A blast from the past -- Halfshadow's howl report (fairly long)
po...@lycanthrope.net
from Staticwolf (now known as Half-Shadow):
Well, I've finally mostly recovered from the mung, so I thought I'd post
my own Howl story.
Thursday. 6am. Get up, big breakfast. Haul my bags out to the clock
tower on
campus. (easiest landmark for Katman to spot from a distance) Finally, a
big
red car pulls up and a bald guy gets out. "Static?" "Katman?" We loaded
up
the car, as I recovered from my first experience with meeting someone
off of
the net. Not quite what I had pictured him as, but hey. We set off, and
I
quickly found out why they call Katman "Wrong Way Wilson". After a long
drive
(and several U-turns) we finally found Smash's place.
Smash met us at the door, and my first thought was "Mom was right, this
is
going to be a Skinhead rally." After settling in though, I was right at
home.
After all, any place as strewn with computer guts and circut boards as
Smash's
house, can't be all bad. We went out for hot wings, and they even talked
me
into trying some of their "Barbeque Killers". We then went to play
Q-Zar.
Fun little game that brought out the preadators in us, even if some of
the
junior high girls on our team thought Smash and Katman were Marrines.
After
a quick trip to Kroger to pick up some antacid (my stomach had reminded
me
why I can't have spicy food) we headed back to Smash's, where they
introduced
me to an automotive abomination, the likes of which I had never imagined
in my
worst dreams. It was named the SuperCow, and if you want to know about
it,
e-mail Smash. It's enough to say that Homemade Aftermarket add-ons can
be
taken too far. :)
Friday morning, er, around noon actually. We finally roll out of bed and
drive around Toledo making sure that Smash's cashflow still flowed, and
then
we set off for the site. Tried the Ohio turnpike. They closed it on us.
Tried another east-west highway, couldn't get on the on ramp. I started
thinking up conspiricy theories on why the humans would want to keep us
from
the Howl. We finally did make it, despite FireWolf's "surprise signs".
We pulled into the B(p)arking Lot, and although it was late afternoon,
we
were the only weres there. Following Horror Movie Rule #4, we split up
to
look around. After a while, Moria finally drove up in her twee little
truck,
hauling stuff over from FireWolf's farm. Even more bouncy in person then
she
is on the net, Moria quickly set my mind at ease, because I knew I
wouldn't
be the only were there with hair. Moria and I drove back to FireWolf's
farm
so I could call my paranoid parental units, and then haul back another
truck
load of stuff for the weekend.
Were after Were started showing up after that, and we all gave them
proper
Howl greetings while we slung our timber around (hauling it to where we
were
going to have the fire, of course) Once the first wave of arivals had
shown
up, and we lit the fire, it started to get dark. Some of the weres went
out
shopping and others stayed to greet people. With each set of headlights
driving up to the b(p)arking lot, I let loose a shout of "INCOMMING!",
and
we'd all run out to meet them. The rest of the night was filled with hot
dog
and marshmallow roasting, storytelling, and just general grinning at the
wolves
(and 2 panthers and 1 windigo) that had gathered. Many of us turned in,
a few stayed up, and I found out that the sleeping bag that Katman had
lent me was really a sensory deprivation tank. Warm, but I couldn't hear
or
see anything.
Saturday morning, er, I think, I had put my watch away at that point. I
woke up, and poked my head out of the barn. The scene had begun to look
like
it had been invaded by were-trash refugees. The couch had been moved
down to
the fire and breakfast food items were strewn about. My Saturday was
spent
shooting the bull with Irish, looking at Torrle's art, getting my butt
whiped
at pente, playing [Mrow]'s Truth or Dare game, watching DreamWolf fix
his
clutch, getting into a cutdown war with Zem, Irish, and some hunters who
happened across the Howl, and of course, surviving Katman's chilli. (Two
bowls, the second one spiced up with tabasco and cayenne pepper spice.
(HOT!))
As the night rolled around, we listened to the Poems writen for the
ocasion,
Tossed the couch on (Firestorm!), I finished a couple of Smash's Red
Wolf
beers and so on. I also got involved in the infamous were-cuddle pile
up.
I first starded snuggling up to DreamWolf's Akita, but as he started
using
his dog as a pillow, and the part of me that was off the tarp got wet
from
the grass, I moved in between the windigo, and one of the panthers. (By
the
way, although phrases like "I'm so happy, I could shit" and "It's so
cute,
I have to take my insulin" tend to get their point across, the phrase
"This
is so cozy, I could puke" should be avoided when in a cuddle pile) After
sacrificing a cabage patch doll and a my pet monster to the fire, we
moved
on to the obligatory "Jack be nimble" fire jumping. Of course, Zem was
the
best at it, being seemingly immune to fire (even if her boot wasn't, as
we
later found). The werepanthers were giving each other massages after
that,
and I couldn't let them go by with out them sharing that with one of the
wolves, so I joined in, even though I'm a rank amature at it. (Side
note:
don't let yourself get a fantastic massage when it's really cold out,
because then your muscles will be too relaxed to shiver, and you'll
freeze
your ass off.)
Sunday morning, everyone seemed sad because it was time to pack up.
Carload
after Carload of weres headed off to points unknown. Moria, Smash and I
piled
into Moria's twee little truck (Were-sardienes! Seriously though, I
can't
think of two more cuddly wolves I'd rather be smushed between) and drove
out
to town for a bit. We got back, and Zem, Torrle, Moria and I got into a
bit
of stick-fencing. Moria managed to take a tiny half-inch gash out of my
thumb, but it hurt horribly and bled profusely, which sent me into
theatrics.
Zem took me up to the barn, to put a band-aid on it, and she ended up
finding
Crystal's kitten, which had been missing since morning. (leave it to the
panther to find the cat.) After a while, FireWolf's parents drove up to
tell
us why he hadn't gotten back from taking WinterDreamer to the airport.
Hearing
about the accident was a shock to all of us, and we went out to the
other farm.
After making a few phone calls, getting something to eat, and mutually
comforting each other, the last of us straglers parted, each going our
seperate
ways.
After spending one last night at Smash's, Katman and I headed back to
thaw
out from the Spring Thaw Howl. Kat filled out the last of his video
tapes
by stoping off at a MacDonalds ("Yes, I'd like a whole live cow, just
slap
it on the ass, and run it by the grill, that will be fine, and a cup of
blood."
<pause> "Could I have your order, please, sir?" "well, if you're all out
I
can go some place else.") and except for the broken heater hose, it was
an
uneventful trip back.
Howls, muzzle licks, and backrubs to all, it was a killer weekend.
************
from Katmandu:
Chronological order is best for this sort of thing, I guess, so;
Thursday morning I left out of Athens at 8 am, the car stuffed with
camping
equipment, coolers, bags of chili fixin's, gas in the tank... I arrived
in
Clemson, SC at around 9 and pulled up to the clock tower Static had
mentioned
in his directions. He was sitting on a pile of bags and looking very
bemused
at my car. We introduced and stuffed his bags into the car and headed
out.
Well, after turning the wrong direction 6 times ("uhh... 72 east or
west?"
"The sign says north and south..." *sound of uturn in heavy traffic*) we
made
it onto I75 and hauled furry butt to Toledo. We got into Toledo around
9pm
and found Smash's street OK... but... find a pay phone, fight through
the
crowd of folks using it, call Smash. "Hey Smash! We're in Toledo. What's
your street number?" We arrive at his place and unload, and then head
out to
Frickers for chicken wings. We met up with Pokey and another person
whose
name I can't remember, and sucked down spicy barbeque wings and filled
Smash
up with Red-Wolf beer. Outside the restaurant, we turned to see the
nearly
full moon rising over the trees. I glanced over at Smash and saw him
gazing up
at it... A loud howl then, for the moon and for the anticipation of
meeting
everyone the next day. The folks in Frickers are deaf or good at
ignoring
howling folks. We ran by Smash's former place of employment, Q-Zar, for
a
game of laser tag... normally, I stick with paintball; it's embarassing
to
get wiped all over the playing field by a group of giggling high school
girls in laser tag. :)
We left Toledo around 1 or so, after gathering paychecks and raiding ATM
machines. The Ohio Turnpike was bumper to bumper, so we got off to try
another east-west corridor; which was also blocked off. Grrrr... After a
bit
of navigation (I really have gotten my money's worth out of that atlas)
we
managed to get headed in the right direction. We arrived at the site
around
4pm, after hunting down Firewolf's thoughtful (but a wee bit small)
signs
and making a few turns into people's driveways. The place was deserted
when
we got there.. were we the first ones? Smash had gone to investigate the
barn
and I remarked to Static about how this always happened in horror movies
(and then we heard chainsaws in the distance) when Moria came bouncing
up
in her pickup and gave us a wet ride across the creek to the barn.
The site is on a large farm. The farm house burned down some time ago,
leaving only a sagging barn full of hay bales. Down the hill from the
barn, next to a small stream, was the area cleared for the bonfire. We
debated
pitching the tents (my tent is about 12 years old now, and is getting
less and
less nice to sleep in) and finally decided to carve out some nesting
sites
amongst the hay bales in the barn. ("Geez, martha, we've stumbled into a
nest
of weres!") Smash and I snagged an old doghouse from behind the barn,
wrote
"Smash" above the door with duct tape (a million uses), and used it to
make
a hay-bale tunnel to his sleeping bag.
Moria and Static came back from the other farm and using the phone, with
Firewolf's cousin Junior in tow. We began setting up in earnest, and
went
over to the scrap lumber pit left from the old house to load up the
trucks
with firewood. About that time, Dreamwolf and Cat and Dreamwolf's Akita
(pronounced misha, but I think I'm spelling it wrong)came bouncing over
the
road in Truck... and the T is always capitolized for this beast; a 1968
Chevy C30 flatbed loaded with construction scraps. He got it across the
creek
and there it stayed; victim of a dead clutch. We loaded up lumber in a
couple
of trips and soon had a healthy pile of bonfire wood.
Smash, Dreamwolf and I went into Coschocton (about 30 minutes away) to
hit the
grocery store. (Three grungy guys who look like they're fresh from the
woods
stalk up to the meat counter... "10 pounds of ground beef, please.") We
stopped
for a bite at McDonalds (a bite that Smash would regret that night) and
weaved
back to the camp site. By this time, Werebear, Wolfbard and Irish had
arrived
from Delaware; along with Crystal and Torrle and Crystal's cat Puck, and
Firewolf and Winterdreamer. A small fire was going and we introduced all
around.[Mrow] and Contrari and Thorn and [Mrow]'s dogs Muggs and
(Brain fart.. names file deleted) came driving up and the cast was
complete.
The moon was incredibly swollen, hanging over the camp; the night clear
and cold. We all relaxed by the fire, setting up here and there, and
retired
late.
My alarm clock was a loud howl about 9 am. Some folks had moved this
ratty
white couch from the second level of the barn out in front of the fire
and were
making breakfast. I scrambled up some eggs for myself and then Firewolf,
Dreamwolf, and myself headed into town again to locate a clutch for
Truck.
After the third auto parts store we found what we needed and headed
back.
Dreamwolf and Junior proceeded to dismantle Truck (with one of the
others of
us providing unskilled backs every now and again - memerable quote, as
Irish
and Moria are lifting the transmission case from inside the truck: "Aw,
a
twee little girl could lift this!" "A twee little girl _is_ lifitng
this!")
I got started on the chili, after searching for can openers (doh! Guess
what
I forgot to bring) and stirring spoons; while everyone milled around,
sparring
in the field, or playing (what, pente? something like that?), or
prowling
around the woods sniffing out cow and sheep and horse skeletons, or
playing
in the Improvisational WereTrash Refugee Band on coke bottle, soup
rattle,
and various percussion devices. Every time I looked up from stirring the
cauldron, I could see weres relaxing and enjoying one another's
company...
Petty differences that seem to magnify themselves when viewed across the
sterile ascii environment of the computer screen vanished in real life.
We
were a very diverse group; different in a number of respects...
personalities,
outlooks, sense of humor... but there was no strife here. We recognized
in
each other that special undefinable quality that makes us were, and we
reveled
in it. I can't echo Werebear's sentiment enough.
The chili was soon devoured and night fell. The sky was cloudy, but the
moon
managed to burn its way through the cover. The fire grew larger and
larger,
until it was a mighty huge blaze that would have drawn low flying
aircraft
in to land. Wolfbard read a powerful poem he had written, and [Mrow]
read
a poem that Silver-Night had sent us to be read in his absence, and the
hills
echoed with our howls. I still wonder what sort of rumours are going
around
the neighbor's now. :) The couch got tossed on the blaze and went up
like it
had been doused in gasoline (watch those toxic fumes). A couple of
stuffed
animals from the old farmhouse trash pit were sacrificed. Cornholio, the
flaming TP god, came from the heavens once again. The fire was leaped.
My
jeans were singed. As the night grew colder and older, many of us
rotated
through the werepile on a big tarp. I discovered that folks you meet in
email,
especially one particular one *grin*, are even nicer in real life. There
was
some talk of a were commune, an idea particularly dear to my heart.
(with a
T1 or T2 line, of course!)
I didn't get much sleep that night.
The next day was kind of quiet. Firewolf and Winterdreamer left early so
WD could catch his flight. Folks straggled out one by one until only
Smash,
Staticwolf, Dreamwolf, Cat, Crystal, Torrle , Moria and myself were left
when Firewolf's mom and father-in-law came back with the news that FW
and WD
had been in an accident. Feeling more than a little stunned, we
caravanned
over to their farm and phoned the hospital that FW and WD were at;
relieved
to discover that they were both OK. It was quite late when we finally
all left.
Static Smash and I headed back to Toledo; and made it despite my
attempts to
fall asleep at the wheel and go median surfing. Showers (Ow! Ow!
Sunburn!)
and clean clothes (I had one pair of jeans literally rot off me). Static
and
I headed back south at noon, stopping once outside of Dayton to replace
the
upper radiator hose which suffered a blowout (amazing that that's all
that
happened to a 16 year old car after a 1400 mile round trip) and to crawl
over the Smokies in some of the thickest fog I've ever seen. I made it
back
to Athens around 2:30am, and had to call in sick to work on Tuesday...
there
was no way I could get up that early and no way I could rejoin the
mundane
world after seeing how good life could be.
I wish everyone could have been there. [Raven], I'm especially sorry
that our schedules couldn't have worked out better that we could have
given
you a ride... But there will be more howls, and more get-togethers; and
hopefully one day we can have a massive one that everyone attends...
Oh, and I did have a couple of samples of the decal there... they should
be
ready soon... and they're going to be so cheap to have printed, I may
not
charge for them at all. Pics of the film footage I shot will be scanned,
uuencoded, and posted soon...
******
thought maybe a few of you would appreciate seeing this for some reason.
pokey
Running Red
On 5 Jan 1998 19:10:00 -0700, po...@lycanthrope.net wrote:
{snipped{
>******
>
>thought maybe a few of you would appreciate seeing this for some reason.
A little work and it would make a great short story. :)
>
>pokey
********************
Forever Running,
Running Red
****************************************
The acrid air is heavy with hate
and a question hangs in the haze-
When Will You Rage? (W:tA)
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