Hungry like the Wolf

This was an entry for a contest at The Clarity of Night. Out of 100 entries, it received an honorable mention. 

“I’m so lame,” Scott thought to himself as he stood staring at the sky, noticing the moon as it peeked through the clouds. It had been months since Scott started attending the werewolf “mixers”, and in that time he had yet to even talk to a member of the opposite sex. Suppressing the urge to howl, so cliché, he continued down the lonely path in the woods to the old wooden cabin.

Waiting for him outside the party was his best friend Ron. Ron had been a werewolf much longer than Scott and always seemed to know what to say. Ron’s advice to Scott regarding women was to “be confident”, but Scott could not for the life of him see what he was to be confident about.

“Excellent! Two chicks for every guy,” said Ron as the two friends entered the cabin, which smelled a combination of hair, smoke and alcohol. Basically, if a drunken dog caught on fire and wound up at the party, no one would have batted an eye.

Scanning the room, Scott caught the eye of a particularly curvy brunette. “Go get ‘er,” said Ron, nudging Scott not-so-subtly in the back.

For what seemed like the longest walk of his life, Scott approached the brunette hoping desperately his walk wasn’t as awkward as it seemed.

“Hello,” offered the young lady in a voice that surpassed her looks and suggested to Scott more than chit-chat.

“Nice beard,” mumbled Scott, realizing it would again be a lonely night.

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