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Big Fat Hairy Nerd Babysitter

There's three young kids in the house. Two boys in my bed, and a girl not too far away. And I'm here tenting my sheets.

Yeah, that could have been rephrased better. But hey, at least it's attention-grabbing!

Let's start again. Hi. I'm Spike Taylor. The Werewolf of Wanganui.

Or Whanganui. I should probably spell it properly, but then I've grown up with Wanganui and old habits are hard to break. Then again, I don't want to be compared to Michael Laws. I wonder if old people had the same problem when Peking became Beijing, or Ceylon became Sri Lanka, and those are places of far more importance than Whanganui. I could go really old-school and call it Petre. Or Petre.

Hey, it's been a while since Standard Two. So long that it's not even Standard Two any more.

Yeah, as you can guess, I'm nowhere near as cool as my name and title suggest. And that's putting aside coming off as a pedophile in my first sentence.

Just to be clear, I'm not actually in my bed with them. I'm not in my bedroom at all. I even changed the sheets for them. And the girls on the other (good) couch and it's way on the other side of the room. The one farthest away from the window in case there's any shooting.

Of course, that means I'm on the one near the window and so the near-full moon. It's probably not the best place for me, given what effect it has on me. But it's the only place where the laptop light won't be seen from the outside and I don't exactly want anyone knowing I'm still here with the kids instead of sensibly being at least on the way to Palmerston North. Which won't be the case when I submit this blog entry.

But yeah, the introductions.

I'm a male, twenty-five, white, single, werewolf resident of Whanganui, Manawatu-Whanganui, New Zealand. Actually, I'm the male, twenty-five, white, single, werewolf resident of Whanganui, Manawatu-Whanganui, New Zealand. Okay, technically I live just outside on a small hobby farm, but that's near enough to count.

As for height and weight, well that's pretty variable for me at this time of the month. But right now I'd be close to being one point seven metres tall and ninety kilograms. And not the type of kilogram you'd find popping up in the All Blacks. More the type of kilogram a computer nerd would have.

Fair enough, as that's my job: computer repair man and general computer geek, small-time farmer and occasional werewolf. Well, probably full-time werewolf, but I'm human most of the time. For "good will" I wolf it up for tourists and on Halloween and such.

By the way, for you non-Aotearoans, Halloween isn't big here, apart from I think in Wanganui. And that's because of me; if you're a local you might have seen me on the news parading myself around like a circus freak.

Also if you've seen those pictures, I did warn the mayor that I couldn't go that year because it was a full moon on Halloween and it's harder to control transformations on those nights. Especially when you try to trigger me on a schedule and push me over the edge. I'll have you know I don't do that kind of thing when I'm not feral.

At least, not in public. Hey, I am a guy.

A single, virgin one.

And before you Castlecliff cunts ask, yes THAT INCLUDES YOUR DOG. GET OVER IT. Those puppies are not mine. Yeah, I don't actually know for sure that I didn't until the paternity testing, because I did go feral, but I did put up signs so you letting your in-heat bitch out on a run on my night is fucking stupid.

Okay, so I don't actually know for certain if I am a virgin, but I rarely go feral, and I'm not legally responsible for stuff I do then.

As for hobbies, I pretty much do very solitary, nerdy activities. Playing games, browsing the internet, watching cat videos (no, not for food or weird cross-species porn, fuck you Castlecliff), and generally spending time to myself or online where nobody knows me and that I'm a werewolf.

I also spend a lot of time doing maths recreationally. Nothing super-advanced or anything; I'm not that smart and my education was kind of unusual given my condition, but it's supposed to help keep my mind grounded towards the human side more by doing repetitive logic exercises. It's one of the thing my therapist suggested doing a while ago. It's okay I guess.

Apparently I wasn't being social enough, and so that's why I'm writing this blog. So people can know the boring, mostly annoying and lonely truth of being a werewolf.

Oh, and apparently I'm now baby-sitting.

Well, the mother called it "guarded escort", but as far as I can see, it's baby-sitting. Then again, this is the woman who, when she saw me today, said, "You're fucking fat for a werewolf, aren't you?"

Thanks for that, Stephanie Meyer. Thank you so much.

Anyway, the woman is trying to leave her boyfriend, who's one of the big-wigs in one of the local gangs here. I'm not going to say WHICH gang so she's somewhat protected (that and by the time I post this she'll have hopefully gone to the women's shelter and her kids will be with her family out of town and out of trouble if she gets caught.

Of course, "gang big-wig" isn't really too scary - it's Whanganui, after all - but they still have guns and there's still shootings and shit here.

She pretty much just handed the kids - two boys, one girl (if you can assume I'm not lying my ass off about the number and gender distribution of kids) - over to me and said, "Take them to Palmerston North; my family will meet you at REDACTED."

Then she kissed them and left.

I'm not sure why she picked me, of all people, to do it. I guess because she thinks I can scare any mob guys who come shooting my way.

But of course the dumb bitch only saw me transform into my werewolfish form from my kind of werewolfish form (if I feel like making a blog post explaining this, I will but not now; also I'm really hoping she did not go that year or I hope they both lose custody of the kids). So she assumes muscular guy goes to super-muscular werewolf and back. Not fat nerd goes to muscular guy goes to super-muscular werewolf goes to starving, sick muscular guy to really skinny white nerd.

So the caution. I could change tonight and go beat up the mob, but it's the full moon tomorrow and then I'll be changing ready or not. And not being fully fed means I need to eat and it's harder to control.

Speaking of which, sitting underneath a window with a not-too-good curtain doesn't help either. It makes me alert. Which is why I'm up late writing my first therapist-prescribed blog entry.

Of course, it makes me alert in other ways, which is why I'm really hoping none of the kids - especially the little girl (or girls) - wakes up any time soon.

The kids are pretty decent. Obviously not going to name names in the blog (until some people are locked up in jail or dead), but I guess being a somewhat minor local celebrity does have some uses.

Also having the unspoken (and totally unwarranted) threat of being eaten if they misbehave.

(Just so you know, parents of Whanganui, I am not a baby-sitting service. Do not dump your kids on me again, or I will eat you. No joke.)

I did a bunch of silly not-really-werewolf stuff with them after I told the younger ones that I'd act more like their big, weird doggy and was not actually as scary as I am in the show (which is true, by the way; I can only wish I'd be that bad-ass in real life). I showed them how to play some simple, age-appropriate games on my computer. Then I showed them how to cook hamburgers. The older one was pretty helpful - I think they're used to looking after the younger ones - but wasn't too receptive. Apparently me not drinking alcohol or smoking was strange for an adult. At least I hope that's all it was and that they're not abused in some way, because yeah, I need a therapist to not kill people so me not seeming a threat is kind of stupid. I told the kids my version of The Big Bad Wolf after ensuring that they could clean themselves up sufficiently without me having to make sure they bathed.

There B.B.W. is a guy just trying to make friends with the pigs, but they just keep being mean, and then he just goes home and cries about having no friends. And of course, one of the little ones asked if that was like me, and I lied through my teeth and said I had plenty of friends.

And then it was bedtime. Reluctantly. Because computer games are addicting and I don't think they had a computer or games at their house, ever. At least not ones they could play on. But I managed it because eventually the moon came out and so I could outlast even the most hyperactive of kids.

Which brings me back to where I started, with a certain problem caused by Mister Moon. It wouldn't be too bad if it wasn't so close to the full moon, but as it is I tend to get a bit, well, noisier during certain activities and having kids in a new, dark house hearing strange noises and getting scared is a bad idea.

Even worse would be if they were curious and barged in.

I live alone, so I've never gotten around to fixing the lock on the bathroom door.

So yeah, that's my totally normal blog about being a werewolf in a New Zealand town, babysitting gang-related children on the night before the full moon.

Oh, did I mention I don't have a car? Or a license? Yeah, I kind of walk everywhere. Road rage is kind of bad for people like me.

Anyway, I guess that's enough of an update for now. I might try doing something else like think of how to handle this fucking situation with the kids and no car.