WENDIGOS (any gender, mid twenties to late forties)
Don't try to cheer me up, Donnie. It's time we faced some facts. Who really knows about us, Donnie, about our breed?
Sure, you hear about the Wendigos from a few nerds who know ALL the monsters. But really: Who cares about the Wendigos? Greedy creature spirit things who are always eating people? Serial killers have more mystique than the Wendigos.
Don't try to tell me we're lucky that we didn't become Werewolves. It's not because we're too cool to be Werewolves. No, it's because we got lazy. It's because YOU got lazy.
The first day we entered the mortal dimension, Donnie we could have been any monsters we wanted. But nooooooo, you couldn't wait until the next full moon. You had to have a human meal right then and there. So you sent me out to get you chow. And of course I'm gonna eat if you're gonna eat. I thought the world of you Donnie. Everything you did, I did.
So it's day after day, hunting and eating people until our fate is sealed: Wendigos: Greedy people eaters. OBSCURE greedy people eaters. We could've been big, Donnie.
By this time I could've been both a Werewolf AND a successful human the rest of the time: House, kids, fish tank, everything. It could've been nice. But now we're just slime. And I blame you, brother. So tonight... YOU get to go grab us chow.
Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes. If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"