Mind over Monster

I'm absent-minded today.

Which is not to be confused with mindless. Even though they should be the same thing.

Whether mindless or absent-minded, the mind is not present.

But absent-mindedness is more innocent and understandable than mindlessness. Absent-minded is an OAP who has forgotten to put the phone back on the hook. Mindless is Wayne Rooney.

Sometimes I'm mindful. Mindful is the opposite of absent-minded, I think. Not, as you might have expected, of mindless.

Mindful is considerate. Mindless is zombie.

Although you don't get too many considerate zombies, I don't think think that makes it the opposite. You don't get many werewolf Popes, but that doesn't mean Catholicism is the opposite of lycanthropy. In fact the two have a great deal in common.

So, I'm absent minded today. Not mindless. Not mindful.

What about presence of mind? That usually only arises in a crisis. Like an attack from His Holiness Pope Wolfman III.

In that situation - a terrifying, visceral, nonsensical attack - which is more useful?

Absent-mindedness?

Not too useful. You might forget to lock the door. Or confuse the werewolf with a cat and try to stroke it. You might misplace your silver bullets ("Oh, of course, I should have thought! The silver gun!").

Mindlessness?

Probably quite useful. You can enter a primal, animalistic rage and battle the Pope, like King Kong fighting his in-laws at a wedding.

Mindfulness?

Very useful. Mindful doesn't imply any effectiveness of deed, of course. But at least you'll be carefully considering the situation. You might ponder the origin on the werewolf Pope. You might wonder if the Pope would countenance the use of contraception if your sexual partner is a werewolf. Probably not.

You might wonder if the innate noble savagery of wolfmen would counteract the institutionalised evil of Catholicism. You might picture the scene: a werewolf going about his business on a cloudy evening. Suddenly, there's a break in the clouds, and a full moon shines brightly upon him.

He screams, realising that a horrifying transformation is upon him. His canine teeth shrink, his body-hair recedes, a golden crucifix forces its way out of his skin, a Papal Tiara bursts from his skull. The night of the Werepope is upon us.

The next day, the innocent werewolf has no memory of the atrocities he committed in the night: indoctrinating people through guilt, spreading homophobic propaganda, offering up communion wine to a nonplussed vampire friend.

That would be pretty mindful. Of course, by the time you've considered all this, you've had your larynx ripped out by a hairy Popeclaw.

Presence of Mind?

The most useful of all. You can set up some kind of Pope-trap. You can lure him in with the promise of a fresh young boy, then: down comes the net! You've captured him! You've had the presence of mind to capture this ancient evil. And you've got a werewolf to donate to the nearest museum/zoo/John Landis.

I'm absent-minded. It doesn't bode well.

I'd better lock the door tonight.

Of course...

I'll forget.

***

In the preceding story, I referenced some crude and silly stereotypes. I can assure you, I only did this for comic effect.

Silver bullets don't kill werewolves.