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“We don't refer to them as Gypos, Constable. The official term is members of the travelling community. Still, I think it might be an idea to drop by and pay them a visit.”
“Son, I’ve faced off with more than a few werewolves in my time. More than most people manage and live to tell about it, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t say I was an expert though. Not by any stretch of the imagination. What I am is the best you’ve got.”
I’d seen Lon Chaney Junior in The Wolf Man on my last leave though, and I had a pretty good idea of what I’d seen.
The Wolf Man is in my top ten favorite movies.
“John! How many times do I have to tell you not to jump down those stairs? You’ll go through the floor one of these days.”
There had better be a werewolf falling through the floor there later.
“Piss off, Brian, there’s no such thing as werewolves.”
Have I got a story for you...
John and Michael burst from their tent, fully dressed, in time to see Miss Hick’s head sail free from her neck and land in the embers of the campfire. Hair ignited, and the head burst into flames, the skin melting like wax.
That's awesome.
Michael pulled a firework from his bag, lit the fuse, and pointed it at the creature.
"I saw that movie Silver Bullet. This will work."
Steven shot the old woman in the face. Carl looked at him. Steven shrugged. “No harm in making sure.”
Double-tap.
Billy slapped Simon on the shoulder. “You worry too much. There’s three of us and one of him. What could go wrong?”
Then Billy punched it in the testicles.
"Wolfman's got nards!"
