BABY WEREWOLVES: Free To A Good Home

Last time, on “Baby Werewolves, Free To A Good Home”…
Youuu will never discover my plans to invade the school with more of my kind! NEVER!
Oh, I’ll find out sooner or later! And when I do, you…
*STATIC* Oh look, a full moon, Honey!
I'm going to transform!
*STATIC* (exhasperated voice)Papaya? Papaya?! Pa..puh… papaya?!?!?!
We now return to “Baby Werewolves: Free To A Good Home”… a book on tape.

Chapter 9.
“I AM NOT A BABY!” screamed the little brown-haired boy, as he waved a hammer and stomped around a rickety platform in a tree.
“Yes you are, Lightning!”, affirmed his teen sister, looking up at him. “You’re being very immature about it. You simply CAN’T sleep in your new tree house tonight! There aren’t any walls to keep you from rolling out and falling to the ground! Also…”
But he interrupted. “I have walls! Look!”
“No, those are school folders standing on end,” explained the girl, as one of the cardboard folders blew away and stuck to a neighboring tree as if it were fleeing for safety. “But that’s not even my main concer…” But she couldn’t finish her plea, because the boy suddenly gave a yelp and leaned back at the night sky. He staggered around the platform in a panic, grasping his face, making sure this wasn’t happening. Oh yes, it was. As his loving sister was trying to tell him, it was getting dark, and there was a full moon scheduled for tonight. So, being the un-planning werewolf he is, there he was, in wolf form, his four legs planted in fear, head swishing around trying to find a safe way down. But he was stuck, because wolves can’t climb trees, up nor down.

Philip and the... stuff

Suddenly, Philip Ness took out a bottle of Quagismago8 and poured it into the beaker of Retractable Sherlock, stirring it gently. The mixture of Quajismafo and the other stuff started to bubble until it turned green, or blue, or, oh I admit it, I'm color-blind. Then, without any hesitation that you might think he might hesitate hesitantly, he sipped a nano-ounce of the concoction and turned into a frog-bat-human. He then grabbed another bottle of Quagiguava and sat it on the table, and stared at it. Could the Quag8magoo2 have gone bad after all these years? He then smashed the mold-covered bottle of Quagi.... Quagfar....Quid... Pence... 8mafo.... oh... whatever that stuff was called, and the cat lapped it up like it was milk. The villagers are still talking about the day the cat flew over to the city founder's statue and carved its initials into the base with its whiskers soon after this incident. And then some baby werewolves.

Last time on Baby Werewolves, Free To A Good Home:
“I think I’ll make a little tea”
“What? My tea turned pink and turned me into a… thing! I wonder if I still have the receipt for this bottle of Q8 that I bought 13 years ago?”
“RRRRROWWWWWR! *scratchscratchscratch heeheehee*”
“Awroor?”
We now return to Baby Werewolves, Free To A Good Home.

“You, are the chosen one! You’re the chosen one, Thunder!” said the guy pedaling chocolate tarts. Thunder looked quite unimpressed with this title being forced upon him.
“’Chosen One’, huh? Couldn’t you be a tad more creative? I mean, ‘Chosen One’ has been WAYYY overdone. Kung Fu flicks, Harry Potter, Kung Fu flicks…”
“I’m not the one that came up with the name.”
“Well, I, being El Chosen One, deem the title horrendous, so let’s come up with something a little spiffier, like, hmm, ‘Booger… Green’? Yeah! Booger Green! I’m Booger Green! I like those words.”
The vendor stuffed some peanuts into a blender and with a blank look said, “Ehhhh, okay? I don’t know if your followers will follow that name, but okay, um, Booger Green. You’re the cho- uh- Booger Green. And, um, face it.”
“Wait, I have followers? COOL! I shall call them the… ‘Booger Patrol’!”
The vendor threw his scoop at Thunder’s already wounded left foot and declared, “THAT’S IT! You’re not fit to be Booger… oh, ‘The Chosen One’! I take back everything I said, except the parts where I said your ideas are stupid. I don’t believe you’re the Chosen One! If, by some rare fluke, you ARE the Chosen One, I refuse to follow you anyway! Get outta here!”
…to which Thunder replied, “Bow before me”, and the vendor did so.

Secret Agent Wolves

We open today’s story in the now-finished treehouse in the middle of Scary Forest. Lightning, Paddy, and a doughnut sit in a circle at the center of the room. In fact, the room is so small that they’re also in the far north, east and southwest corners of the room. Paddy speaks. “We call this meeting of the werewolves because of a dire situation. Cash. Mullah. Dinerrrrrrrro(she gives that word a few tries because she can’t roll her tongue as long as she wanted). Finding a steady job is hard when your human form doesn’t keep a steady schedule. Lightning, your thoughts?”
“Where’d you find that doughnut?”
“I have a boyfriend, he bought it for me.” said Paddy. “Human culture demands that the guy spend all his money on the girl so she doesn’t have to. When you get to dating age, you’ll get the business end of that deal. BUT being a girlfriend doesn’t pay bills. I need a cell phone, some dressy shoes, and razor blades. More razor blades than most girls do. I applied for a job at Scary Burger last Tuesday and the interview was looking promising until I mentioned that I have to ask off for the days around each full moon. That’s when he called animal control. Lightning, I can’t even get a job at a fast food restaurant!”
“Lookit! I’m making the doughnut dance!” exclaimed her brother of the north corner. Suddenly their bell rang. “Ouch, why’d we have ta use an old church bell for the door bell?” asked Lightning, “and why did I put it 2 feet above our heads?”.
Paddy ran across the tree branch, hopped to the nearest tree, traversed its many branches like they were monkey bars and she was a squirrel, walked the length of a 2-by-4 which connected it to ANOTHER tree, and slightly opened the hatch to the tree house, two trees away. “What’s the secret password?”
A deep voice came from below, “Give me an egg cream.”
Paddy opened the hatch a little more and greeted the visitor with a “That’s NEXT week’s password!” and slammed the door in the kid’s face. “Get out of here before we pelt you with balloons!” Distraught, the kid threw his peanut chunk candy bar at the hatch, and it burst to bits, making him even more distraught, because he had no more candy bar. Paddy yelled to her brother, “We’re under attack! Load the balloons into the giant slingshot and fire away!” Lightning jumped skyward through the window, crawled up the bell, causing it to ri--ng loudly against the whole front of his body, paused in shock, and continued up to a platform near the top of the tree which held a large cardboard box and an even larger slingshot. Lightning grabbed a big red balloon from the box, the boy below began to run for his safety. The balloon was loaded into the slingshot. The intruder continued running and was just getting to the creek. “Hurry up, Lightning!”
“Okay, okay, no dramatic slow motion.”
“Don’t talk, just do!” demanded his sister. So he did. He pulled back, aimed a little, and just as the intruder jumped over the barbed wire fence, Lightning released. The boy below didn’t know what hit him, but it wasn’t the balloon, because Paddy had told Lightning to fill the balloons up the night before, but she didn’t say water. So that air-filled balloon just stopped mid-air and floated lazily down.

It was the donut that hit him.