The piano man sat at his musical instrument, his fingers moving deftly across the keys as he played “New York State of Mind”. The old man at the end of the bar swirled the last sip of his whiskey in the glass, lost in thought.
Just then a fat guy wandered in, but no one shouted “Norm!” so he muttered to himself, “Crap, wrong bar” and walked out again.
John the bartender leaned against the counter; his eyes fixed on the TV above the bar. He dreamed of being a movie star one day, but for now, he was content serving drinks and listening to the stories of the regulars as they made love to their tonics and gin.
Suddenly, the door burst open, and in walked a werewolf with perfect hair. He strode over to the bar and took a seat next to the old man.
“Hey, what can I get you?” John asked.
The werewolf with perfect hair flashed a smile. “I’ll have a beer, please.”
Paul, the real estate novelist who never had time for a wife, looked up from his notebook. “What brings you to this dive bar?”
The werewolf shrugged. “My name is Ned the armpit fart champion. I’m from London, but I’m just passing through. Thought I’d check out the local scene.”
Davy, who was still in the Navy and probably will be for life, lifted his glass in a toast. “Well, welcome to our little slice of heaven, Ned. Maybe one day you can teach me to armpit fart like a champ.”
The waitress, who had been practicing politics with the manager in the back room, sauntered out from the kitchen. She eyed the werewolf with perfect hair curiously. “You know, I’ve never seen a werewolf with hair quite like that before.”
Ned the werewolf grinned. “Thanks, it’s my secret weapon.”
The old man at the end of the bar slammed his glass down. “I don’t care for any of this nonsense. In my day, werewolves didn’t have perfect hair. They were wild beasts who roamed the countryside, terrorizing innocent villagers.”
Ned rolled his eyes. “Times have changed, old-timer. Plus, I’m not like those other werewolves. I’ve gotta good head on my shoulders and a good hand for my pits.”
The piano man chuckled as he started playing “Just the Way You Are”. He then said, “Well, I for one think he’s a welcome addition to our little group.”
The werewolf with perfect hair nodded in agreement. “Thanks, man. I appreciate the warm welcome.”
As the night wore on, the group became increasingly rowdy, with Ned leading the charge. He regaled them with stories of his adventures in the supernatural world, and they hung on his every word.
But when the clock struck midnight, the werewolf with perfect hair suddenly stood up, his eyes blazing. “Uh oh,” John muttered under his breath.
“Looks like I’ve got to go,” Ned said, his voice low and menacing.
The group watched in awe as the werewolf began to transform, the hair on his body standing on end as he let out a fearsome howl.
And then everything went black. The werewolf was transforming into a Kraken. And things stayed black for a while.
When the partygoers woke up from their drunken stupor, they were still at the bar, and the Kraken was using his tenacles to steal their drinks.
The group stared in shock at the sight before them. The Kraken slurped up the last drop of whiskey from the old man’s glass before turning to face the others.
“What the hell is going on?” Paul shouted; his voice filled with fear.
The Kraken let out a deep, rumbling laugh. “Relax, guys. It’s just me, the werewolf with perfect hair. I decided to switch things up a bit.”
The group exchanged confused glances as the Kraken-with-perfect-hair slithered across the bar, its tentacles winding around the bottles of alcohol.
“Okay, this is officially the weirdest night ever,” the waitress muttered.
The piano man chuckled and began to play “You May Be Right”, the melody soothing the group’s frayed nerves. Slowly, the tension dissipated, and they began to relax.
But just as they settled back into their seats, the Kraken let out a deafening roar. “I’m hungry!” it bellowed; its eyes fixed on the group.
Without warning, the Kraken lunged forward, its tentacles lashing out wildly. The group scrambled to their feet; their eyes wide with fear.
John, the bartender, grabbed a bottle of gin and began to spray it at the Kraken’s face. The others followed suit, pelting the Kraken with everything they could find.
After what felt like hours, the Kraken began to shrink back down, its tentacles retracting into its body, and it turned back into a werewolf with perfect hair. And then, with just a small snarl, the werewolf sauntered out of the bar.
The group breathed a collective sigh of relief, their bodies shaking with adrenaline. They looked around the bar, taking in the shattered glass and overturned stools.
“Well, that was certainly unexpected including the fact that I wet myself,” the old man muttered.
The waitress nodded. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget this night.”
The piano man chuckled. “If nothing else, it certainly gave us a story to tell. You know, we didn’t start the fire. No, we didn’t light it, but we tried to fight it. And I’m not fighting it anymore.” So, then he farted.
And with that, the group slowly began to file out of the bar, their hearts still pounding with excitement. But as they stepped out into the cool night air, they couldn’t help but look back at the bar, wondering what other strange and unexpected adventures awaited them in the future.
Written by George Thorobad and the Annoyers
For other funny stories about werewolves read: Funny T-shirts Save Werewolves from Extinction and Filipino Adobo Werewolf Style