A brief lesson in handling disappointment.

I had this cousin once. I assume I still have her as a cousin, there’s no real way she could have become any less related to me over time.
Mind you with the advances in modern medicine its not unfathomable to think she’s been spliced with a dugong and sent to live in the artic. Who knows, I mean haven’t spoke to her in years because I’ve no need to desire to do so.

Anyhoo we went to visit my cousin and her family (if you hadn’t of guessed they we my uncle and aunt) when I was a mere mini-human of around a decade. She on the other hand was about sixteen, maybe eighteen, don’t really care honestly. But she was at that age when a human decides that their room is their abode.
Their one portion within a house they don’t pay for where they can decorate the walls and… Well mostly they just put shit all over the walls; and call it their own.
Then just flat out refuse to be amongst the family in the rest of the boring house.
Any my cousin was no exception to this rule.

My aunt suggested that I go have a look at my cousins room and my cousin got super excited by the prospect. I know what you’re thinking ‘I’ve seen “movies” that start this way.’ And I have too, but this wasn’t an opening for a Disney duet like you were thinking, it was just a plain old in-house excursion.
Normally I wouldn’t have cared to see what a yucky girl room looked like but she sold me.
‘Oh yeah you totally gotta check it out! It’s like a time warp in there!’

Can you imagine how fucking excited I was at the age of 10 to go and see an actual, real life, controlled fracture in the space time continuum contained within a 3 by 3 meter teenage bedroom in an unsuspecting house in Tasmania?!
Or at the very least probably some enormous Stargate like device that could initiate said time warp?!
And don’t go saying I was being stupid because this chick was excited! She was really proud of this apparent affront to the laws of physics that she had shoved into her bedroom and hell, who wouldn’t be? I was going to go see a time warp and I was as excited as her!

Her tie-dyed shirt and the fact that she reeked of incense should have probably been indicative of what was to come.

She opened the door in a flourish and there it was before me, a life changing event.

It was on that day, as I looked at some posters of Bob Marley, Jimmy Hendrix and ‘Peace and Love’; through a miasma of incense smoke softly lit by the painted lightbulb encased in a beaded cover that refracted the light in strange and, I’d wager, ‘Far out’ ways that I learned my very first lesson in lowering my expectations. Especially in regards to supernatural and interdimensional events.

A lesson that has served me very well throughout the years and as recently as last night.

What happened last night? Well the Wif and I have just started watching Hemlock Grove on Netflix.
To be honest my ability to accept mediocrity as the eventuality after being offered something seemingly wondrous had been getting a fair fucking workout over the last couple of days while watching ‘The Mortal Instruments’ Netflix series. Wherein one will find dialogue containing more ham and cheese than a New York deli. Also more plot holes than their Swiss cheese.
But Hemlock Grove really tested my limits because they, through suggestive editing and wording, hinted towards there being a Werewolf in the series.

Here’s a little secret about yours truly.
I. Fucking. Love. Werewolves.

And I sincerely believe that it was my first encounter with raised expectations at a young age that has allowed me to continue my love affair with the Werewolf as a vehicle of fiction to this day. Because holy christ these poor bastards have had some super shit representation over their decades on screen.

But Hemlock Grove promised a Werewolf. So I sat there, with the bar set so low it would red card a Jamaican limbo grand champion, and got ready for another little slip further down the slide to giving up on the Werewolf all together.
Then I got sucker punched with awesome as I watched the transformation scene.
Now it still didn’t trump American Werewolf in London (You’ll never beat practical effects) but it was hands down coolest, grossest CGI transmutation from human to lycanthrope that I’ve seen and exceptionally unique in the sense that the beast came from within the human rather than the human turning into the beast.
I was on the edge of my seat with a raging wolf boner while this guys eyeballs fell out revealing canine eyes beneath, claws ripped through where his hands should have been, his teeth POPPED out one by one revealing steadily extending wolf teeth, his very flesh ruptured across his back and whole body, dripping blood and gore as the pelt of the wolf pressed into the world. And when the mouth of the wolf split through the guys own face, snarling for release? I was in Werewolf heaven.

And then, when I thought it couldn’t possibly get any cooler.
It didn’t.
It was like getting jerked to the point of climax and having someone switch your libido off completely at the very last second. My wolf boner was a raging soft-on.

Because there, on the screen, eating the sloppy flesh that one provided a convincing human disguise for the beast within. Was a fucking wolf.
Not even a big wolf, just a plain old ordinary slightly hairier than normal god damn fucking wolf.

I swear to gods I’m this close to being fucking done with Hollywoods Werewolves.
And I really hope that this “Werewolf” in Hemlock Grove is actually just some cut rate dog-boy and there will eventually be some huge bad-ass lycanthrope to satiate my desires but, as I’ve learned, best to set that bar low.

Then just smile and nod.
Always smile and nod.

– Jacob

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