(This is fan fiction aka copyrighted for the White Wolf Game Werewolf: The Apocalype. I'm just posting it because it's a fun scene to read. Also, since this blog is labeled as Adult Contect, I don't want to hear grief about all the cursing.)
I wake up sometime later feeling like I was put through a blender. My entire body hurts, even my damn hair! It hurts even to blink at the moment! I just survived the worst fight to date in my life. Sadly, I know that there will be some harder fights to come. I just hope they don’t leave me feeling like beef feels when it’s going through a meat grinder.
Yet, despite better judgment, I slowly sit up on the couch. I scream out in pain as all my muscle cramp up at once. As I sit in there in pain, I hear someone laughing. When the cramping finally subsides, I turn my head and see Eric sitting in the chair at the other end of the couch, laughing his ass off.
“That’s what you get for kicking me in the nuts, Asshole!” He says smiling at me. His face still shows signs of the battle. His right eye is still blackened. In his hand is a Yuengling.
“Well, payback is a bitch. You kneed me there first, Fuck Face!”
“Yeah, that’s right, I did,” he replies with a smirk. “Oh well, it’s not like they are being used anyway.”
“Whatever. Get me a beer, bitch,” I say laughing. “By the way, what time is it?”
“11:15 pm. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping all day, “ he replies as he heads into the kitchen. A minute later, he returns from the kitchen with a beer. He hands it to me and says, “Don’t you dare call me the beer bitch!”
“Fine, beer whore!” I say laughing. It’s funny, less than fourteen hours ago, we were beating the shit out of each other. Now, we are laughing like old chums, bullshitting over a cold one. I seriously doubt I won the fight, so what the hell is going on?
“Hey, Eric, what’s the deal?” I ask. “I know I lost the fight. So, am I out of the pack or what?”
“Nah, you’re cool. The purpose of that fight we did was to prove that the training has paid off. In fact, you’re going with us tomorrow night on a mission.”
“A mission, eh? Is it a mission from God?” I ask as I take a sip of my beer.
“No, we’re not the Blues brothers,” He says while shaking his head. His tone quickly serious as he explains, “We’re going to hunt down some Black Spiral Dancers who’ve been muscling the few kinfolk we have in this city.”
“Why are we waiting till tomorrow?” I inquire as I finish off my beer.
He gently nudges my shoulder causing me to wince in pain. “That’s why we are waiting. We’re both still sore from this morning. Besides, the Walkers are keeping an eye on them at the moment.”
“So, the Walkers do all the easy shit while we do all the grunt work?”
“That sums it up nicely about the overall relationship of our tribes, but it’s different here. Garou are a rare breed in Florida it seems. Both tribes do their share of shit work. We have too in order to survive.”
“Let me guess, Florida is ran by the Mokole?”
“Fucking Jurassic Park rejects! Yeah, they run South Florida pretty much.”
“Oh well, like I’m ever going back to South Florida anyway,” I say as I stand up. “Need another?” I ask as I set the empty bottle down. He nods his head and I walk into the kitchen. I walk back with four beers and hand him two. He just laughs and shakes his head. I sit back down and simply reply, “One less trip.”
Well, that one less trip quickly turns into six more trips. We spend the evening discussing anything and everything. It started with the current geography of Florida, my old life, philosophy, then by midnight, with no more beer, it turns into should our drunk asses walk to the store and get more or should we just drink the shitty vodka Gwen has beneath the kitchen sink. We end up stumbling down the road towards the local quickie mart.
As we head back from the store with a case of Budweiser, I happen to notice an old couch by the side of the road. I walk over to it and take a look at it. It doesn’t smell and looks pretty brand new. I get a crazy idea and persuade Eric to help me carry it back to the apartment. What a sight we were! Two drunken mother fuckers carrying a couch down the road with a case of beer sitting in the middle of the couch at one in the morning! I’m just amazed we made it without dropping the couch or breaking the beer bottles!
Four hundred yards later, we make it back to the apartment. We quickly set the couch on the front lawn so it faces the road. I stumble back inside and carry out the coffee table. I set it down in front of the couch, making our makeshift living room complete. I quickly sit down on the corner and grab a beer from the box. Eric is at the other corner, beer in hand, feet propped up on the table.
“Man, this is a great idea Chris!” Eric boasts. “So, when do I get to hear some of your pottree?”
I take a swig of my beer and slur, “Just because my name is Atlawn Witthem doesn’t mean I will do pohtree when someone wants me to. Besides, I’m so drunk I can’t even say my name anyrye. So, shut the fuck up and let me enjoy the buzz I gots going.”
“I’ll drink to that! Cheers!”
At that point, we hear the front door close. I turn around and see a half-asleep Gwen heading towards us. I nudge Eric and point back towards Gwen. Gwen walks over and shakes her head. I take the beer off the couch and set it on the table. She sits down and grabs a beer.
“Figures you two had to drink all the Yuengling, “ she says as she pops open a Bud. “Where did this couch come from?”
“Ask Atthong over there,” Eric slurs in response.
“Atthong!” I yell out as I burst into a fit of laughter. “You’re gone, man,” I say to Eric when the laughter subsides.
Gwen looks between the both of us and shakes her head. “You two are trashed. You finish off 20 Yuenglings to only buy more beer and carry back a couch. What were you guys thinking?”
I grab another Bud and respond, “To buy more bear and carry back a cotch at one in the morning, duh!”
Eric whispers under his breath “smart ass” while Gwen gives me a funny look and asks, “Buy more bear? ”
I hold my bottle and reply, “Beer, not bear! However,” I say as I rub my chin, “buying a bear doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
Eric reaches over and punches my shoulder while Gwen takes away my beer. She hands it to Eric, who ends up polishing it off. I calmly reach over to grab another one, but I stop when I feel a cold nose on my other hand. I look over the hand rest and see Pete sitting next to the couch. I slide over and tap the open area between Gwen and I. He happily jumps on the couch and rests his head on my lap. I begin scratching his ears while grabbing a beer with my other hand.
“Pete likes you, Chris,” Gwen replies.
“About time a bitch likes his ass!” Eric retorts, laughing
“Besides you, big boy?” I say in the gayest tone I can muster.
He just turns bright red and replies, “Fuck you!”
“Is that a promuse, sweet thang? I hope you aren’t like the others and don’t daliver when it comes to the ‘goods’.”
Gwen goes into hysterical laughter at this point. Eric’s face turns another two shades darker. I just sit back on the couch and smile. I decide not to push Eric any further considering I know how violent he can get. He, on the other hand, decides to get in the last laugh.
He, now talking like a flamer, responds, “I don’t get any complants from you when I deliver the goods, honey. Besides, like FedEx, you love to handle my patkage.”
“Alright, ladies,” Gwen chimes in. “Behave. Let’s not get your panties in a knot!”
Eric and I look at each other and nod our heads. We both reply in unison, “Who says we are wearing anything anyway?”
“Like you two have anything to cover anyway?” Gwen replies.
“Yeah, whatever,” I reply. “Oh well, it keeps me happy.”
Of course, it gets worse from there. For the rest of the night, we end up talking trash to each other. Of course, the trash talking becomes a slur fest. Gwen, after only 6 beers, sounds worse then me and Eric combined! I think Eric and I do more laughing than actual talking. Around 4am, we all finally stumble back into the apartment and sit down in the living room. We all end up passing out on the couch.
