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July 30, 2005

Not So Bad ... This Time

It's been a year (or more, actually) and I had until the end of July to get my license plate(s) renewed for another year. It was only last year that I had so much freaking trouble getting my car “official,” so I wasn't really looking forward to another round of horror.

Luckily, in late June, I received a packet of information in the mail reminding me that it was almost time for my tags to expire. That was a very pleasant surprise from the Missouri Governement. What was even more surprising was the fact that I, you other Missourians, can now renew your tags online if you have the correct form and if your personal property taxes are all up to date!

Being the procrastinator that I am, or in this case I'll claim paranoid-freak, I hadn't done anything about the tags all month long. I was really dreading going into that damned office downtown, only to be told that I need to hike three blocks West to get my hand stamped, stammer 2 blocks North to run in a chicken-wire maze and then back to the DMV only to be told that I need to do it in the reverse order. True story.

This morning, with it being the 30th and all, I decided that it's time I get these damn things renewed. So I headed on over to the web site and gave it a shot. After trying to enter my personal property tax filings for 15 minutes, the web site gave up on me and said I had to go to a real office. I was so happy.

Me, my excited self and I, ran down to the local PETsMART, because, logically, that's where a DMV is located (please don't ask, I have no f'ing clue why there's a damn DMV in a pet store). After a 15 minute line wait, I got to the counter. Ten minutes later, I was out of the store with my tags!!! Hallelujah!

I think I got lucky this time. I still don't know why it's so confusing to get this stuff done, usually. Maybe it's just me.

Something that's odd, though... the Missouri Government knew that I had moved, I mean, of course they would, they want to make sure that I'm still going to pay them their taxes. Fair enough. So why didn't the Kansas City Board of Elections know that I had moved? Taxes = important, voting = not so much. One more thing, why does the KC Board of Elections have Captain America shields on their web site?

Posted by Seth at 02:30 PM | Comments (1)

July 28, 2005

Sock it to me, Sudoku

My Mamaw Corley and I share something special in common. We LOVE working crossword puzzles. I'm pretty sure she's better at them than I am, but I still love trying to complete them. There's something about the simple complexity that intrigues me... plus the people that make them are just so damn sneaky.

It's been a while since I've really worked a crossword, but I pick one up in the paper every once in a while just to stretch the ol' brain a bit. My love for crosswords hasn't dissapated, I just haven't made the time to play.

But something caught my attention a few weeks ago on USAToday.com. It was an article about a new logic puzzle that's been sweeping the nation, called Sudoku (sue-DOE-koo).

I tried it out that afternoon at USAToday.com's Sudoku page, and now I'm addicted. Go read the rules, give it a shot and see what you think.

Don't say that you can't because you're not good at crosswords... if you can count to nine, you can play.

Posted by Seth at 02:11 PM | Comments (1)

July 27, 2005

Maximus Non-Rapidbus

So now the Max has been in operation for four full days. I finally rode it to work this morning and just as I had suspected, instead of taking 9 minutes to get there (as it did on a traffic-less Sunday), it took over 15 minutes... and that was just to the stop – it was another five+ minutes to SHS. I don't mind the walk, it's just three blocks, and besides, today was an AWESOME day.

But the point is, why would I prefer to take the bus when I can drive my car to work in half the time? Well, I'm not going to take the bus every day to work... but I will take the bus on days when it's nice outside, on snowy/icy days (I'd rather risk a wreck in a bus than in my car), or if I want to relax on my way to work.

Since the Max has been in service, there has been some pretty vocal opinions spoken out on a Kansas City message board that I frequent. Here are the issues, and of course, my take on them.

Use the designated MAX stops and don’t stop at other regular stops.
Hmmm, that's a no-brainer. I attribute this to the newness of the route for the drivers AND the regular bus-riders. This should subside in time.

Stop at all the designated stops on every run.
I disagree with this one. If no one has requested a stop, and there's no one waiting for a ride, then let's keep the bus "rapid." The only places the Max should stop and wait at are 3rd & Grand, the Plaza and Waldo.

Fix the audio system.
No-brainer. It works on some of the buses, but not on others. This morning, the lady that drove the bus I was on was announcing the stops along with the audio system... even though she was wrong half the time.

Go straight down Grand!
Agreed. But I don't think this will work in KC right now. Why? Because we're a MidWest town and people LOVE their damn cars. We don't walk anywhere! We go to the Plaza and people complain because there's too much walking! I half hope the janked up route through downtown and the Crossroads is going to straighten out when all the construction is done... but I doubt it. Travel to any other major city in America with mass transit and you'll be taking straight shot routes through the city. Don't want to walk? Fine, mosey on over to the next bus stop for the next route.

Make the third lane a designated lane all the time.
It sure would help make this whole "rapid" deal more legit.

Run the buses more frequently.
I haven't noticed a problem with this, yet. But a bus every nine minutes during rush hour doesn't seem so bad to me. I do wish they'd run every 9 minutes during lunch, as well, though.

Make the buses free during lunch hour, evenings and weekends, or all the time for that matter.
Here! Here! Screw the lunch hour one, but evenings and weekends would rock. And would encourage safe(r) drinking, perhaps.

There are more things that have been said, but they're very costly suggestions. I think the Max is a trial run for Kansas City, I think they're weighing if people would really use a more robust mass transit system. I'd say that with all the feedback they're getting, there's a good chance that people would. I know several co-workers that are going to try it out from the Waldo stop, I think that's great. I also encourage everyone who can take ride the Max to a destination, to do so... the more riders and the more feedback we can provide, the better off KC will be.

Got something to say about the Max? Email them now!

Posted by Seth at 08:17 PM | Comments (1)

July 24, 2005

MAXimum Sweetness

The name of a movie? Perhaps. Something Napoleon Dynamite might say? Possibly. The general way that my mind thinks about things? Assuredly. But today I'd rather use the phrase to explain my experience riding Kansas City's new Metro Area Express (Max). The Max is our new Bus Rapid Transit (BRT) line that runs from 3rd and Grand to the Plaza – with half of the buses running all the way out to Waldo.

Since this city has such a damned hard time in passing anything that would bring a in light rail system (and connect all the 'burbs together – wouldn't that be something?), the Max is a potential first step in that direction.

The buses are all completely new and are outfitted with GPS units, so that at certain stops, you know exactly (rather, approximately) how long it'll be before the bus arrives. But most signs point to the Max staying on schedule – since all buses are equipped with devices that make stop lights stay green longer. There's also "dedicated bus lanes" during rush hour, but they're nothing compared to the lanes in other cities. Now I'm just repeating what you can read on their site (see above link).

Today, being the first day of service, I decided to give the Max a try since I planned on taking it to work tomorrow. Surprisingly, there were about 10 patrons on the bus, heading South-bound from the City Market. It took 9 minutes to get to the Crossroads district, where I'll get off for work. But I continued on to the Plaza, just to see where all the stops are. 22 minutes after I got on the bus, I was at the Plaza and walking around. That's nice.

The buses were real clean, one would hope since they're brand new, and the drivers were psuedo-nice. The second bus I was on didn't seem 100% finished inside. There was only one route map, at the front, and there was no sweet-soundin' lady announcing all of the stops. Maybe there's some work to do. Also, I noticed that not all of the stops have been completed either, no biggie.

All in all, very neat. I felt like I was actually in a big(ger) city. And while I was riding, and looking at the route map, I could only think of what a good idea this is for tourists in any of the main sections of town. They can get a day pass for $3 and hit all the spots from River Market to the Plaza. And just think about when the new Entertainment District opens downtown. Sheesh.

On the bus, you can grab a Max schedule booklet. The back page of the booklet is dedicated to Fare Information. It's pretty easy to understand – $1 for a fare ($.50 for youth, Medicare Cardholders, senior citizens and disabled persons), $3 all day pass, and if you pay more than the fare costs you'll be issued a Metro Charge Card with the remainder of your overage carried as a balance. Pretty simple, eh?

But what about us who would like to get the Metro Monthly Swipe Pass? Here's what they have to say on the brochure:

Monthly Swipe Passes are sold at more than 30 locations. If your bus pass does not cover the full fare, you must pay the difference in cash.
  1. 30 locations? Awesome. Where?
  2. How much does it cost?
  3. What do you mean "if it doesn't cover the full fare?" IT'S A MONTHLY PASS! IT SHOULD COVER EVERY FARE!! FOR AN ENTIRE MONTH!!!

Baby steps, Seth... baby steps. At least there's the Max Pub Crawl this Friday!

Posted by Seth at 04:07 PM | Comments (1)

July 23, 2005

Who WAS This Guy?

When I live in new places I sometimes find myself wondering why the person (or people) who were here before me left. I'm usually ecstatic when I've found a kick ass place, which makes me think the previous occupants were idiots. That wasn't the case with Old Townley, but we don't need to re-live past memories... do we?

I haven't thought about it too much since I moved in here because I walked into a hell of a place. Got lucky, really lucky. In fact, today was the first time I had really reflected on who lived here before.

As Todd could tell you, I LOVE getting mail. Today's mail had my Verizon bill and yet another catalog for my loft's previous dwellant. I don't mind receiving catalogs, if they're interesting. But thinking about the catalogs that usually come here for dude, I finally know why he moved away.

He's a mountain man, Grizzly Adams, a potential moonshine coneseur... who, oddly enough, also loves to buy children's clothes. I presume for the fowl or the smaller animals that he kills. They gotta look good, too.

The city life was definitely not for him. Buses, fire engines, cars... bah! Concrete floors and exposed sprinkler systems weren't his gig. Walking to bars and nightlife in the River Market are not appealing... not to a man of the wood, that is. He needs to roam and run free, with guns and camouflage clinging to his body. Using deer scent and duck calls to communicate with his friends – dinner. He has gone mad, and drags a box of children's clothes in tow as evidence.

Yes, one could say that a man not to dissimilar to Howard Hughes once lived in my loft. Society's norms and morays could not mold him. Nature demolished nurture this time. Survival of the fittest is his creed, until he runs out of bullets. I fully expect him to come to my place one day, hoping to score a box of .22s on sale.

Posted by Seth at 04:46 PM | Comments (2)

July 20, 2005

28 DaysYears Later

Yay!!! I'm 28 now. My silly mom had a bet that I wouldn't survive past 27, but I showed her! Take that!

I've always loved my birthdays. Loved them. It seems to go against the norm, but I can't help it. To have one day, or more, dedicated to me!?! Who would ever pass that up? Not me, I'll inform you of that right now... and that's nothing you'll find in any Wiki online.

This year's birthday celebration was different, but variety is also the spice of life, so who's to complain? Not me, I'll inform you of that right n... sorry. Anyway. Yes, this year was a bit different, but good. On Friday night, a group of friends and I went to twilight hours of Worlds of Fun. Whoever is willing to pay full price there during the day, in my book, is an absolute idiot. Let's see why: half price, cooler temperatures and no lines = extreme fun. Don't get too psyched up, it's still the ugly bastard child of Wal-Mart – everyone goes there, and they wear the most unfortunate of clothes. Is that awful to say? Too bad, I said it.

On Saturday, I traveled to Lawrence, Kansas, to chill with Todd and other F-towners before their show that evening. We somehow spent about three hours at the Holiday Inn there, even though none of us were staying there. But there was an indoor pool, indoor mini-golf and free wi-fi... cha-ching! We also learned a valuable lesson that day, you shouldn't swim in a pool if you have diarrhea. WAIT!!! Who in the hell swims in that condition!?!

That night I saw one of my favorite bands play, The Good Fear. If you haven't heard these guys yet, please, check them out... they're amazing.

On Sunday I saw "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." It wasn't the best movie in the world, but it was pretty darn good. On my Netflix rating, I gave it a 3 out of 5 stars (1 = utter crap, 2 = pretty damn bad, 3 = worth the money, 4 = I wanna see it again, 5 = I'm buying it). Here's my ten-word-stream-of-consciousness review:

  1. Creepy
  2. Fun
  3. WTF
  4. Pale
  5. Daddy
  6. Cabbage
  7. Blueberry
  8. Teeth
  9. WTF
  10. Scissorhands

So now I'm 28. Weird. But I'm still super active and feeling great, so age doesn't bother me. Yet.

Thanks to everyone who made my birthday special, as always. I hope that I can return the favor.

Posted by Seth at 12:10 AM | Comments (3)

July 14, 2005

(Solo)BMN: House of 1000 Corpses

Warning: This review contains spoilers.

With the “highly anticipated sequel” about to come out in theatres, I decided it was way past time that I sat down to watch the first movie from the wild mind of Rob Zombie. I had been highly negative on this movie since it came out in 2003 because I couldn’t nearly understand what all the flack was about. It appears to be some sort of cult hit with some people, because clearly the critics didn’t like it so much.

I tend to agree with the critics.

First off, with a name like Zombie and a title like “House of 1000 Corpses,” did anyone else expect a movie about zombies? I did. Poor me.

It was exactly like I imagined it would be, a glorified Rob Zombie video. Zombie seemed to have way too many ideas to put into one film. You have the whole Gas Station/Horror House movie, the Texas Chainsaw Massacre-like family in the middle of no-where movie, and then the ultra weird Dr. Satan short film tacked on at the end. What exactly were we to concentrate on? There was almost zero cohesion between the three.

Aside from the randomness of the storylines, there were also tons of random, and quite silly, transitions between scenes. I kid you not, I think these were some of the same effects he’s used in videos. They served no purpose. Although I did like the use of “previously recorded footage” to show what happened to people when they were off-camera.

The acting was pretty bad in spots, but not horrible. But what didn’t enhance the acting was the dialogue. You have this secluded hick-like family that makes several mentions of how the city-folk think they’re too good for the country. But at the same time, they all speak in a highly educated way… much like Rob Zombie’s, or Marilyn Manson’s, persona – we look like weird crazy people, but we’re very smart. And the annoying laughs, from both Otis and Baby, they gotta go… no one laughs that crazily, even if they are insane.

What really bothered me were the strange plot holes. The afore-mentioned family kidnaps people, or traps them in their house, and then tortures them. Creepy, right? But when the cops show up, or at the end of the movie when they’re making two of the kids get in a coffin, they use guns to either kill or threaten their prey. Guns? You’ve just tortured these people, and enjoyed it, why shoot them? Hobble them, mame them, something other than using a gun – the style doesn’t match.

The point that Zombie was trying to make about the Charles Manson-like cults was lost, big time. Aside from the evident Charles Manson plug in the beginning of the film and the small footage of Baby talking about how it’s necessary to kill sometimes, the rest of the film was just a freakshow ride. There was very little audience engagement.

But like I mentioned, the film was pretty much in line with what I thought it was going to be. Zombie, in my opinion, tried way too hard in making a freaky film. If he would’ve taken some key aspects of his film and expanded on them a little bit more (maybe throw in some actual zombies), this movie would’ve been much stronger.

Posted by Seth at 04:09 PM | Comments (1)

July 13, 2005

BMN: Rebound

Tonight I won't even bother going into why this movie was so bad. No, I've decided that I'm going to try something new. Below are my casual observations from the film, in no particular order:

Posted by Seth at 12:21 AM | Comments (4)

July 12, 2005

My Mother Needs Your Help

If any of you have ever lived beyond the age of 50, please post some encouraging thoughts today. My mother, and Michele White, are both turning 50 and this could mean doom for the both of them. I hate to think of what it was like trying to get their half-a-century old bodies out of bed this morning. Think about it, 50 years. Ugh.

Happy Birthday ladies!!!

Posted by Seth at 07:25 AM | Comments (3)

July 10, 2005

I'm A Pro!

An article in today’s paper finally prompted me to write an entry about this. I doubt most will agree with me (as has been proven in the past), but it’s something I’ve bitched and complained about for some time. Anyone who knows me pretty well should know my recent obsession with, and anger towards, professional gambling. I’ve gone round and round with people about the absurdity of the whole notion… “I’m a professional gambler.” Professional what? Gambler? Kid me not, please.

Irritated, though I might be about this, a recent conversation with a co-worker shed some new light on the situation. We came to the conclusion that the reason some people don’t like the term ‘professional gambler’ is because of its connotation. I, personally, consider a professional someone who provides a service. Plumber? Yes. Secretary? Yes. Stock Broker? Yes. Prostitute? sigh Yes.

Those, in that context, are professionals. You pay someone to do a service and you get something in return (heh, I said prostitute).

Okay, that side of the argument is clear. But what about professional sports atheletes? They’re considered professionals, right? Of course they are, they’ve worked years and years practicing their sport and are now paid to do what they love. They’re usually employed by a team, or a corporation, and in exchange are actually providing some entertainment value to the fans.

Ut-oh, there’s a hole in my argument, isn’t there? Yes. Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not criticizing the gamblers themselves, nor their skill. Hell, I’d bet (so sneaky how I worked that one in) that most of the better players have been playing poker longer than I’ve been alive. The skill, the knowledge, the ability to bluff… it’s all not inheret. You have to hone to those skills, practice them a lot before you can be really good and beat the best.

The goofiness comes into play when we start talking about the World Series of Poker, the very reason why this whole issue is on my mind. To enter the ESPN televised contest (that’s been highly edited), all you need is $10,000. That’s all. To be a participant in the contest, $10,000 will get you in. You don’t have to win any pre-qualifying tournament. You don’t have to play poker a certain number of hours before you can get in. All you need is $10,000.

And why not? The total prize money that everyone is playing for comes in at $52 million+. The winner will only take home $7.5 million, but everyone that ends up at the final table will each win at least $1 million.

Just because Chris Moneymaker (winner of the 2003 WSOP) won the championship, doesn’t mean he’s a professional gambler. What does that even mean? My guess is that he’s got enough money to just gamble for the rest of his life. And that’s all he does. But what if he decides to stop gambling and just drink alcohol for the rest of his life? Does he become a professional drinker? Or what if he decides to tour the world for the rest of his life? Professional tourist? Posh.

What about the gamblers that never win a big tournament? I feel sorry for them. No, I feel sorry for their LUCK, because they’ll never be a pro.

There’s one story I’ve heard about some guy that lives in Las Vegas. He drives a limo in the city, taking people back and forth places, much like a taxi, but nicer. Once he makes $10,000, he stops driving and heads to the casinos. He’ll live off that $10,000 until it’s gone, whether that’s 10 minutes or 10 months. When he runs out of money, he starts driving again. It’s a sad story, in my opinion, but that’s the closest someone can come to being called a professional gambler in my book. You can truly ask him what he does and he can respond, “I’m a gambler.”

I don’t like the term ‘professional gambler’. Never have. Never will. And I think anyone that calls themselves that should look into attending a Gamblers Anonymous meeting.

Posted by Seth at 05:28 PM | Comments (5)

July 09, 2005

One Reason Why Google Rocks

Do you ever do any of the above? Do you ever wonder just how far you’ve gone (in distance) each time? Now, through the magical use of the internet and Google Maps, you can figure it out.

Simply head on over to http://www.sueandpaul.com/gmapPedometer, re-center the map on the area of your choice and click the “Start recording” button. Then, every time you double-click the map a marker will appear and measure the distance from that point to the next point you set. Sweetness.

Posted by Seth at 01:28 PM | Comments (0)

July 07, 2005

If Hollywood Stories Were Real #2

When my wife and I decided pack up our belongings and move away from the hustle and bustle of New York City, never did we expect to end up in a small coastal town like Fernfield, Washington. Turns out, it was just what we were looking for: fishing, boating, around 400 people and a nice, cush job for me as the Senior Editor of the town’s newspaper (I never wondered why a city of that size had a daily paper, but they paid nicely).

We had been settled here for a few years when I started to question my own journalistic integrity, ethics and morals.

Like I said, Fernfield is a tiny, tiny town, and sometimes there just isn’t anything to write about. Aside from the good news, there’s hardly any BAD news to report. Unfortunately, we usually end up reporting on something around the state, something that matters to everyone.

Last October, our Jr. High (or Middle School, whatever the hell you call it out here) basketball season wasn’t going in the right direction. We were 2-1 before THE game took place.

Side note: Several kids had dropped off the team and there were private try-outs held to fill the empty slots. Josh Framm, a new kid in town (wrote an article on his family, sad story, father passed away recently), had been promoted from waterboy to a player on the team.

Back to the game… Our star player, Larry Willingham, had just fouled out of the game and Coach Barker (weird name, I know) looked down his bench and told Fromm to go in. Fromm was excited and nervous about going in, he had never played in a real game before, but he was ready. The game went on for a little while longer, and then, this Golden Retriever just ran onto the court making a giant spectacle of it all.

It was hilarious! I couldn’t stop laughing! Whooooo boy.

Well, we lost the game and Coach Barker was fired that night for humiliating one of the players on the team. Poor kid.

The next day we had a new coach, Arthur Chaney of the ‘56 New York Knicks (don’t bother finding any stats on him on the internet, his name has been changed to protect his identity, but he did have one HELL of a turnaround jumper). As soon as he came in, we started winning games… and I had something to write about, I’m talking front page headlines, people!

Not to mention side articles about the spectacular half-time shows featuring Fromm and his Golden Retreiver, Buddy. Turns out, Buddy can make baksets! What a dog!

Fast-forward to the end of the season… once Coach Chaney took over, our team started winning game after game and eventually found ourselves in the championship game! We were down by 12 points in the second half when Buddy showed up, I guess he had been missing a while. He was such a spark for the team, we finally had hope.

And then, Coach Chaney gave Buddy his performance jersey and some shoes, AND PUT HIM IN THE GAME!!! Check the rulebooks all you want, there’s nothing in there that says you can’t play a dog. So Buddy goes in and makes a steal right off the bat. He and Fromm were like Malone and Stockton, or Jordan and Pippen, just silky smooth as a duo. Near the end of the game, Buddy was fouled by Willingham (yes, the traitor switched teams)… no worries, Buddy made BOTH freethrows! Fromm ended up hitting the game-winning shot and we were champions! The town was ecstatic!

The city’s mood changed drastically when Buddy’s previous owner, that creepy Norm Snively (also the town’s Clown for Hire), decided he wanted to take Buddy back. There was a giant city-wide court hearing about who was going to be Buddy’s owner. How silly is that, and can you believe that Snively actually dressed up as the clown for this? Pathetic.

The outcome: Buddy chose Fromm and everyone was happy. And I’ll tell you one other thing… screw my journalistic background, this, and every other silly story in Fernfield, is worth my time and worth all the ink we waste on them.

Posted by Seth at 07:31 PM | Comments (2)

July 06, 2005

My Past Catches Up

This past weekend I traveled home for some much needed rest and relaxation with good friends. In my plans were to attend a wedding of a long-time family friend, crash a birthday party for my mom and another long-time family friend, and lastly, to celebrate an early birthday for my mother, brother and me with my grandparents and aunt.

None of those things would normally be a challenge for me, except the party I was going to crash was for Michelle White, the mother Justin Springston, one of my best friends ever. Justin passed away a little over five years ago, and this was the first time I had seen his family or many of the friends that he and I used to hang out with.

It was a challenge. It was something I kept looking at the time on my cell phone and saying to myself, “if I just stay here a little longer, I won’t be able to make it to that party.” I honestly don’t ever want to hear myself say those words again.

I can’t tell you why I haven’t seen any of those other friends over the past few years. I can’t tell you why I’ve neglected to keep up with one of my surrogate mothers (who is one of my favorite persons of all time). I can’t tell you why, time after time, I’ve cowered away from seeing any members of that family. Because there is no answer.

Part of me died the day that I heard Justin had passed away. That same part of me still hurts knowing that I can’t ever speak to him again. Maybe that part of me thought it was easier to just ignore that part of my life. Don’t fool yourself, Seth. Those feelings are nothing compared to my remorse for allowing a door to shut on what was once a huge part of my life. There’s one of the few things I’ve regretted in my life.

No words can describe how sorry I am to all of you. I’m not just talking to those of you that I’ve avoided, but to all of you that know me, friends, family, even casual acquaintances. I feel like I’ve failed on some very rudimentary level of friendship or family and I hope that I never will again.

Posted by Seth at 07:44 PM | Comments (1)

July 01, 2005

If Hollywood Stories Were Real #1

This is the first in a new series of posts. The premise is simple: a perspective of an innocent by-stander from (name of movie) where the plot were true in real-life. You get to guess what the movie is… though, most of the time it probably won’t be too hard. Enjoy.

Everyone always told me college would be a real eye-opener. They said that it’s an experience like none other. Still others said that I’d never want to leave college, stay there forever. Most of those people were right, but I left after the first year… and my life has been a wreck ever since…

I’m a nerd, or, used to be. I graduated with top honors from my high school, but all that doesn’t matter when you go to college. After graduating from high school, I was scared. I knew that I was starting over from the bottom. But I was smart and I knew that if I surrounded myself with the right people, I’d be just fine. By the time I got to college, I was confident that I’d be okay.

That’s when I met Todd Howard, a fellow nerd and biology major. He was a nice kid, quiet and timid, and wanted to be a Vet… but somehow he ended up at college on a boxing scholarship. I first met him in Biology 101, but it turned out that our rooms were on the same floor in Rembrandt Hall. He and I didn’t hang out much, mostly because I hated his idiot roomie “Stiles” and his overweight friend, “Chubby.”

Todd was also in my biology study group. The guy was smart, sharp as a tack, but it wasn’t long into the first semester before he started to not show up for our weekly meetings. No one knew why.

One day, everyone was talking about this goofy story about Todd and how he ruined a reception by dressing up like a dog and causing a ruckus. Later that evening, it was said that Todd and “Stiles” were overheard arguing in their dorm room. Then, the very next day, someone pulled a prank on Todd by placing an open petry dish full of fleas under his desk in History class.

I felt sorry for the guy.

Unfortunately for Todd, the very next day was our first boxing match of the year. Our team was getting their butts kicked, but somehow that fat-ass “Chubby” got a win. The last fight of the day belonged to Todd and some jerk from The Academy. Our coach obviously wasted a scholarship on Todd, for he wasn’t in the ring for 30 seconds before he was knocked down. Everyone in the crowd was sad, except for The Academy fans, who were hootin’ and hollering, just ready to go and celebrate.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Everyone started to quiet down when a low growl started to get louder and louder. The referee kept counting and I think he got to five, when… Todd, or, whatever the hell he was, sprang what seemed like 20 feet into the air and landed on his feet in the middle of the ring. This thing wasn’t Todd anymore, but it was wearing Todd’s boxing outfit and it was very hairy. It looked like a dog, or a man-dog, I suppose. Whatever it was, it was ugly as hell. For whatever reason the fight wasn’t stopped and this thing pounded the shit out of the other boxer. Afterwards, everyone rushed the ring and carried the thing out on their shoulders. “Stiles” seemed extremely happy. I, on the other hand, was very creeped out and took off.

That night, there was a big party on campus to celebrate the thing’s victory… though I’m pretty sure The Academy won the overall match 4-2. Who cares, right, it’s party time! Stupid jocks. I decided to go see what was going on and invited Amy, an engineering student friend of mine, to come along. I had told her about Todd’s “transformation,” but she didn’t believe me, so we went to the party in hopes to see the thing. Sure enough, just after “Stiles” showed up, he grabbed the microphone and introduced a very special guest.

It was Todd, or the thing, and he was dressed up in some tacky blue suit. He looked uncomfortable. Todd grabbed the microphone and instead of growling into it, like he was doing in the boxing ring, he sang a song. SANG A SONG!!! He sang “Do You Love Me?”, though I’m pretty sure it wasn’t him singing at one point because the song kept on going when he was leading a massive choreographed dance. As ludicrous of a story as this may sound, Amy and I were having fun and couldn’t help ourselves from dancing.

From then on Todd was a star on campus. He walked around everywhere as the man-dog. Everyone wanted to hang out with him and the hot chicks were all over him. Teachers were giving him A+’s on all of his work and he somehow bought a brand new Corvette and was driving that around everywhere. “Stiles” seemed to be making the most of the situation by selling t-shirts, and other paraphernalia, that said “Teen Wolf” on them. One afternoon, I even witnessed Todd run and catch a “Teen Wolf” frisbee in his mouth, like a freaking dog.

This “Teen Wolf” thing spurred something in Amy’s memory. She said that she had heard a crazy story about some kid at a high school in Beacon Hill that played on the basketball team. Apparently, this kid turned into a dog-man, too. After a little research at the city library, we found out that this story was true, and the kids name was Scott Howard. He and Todd had to be related! And get this, the coach of the basketball team at that high school was now the boxing coach that gave Todd the scholarship! Coincidence?

The thing that got us most was that Scott Howard wasn’t called a man-dog in any of the stories we read. He was referred to as a werewolf. A werewolf… WAIT!!! A werewolf!?! On the campus!?! Jesus Christ! Half the kids on campus worshiped the dam thing, wore t-shirts with “Teen Wolf” on them. I knew we were all going to die and I had to tell everyone.

I tried to tell my closest friends about Todd’s true identity, but they just laughed. Amy and I tried to tell the Dean, but he wouldn’t listen, either. Everyone thought that the werewolf was the coolest guy in the world. He’s not THAT cool, he dumped his sweet little “girl next door” girlfriend for that skanky southern blonde.

Then it happened. I was supposed to meet Amy one afternoon for a picnic lunch but she never showed up. I looked everywhere for her, nothing. I decided to check down in her dorm’s laundry room, I wish to God I hadn’t. I turned on the lights and there was blood everywhere. In the middle of it all lay Amy’s body. She had been mauled to death. It could only mean one thing. Todd.

I left campus in fear of my life that night, never to return. I left all of my stuff behind, all my clothes, books, beakers and bunsens… everything. The city police found Amy’s body the next morning and after a week of investigation, my sudden disappearance made me prime suspect for her death. I’m now a wanted man, forced to live my life on the run, because of that fucking werewolf.

I heard once that Todd started to live a more normal life and even won the boxing championship without being the wolf… whoop-de-fucking-doo. I don’t give a damn. I’ve never heard from my friends again, in fact, I haven’t heard much from that college either… maybe he ate everyone, he IS a fucking werewolf, after all.

A werewolf. What are the chances?

Posted by Seth at 10:30 AM | Comments (0)