I didn't much have anything to post last night past my silly photo. I'm paying for it today, because the latex or rubber has given me quite the sinus headache. I wonder if werewolves, with their flaring nostrils, get problems with their nasal passages. All that snarling maybe clears things out. Anyways. There is going to be a re-release of the Frazetta book above, but because of my idiotic headache, I can't recall who is putting it out, possibly Dark Horse. Whereas Bob said there were many trick-or-treaters down in Hemlockland, Charles said none at all arrived at his and Lana's place. Perhaps its because he doesn't care much for werewolves, even though he's the one who looks like one, whereas I look like Max Shreck as Nosferatu only with George W. Bush type ears. Or the Green Goblin's ears. Yes, that's better. I do enjoy writing about the Old Guard, though I try my best to give it my own spin, like the masochist who was turned into a vampire and got pissed off because he could no longer feel pain, the vampire who couldn't hypnotize a girl because she didn't have her contacts in, I've even written about an anorexic zombie and had a Lovecraftian monsters described as "Some Kinda Fucking Shit From Goddamn Hell." One werewolf story appeared in DARK DESTINY back in 1994, and I always thought that if there was a better calling for something other than vampires, I might've changed the ending and tried my hand at a novel. "Go Hungry" was about a lycanthrope (from his daddy's side) who had Huntington's chorea (from his mother's side). My take was, what is truly worse, a supernatural or a human hereditary disease? I end the story with the guy dying on his living room floor from seizures, on Hallowe'en, with the last line being "Outside, a goblin knocked, demanding candy." I was always proud of the line. Damn vampires. Who needs them?...Wayne
