Ain't Nothing Hurts a Monster
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Ain't nothing hurts a monster, Charles Merriman used to think when he was little, watching movies upstairs after his daddy pummeled him. Ain't nothing hurts the monsters, the aliens, the werewolves, the bad guys. Even when they die – just a man in a costume. Even after the credits roll, no kid ever believes the monster isn't going to get back up again and drag them into the closet.
"Beer me," he says to Howard when Howard comes back from wherever he was, dealing drugs or doing fancy council business or setting up another deal for more beer, more beer, always more beer. Orc almost yells at him again when Howard forgets to pop the tab, but he stops himself with a shudder when he feels an itch on his human skin. He brings a gravelly hand to his face, touches, no, nothing, no more rock. The rock isn't still taking him over. The rock is the same size and place it always is, everywhere but his face.
He snatches the now-open Bud from Howard's hand without a harsh word, because while nothing scares monsters, turning into one sure scares a kid.