Knock, knock. Knock again, for good measure. I see a pair of eyes peek out of the mail slot.
“Is this necessary?” I ask.
“No,” replies the little girl on the other side. “Password?”
“OPEN UP!” I cry, and pound the door with my fists.
It opens, and Sashsa -the password girl- gasps when she sees the limp body of Fancy Pants in my arms. “I brought you something,” I say. “Got any rope?”
She scrambles to retrive a frayed peice of wire. I tie it around Fancy Pant’s neck, and then to a tree. I’m barely finished when five kids rush out to eximine the victim. They’re all between eight and ten, and- you guessed it- they’re all like me. Werewolves.
Meet my pack.
The first to come out is Nix. As in, zero. Don’t ask why he’s named that. He showed up one day and said, ‘My name’s Nix.’ He stayed that first night, a rarity, and we discovered that he is anything but a nothing. I bit him on his second night here.
I can’t tell which is out next, Chez (a she) or Cisco (a he). Again, don’t ask me about their names. They showed up together, and chose their own names. They’re like brother and sister. It took a while for them to be part of the pack. I distinctly remember how they didn’t even stir when I bit them, exactly a year after they came here.
And then Shasha- who spells her name like that on purpose- trails behind. I don’t know where she came from, as she was here when I came. I bit her as soon as I was accepted into the pack.
They search Fanct Pants over, exited. They check his pockets for cash. They play with his tie. They use him like a puppet. They try to wake him up.
Then I turn around, and out of the actuall Dumpster I live in, out crawls Alpha. My heart skips a beat. He was here when I first came, and he made sure you knew how he got his name. I never needed to bite him.
“Alpha,” I say, keeping cool. “I thought you were hunting.”
“I did,” is his reply, eyes twinkling. “And I actually found something.”
Apperently some family lefi their picnic basket unnattended, so we get a full meal tonight, more or less. Dinner procedes in the usuall pecking order, with Alpha and I picking out what may end up being next week’s dinner and put it in storage, then take our portion. We eat more than the others because we hunt. Nix usually gets to the pile next. Then Chez and Cisco, and Shasha get’s what’s left. What she doesn’t eat, we store. Like that ever happens.
Of course, there’s the nightly squabbling over dinner. Chez and Cisco fight over a roll, and Nix takes it when they aren’t looking. They both watch in dismay as Nix devours it, slowly. “What?” he says. Alpha looks at me and rolls his eyes, and I stick out my tounge in agreement, as if we havn’t both done that thousands of times.
The evening passed in a sort of haze. Nothing to do, nowhere to be…
Actually, that’s kind of a lie. I could be making myself usefull, and snatch some lighters from the late-night, behind-the-bar drunkees. But I’ve been out for two nights already, and I want to be home in my Dumpster. With Alpha.