WDSP 101 – Woodshop for Werewolves
I. Students will learn basic skills of
woodworking, use of electrical power tools, and learn how to identify common
species of wood. This is a
project-driven course. Not restricted to
werewolves – open to all students as space allows.
Max’s ears perked up as the air in the
room changed. He was working on the
lathe, making a miniature baseball bat, and his nose was filled with the odor
of sawdust, machine oil and the cleanser the janitors used each night to clean
brusquely through his nose
to clear it, and then lifted his face and inhaled. He smelled perfume, shampoo,
pheromones. And menstrual blood. With
all the nonchalance he could muster, he
turned his head toward the door and saw the most beautiful girl he had ever
seen. She was talking with Mr. Walters
but took a moment to glance in Max’s direction.
He leaned just a little too hard on the chisel in his hands, and the
proto-baseball bat snapped in two. Max
immediately hit the power switch on the lathe and waited for the spindle to
The girl passed by on her way to an
empty table. She was definitely his type.
Long, dark hair, with just the lightest feathering of a mustache, full,
heavy eyebrows that needed absolutely no liner, a gossamer hint of feminine
sideburns and pale, flawless skin. She
was gorgeous. Max felt his pulse racing.
He wandered over to her.
“Hey,” he said, smiling.
“My name’s Max.”
“Hi, Max,” said the girl, “my name’s
just a foot or two away, Max
could identify her cleansers and beauty products by name. He smelled Lady Speed
Stick, a ginger shampoo
by Herbal Essence, Cashmere Mist by Donna Karan, and Light Days Maxi-pads. She
had eaten oatmeal that morning and had
chewed spearmint gum at some point in the day.
It all smelled heavenly to Max.
“So, uh, Allie,” began Max, “you know
it’s Valentine’s Day today.”
“No duh,” she said, “So are you going
to give me a heart or something?” Max
saw her nostrils flare slightly as she inhaled his scent. He started to feel
warm, and realized he was blushing.
“Sure!” Max answered, a little too
“Ooh,” said Allie playfully, “I can’t
wait. You know, that kid Chaz isn’t a
“He isn’t?” asked Max, suddenly
feeling stupid. Max looked at the floor, and then at Chaz, and then back at
Allie. He turned on his heel and walked
swiftly over to where Chaz was making a fairly intricate cut on a piece of
birch with an assist from Mr. Walters.
Max inhaled deeply through his nose
and immediately caught the heavy scent of human blood. It was syrupy-sweet,
and Max wondered how he
could have missed it at any distance.
In an instant, the change began. Muscles bunched and tendons shifted. His skull reformed, sloping above his eyes,
and his muzzle extended. His ears
grew. Tens of thousands of additional
hairs sprouted over his already hairy body.
Teeth sharpened and lengthened.
Razor-edged claws appeared.
He tore into the back of Chaz’s neck
with a fury, snapping the top of the spinal column with his jaws. His claws
flayed flesh from bone, shredded ligaments,
and butchered muscle. Blood sprayed as
if the boy had exploded.
It took only seconds. As soon as it was done, Max changed
back. The piece of birch was still on
the table saw, and Mr. Walters stood next to the table, his face, glasses, and
white shirt coated with a thin drizzle of blood. Chaz lay in pieces on the
floor at his feet. Max shrugged at him,
walked back toward Allie, and handed her Chaz’s dripping heart.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said. Little bits of flesh
clung to his jaw, and
the front of his pants and shirt were soaked a deep, dark crimson.
“Aw, how sweet,” said Allie. “Maybe we
could grab a coke or something after class,” she suggested, smiling slyly.
Max smiled, pieces of tendon hanging
from his teeth.
“That sounds great,” he
# # #
Note: Woodshop for Werewolves was a Valentine’s Contest entry at Yellow
Mama, our sister magazine, and placed well in the competition. Later, we were
saddened to learn that Mark Jabaut passed away November 3rd, 2021.
His bio follows: