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I Was a Teenage Werewolf, but Now I’m a Middle-Aged Lycanthrope and Your Stepdad and You Will Treat Me With Respect

Jonathan,

I want you to know that I love your mother very much. And although I tried to eat your real father during the most recent blood moon, I want to assure that you that I am not trying to replace him. I know that a lot of your sass-mouth and general horsing off lately is you acting out because I married your mother, and I just want to say, I get it.

You might not believe it, but I was just like you when I was your age – angry all the time, body going through strange and unseemly changes, hunting and devouring squirrels with my bare hands.

And I know my reputation as a teenage werewolf precedes me. But that was a long time ago. Despite what you’ve heard in the songs about my life, or seen in the movie that was made about my time in high school, those stories are greatly exaggerated. Except the part where being a werewolf made me great at basketball, that parts true.

My point is, I’m not here to harsh your buzz, or turn your life all hurly burly. I’m just a normal guy who accidentally drank rainwater out of the muddy footprint of a werebeast and now transform into an unholy wolf-person once per lunar cycle. And as your stepdad, I think I deserve your respect.

I hope that once you adjust to me moving into your home, and get over the fear that I’ll maul you to death and eat your bones, you’ll stop with all the attitude. And perhaps one day, we can even be friends.

But I promise, you have nothing to worry about. Unless I have metamorphosed, in which case all bets are off. You still remember how to use that revolver I gave you for your 12th birthday? Super.

I’m really glad we could have this discussion. Now, my phone app says the moon will be fully visible by 7:22, so if you could please tighten the braces around my ankles and wrists and then deadbolt the door behind you on the way out, that would be super-duper, chief.

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