Tina wanted to talk about wolves but Sunset was only talking cinema that night. They were seated at the back table in Vape Burger near the converted cigarette machine that dispensed art in the shape of cigarette packs from the 60’s. Tina was working on one of the bartender’s special negronis and wearing a tan short cut leather jacket that looked like it might have come from Jo’s closet. Sunset was nursing a cloudy IPA and, judging by the small gathering of empty shot glasses on the table, it was pay day. “What's going on, you maniacs?” I asked as I pulled up a chair. Sunset made a grandiose gesture with his right hand that indicated Tina could explain. “Our friend here was just offering his most recent theory of cinema,” Tina said, clearly enjoying herself. “It's not a theory, it's facts,” Sunset responded, “its indisputable.” His trucker cap, always worn jauntily askew, was, tonight, precarious, and would end up on the floor by the time it came to pay the cheque. “There's three movies ever made that contain the word wolf in their title that are worth watching,” Sunset proclaimed. “First of all I'm talking about American Werewolf in London - I mean fucking obviously, right - and it doesn't matter that it's a compound word because wolf is in there so it's fine. Also, number two is Wolfcop. Filmed in Saskatoon and probably more of a documentary than anything else.” Tina signalled the bartender for two more special negronis, one for me, another for her. “But you know, the greatest wolf movie ever made by man is Guitar Wolf. Fucking masterpiece. It's got everything; fire, guns, babes, motorbikes, a kick-ass rock n roll soundtrack, and zombie sideburns that'll take your eye out.” I nodded thanks to the bartender as he set down the negronis on our table. I picked up my glass and raised it to cheers them both, “To our compelling inaccuracies.” | image @_kategreene_