Clap for him (do you know who

I'm talking about?), or he'll rip

out your lungs Jim; that's the

Loup-Garou, or better known

as the Werewolf.

"Werewolf?" dare you say

"There wolf, there castle!"

"Why am I talking this way?"

"I thought you wanted to take

a romp in the hay (ladies only)!"

Well, let me lay it on real thick!

It's just your average Joe that had

the bite put on him at midnight by

someone else who downshifted from

being sane to a furry abnormality.

This transformation happens whenever

the manged dog gets mooned by the queen

while she's eating Chinese Food, playing

chopsticks, you know, on the piano

tickling the old ivory.

When it's all done, he has the strength

of ten men, but doesn't lift weights,

although he's a real shape-shifter; he

likes to walk around town and scare

the shit out of everyone and anything.

Then there's the issue of the silver

bullet (not Bob Seger); but your aim

better be good, or he'll turn you into

a midnight snack; then use your

fibula as a toothpick.

"Did I scare the crap out of you?

Well, ain't it a crying shame, for you

see the whole thing was made up

It was really all done with fog and

mirrors and paper-mache!"

'2008' RLS