Supernaturals Anonymous

Chapter 1 - Hi, My name is Glen...

I think it's my turn. Everyone's looking at me - the vampire, the witches, the elf, the swamp monster and the alien. I should have waited until next week. I'm not ready.  The
witch at the head of the circle, whose name tag reads "Hazel", walks over to me and extends her hand. I take it reflexively and stumble up to the podium with a hastily scribbled "Supernaturals Anonymous" sign taped onto it.
They're all staring up at me. I stare back. It's a good angle for them.  Pale and slimy as they might be; if I had my phone on me I would definitely take a group picture.
I feel an elbow in my back, it's Hazel, "Tell them your name, " she whispers.
My mouth is dry. I should have brought some water. Hazel hands me a bottle of water as if she read my mind. Let's face it, she probably did.
"I did," she barks, "Now stop wasting our time. The room is only booked until 6."
Right.
"Uh. . . this is my first time here . . .", I start and they all lean in hungry for a gory story.
"Your name," Hazel is relentless.
"Hi, I'm GLEN and I am a Werewolf."
The room seems to let out a collectively held breath and they all smile their eery smiles.
"Hi, GLEN," they say. Of course they do. That's what you do.
"They're just an audience," Hazel is never going to leave my side if I don't start talking soon.
And she's right, they are just an audience. I'm a stand-up comedian, I know audiences; however, usually I'm not telling audiences my deepest darkest secrets. In fact, my act usually talks about everything BUT this particular part of my life. Still, I'm here and so is Hazel and I'm not getting out of here without spilling my guts.
"You got that right," Hazel whispers.  Mind-readers are annoying.
"OK . . . so uh . . where do I start?," I pause and try to think of this as a joke, "I remember the first day I learned the truth - I come home from school and I go straight to my mom and I'm like, "Mom? All the kids at school are making fun of me - they keep saying I'm a Werewolf, is that true?"
They look empathetic and concerned. They don't recognize the set-up.
"And she looks me up and down and goes, 'No, of course not.  Now go upstairs and comb your face!'"
They laugh, looking a bit surprised but amused. I can work with that. I smile wryly and continue.
"I know, right?  Brutal.  But at least I knew."
Now for the ugly stuff.
"So I've really been working on my comedy act and think I could be the biggest stand-up comic ever  - but . . . Well, I convinced this comedy club over on 2nd Ave to give me a shot in their nightly line-up.  The only problem was that they could only give me a spot to perform on a night with a full moon."
Given that I'm covered in hair with huge teeth, they can see where this might be a booking problem. Werewolves are NOT supposed to book social or professional engagements on nights with a full moon - it's in the code.
There a few gasps, a knowing groan and a strangled, "Dear God, you didn't."
I did.
"So I'm like okay, "well, book me before the moon rises,"  and the manager looks at me funny like "What does that have to do with anything?" but also, "What time does that even mean?"  and I try to help I'm like, "Uhh .  . . Can I do the happy hour slot? You know - sixish?"   He makes a few schedule changes and I'm all set. No worries here. Ready to go."
I smile a big smile. They smile back only their smiles are tense and forced as if they know the other shoe is about to drop. Which - it is."
"So I'm getting ready to go on-stage and the manager says, "we're having some technical difficulties - but I have a repairman coming  - he'll be here in five minutes."
"Oh, no . . . .". ripples through the group.
"Oh yes.  So 5 minutes turns into 10 and 10 minutes turns into 30 and well . . . it's pretty late  . . .".
"You should have gone home!" one of the witches snarls.
"Well what kind of story would that make? And I've been working on this set for so long- I couldn't just skip out! "
They're silent and judging. Who are they to judge? They wouldn't be here if they hadn't broken a few rules. Big rules.
"So I finally get up on-stage and I'm telling my jokes and well - not to brag but . . . I'm killing!"
The massive gasp from the crowd reveals that these folks are not familiar with the comedy term "killing".
"No, no, not like as a  werewolf - I mean - the audience is loving it!"
A sigh of relief wafts through the room.
"But it's so late and the moon starts to rise and well . . ."
I let out a sad, piercing Werewolf howl. They cringe at the sound but also at what they know is the impending confession.
"There weren't many survivors that night. I escaped into the woods about a mile away because I'm fast and I know where to hide but I'm just so sad and I feel so selfish and cruel and, well, that's why I'm here.  I need to stop being a Werewolf - I  mean, you never stop being a Werewolf but I've just gotta . . .".
I am crying big hairy tears. Their eery eyes are now soulful and sympathetic and . . . I feel a little better.