Return of the Naked Werewolf


Vlad sat up with a sigh, his white fingers folding over the edge of his coffin, and stared at Harold. “Do you know what time it is, Harold? The sun just went down. You know, at my age, our age, I don't jump the minute the day is gone.”

Harold shifted between edgy and embarrassed. “Yeah, yeah, I know, Vlad, but tonight is another full moon. And I get itchy, my skin does, because I don't spring that thick fur anymore. Who ever heard of a naked werewolf?”

“You don't howl anymore either.”

“Or sprout those killer fangs.” Harold looked so disheartened Vlad felt sorry for him even though 'sorry' wasn't in a vampire's stock of feelings.

“When the moon turns full I get this terrible urge to be out preying on victims.”

“You tried that already, Harold. You can't chase victims using a walker.”





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