When ‘satire’ was selected as our genre, Robert said he was just relieved it wasn’t romance, which is how I got to the idea of a werewolf breakup. I like the idea of a regular apartment building inhabited by both regular mortals and monsters, in a sort of uneasy truce – I’m adding that to my idea list for a later date! For now, I hope you enjoy the drama of Rodrick and Helen.
Let me know what you think, and if you try this exercise, please let us know!
- Genre: Satire
- Character: Werewolf
- Object: Packing Tape
The werewolf howled, the bloodcurdling note shook the windows in the apartment building. His neighbors cowered in their rooms. Rodrick – the werewolf – when he stopped howling, took a deep breath, and tugged at the packing tape that stuck to his arm.
Helen walked into the room, carrying a mug of coffee. “Please, this is hard enough for both of us without you crying about it. Can you please finish packing your things?”
“I’m fine with the break up! I just don’t like tape getting caught on my fur!”
“Oh! Let me help you!”
“No!” He nearly shouted. “I don’t need your pity.” He tugged at the tape again, and growled as it tugged out more fur.
She looked affronted. “I thought you wanted to ‘stay friends’. Friends help each other.”
“Well, I meant after I’d moved out.”
“Says the wolfman who cheated on me with the vampire in the basement.” She sipped her coffee loftily and turned on her heel to go back to the kitchen. “Well, just rip it off and get packing. I have a guest coming over.”
A guest? Tonight? Who could it be? He followed her, the tape roll dangling from his arm. He caught her elbow in his clawed hand. “Who?”
She whipped around and tore the tape off his arm. It took a long swath of hair with it and he howled again. She cringed against the noise.
“It’s none of your business, but the swamp demon who lives in the overgrown fountain in the courtyard.” She said.
“HIM?”
“You have no right to judge who I go out with. Cheater.”
There was really no arguing with that. He huffed and went back to packing. He had a few trophies of the villages and towns he’d raided, and the tattered remains that were his work pants left to pack. He put the boxes outside the door and looked back one last time. He felt a twinge of regret, but reminded himself that he was going to the cool, eternal embrace of a vampire. Helen was stuck with the moist and musty arms of a swamp demon.