Werewolf eye for the straight guy.
I surrendered my humanity to the night in such gradual stages that I wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly when I had become a Werewolf. My wife looked at me askance when she came into the family room and found me watching re-runs of Lassie Come Home and scratching behind my ear with my foot. My first real clue was when I padded over to her chair and licked her hand, lifted my leg and relieved myself on her feet. Her precarious position, standing on the back of her overstuffed chair, clinging to the... Sign in to see full entry.