My name is Johnny Wolf. It used to be Johnny Michael and I am on the run for crimes I committed. I grow up in an average home and I am the creation of my own devices. I have many regrets but none more than the night I earned the name Johnny Wolf, by my unthinkable crime.
It all started on Sunday morning when the family and I were in Church.
“My fellow members remember the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom and fools despise wisdom and instruction,” said Reverend Mathew from the pulpit.
The pastor of the Church was Reverend Mathew, and he all ways ended services the same way.
“As we close this Sunday’s service, be kind and loving to one another. Let us pray.”
I usually slept during services. The Saturday night partying makes it hard to stay awake during Sunday services.
“Johnny, you can weak up now, Church is over.” My mother shook my shoulder gently.
She had this rule: if you live in her house you must go to Church on Sunday. “Mom, Church is so boring and I have been listening to the same crap for years.”
My Dad always rode my back about how I was living. “Johnny one day you are going to wish you had paid attention.”
Well on this Sunday, I had more than I could stand of his babbling. “Dad I have heard it all before and I am so tired of you coming down on me about Church, whorish women and my friends.” I did not like my Dad much. Ever since I could remember, he was always trying to tell everyone what to do, like he was some type of priest of our house. “I do not want to live my life like you. I do not want to be like you. I do not even like you!”
Do not get me wrong, it was okay, when I was a child, but it is not cutting it now that I am a man. He might be bigger but he can’t tell me what to do. I could take him if I had to, but I cut him some slack because he is an old man.
“Johnny, please do not act like this in Church. Show some respect for your father.”
“Mom I have had it up to here with you, Church, your rules and Dad’s blabbering.”
My mom and dad stuck together like, glue. Do not talk to your mother that way, boy! Johnny, if you say one more word . . .” If anyone said anything bad to mom, my dad would have a fit, and if someone said something bad about my dad, my mom got spastic. “. . . I swear. I will knock your teeth out the back side of your head.”
They were old school: bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, ’til death do us part type of people. They were both raised here in this same town.
Reverend Mathew walked up and said, “Johnny, respect you parents. Listen to what they are telling you and life will be much better.”
“Reverend Mathews, save your words for all these other suckers. I’m gonna run with the wolves and howl at the moon. I am out of here. You church people suck. I hope you go to hell!”
“Oh, honey, do something! Do not let him leave,” mother said.
“Wife, if he has no respect for the house of God, nor fears the Lord, what can we do?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Michael, we will be praying for you and your son,” the Reverend said.
“Thank you, Reverend Mathews. He is going to need it.”