Rough Nights …

 
In nights like this the bite still hurts.

The llama - full of unexpected compassion - lowers its head and is trying to lick my left shoulder somewhere near the collarbone.

»What are you doing, animal?« I ask lying on the couch and opening my eyes.

»I felt your pain, dude« the llama says. »It's the bite where the red were-bus bit you a long time ago, isn't it? You are still feeling the pain in fullmoon nights. And soon the transformation will begin, won't it?«

»First…«, I start.

»Oh, not another enumeration, dude!«

I choose to ignore the animal.

»First, the red bus did not bite me, it hit me. And second, the only transformation is that I burst out into speaking and writing English from time to time.«

»You are not turning into a were-wolf?«

I shake my head.

»Not even into a beaver?«

I shake my head again.

»Lame«, the llama says. »Did I ever tell you that your werewolfization is more than lame, dude?«

»Did I ever tell you that I do not have a punchline to this conversation?« I ask yawning. »Let's go back to hibernation.«

And I roll over to the other side of the couch in the living room.

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

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Today is Thursday, the 25th of January 2024.

Wolf Moon

Yes, I′m being followed by a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow
Leaping and hopping on a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow