It was late at night when Xander drove his 4x4-Toyota monster truck into an available parking slot of a convenience store out in the country. He entered the store with his intentions clear. It had been quite some time since his last swig of good old Fosters Australian brew. He was itching for another case. When he spotted a lower shelf where cases of his beloved beverage were depressingly few, he made no hesitation to snatch one from its home.

He brought it to the counter where a young average built Caucasian man with flaxen hair greeted him. Strangely, he didn’t even bother to question Xander’s visage. He seemed perfectly cool with seeing a tall brooding Scandinavian man with long flowing hair that fell to his waist in braids, suited in throngs of chains, a mangled black sweatshirt, and the symbol of Thor’s Hammer tattooed around his right eye, “Is this gonna’ be all for ya?” he said.

“Yeah…” Xander reached for his wallet.

The young man rang the beer up. The cash register prompted him to check ID, “Uh… can I see some ID?”

Xander ruminated as to why he would even bother to question him, but nonetheless, he figured it was just some silly store policy and handed his ID to the cashier. The young man’s face twisted into a look of perplexity as he looked Xander up and down after examining his ID, “Uh…I—I’m sorry… I… can’t sell… this… to you…”

Creases marking anger wrinkled along the base of Xander’s forehead. It wasn’t an easy task, but he held back the urge to beat the cashier’s face in with his fists, well… for the time being anyway. “What the hell do you mean you can’t sell it to me!?” he said with apparent hostility in his voice.

“Well according to your ID… you’re only thirteen…”

Xander snatched the ID from the cashier’s hand to see that the birth date had been changed from December 2, 1978 to February 14, 1991, what kind of spirit-voodoo shit is this!? Xander thought. He could feel the rage fuming within him like rising flames. It was a matter of strong-will that prevented poor irascible Xander from going berserk.

“Look man…I don’t know whose funny idea this was, but I can assure you I’m not thirteen… I mean, take a fucking look at me? What kind of a thirteen year old looks like this?”

Xander slid his ID back into his wallet and placed it into his pocket. The cashier looked him up and down again. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “You could be on steroids…”

Now, the shit hit the fan. Forget about commonsense and strong-will! The little bastard crossed the line with what Xander thought to be a smart-ass comment. He looked out the window to see if anyone was outside. Upon seeing that it was clear he jumped over the counter like a raging beast, tackling the youngster to the ground before standing up to beat him down with a plethora of kicks and punches, rendering him immobile.

Meanwhile, a police car parked just aside from Xander’s vehicle. The cop, a medium height middle-aged man, stepped out of the vehicle and meandered his way to the entrance. As Xander was about to grab the case of beer and take off, the cop entered the store, heading directly for the counter. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking strangely upon Xander… Apparently a dress code isn’t enforced here, the cop thought to himself. Luckily, the space behind the counter was rather small and the counter was high enough to prevent the cop from seeing the former-cashier nestled behind it in a state of torpor.

“I’ll have a pack of Marlboro Lights and a cup of a coffee—no sugar—no cream…” the cop said. Xander stood there, unsure of how to handle the situation. The cop waited for a few seconds before showing signs of impatience, “Is that a problem?” Xander continued to stand there, befuddled and speechless.

“Look pal, let me make this easy for you,” the cop reached over the counter to pull a pack of Marlboro lights from a shelf attached to the ceiling just behind Xander’s head. “You see that coffee pot directly behind you,” Xander looked back, “All you have to do is pick it up and pour the coffee into one of those little plastic cups over there…”

Xander didn’t much like the cop’s attitude. He clenched his fists in preparation for yet another beat down, but a voice in his head warned him not to—that little thing called commonsense.

“All right pal, forget the fucking coffee, I’ll just get the cigarettes,” the cop slammed the cigarettes onto the counter and pulled his wallet from his pocket. “How much do I owe ya?”

Xander stared at the buttons on the register, unsure of what to do. Never in his life did he have a job involving a cash register.

“Well…” the cop said, gesturing at him to get his head screwed together.

Quickly, Xander struggled for a quick retort, “Uh… uh… umm… it’s uh… it’s—free!”

“What !?” The cop was in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah… uh… you see… there’s this uh—uhhh—manager’s special today… where… uhhh—uhhh… all purchases by… all cops… are… free!”

The cop didn’t even bother to ask questions. He just placed his wallet back in his pocket, taking the cigarettes and shaking his head as he walked out of the store. Xander scratched his head in frustration before grabbing his case of beer and walking out the store. He wasn’t happy to see the cop standing just outside the store, smoking a cigarette, and shaking his head at him as he walked by.

Xander walked directly to his vehicle and pulled the handle of the driver’s side door…locked. He pulled it again… locked. He looked through the window to see his keys lying upon the seat. “Oh, shit!” Xander pulled the handle a few more times negating the fact that if it won’t open the first time, the chances for it opening after numerous endeavors are slim to nil. Not to mention it was beginning to look rather strange to the cop. Eventually, Xander caught onto the fact that there was just no way of getting into his truck without resorting to either costly or destructive means.

“Fucking electronic locks!” Xander threw a potent elbow to the window, shattering it into pieces, activating his vehicle’s alarm.

The cop spit his cigarette out and quickly drew his Glock 9mm, “Freeze!” he yelled.

“Oh, great…” Xander whispered. Every time… every fucking time… why can’t you learn to control your goddamn temper Xander!!

The cop proceeded toward him with extreme precaution, making sure that his gun was pointed directly at Xander’s head, “Don’t… fucking move…” the cop said. Xander observed his surroundings to make sure no one was around. Thankfully, it was too late at night for any usual person to be roaming the public. When he felt the cop was close enough, he swung around and knocked the gun out of the cop’s hands, following up by nonchalantly grabbing the back of his head and shoving it into the side of his vehicle to create a fine imprint of the cop’s face before cruelly throwing his inert body to the ground.

Xander grabbed his keys through the shattered window. But before entering his truck, something came to mind. He stood still for a moment, vacillating between the police car that was still running and his truck. A grin slowly crept upon his face. Cop car!

Xander entered the cramped police car, setting his case of Fosters beer on the passenger’s side seat. It certainly wasn’t built for a man of his size and physique, but he figured that he could cope. He opened up a bottle of beer and took a swig before disengaging the parking break, and squealing off.

It was about three thirty in the morning and Xander was enjoying the diversion of driving around the countryside in his newly stolen cop car at inane speeds while getting himself hammered. He slammed his break at the sight of a black Honda Civic EX driving sluggishly along the road hugging the fog line. Xander anxiously looked for where to flash the lights. It took him a moment, but when he figured it out, he was quite pleased with the results. The car pulled over to the side of the road. Xander parked behind the vehicle, contemplating as to what he was going to do.

“This is God!” Xander said in the intercom with an impish smile on his face. “Step out of the vehicle!”

Two women stepped out of the vehicle, one from the driver’s side and the other from the passenger’s side. But these women obviously weren’t countryside redneck scum. Their appearance was anomalous to your average yuppie. They looked like outsiders lost in the country. One woman was tall and thin with wavy brunette hair reaching to the middle of her back, clad in a red low-cut spaghetti strap tank-top, an ultra-tight black leather mini skirt, and a pair of black stilettos. The other woman wasn’t quite as tall as her friend, but her appearance was tantamount to her friend’s in terms of enticement. She was of Latin descent and wore an outrageously tight strapless black vinyl mini-dress defining her sinuous figure with almost flawless perfection and had long black hair that spilled just a few inches past her slender shoulders. “Well, well…” Xander said, his smile enlarging to its full, “What do we have here?”

As he was about to speak into the intercom, a third woman stepped out from the backseat. However, she was pretty far from attractive. She was crossing the line of being morbidly obese and was disheveled in her appearance, wearing clothing that no woman of her size should be wearing.

“What the hell is a hercermer doing with two hot chics?” Xander opened up a new bottle of beer. It took him a moment to notice that the corpulent lady was carrying a bottle of vodka in her right hand. But when he did, he was quick to react. He spit his beer all over the dashboard, making no hesitation to speak into the intercom, “Hey! Marshmallow wench! Put the beer down!” he said, not realizing it wasn’t beer. The woman didn’t seem to comprehend. “I don’t think you understood me Fatty Patty! I said put the beer down! Now put the beer down!” again, the woman didn’t understand. Apparently, there were others more drunken than Xander. He waited a few moments to see if she would obey his command before speaking into the intercom again, “This be’eth thy last warning or I shalt smite thee with mine fist! In other words, put the fucking beer down!” Finally, she obeyed and placed the bottle of vodka on the ground.

Xander snickered a bit before continuing, “Alright, we’re gonna’ play a game… We’re gonna’ play a game called… God says! God says… put your fucking hands in the air,” the women raised their hands in the air. The look of death was in their eyes. Xander, even in his inebriated state, could tell they were scared out of their wits, “Now… wave your hands in the air...” Xander watched as they stood completely still as though a flurry of glacial winds froze them in place.

“I said wave your hands the fuck in the air,” it took them a moment, but they eventually caught on. Slowly, but timidly, they swayed their hands from side to side.

Xander had to pause to catch his breath from minutes of wild cackling, “Alright! God says… get on your knees!” the women rested their arms to their sides as they kneeled to the ground, “Nah-nah-nah- nah-nah-nah! NAH! Keep those hands up!” Xander paused for a moment thinking about what to say next.

“Now… bow down!” the women were perplexed, “Come on! We don’t have all goddamn night! Bow the fuck down! Have you forgotten that I am God! Show your God some fucking respect!” the women continued to stay put with their hands in the air and their bodies still. Xander looked on the dash, right next to him on the passenger’s side to observe a twelve-gauge pump-action shotgun. Upon cocking the shotgun, he rolled the window down, pointing the barrel out, letting out a resonate blast, startling the women. “I said bow the fuck down!”

Xander’s laughter became unbearable as the women kowtowed, so much as to induce tears streaming from his eyes. They looked like a small congregation of Christian Coalition members being forced to bow before some kind of pagan God at gunpoint. The fat lady looked to be the most perturbed of the three, not just because of the immense terror she was experiencing, but simply because the continuous motion of bending her body up and down was becoming exhausting.

“Alright! Get up!” The women stood back up, their hands falling to their sides. Xander cocked the shotgun and unloaded again, “Keep em’ up!”

“Alright… this is what I want you to do next,” Xander’s smile became diabolical as he pondered his next move, “Strip!” The women opened their mouths in disbelief at what Xander had just asked them to do. The brunette and the hispanic lady began to gesture rudely at him, while the corpulent lady stood back, cowering like a frightened child behind the vehicle. “Ohhhhhhhhh! Ohhhh! Ohh! You coppin’ an attitude with me bitch! Huh?!” the brunette flipped him off and the hispanic lady continued to babble about nonsense in which Xander could not decipher. He pointed the shotgun out the window and unleashed another blast, shutting the women up instantly. “You have to the count of ten and if I don’t see a single article of clothing removed from your bodies, I’m gonna’ send Flappy out to unleash havoc on your ass! Understood! All Right… One!” the fat lady worked on getting her top off, “Not you Sussie Rottencrotch! You keep that shit on! The other two! That’s three seconds you’ve wasted! Nine!” The women refused to obey Xander’s command. “You think I’m screwing around huh!? You think I’m trying to be funny!?” the women still refused, they shook their heads, preparing to get back into the vehicle. “Okay… you asked for it…!” Xander kicked the passenger’s side door open. Quickly, he disrobed and jumped out the car, dropping to the ground behind the opened passenger’s door.

Copious sprouts of thick gray hairs sprung all over his body. His lips arched back to his pointy leaf-shaped ears, forming a dire grin, slowly evolving to a wolf’s maw. It was at this stage when lupine features were becoming more and more predominant. The women stood near their vehicle bewildered by what was going on. Xander kept close to the ground, allowing the door to prevent the women from seeing him. His broad and muscular limbs shrunk considerable in size and mass, becoming more lithe and agile. His height dropped to no less than three feet at the shoulder allowing him to sit comfortably on all fours. Soon there was no longer any trace of any anthropomorphic features. He now appeared, to all scrutiny, to be a North American Canis Lupus—the form Xander liked to call Flappy.

Flappy ran towards the ladies with great ferocity, his eyes glowing vibrantly, his thick and coarse fur dancing wildly in the wind. Upon baring his immense fangs dripping profusely with saliva, he growled angrily at them. Sure, Flappy was threatening, but before the change, Xander didn’t put into consideration how ridiculous Flappy would look with tattered Batman boxers hanging awkwardly from his tail. Goddamn you Xander, I told you to remember to take this shit off before you change forms.

Flappy tried to bark at the three ladies, though in his endeavor it sounded to be foreign to his throat—it was harsh and gravelly (probably because of all the alcohol tainting his body). No matter, the ladies screamed in a fit of panic, rushing into the vehicle. The fat lady ran to the back seat and the hispanic woman through the passenger’s side. Unfortunately for the brunette, she did not make it to the vehicle in time. As a pack of wild dogs ferociously leap and strike at a crippled moose to bring the beast down and indulge in their insatiable hunger for flesh so did Flappy as he leaped from the ground, taking the poor woman down where he frenetically ripped every article of clothing he could clench his teeth on from her body, hungering to feast his eyes on her naked curvaceous figure. The brunette screamed for help, oblivious to the fact that Flappy had no intentions on harming her… he—like Xander—just wanted to see some skin. The Latina stepped out of the vehicle in an effort to help her friend. Too bad for her, she too felt the wrath of Flappy and was also taken down and stripped. Xander contemplated the notion of assuming his war form (the infamous nine-foot snarling hairy monstrosity many of us have probably seen in the very few werewolf movies worth watching) and terrorizing the fat lady in the backseat, but decided against it. Word of his kind did not need to go out.

Flappy smiled with his tongue sticking out and his tail wagging as the two women tottered along buck-naked into the vehicle. When Xander felt they were a safe distance away, he shifted up to his human form, laughing maniacally. This was by far one of the greatest nights a drunk could have.

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