<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>"How I Became A Werewolf - Part 3/4"</strong></span><br/><br/>INT. DINGY MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT<br/><br/>Cypress Hill booms from a portable stereo behind JANE, who stands with a shotgun in one hand and a bottle of Clorox in the other.  She wears a backwards baseball cap.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Hi, Mouseketeers!  Tonight is the third episode in our series, “How I Became A Werewolf.”  It’s called, “How To Kill The Skank That Makes You Into A Werewolf.”</div><br/>She pouts theatrically.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Awww, don’t worry, goth kids out there.  I won’t skip the part about how one becomes a shape-shifting stalker of the night.</div><br/>JANE leans in, eyes narrow, to whisper.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>It’s just really easy.</div><br/>She straightens and speaks while jostling the Clorox.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Four easy steps.  One, on the night you're almost raped or whatever, decide to go find Abe and Vera at the Drum Core concert in person, rather than over the phone, since your phone might be tapped by lesbians.  Two, crash your Prius into a construction trench.  Three, freeze in terror when a giant wolf approaches you in downtown Berkeley.  Four, get bit.</div><br/>JANE points the gun at the camera.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>You too could become a lusty lupine lesbo!</div><br/>She grins crookedly, humorlessly.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Of course, if you are already, and you’re watching this, you better show some belly now, bitch, because you can’t run far or fast enough to get away from me.</div><br/>JANE brightens and spreads her arms.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Which brings us to the best part of this episode, “How To Do Right To The Wolf What Done You Wrong.”</div><br/>She shoves the gun and bleach at the camera.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Steps one and two.  You will need these.</div><br/>She draws them back, then bobs the shotgun.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>This is Mister Step One.  His maiden name is the Remington 1100 semi-automatic shotgun.  Now that Drama Queen is gone, he is your best friend.</div><br/>JANE strokes her finger down a tube on the shotgun’s stock, showing it to the camera.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>See this lovely?  That’s the extended ammo tube.  You’ll want to get it and you’ll want to be packing twelve gauges.</div><br/>She smiles.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Don’t worry about the recoil, Nancy.  The 1100 is gas powered and has sliding mechanism installed to reduce any kickback to baby farts.</div><br/>She taps the stock.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>These shells are store bought, but you’ll want to crack them open and fill them with the little bee-bees that are all that’s left of the Chomsky family silver after you melted it down.  You can use basic tools to do this, and the instructions are, like all things, available 24-7 on “teh Internets.”</div><br/>The shotgun is swiveled to point its gaping barrel at the camera.  JANE looks tough.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Remember those additional loads.  Werewolves soak up a lot of death once you have them trapped.  Which brings us to tonight’s word…</div><br/>JANE pulls the shotgun back, shoves the Clorox at the camera.  She makes a “boosh” noise.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Bleach.  Step Two.  It messes with the wolf sniffer.</div><br/>She jiggles it, looking at it pensively.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>How you use it is up to you.  Just make sure that your target doesn’t smell it when she comes over thinking you’re all confused, needing answers, looking for a hand to hold, cause you called her and mentioned you’d been drinking, and blah blah blah.</div><br/>Jane sets down the bleach.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Tear gas.  Bleach bombs.  You can make just about anything out of the stuff.  Me, I got inventive and filled balloons with them, then set the balloons next to the vents of my central heating with pins balanced against them.  So when Sonja came over, and I locked the doors behind her, all I had to do was crank on the thermostat and bang!</div><br/>JANE’s eyes and arms go wide.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Bleach vapor everywhere!</div><br/>She gets grim, talking steadily, sighting down the gun at the camera.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Then when she’s all, “Oh Em Gee; I thought we were friends,” you let Mr. Remington 12-gauge do the talking.</div><br/>JANE studies the gun, cradling it.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Oh, she’ll try to talk a good game.  You’ll probably hear all the Earth-Firster nonsense about how you’re a guardian of nature now and how they just want you in the pack.</div><br/>She shakes her head.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE <br/>No mercy, Mouseketeers.  They don’t show you any mercy when they bite.</div><br/>JANE taps her head.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>One thing to remember, muy importante:  Death throes.</div><br/>She wiggles her finger pedantically at the camera.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Once you’ve given Ms. Thing a ride on the silver bullet, you might think that account’s closed, but think again.  She will turn into a kind of half-wolf-alligator-half-lesbian of giant proportions and seriously put the hurt on your décor.  So shop IKEA or have your heart-to-heart in a place you don’t mind getting messy, but either way, keep your distance.</div><br/>JANE sobers, staring at the floor.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>People get hurt around werewolves.  All they do is hurt.  So, don’t make the mistake of having an open fireplace nearby when they go all Ragnarok before they die.</div><br/>JANE brightens, bitterly.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>However, I should note that in the deaths of Abe and Vera that resulted from the house fire, I was not held accountable.  The courts have ruled, in their infinite wisdom, that the Ativan they took before sleeping that night was what failed to wake them at the sound of the shotgun blasts and smoke detectors.</div><br/>She shrugs, looking up at the camera.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Alright, it wasn’t a ruling.  More an out of court settlement.  After all, it wasn’t the kind of thing Merck Pharmaceuticals wanted to let get out, and besides, I have very good lawyers.</div><br/>JANE drums her fingers on the shotgun.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>The result was a very generous fund for yours truly.  It’s not much of a consolation.</div><br/>She taps her shoulder.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Thanks to Sonja’s bite there, there’s no going back to a life of molecular bio and nuclear families for poor, plain Jane.  Now whenever I get my monthlies or go into a high dudgeon, I turn into a flesh-eating biological faux pas.</div><br/>She slumps.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Not dinner party material.  </div><br/>Her lips purse.  She picks up the control.<br/><br/><div align="center">JANE<br/>Funding does have its perks, though.  For as you’ll find, my friends, that werewolves run in packs.  So, when it comes to ridding the world of their menace, they’re just like Pringles.</div><br/>The video switches off.<br/>