PRIDE AND THE WEREWOLF by Mystic Madam Misty Murky Merkel

Listen up, because I’m only telling this story once, and if you want your palm read after, it’s gonna cost you double. For a whole year, that Marathon station down on the corner was a straight-up slaughterhouse. Every poor soul working the graveyard shift under a ful,moon ended up scattered across the gas station property like a jigsaw puzzle nobody wanted to put back together. The cops were stumped, the trailer park people spooked, and Marie, the store manager, was at the end of her rope. Now, Marie couldn’t just quit. She’s got a fifteen-year-old daughter at home counting on her, and the thought of leaving that poor girl an orphan had Marie shaking so bad she couldn't even wipe down the slushie machine. So, naturally, she called in an expert: me. 

The negotiations were swift and fair. I agreed to pull the overnight shift as her personal psychic bodyguard in exchange for three crisp bottles of Thunderbird wine. But as I reached across the counter to claim my stash, my eyes caught a dusty plastic bowl sitting right next to the lottery tickets. "I'll be taking one of these shiny little pins, too, Marie," I said, holding up a tiny enamel badge painted in bright rainbow stripes. "Call it a consultation fee." Marie blinked at me, looking like a ghost. "The Pride pins? Take it, Misty. Marked 'em down to a buck each and couldn't sell 'em to save my life. Might have sold a couple of dozen, altogether." I held the thing up close— squinting real hard with my good eye, seeing as I don't need glasses when my third eye is wide open—and rubbed my thumb over the metal. "What’s it for anyway? Is it a lucky charm for rain? A circus thing?" Marie let out a long sigh. "No, Misty. It's for Pride." "Pride?" I snorted, pinning it crookedly right onto the lapel of my best polyester jacket. "Honey, I got plenty of pride. I won Miss Mobile Home Pageant back in '88, didn't I?" "Not that kind of pride," Marie said, leaning in. "I only ordered the durn things in the first place because of those two bears down the two-track road across the highway." My ears perked right up. "Bears? Like... grizzlies? Rooting through my trash cans?" "No, Misty," Marie lowered her voice. "Two burly men. Lived together in that log cabin down the trail. Real nice fellas. Loved each other... a lot." I stared at her. The concept was floating a bit outside my usual cosmic radio frequency. "So... they share a mortgage?" "Sure, Misty. Let's go with that." Marie rubbed her temples. "The smaller fella asked if I'd stock some rainbow pins for the locals. I said sure. But nobody bought 'em. And then... well, you remember what happened last year." I nodded. Whole township remembered that horror. A beast had torn through their cabin late one night. The little guy was shredded on the living room rug. But the bigger guy—built like a lumberjack—managed to fight back. He grabbed a handful of real silver forks he’d been polishing at the table and stabbed that attacking monster to death. The little man died, but the big guy survived, healing up from his claw wounds unnaturally fast. Right after that bloody night was when the clerks at the station started getting picked off one by one. 

Before I could divine the rest of the puzzle, the heavy front glass doors of the station got blown straight off their hinges! A howling rattled every bag of pork rinds in aisle two. A massive, towering werewolf filled the doorway, reeking of wet dog and cold dirt. Its yellow eyes locked onto the two of us, a low growl shaking the linoleum right under my slippers. Marie froze, crying softly. "Oh God... my daughter..." I looked at Marie. I looked at my three bottles of Thunderbird. Then I thought about that fifteen-year-old kid sitting at home waiting for her mom to bring back a paycheck. A sudden, feeling of dread hit me square in the chest. I was going to have to do something stupid. because I just had too. "Marie," I whispered, taking a big step out from behind the counter right into the center aisle. "Get out the back door. Now." "Misty, no!" Marie gasped. "It'll tear you apart!" "Probably," I said,walking slowly out toward the big beast.. "Your kid needs her ma. Go!" Marie didn't ask twice. She bolted for the back storage room, leaving me face-to-face with the big boy.

 The werewolf prowled forward, clicking its long claws against the floor. Drool dripped from its fangs as it towered over me, lifting one massive paw to slice me into cold cuts. I starred straight forward, bracing for impact. ...Nothing happened. I couldn't move a muscle. The monster had stopped. Its glowing amber eyes weren't looking at my face—they were staring straight down at my lapel. Right at that little rainbow pin. Slowly, real gentle-like, the beast extended one huge, razor-sharp claw and tapped the shiny pin. The wolf's eyes went wide. I could practically see the psychic shockwave hit him—the memory of the small man who loved rainbow flags, the quiet log cabin down the dirt road, and the awful curse that took his life and turned the survivor into a monster driven mad by grief. A single, massive tear welled up in the beast's eye and rolled down his furry snout. He raised his giant snout to the ceiling fluorescent lights and let out a long, broken-hearted wail. Without laying a single claw on me, the werewolf turned right around, walked out through the busted front doors, and melted back into the dark woods. I let out a breath I'd been holding for three minutes, looked down at the little metal pin on my chest, and smoothed down my hair. "Well," I said to the empty store, reaching down to scoop up my three bottles of Thunderbird. "I don't know what kind of magical mojo this pin has got, but it just saved me three bucks and a premature dirt nap."