Surviving Specter High: Werewolves 101

13 ~ Two Worlds, One Friendship

The school building had been completely aired out by the next morning, so every last trace of garlic was gone. Everyone resumed their usual routine, but luckily, Duran was absent for the day. Maybe he got intimidated and finally decided to leave me alone. If so, my prayers were answered.

Since school was cancelled yesterday, I was finally able to attend Lycanthropic Lore for the first time. The class was on the second floor, so I made my way up the stairs with my new lycanthropy pamphlet. Of course, the entire room was filled with werewolves, so I was actually pretty relieved. Fido and Sparky sat in the front, but to my surprise, Rusty was reclining in the back with his boots propped up.

Of course, I hurried to the empty seat beside him. Now that I was able to get a closer look, the class was decorated with all sorts of quirky posters featuring the lunar cycle and the psychology behind a werewolf's "ear language" (which was actually pretty useful). There was even a PSA poster advertising flea collars.

Say No to Fleas!!!
If you or someone you know has been struggling with fleas,
find instant relief with FleaZap!
The new low-voltage collar instantly zaps those tiny pests
with just one push of this tiny button!
CAUTION: DO NOT WEAR NEAR WATER

Er, zapping your own neck with electricity seemed a little dangerous . . . but who was I to question it? The other posters on the wall advertised silver-free jewelry, squeaky toys, and protein bars packed with the essential nutrients for a teen wolf boy.

"Alright, boys." The door opened, and a plump werewolf lady with greyish-brown ears and a tail waddled inside. She must have been the teacher. Her greasy hair was rolled up into a bun, and her clanky beads and bangles jangled as she walked. "Last time, we left off on mange prevention. Today, we'll be discussin' the birds and the fleas."

Whaaa?

"You're just tryna embarrass us in front of Millie!" Fido yelled. "I don't have fleas!"

"Of course, you don't. You take mah class, so you don't have fleas. Anyway, it's a well-known fact that the werewolf birth rate is plummetin' faster than lemons off a cliffs. And you wanna know why? Well, 'cuz y'all stank and girls don't want non-bathers. So, if you wanna wife one day, you need to get with the times and start learnin' how to use a shower."

"But our fur gets wet!" Sparky whined.

"That's why you can't get a girl. Y'all nasty. Plus, ya whine. Anyway, as you may notice, litters have become a thang of the past. More she-wolves are givin' birth to only one wolf. It ain't like the olden days when five puppies would pop out at a time."

Five puppies?!

She then pointed at a chart of birth rate statistics hanging from the wall. A red line plummeted to the bottom.

"See dis? Now that lycans are becomin' more civilized and familiar with human television, litters just ain't possible anymore. They're findin' more and more she-wolves would rather be alone than be with you."

"What?! That's not fair!" the guys sulked.

"It's not my fault I have fleas!"

"It's not yer fault you stink?" She raised an eyebrow, revealing her blue caked-on eyeshadow.

"Well, I mean . . . nature just rubs off on you when you're rollin' around in the dirt. It's cool down there."

"Exactly. What female of any species wants to kiss a pair of lips covered in dirt? Anyway, Rusty, you stand up. I need an example."

Rusty sank into his chair. "Oh, great."

Nevertheless, he begrudgingly stood up.

"Now, git over here. Don't be shy."