Disco Werewolf – Chapter 27


The twins sat outside the school on a bench, waiting for their bus to arrive.  Or rather, Whitney’s bus.  Mitch wouldn’t be taking it.  At any rate, Whitney was aghast upon hearing the tale of the locker room antics that had gone awry.

“Half-power?” Whitney asked.  “You’re telling me his body crushed a locker and you only threw him at half-power.”

“I don’t know the exact ratio of the power I used,” Mitch said.  “It’s all a blur.  I didn’t think I was using that much.”

“You don’t know your own strength,” Whitney said.  “Neither of us do.  We’re like spoiled house puppies.  We’ve never used our powers in the wild so we have no idea what we’re capable of.”

“I didn’t know I was capable of that,” Mitch said.

Whitney sighed.  “I hate to say it, but maybe Mom and Dad are right.  Maybe our powers should be repressed.”

“Maybe he just got what was coming to him,” Mitch said.

“You say that now,” Whitney said.  “But had he died…”

“But he didn’t.”

“But he could have.”

Kids milled about, gabbing away to each other.

“He’s fine,” Mitch said.  “He had it coming to him.”

“But now he knows who you are,” Whitney said.

“So?” Mitch asked.

“He’ll talk.”

“And who will listen?”  Mitch asked.  “You think anyone’s going to believe that I’m secretly a werewolf who he thinks porked his girlfriend?”

“No,” Whitney said.  “But I don’t think he’ll take this lying down either.  You have to be more careful, little brother.  Don’t let your emotions get to you and…”

Whitney’s blatherings became background noise in Mitch’s ears as he noticed Claudette walk across the parking lot toward her car, which, being a late 1960s Dodge Charger, sleek and black, was way cooler than any of the other jalopies the older kids were driving.

Sister waved her hand in front of brother’s face.  “Hello?  Earth to Mitch.  Come in, Mitch.”  She followed his eyes to their inevitable conclusion.  “Ahh.  The irony is thick.”

“Huh?” Mitch said as he practically burned a hole in Claudette’s derriere with his peepers.

“Disco Werewolf beds the most bodacious beauties from the five boroughs,” Whitney said.  “Mitch Lumpkiss can’t screw up enough courage to ask the girl next door to get a chocolate malt.”

“What?” Mitch asked.  “I can.  I could…if I wanted to.”

“Oh, you want to.”

“I have bigger things on my plate.”

“Disco Werewolf only feels lust for his groupies,” Whitney said.  “But your feelings for Claudette are the stuff that love is made of.”

Mitch laughed.  “They are…not.  OK, maybe.”

“Maybe you should ask her out before we graduate and all go our separate ways,” Mitch said.

Mitch stared as Claudette got into her car.  Soon, he broke himself out of the trance.  He stood up, pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket, peeled a few bills off of it and handed them to her sister.  “Here’s a down payment on your hush money.  Start hushing.”

“Why don’t you use some of that cabbage to get us a car, doofus?”  Whitney asked.  “You could cut your Derrick interactions by half.”

“Yeah,” Mitch said.  “Like Mom and Dad wouldn’t have questions.”

“It doesn’t have to be a brand-new Corvette,” Whitney said.  “Just something a bowling alley cashier could afford.”

Mitch pressed a finger up to his lips.  “Remember sis.  Hush money.  ‘Hush’ is the operative word.”

The nerd looked at the curb, where a yellow taxi had just arrived.  The words “Seacaucus Cab Company” were stamped on the side.

“My chariot awaits,” Mitch said.

Whitney stood and put a hand on her brother’s shoulder.  “Little bro, as your older…”

“By five minutes,” Mitch said.

“…and wiser sister, I feel the need to give you some advice.”

“Don’t abuse my power,” Mitch said.  “I know.”

“That,” Whitney said.  “And any venereal diseases that Disco Werewolf catches will be transferrable to you as a human.”

The twins exchanged blank stares.

“Food for thought,” Whitney said.

“Enjoy the bus,” Mitch replied as he walked to his cab.  He hopped into the back.

“Where to, Mac?”


“Manhattan?”  the cabbie asked.  “Why don’t you just ask me to drive you to Mars?”

Mitch shook his head and mumbled under his breath.  “You’re all cut from the same cloth…here!”

The cabbie took a look at the trio of crisp hundreds in his hand.  “That’ll work.”

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