Werewolf Series 1 - Episode 05 - Jerkification

The air was saturated with passion and the mood was beaming with sepia-toned romance.

Hannah looked at me longingly, staring with those diamond eyes of hers. I pulled out a velvet-clad box from my concealing pocket. She gasped and her eyes lit up brighter than a house on fire.

"Zachary, what is this?" she asked, swooning marvellously and contemplating about what remained enclosed in the box. "Is this for me?"
I nodded with a haughty smile, adding smoothly, "It will finally make your dreams come true."

She opened the box, and her face beamed in awe of what was unveiled before her. This enkindled a passionate fire that raged within my handsome tuxedo.

"This is what I've always wanted!" she cried, inspecting the ring and seeing her sparkling eyes reflect upon the surface of its diamond.
"Will you marry me?" I proposed.

Hannah slipped the ring onto her finger.

"Yes, Zachary! Yes I will!" she announced openly to the restaurant. "I will marry you!"
"I've waited a very long time to hear those words," I whispered gently.

"You've made me the happiest woman alive," she declared. "And later, after our meal, we can go back home and play spin the bald-headed leather pickle."
"Why wait until then?" I remarked. "I feel like roasting the hot forbidden soy sauce now."
"You want to part my butter here?" she exclaimed in a giddy yet excited tone. "I can't blow the flesh kippers here."
"Why not? This is the perfect setting, my dear," I muttered, working her into a fluster.
"How about we warm up the cherry pie first?" she said with a suggestive wink.

Hannah's pursed lips met mine. My lips immediately caught fire. Fireworks exploded inside my spinning head. Small puppies mangled themselves inside my fluttering heart and my leather pickle stood to attention. This was the best night of my life.

"Oh Zachary!" she moaned.

My daydream began to fizzle away. Tonight wasn't really the night of our engagement. It was actually my first date, and I was doing exactly what most people do on first dates...

Sit quietly and nervously sip on a glass of water, of course. That and having absurd fantasies about your date. Absurd indeed! Marriage would be the last thing you'd find in a typical male fantasy...

Hannah had duped me into taking her out for a meal after lectures, to some botanical garden restaurant. She was going to be busy over the weekend, so she persuaded me to treat her on this pleasant Friday evening. The conversation was simply flowing wildly.

"Yup..." I mumbled.
"Uh huh," she replied.

I'd give it another five minutes before one of us started talking about the weather...

"What's going on with our meal?" Hannah complained, after having ordered half an hour ago. "What time is it?"
"You mean now?" I asked.
"No, I mean 10 o'clock tomorrow. Of course I mean now!"
"It's 7.40pm. We ordered at ten past," I replied.

That's when it dawned on me, like a Rainbow Trout to the face; I was twenty minutes away from mutating into a walking fur ball and that wasn't a sight I wanted my potential girlfriend to witness! I was incredibly stupid to overlook my hairy doppelganger of an issue, but I guess I hadn't quite adjusted to the nightly transformations. What a massive waste of a first date this turned out to be!

The food would come soon and then I'd be committed to staying. I was sweating more than a nun in a cucumber field, but I couldn't wait for my fur to start sprouting before making my exit! I had to lose her somehow to enable me to sneak off.

"Why don't you talk to the Maître de and complain about the long wait?" I suggested sheepishly.
"Why me? YOU are supposed to be taking ME out on a date!" she answered, making the situation more awkward.

Either way, I'd be abandoning her and she'll be narked off regardless of the way I dumped her.

"You can go and ask whilst I nip off to the restroom. Nervously sipping water during first dates really takes its toll on the bladder," she said.

This was my opportunity to make a getaway.

I was furious that my first date with Hannah had been ripped apart by my werewolf alter ego. It was sabotaging my social life! But then again, I was foolish to arrange a night out dining with the full knowledge that I'd transform midway through. Now Hannah will just resent me for giving her the slip without any notice! My plans were about as stupid as the type of people who leave their houses in the hands of TV redecorating shows.

Narrator: Welcome back! French interior designer Anton now joins us inside the house, as we unveil Paula's newly furnished living room to her.

Interior Designer: So, do you like dzees room?
Participant: (Gasping) What have you done to my living room?!
Interior Designer: Euh, I have geeven eet a more contemporary feel.
Participant: It's absolutely hideous! What have you done with my Persian rug? It was an antique!
Interior Designer: We have destroyed eet with zee rest of your personal beelongings.
Participant: This looks like a children's play room! What the hell were you on when you decided to buy me this trash?

Narrator: Positive reactions all round! Let's take a look upstairs and see the renovated bedrooms.

Narrator: Firstly, in the guest bedroom, Anton has taken a more experimental approach when it comes to the colour scheme and furnishings.

Participant: (Retching) Oh my word, this is nauseating!
Interior Designer: I am glad you like zee decor.
Participant: It's absolutely horrendous!
Interior Designer: I agree, horrendously good.
Participant: No, just plain horrendous!

Narrator: The guest bedroom certainly evoked some colourful reactions from our lucky contestant today. Now let's take a peek at her master bedroom.

Participant: What is that awful bed?
Interior Designer: Dzees ees a Vibromatic 3000. I added eet to geeve a boost to your private life. Forget 'woohoo'. Now you can do 'woo-ooo-oo-hoooo-ooo'!
Participant: This used to be my bedroom, but now it just looks like a room in a sleazy Amsterdam whore house!

Narrator: Paula captures the mood perfectly with her elegant words. With that delight revealed, how will Paula react to her renovated bathroom?

Participant: (Gasping) Oh my-!
Interior Designer: Eet ees more open plan, like you asked.
Participant: I didn't want open showers! And what's this? You replaced my toilet with a URINAL?! Are you completely mental?
Interior Designer: What ees zee problem?
Participant: I have a vagina!
Interior Designer: Are you sure?
Participant: YES!
Interior Designer: Euh... should I check for you?

Narrator: With a new modern layout, the re-plumbing and pipe work cost thousands of Simoleons. We're glad she likes it! I asked her what she thinks of the transformation of her home overall, before revealing the final surprise.

Host: How do you feel about the new designs, Paula?
Participant: You've destroyed my home! This is absolutely hideous! And you call yourselves interior decorators? A monkey could pee up the walls and come out with better results than this!
Host: You mentioned earlier about how you wanted a home designed around a healthier life style. Well, we have one last surprise for you!

Host: We have ripped out your old kitchen and replaced it with a ten thousand-Simoleon spa and relaxation area, so you can sweat those pounds off your fat thighs!
Participant: What the-!

I'd just ran out of a date with a girl I fancied. Running out on girls only makes them angry and even more naggy than usual. Or perhaps she'd feel heartbroken? Either way I was in a right leather-pickle, but I had to take a mature approach to the problem.


I'd just have to grovel on my knees tomorrow. In the meantime, I went somewhere quiet to transform, where only vagrants, druggies and drunkards would witness me change shape: the children's playground.

Being half wolf, half human didn't bode well with hot girls and hot dates. I had to tell her about my secret someday. I should go back and make her watch me transform tonight, I thought.

It was too late. Eight pm had come, and the orangey glow that masked how poor my transformation looked had already enshrouded me.

I could attempt to reveal my secret to her in this monstrous state, but she'd be more terrified than that time a serial killer was going around Pleasantview and committing rather unimaginative murders.

Mary-Sue: Ah, this is a pleasant day to take a swim in my garden... Oh no! The ladder to the pool has mysteriously disappeared, and there's no other way I can get out of the pool! I'll just have to keep afloat until I start to get sleepy. Theoretically I should remain buoyant even if I fall asleep; but that's too rational for a Sim like me, who learns logic from a chessboard or telescope...

Mary-Sue: Oh dear, somebody help me! I'm too tired to stop myself drowning, yet I have enough energy to violently thrash my arms about in panic!

Grim Reaper: Tut, not another pool-related casualty. When will these Sims ever learn to climb out over the side?

Don: Darn, my television is broken. I think I'll just poke a screwdriver into the back of it whilst it's still plugged into the mains electricity, in the statistically unlikely event that I might coincidentally hit the correct wire into place and fix the television.

Don: Oh no, electricity!

Darren: Dum de dum. I'll just pop this metallic ready meal into the microwave for a few minutes...

Darren: ARRRGGH! HELLLP! My electric microwave has spontaneously combusted, and the door to my unusually small kitchen has vanished!

Mortimer: Young Bella, my hooker wife who went AWOL yet managed to get a whole city named after her, used to close this Murphy bed in the morning. I'm just a frail old man, but I suppose I could give it a try.

Mortimer: Oh crumbs, somebody has spring-loaded the bed and now I'm crushed underneath it, waiting for my collapsed lungs to suffocate me to death...

Nina: Somebody has... removed oxygen... from... atmosphere...!

Nina: Caaan't - breeeaathe! (Hoarsely) No, Dina...!

Brandi: I'm pretty hungry. I should grab a bite to eat.

Brandi: Ahh, no! Four suspiciously undecorated walls have enclosed me, and I'm going to starve to death! Someone help me!

Just four hours later.

The next day, I spent all morning waiting around the foyer and kitchen, waiting for Hannah to come downstairs so that I could apologise and spew out some convincing lies to cover up my desertion. It was midday already and there was still no sign of her. I was about to give up any hope of us still becoming an item, but then something long, sleek and rounded started vibrating in my trouser pocket.

"Hello?" I said, answering the phone call.
"Hi Zach?" an anonymous voice asked. It didn't belong to Hannah.
"Yup, that's me."

"Hi. It's coach Whitmore here," the voice announced. "I'm just phoning to tell you about how impressed I was when I saw you perform during tryouts yesterday. Your tactics and sheer level of skill were phenomenal! They were almost... inhuman!"
"Oh, thanks coach!" I muttered bashfully.
"I'm pleased to inform you that you're officially the new starting quarterback for the football team," the coach revealed, dishing me the amazing news.
"Wow, that's fantastic!" I exclaimed. "But what's happened to Eric?"
"He has had a rather dramatic crash lately..." the coach said.
"How so?" I asked.
"You'll know when you next see him," he answered ominously. "Right, I'll see you at practice on Monday, 9am promptly! Congrats again."

Just as I was hanging up on the phone, the coach's cryptic words became very clear to me.

I could only gape in awe at the pot belly and slob-esque attire before me.

"Eric? You've really crashed and burned! What happened?" I asked, playing the role of a concerned friend, although I was never his friend in the first place.
"What are you looking at, freak?" he retorted, dismissing my question.
"Where are the grossly huge muscles and bulging veins?" I enquired. "Now you're a... a little fatty!"
"Listen, right. Everything went downhill as soon as that wretched witch died," he stated aggressively.
"What did you do? Eat her remains?"
"The spells wore off when she died," he concluded. "The coach dropped me from the team when he saw me like this. Now I'm back where I started: podgy and unpopular."

His turn of fortune simply showed that it doesn't pay to cheat. And with that, he rolled on into the living room to sulk in front of daytime TV.

Speaking of wretched witches, I had an unwelcome visitor about to wind up on my doorstep. Well, after he pulled himself away from his eye-candy distractions first.

"What's your name, handsome?" Claudius asked, in his characteristically pervy voice.
"Professor Donald Black. What is it to you?" the unfortunate bypasser pronounced, making the infallible error of engaging in a conversation with Claudius.
This gave Claudius his cue to heckle on. "Have you ever played Cluedo, Professor?" he asked.
"What do you want from me?"
"See, I was just playing it last night," Claudius began. "In the end it was Kernel Mustard who bludgeoned the beefsteak in the kitchen with the meat mallet and a four-legged pipe."
"Can you leave me alone please?" the Professor asked, which translated into Claudius' language as 'Please continue violating me'.
"I'm just wondering if you would like to join Sergeant Pinkie in the garage," he continued, "to shift gears and test out the handbrake?
"Please leave, before I call campus security."
"How about you debug my hard drive whilst I liquidate my online inventory in the study room?" persisted Claudius.
"Please! Stop the terrible euphemisms!"

"You're right. Let's just cut to the chase, huh? YA-HA-HA-HA-HAAA!"
"My clothes!" screeched the naked Professor.

"What do we want?"
"Low college fees!"
"When do we want it?"
"At the earliest convenience!" a cavalcade of nude, marching protesters chanted, with the professor joining in.
"Darn, there goes my chance at roasting the forbidden soy sauce tonight," Claudius groaned.

I was now officially a fully-fledged football jock.

"Ey up, geekface!" I hollered at Jamie.
"That's a mean thing to call me, Zach. What is up with you? And why are you wearing Eric's jacket?" Jamie asked, before coming to his own conclusion. "You got the quarterback position, didn't you?"
"I did indeed, my freckled friend! The coach was so impressed by my natural skill that he immediately chose me for the team," I beamed, with an air of arrogance. "I'm now a certified chick-magnet, my buddy boy."
"What happened on your date last night? I haven't heard from Hannah all day," Jamie stated, but his words fell upon uninterested ears.
My newly-inflated ego got the best of me. "She doesn't matter anymore. She had her chance with the Zach meister," I said, as though it was matter-of-fact.
"You spent a whole year pining for that date, Zach," he reminded me.
"Who cares? There are plenty more cherry pies I can take a pop at. Chicks will dig me," I uttered, visualising the appalled look on Jamie's face as I distracted him from playing pinball.

What was coming over me? Hannah was once the woman of my dreams. It was as if the jacket I was wearing was a polyester duchebag-making device.

"I think this has all gone to your head, Zachary," suspected Jamie.
"Please, my friends call me Zach-Dawg now," I said.
"I'm your friend, yet I don't call you that," Jamie said, sounding slightly dejected.
"About that: I want you to keep our friendship under the radar. Y'know, like, hidden from people," I suggested, "so that they don't think we're in any way affiliated. Could you do that for me?"
Jamie stopped his game of pinball abruptly, which might have had something to do with the tilt he incurred from banging a fist on the table. "Zach, I don't think we have a friendship to speak of anymore!" he bellowed in anger. "I can't be friends with such an arrogant swine."
"Yeah?" I retorted. "Well I don't have time for losers like you."

I stormed off, leaving Jamie with a frozen pinball machine that was recovering from an illegal bump. Why did I say those things? Something was foul about the way I was behaving, as though a part of Eric had found its way inside of me. I didn't care at the time though. I was more focussed on scoring chicks and climbing the popularity ladder. But Jamie was a childhood friend, and I was always considerate towards him. I don't know why he was so angry at me; whether it was because I stood him up at our weekly gathering at the King's Music Hall; or me standing Hannah up last night that he might have heard about; or the fur I left on his razor in the bathroom this morning. Whatever it was, I hadn't been this cocky and spiteful to Jamie since the last time we went to the bowling alley together.

Hannah: So far, we have myself with 54 points, Zach with 48 points and Jamie with just 2.
Zach: Two?! (Laughs hysterically) Two points?
Jamie: At least my score isn't higher than my IQ!
Zach: Maybe you should aim for a score at least as big as your shoe size then.
Jamie: The previous four frames were just fluke accidents. I haven't begun to shine yet.
Zach: You can't even work up a glow, point Dexter. Or should that be 2-point Dexter?
Jamie: You're all talk, Zach. Try walking the walk for a change.

Zach: Is a strike good enough for ya?

Jamie: I can beat your score easily! I've just been saving up my energy for later shots.
Zach: Go ahead then, twinkle toes. Strike 'em down.
Jamie: Watch the master at play, guys.
Zach: Pfft, master? I'd like to see your ball even stay in the same lane!
Jamie: If you don't be quiet, I'll throw my balls right down YOUR alley!

Jamie: (Stumbles over the foul line) Ack!
Zach: Whooaa, it's heading straight for the gutters!

Zach: You must be absolutely gutted! HA!
Jamie: I get another try!
Zach: That is if the ball-return can find your misguided ball first! Would you like me to set up the kiddie ramp and put the barriers up for you? (Laughs)

Zach: Congratulations, pinhead! You scored another big fat zero!
Jamie: Shut up, Zachary...

With Jamie no longer weighing me down, I was free to socialise with my new best friends in the rec room.

"Hiiiigh five!"

Admittedly most of them were numbskulls, but at least they were popular numbskulls.

I was quick to dismiss the thought of her now, but Hannah had been plaguing my mind for most of the day. Just what did happen to her once I ditched her? Later on, it all became clear when I received a call from an unwanted visitor.

"Missing your girlfriend, Zachy wacky?" Claudius taunted from across the pool table.
"Your girlfriend, Hannah," he stated, expecting me to care.
"She's not my girlfriend," I declared, raining on his parade.
He didn't take my nonchalance lightly, especially not when he was trying to tease me. "What? Are you saying I abducted her last night for no reason?" he said, and at that point my ears pricked up to attention.

"What have you done with her?!" I cried, shattering my false barrier of indifference.
"My, you do care about her. That's not what she thought when she realised she makes boys run away during dates," he exclaimed. "YAHAHAHA!"
"If you've harmed so much as a hair on her head-!" I screamed at Claudius.
"You're just so paranoid, Zachy. Why are you so uptight and paranoid, huh?" he continued to taunt.
"It's not paranoia if someone is actually out to get you!" I replied.
"Do you spend all of your paranoid time checking that you've locked yourself safely inside your dorm every night?" he mocked. "Do you constantly look over your shoulder to make sure nobody can see what you're browsing through on the internet, eh? Do you always have a page open at YouTube.com as a dummy tab, so nobody sees what you're really looking at when they walk into your room? Do you delete your browser's history after worrying that people might snoop through it? Do you, huh?"
"Listen, can you get to your point?"

Claudius was going off on a tangent, but he was just trying to prolong my anguish. Even behind my indifferent jock facade, I still cared about Hannah.

"Tell me what you're up to, Claudius!" I demanded.
"I'm aiming to destroy your friendships and social life, Zachy, but it seems lately you're succeeding in doing that all by yourself," he explained. "If you don't abide by my rules, I'll only make things even worse for you and your bum chums."
"I'm not taking any threats from you," I said, standing a firm ground.
"You might want to think again if you want to see blondie back in one piece," Claudius announced gravely.
"Tell me what you've done with her!"

"You'll just have to wait and find out, Zach Sprat," he replied. "Make sure you're in Hannah's room at 9 O'clock tonight. It's time you came out to your friends about your dirty little secret."
"About that dirty weekend I had last month-?"
"Your hairy little secret, Zachy."
"About that back, sack and crack wax I had last weekend?"
"Your little hairy night time secret!"
"For the last time, I'm not a transvestite prostitute on weekends-!"
"YOU'RE GOING TO COME OUT ABOUT BEING A WEREWOLF!" he yelled. "Now be there at 9pm, or you might never see Hannah again! YA-HA-HA-HA-HAAA!"

This was an awfully compromising position Claudius had put me in. Do I risk Hannah's safety in the hope that Claudius is bluffing, or do I let the werewolf out of the bag? This dilemma was almost as depressing as that 'Real Lives' documentary I watched last week.

Narrator: You might recognise today's character from popular downtown areas, throwing insults at young couples and unconventional pairings.

Mrs Crumplebottom: Darn beaver baiters! They have no consideration for straight people these days!

Narrator: With over eighteen recorded offences of assault, verbal abuse and grievous bodily harm, Mrs Agnes Crumplebottom has served a total of thirteen months in prison and has had countless fines, court trials and ASBOs. However, she persists in roaming the streets and has lately focussed on stalking homosexual couples around busy clubbing areas of Sim City.

Mrs Crumplebottom: (Shouting) Go and do your muff muffling somewhere else!

Narrator: Agnes has a history of psychiatric problems, dating back to her childhood years. Resulting from this are her warped views on today's society, and her irrational compulsion to assault unsuspecting lovers.

Narrator: Included amongst her outlandish views are the beliefs that couples who marry young are more likely to give birth to gay children, and that said children grow up to colonise underground societies exclusive to homosexuals. Over recent years, Agnes has undergone rigorous psychiatric treatment, but her condition is still rapidly declining.

Mrs Crumplebottom: Go back to your hiding-holes! You're not welcome here!

Narrator: After a long day of terrorising adolescents, Mrs Crumplebottom returns to an empty home and retires for the evening.

Interviewer: What's a typical daily routine for you?
Mrs Crumplebottom: Usually I walk around the Downtown area, doing some knitting for a few hours. Then I set off home on the bus, with my knitting needles, and get in by 7.30pm. As a rule, I stand by the door and do a bit more knitting. Then I might make some tea and sit down to relax. I'll be knitting then too, of course.

Narrator: Agnes has a rare psychological disorder, in which she has a perpetual urge to knit woollen garments.

Interviewer: About how much wool do you get through each day?
Mrs Crumplebottom: I'd say 2 miles worth.

Narrator: Agnes has another psychoneurological disorder, in which she cannot spend more than five seconds without holding a handbag.

Mrs Crumplebottom: The doctors tried to take it away from me once, but I just knitted myself a new one and sewed it to my hand.
Interviewer: May I ask what you keep in your handbag?
Mrs Crumplebottom: Pepper spray... bricks... faecal matter to throw at passing homosexuals...

Narrator: Her arms often suffer from violent spasms, which are usually triggered as a reflex by the sight of young couples kissing.

Mrs Crumplebottom: If people get in the way of my spasms, then it's their own fault!

Narrator: Agnes often forgets to eat, as she becomes so absorbed in her knitting.

Mrs Crumplebottom: This is my kitty, 'Queer-Basher'. I have owned many cats back in my day. Two of them just died last weekend.
Interviewer: I'm very sorry to hear that.
Mrs Crumplebottom: Oh, don't be sorry. I smothered one of them in a woolly jumper I knitted for it, and I threw a brick at the other one because he started playing with my yarn balls.

Narrator: Mrs Crumplebottom doesn't sleep. Instead, she returns to the city centre to assault more drunken clubbers.

Interviewer: How many people fall victim to your handbag-whipping each night?
Mrs Crumplebottom: Maybe ten or twenty, depending on which day it is. If it's Monday night, then it's usually in the fifties. Monday is Gay Night in Sim City.

So there I was, lurking in the darkness of Hannah's dormitory room at 9pm sharp with my handheld console.

Without any notice, Jamie burst into the room with guns blazing and screaming, "Right Warlock, give me my friend back!"

At the sight of the furry monster before his very eyes, Jamie let out a girlish, ear-piercing scream.

"Jamie, don't be scared. It's just me!" I said in reassurance.
"Let Hannah go!" Jamie yelled at me, mistaking me for one of Claudius' minions. "Or I'll, I'll-!"
"It's me: Zach!" I explained. How was I meant to convince a pasty, cowering newbie to the supernatural world that I was actually his best friend in a hairy disguise?
"I'm not falling for your trickery!" he said, with a faint hint of anxiety in his voice.
"It's me, Jamie. Zach Hall. I'm your best friend!" I tried to clarify for him. "We had a falling out today, but I'm sure it will blow over, as it always does between best buddies."
"You can't fool me!" he said.
"I know you're the best physicist on the campus," I said, trying to convince him.
"Anyone with access to the internet can find that out!" he retorted.
"I know you wear fake tattoos of Spock on your left butt cheek," I said.
"Anybody can walk in to the showers and see it!" he bounced back. "And it's a permanent tattoo..."
"They're just stick-ons, Jamie," I continued, realising that I had to hit him where he was vulnerable. "I know that in seventh grade you bought a ticket to a Spiderman convention for your secret crush, Helena Ramsbottom, but didn't give it to her after you saw her kiss Trisha Campbell in the school playground."
"How could you know-?"
"And how you wrote her a letter telling her that she was a muff muffler afterwards."

Jamie stared, dumbfounded. He had no reason to doubt that I was his best friend after that stinker. He didn't tell anybody about that secret; but being his best friend in Grade School, I was observant enough to be aware of ALL his crushes. Even the one on Mrs Souter, his P.E. teacher.

"Zach?" he asked, approaching me cautiously. "Is that really you?"

I could only look away bashfully, ashamed of my appearance. The moment was mighty awkward...

"Yes, Jamie. I'm a werewolf by night."
"What's happened to Hannah?" he asked expectantly. "And how long have you been keeping this secret from me?"
"Only a few days. It all started that night I was bitten in the park. As for Hannah, I haven't seen her last night. I had to run out on my date with her because I was about to transform unexpectedly," I explained briefly. "Wait, so how did you know about Claudius?"
"He ambushed me last night to flirt with me. When he realised that I was your friend, he started making threats about Hannah," Jamie said. "And now she's gone missing."
"Hannah isn't safe," I affirmed, "not in his hands."
"Let's not be economical with the truth here, Zach. Hannah is in massive danger."

So Claudius had won. He finally got me to reveal my secret to Jamie and made me play by his rules.

But I had been double-crossed, as I was yet to find out...