mick, loretta and the wolfman: short story

image via flickr

Mick told Loretta to get back in the car.  But Loretta kept on walking, leaves crunching under her feet.  Mick couldn’t let her go out there alone, so he opened the trunk, mumbling about how she doesn’t listen and found a flashlight.

He caught up to her, shining the light in her face.

“Get that off me!” she said.

“Get back in the car!”

“No, we hit something and I want to know what it is.”

“It was probably nothing.  Now come on!” He waved the flashlight towards the car.

“Nothing does not make a noise like that!”  She stumbled and tripped over something.

“Are you okay?”  Mick asked.

“Yeah, I think.  But what is this?”

He shined the light on that something.  It wore cement-stained work boots and overalls with caked on paint.  Mick’s heart beat fast as he followed the flashlight up the body.  It smelled like old blood left over from a night of fighting.

His arms looked more hairy than your usual hairy guy.  Mick froze as he got to his face.  Fur covered it and his teeth stuck out like fangs.

Loretta looked up at the sky.  Full moon.

They took off for the car, slamming the doors shut.  The steam from their breath clouded up the windows.  Mick slammed on the gas pedal, wheels screeching and spinning in gravel behind them.

“What the hell was that?” screamed Mick.

“I thought werewolves were myths,” whispered Loretta as she cupped her hands to her mouth.

Mick slowed the car down and looked in the rear view mirror.  Loretta’s mouth dropped open and then looked back.  The wolfman ran towards them.

She screamed at Mick to go.  Mick slowed down and Wolfman caught up.  He knocked on Mick’s window, motioning to roll the window down.  So he did even though Loretta grabbed Mick’s arms to hold him back.

Wolfman took off his mask.  “Hey, did you ever wonder why people still mime rolling a car window down when you just have to push a button?”  The guys laughed like hyenas about to jump on their blissfully ignorant prey.

“How ya doin’ Jack?” Mick said as he fist bumped Jack.  “Hey Loretta, this is my friend Jack.”

“Nice to meet you Loretta.”

Loretta sat wide-eyed at both guys, feeling through her purse for her cell phone.  Lipstick, wallet, mad money, got it, she thought.

“Dude, you almost killed me back there.  My leg kinda smarts a little,” said Jack as he rubbed his knee.

“Sorry about that,” apologized Mick.  “But thanks for the laugh.”

As the guys talked, Loretta texted her best friend.  The light from her phone was the only bright part of the night.



One comment

  1. Lynne Bolinger · November 27, 2010

    It’s tough to write a short short. What a talent!


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