In San Antonio, Texas lives an emo teen wolfgang you can find hanging out in front of the mall where they play with their tails, sniff each other’s assholes, howl at the street lamps (their curfew ends before the moon comes out), growl at people walking by and hump their Jacob dolls. Teen werewolves are just like us, because that’s pretty much how I spend my Fridays night too.
My favorite part is the hot mom at the end who says she’s okay with her son being Hot Topic’s answer to Teen Wolf, but yet she stands like 100 feet away. Maybe she doesn’t want to get fleas.
You know, it’s probably a lot of fun being the mother to a teen woof. When he pisses her off, she can send him to sleep in the dog run on the side of the house. It’s not child abuse, because technically he’s part beast. And generic dog kibble and neck bones aren’t that expensive, so she can spend the extra money on white zins with corks instead of twist off caps. My mom probably wishes I was a teen werewolf instead of just a regular teen asshole.