically Depressed Werewolf Cross the Road?

He didn’t.  He knew that sooner or later he’d have to return to the other side again, so he just stayed put and it was as if he never left.

Conclusions, I Guess, Whatever

I’d say I hope you enjoyed this column but really, hope is just a form of delaying the inevitable dissatisfaction that we all experience sooner or later.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to gnaw on a dead water buffalo carcass and listen to some Coldplay.  Clinically depressed werewolves love Coldplay.

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