RYAN TIBERIUS WOLF!

Don’t you hate it when your parents called you by your full name? I mean, you knew you were in deep do do; even as an adult who has helped saved Western Civilization time and time again. There I was cringing as my mom screamed my name over the phone, “RYAN TIBERIUS WOLF! I saw that Glenn Beck interview! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! ”

My mom tried the old fashion guilt trip thing by mentioning that I was an embarrassment to Northeast Academy and what are my teachers thinking right now. I didn’t bring up the fact that the school was recently busted by the state of Florida for illegally recruiting international students to play soccer. However, I did calmly mention a few names, “Jerry Ford. He went on to direct horror slasher skin movies. Joe Houston. He slept with a policeman’s wife. The cop killed his wife in a jealous rage.” Joe and his sister were quickly withdrawn from the school. Twenty years later I still haven’t seen the Houston siblings. I finished, “I’m hardly a blip on the radar, mom.”

I shouldn’t have said it that way; I could smell fire and brimstone billowing from the other end of the receiver. “RYAN TIBERIUS WOLF! You’re living in sin!” she yelled loud enough to awake the sleeping curvaceous Hellcat. The fiery redhead picked up her head and blinked as my mom continued to bellow that I was indeed living in sin. I told her that I hadn’t slept with Hellcat. “Yes, you are!” I shook my head and again told her I wasn’t. That didn’t sit too well and she accused me of being in denial. I explained it further that Patsy sleeps at my feet and that she’s there for my protection. I reminded her about Megatron, Dracula, Dr. Doom, Beetle, and other super villains that would love to have my hide. It didn’t either phase my mom, it went over her head, or she was purposely ignoring it, “Have you seen her naked?”

“Yes.”

“See! You ARE living in sin young man!” Over and over and over again she kept saying that and telling me how I should be ashamed of myself. Stupid me had the phone in the wrong ear. My mom’s shrieking voice practically pierced my fragile left ear. I jerked, grimaced, and winced as my mom starting screaming like she were singing a Maria Carey song. Hellcat could see the grief I was in. She narrowed her angry eyes and left. She came back a few seconds later with a Naproxen and an ice cold Coke.

I popped the Naproxen, even though I knew it would eventually send me to Area 51, Dreamland for those of you reading in Port St. Lucie, Florida. I downed the pill with cola that put Atlanta on the map as Hellcat folded her arms under her perky breasts. She gritted her pearly white razor sharp mandibles of death and leaned towards the animated phone. The feisty feline lowly growled, “I’m NOT a sin.”

“Mom.”

“Don’t mom me RYAN TIBERIUS WOLF! You should be ashamed of yourself! That’s not the way your father and I raised you!” My rather excited mom replied. She continued to rant and rave that I should be more like my brother and settle down with a nice young woman. She started ripping off names: Lady Blue, Dana, Lady White, Samantha Jameson, Elizabeth O’ Connor, and many others. I love my mom, I really do, but she doesn’t get it at times. I loved every one of those women she shot off, however, some of the lovely ladies were as pure as the wind driven Gotham City snow; if my mom knew that, well, her blood pressure will still be skyrocketing.

I then explained that I asked several of them to marry me and that I was shot down every time. My mom suddenly went ballistic, “RYAN TIBERIUS WOLF! You naughty boy you! Now I know why you fired that missile at poor Wonder Woman! You should be ashamed of yourself!” For another 10 to 15 minutes her blood continued to boil as she ranted and raved all the more.

Stupid me kept the phone in the wrong ear. I switched ears, but it didn’t help. The stabbing pain in my ear became totally unbearable. Mom picked up on it and asked if she had yelled in my bad ear. I said, “Yes.” She turned an abrupt about-face and profusely apologized for the next ten to twenty minutes, give or take eight or nine minutes; much like when I was a young pup and she accidentally hit me somewhere. Mercifully she hung up the phone.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I put the phone down, stood up and was promptly tackled onto the bed by a very frisky Hellcat. Her strong long lean sexy legs straddled me. She flashed me her hungry eyes. In one fluid feline motion she whipped off her skimpy bikini top and pinned my shoulder to the bed. The sultry cat purred, “Let’s put a little Hell into the lieutenant.”

Just call me Hellwolf.