Page 3 of My Girlfriend is a Werewolf

Why are people so rude these days?

OMG rent is outrageous.

And then a new one…

White wolf sighted along Rideau Canal.And within the last hour, too.

He snorted. More likely a large dog or a coyote. Ontario had wolves, but they tended to stay far from big cities like Ottawa.

As the bell dinged and the elevator door slid open, he tucked his phone into the armband he wore for jogging. He probably should have taken the stairs down, but the last time, someone had pissed in the stairwell, and he’d stepped in it. Those shoes got tossed. It was one thing to piss on his own shoes because he was drunk and lacked aim, another to slosh around in someone else’s urine.

As Derek exited his building, he broke into a light jog. Fall, his favorite time of year. The evenings got dark early, the air crisp instead of redolent like in summer with the festering garbage. Even better, fewer people on the trails running along the river so he could jog without having to play dodge thepedestrian. Then again, not many people out and about this time of night. He’d worked a graveyard shift, getting off at four instead of one since someone failed to show, home by five because transit sucked. Despite the hour, he liked to indulge in a quick jog then be in bed by dawn so he could get up early afternoon to do it again. Not ideal, but rent needed to be paid.

He might not have minded his dull life so much if he at least had a girlfriend. His last one hadn’t worked out. Apparently, after six months of dating, him saying “We should move in together” was controlling. According to Stacy, “You’re stifling me. I need my space.” It should be noted they saw each other maybe once a week, given their alternating schedules. The whole let’s-live-together thing had been his way of spending more time with her since she’d also complained, “I never see you.”

At thirty-three, Derek could safely say he didn’t understand women, but that didn’t deter him. As his grams always said, “There’s a bitch out there somewhere, you little bastard. So chin up, make sure to wash your bits, and whatever you do, don’t tell them you like pineapple on pizza.” Because, according to his grandma, women would run screaming if they knew.

Grams tended to tell things straight with many cuss words. It made school concerts growing up entertaining because Grandma had no problem hollering, “Sit your ass down. Some of us want to see something other than your talentless jizz.”Also amusing? Her ranting as the refs tossed her out of his hockey games for taunting the opposing team. Then there was the grilling of Derek’s potential GF’s with questions like, “Can you cook, or is your idea of fine dining opening a can?” “You going to be true to my grandson, or am I gonna have to take you out to the woodshed for a chat?”His favorite…“So what prepping have you done for the apocalypse?”For some reason, that question sent a few running. Good. Derek didn’t needsomeone who would question his stockpile of water, Ramen noodles, and his bug-out bag for when shit hit the fan.

He'd yet to meet a woman who passed the Grams test, although a few, after meeting her, did think they could demand he cut her out of his life. Like fuck.Love me, love my family.

Heavy metal blasted in his air pods, the heavy beat the perfect accompaniment for the slap of his sneakers on pavement. The lights along the canal lit the path well until a section by a bench overlooking the water. Burnt out or vandalized? Probably the latter. Since the pandemic, crime had gotten worse.

Speaking of which, as he entered the dark section, three dudes wearing face masks, bulky hoodies, and oozing attitude stepped into his path.

Derek slowed his jog and drawled, “Morning, fellas.” Because with dawn about to burst, it was no longer night.

“Give us your stuff.” The skinniest one held out his hand.

Derek arched a brow. “I’d rather not. I hate setting up new phones.”

“Hand it over or else,” a second dude ordered, whipping out a switchblade.

It led to Derek eyeballing guy number three. “Let’s hear it. Don’t let your buddies get all the threatening glory.”

“Uh…” Guy number three apparently didn’t have a catch phrase of his own.

“Okay boys, let’s get this done.” It should be noted, Grams didn’t just teach him how to swear more mightily than a trucker—and she could get quite creative when it came to cussing at drivers that should get out of her fucking way. Grams had been in her fair share of bar fights because she did so love her whiskey, but if she mixed it with beer… watch out.

To those who might be appalled he’d taken pugilistic lessons from a little old lady, one, his grandma wasn’t little, andtwo, she’d never lost a fight—something Gramps took pride in. Gramps liked to sit back and watch, even wager, and had won more than a few tidy sums that way.

“Guess we’re doing this the hard way.” The guy with the knife took one step forward, and Derek almost rolled his eyes.

“Dude, did no one ever teach you how to use that thing?” Derek reached out, chopped the wrist, and grabbed the falling blade. “Let’s get rid of this before you cut yourself.” He pulled back his arm and tossed the flimsy weapon into the flowing water.

Three sets of surprised eyes ogled him before guy number one barked, “Get him!”

Three against one. Looked like he’d be getting a full cardio workout tonight.

Sweet!

Derek ducked under a clumsy blow and nailed the guy in the diaphragm, bending him over double. He then spun and thumped the dumb one, clocking him in the face and sending him reeling.

Number three would have turned and run, only a giant white dog stood in their way, growling softly, hackles raised. Must be the wolf they were talking about on Reddit.

Derek ignored the pup as he grabbed the men he’d smacked and tossed them into the canal. Let the water wash away their sins. Or drown them. Either way, a win for society.

Guy number three apparently had a knife of his own, and he pulled it to threaten the big floof.

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