(Yes, this has been previously published. And someday it'll be part of an anthology of short stories, novellas and prose poems up on Kindle. So ... until that day arrives, enjoy and share with others.)
"True Love When You See It."
by
Fred Zackel
(copyright @ 2009)
A baseball bat up against the side of the head kills the werewolves.
Aim for either pointy ear, or their furry mouths, or the soft part of
their throats. Strike as hard as you can. Pound 'em, like nails into
soft wood. Don't ever run out of gas on Apple Hill Road. Long walk to
town on a moon-lit night, it is, bashing werewolves as you go. And
she's got to come with you 'cause you can't leave her there behind,
just like she can't go alone, leaving you behind. Nope, you’re in it
together, unless it‘s over for you. Keep the bats in the backseat.
Give her the aluminum one. It's lighter. Show her how to swing. Girls
don't got upper body strength like boys got. Oh, she's got enough to
do the job and keep you going, and you can help her, if she's willing.
Swing as hard as you can, sweetie (you tell her.) Every monster you
kill, it's a home run. Your butt against her butt gives you both three-
sixty coverage. Gotta be touching, though; that's trust. And don't
step off the road. On the grass, you're theirs. Don't let them drag
you into the corn, corn high enough to hide the scarecrows, yellow
eyes amid the fireflies. Maybe if you each live through this, you were
meant for each other. Werewolves got skulls like eggshells. Hit 'em
and they dissolve like dandelion fluff. Hit 'em and they turn to
glistening powder in the moonlight. Butt to butt, keep swinging. Now
you know what love is.