Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Bad things have happened.

I got out of the cage on the third night.

I don't know how it happened, I just know I hit the bars the right way and just- I don't know- got loose.

The scariest thing about it was I actually don't remember what I did. I remember the cage, I remember eating the last pig, I remember breaking free, and then- nothing.

It's like-the wolf took over.

In the past, there was always memory.

But not this time. I woke up under the Williamsburg Bridge, and there was blood on my chest.

I'm afraid I've done something awful.

Jesus, Christ- my life is spinning out of control.

I don't want to be a killer.

I'd rather die.
Maybe I will.

Friday, March 25, 2005

Last night-

Turned into a wolf, ate Bob Joyce, and woke up late.

Today I was all about the Buffy reruns on FX and Lost in America on HBO2.

Ho hum.

Another pig tonight.

This werewolf shit is easy.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005


I saw "Rent" with my dad.

We left after the first half.

Can anyone explain to me why in God's name this was considered a good show?


From what I was able to determine, just about everybody had AIDS, it was Christmas, and they were bitching about how they could pay last year's rent. Then there wa a dude who owned a building, and there were some homelss people, and a few junkies who were way more limber than any junkies I've ever seen.

There was a cute girl who showed her ass, but I gotta tell you, I think it misfired, as it seemed to be a move that was intended to offend, and that ass was dynamite.

Also, It took place in an east village loft, and I wasn't sure why they wanted to stay there. I mean, everybody who I've ever known who has voluntarily gone to live in a shithole in the city was doing so becuase they were persuing something. These douchebags, they weemed like they were just hanging out in alphabet city so they could run around in their barney rubble bras and yelp.

After the first half, me and my Dad looked at each other and said- " Do you have any idea what is going on?"

I was all for leaving, but I figured, Jesus, this guy is in New York, maybe he wants to give it a chance. We were smoking cigarettes outside the theater and he says " Do you want to watch the rest of this?"

The old man knows not to waste his time.

So, Like General Washington back in the day, we got the fuck back to Brooklyn with all due haste. We ended the night watching the Daily Show, which was very funny, and he had never heard of.

That's the problem with this country, that a guy like my dad has heard of Rent, and has never seen the Daily Show.

Ahh well-

Who knows.

Broadway sucks.

He leaves tomorrow.

I'll be a werewolf the day after that.

Bob Joyce is toast.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Hung out-

-with my Dad today.

It really was pretty cool, actually.

I mean, so long as I kept the conversation away from "what I've been up to" and focus on "what he's been up to" we're gold.

And it has been pretty fun.

The funny thing is he has been actively avoiding addressing what he percieves as "the problem," which in his mind is me doing heroin, which I've actually never done. Of course, the actual problem is the fact that I'm a werewolf, but I'm actually managing that pretty well I think.

That's the difference between lycanthropy and heroin, I think, is that lycanthropy is, well- managable.

Or, at least, I think I'm managing it pretty well.

And therein lies the problem. You tell one lie and it leads to many lies. I don't know anybody who was in trouble with heroin, stopped, got better and walks around talking about it. So I don't know what to tell him.

I mean, maybe heroin is like lycanthropy in that way- I mean, if I somehow beat this thing, and it turns out that I don't have to change into a monster on every full moon, well shit- am I going to walk around bragging about how I beat it?

Fuck no.

I'm gonna keep it to myself, and hope it never happens again.

Which is what I assume heroin addicts would do.

So here's what I think I'm going to do.

I'm going to tell him that I really don't have a problem with heroin except during the full moon. I mean, it's well documented that the full moon causes intense reactions in people, so I figure I'll just say that during that time I go a little nuts, but have been able to contain myself. Then I'll be able to stick to as much of the truth as possible, and maybe try to salvage some kind of honest relationship with him.

I told him that the pigs belonged to a friend, and I was holding them for a while.

Jesus Christ.

My life is really, really, really not turning out the way either me or my dad had expected.

We may go see The Producers tomorrow.

I need some serious help.

Monday, March 21, 2005

My Dad is visiting tomorrow.

This is stressful.

By the way, sorry I haven't been posting as regularly last week. I was sick as a dog, which I suppose, as a man who is half-wolf wouldn't be THAT sick, but still.

It sucked.

Anyway, I'm feeling much better now, and all I have to deal with next week is turning into a wolf. It's cool with my Dad's visit though, he shows up Monday and will be gone on Wednesday, which is the 23rd. I'll have to make something up about the pigs. He still thinks that the problems that happened on thanksgiving were because I was on heroin. At least I don't have to worry about changing while he's here.

Full moon is the 25th, and if the normal pattern of changing the night before, night of, and night after keeps up, well he'll be back in Massachusetts while I'm feasting on Bob Joyce's bones.

That's one of the pigs, for those of you who aren't Bruins fans.

Joyce, Janney and Neely are the pigs, after one of the greatest lines in the history of Bruins hockey. Jesus, I miss hockey. Today, on ESPN classic, I watched the Detroit Red Wings beat the Carolina Hurricanes for the 2002 Stanley Cup.

God knows, a 3-1 win with an empty netter in a game that Carolina was never really in is a modern classic. I mean, if you wanted to watch Glen Wesley not winning the cup, isn't the '88 Bruins vs. Gretzky's Oilers the better game?

Ah, well- Christ, who am I kidding, it was brutal, but is it wrong to want to watch some Bruins hockey?

Oh, by the way, here's yet another brilliant idea some in the NHL are considering to garner viewers: Blue Ice.

Yep, the minor league team in Buffalo is experimenting with painting the ice surface blue, making the blue lines orange, and the red line, well, darker blue.

So the blue lines are, the red line is and the ice is as they describe it "electric powder blue?"

Great. I'm sure that the reason people weren't watching hockey was that the playing surface didn't look enough like Danny Partridge's summer tuxedo.

One problem that is continually brought up by people who aren't used to hockey is that they can't follow the puck. So what's the answer? That's right, make the ice darker.


The ice is white.
The puck is black.

Can it be any more clear?

Look- here's the deal with hockey, and yes, this is the way they should market it:

If you can't follow the puck, go watch basketball. We don't need you. Hockey is the best, fastest, toughest, ballsiest, hardest sport to play and exel at. Utility players in hockey are better trained athletes than the starters in any other sport. Hockey players can outdrink you, outhit you, outwit you and cook you a dinner that is not only as delicious as any you would find in any of the world's finest restaurants, but would be laid out upon your plate in such a way as to cause even the most meticulous of culinary designers to gasp at the humble artistry.

OK- maybe I'm getting beyond myself.

But fuck it.

Hockey is great, and if you can't see that, well- fucking go to a game and make your life better.

I equate those who have not yet appreciated Stanley Cup playoff hockey to those who haven't yet read Catch-22.

I am jealous of them.

To be able to have something that pure, that true, that great lying yet undiscovered in your future would be incredible. It would mean that something in the future yet unseen contains beauty, truth, poetry, comedy and wonder beyond that of the ordinary same old- same old.

I mean, I know there are things like that out there for me, but God knows what they are. Playoff hockey and Catch-22 are available.

Well, Catch-22 is.


Can you tell I'm a little stressed over my Dad coming?

Maybe we'll go to a museum.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

I've been watching-

This steroid bullshit on TV today.

It's kind of refreshing to sit around with a three pigs, and watch this slobbering waste of time and taxpayer money.

All in all, it seems to me to be a pretty good attempt by congress to give people who have been totally disinfranchised by the Bush Administration a reason to maybe pay attention to something the government does ever again.

As a country, we paid attention a lot over the past few years, even protested quite a bit, and got jack shit for our efforts. I for one, am sick to death of investing myself in the process and having that leering jackass of a president giggle and smirk at us, and then just go ahead and do whatever the hell he wants for himself and his rich buddies.

Along that vein, Karen Hughes, a woman best qualified to push lemon squares at a church bake sale, has been nominated to a top post in the State Department in order to "improve America's image in the world." That would be great if "improving America's image in the world" could be accomplished by keeping my dad on the phone for 20 minutes during dinner, passively aggressively begging him to write a 20 dollar check to "help the choir get some nice new robes for Easter services." That woman is a stupid cunt.

Oh, and Wolfowitz is gonna be in charge of the World Bank.

So sure, this steroid bullshit is a waste of taxpayer money, but we gotta get some asses back in the seats in a "citizenry-paying-attention-to-the-acts-of-our-government" kind of way.

I know,it's not Bill Clinton blowjob numbers, but that was the moon landing, for Christ's sake. We gotta start somewhere, and maybe, I dunno, get people aware again that we still HAVE a fucking congress.

I mean, who knows- today, we have Major League baseball players testifying before congress, maybe tomorrow someone will decide to give half a shit about news that's sure to come down the line that Bush is giving Rumsfeld the continent of Australia as a birthday present.

If this doesn't work, I am starting a letter writing campaign getting congress to look into the distructive influence on our children of "Porno-Chic." Jenna Jameson, Ron Jeremy, and Rocco Siffretti will be testifying.

Fuck this.

I'm gonna go feed the pigs.

I'm feeling a little better-

-these days.

Jesus, did this week suck.


Of course, now that this cold is receding into the past, I look at the calendar, and I'll be a fucking werewolf in a week.


I hate my life.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005


My head is still full of snot.

I hate this.

I've been taking a shot of Nyquil before I go to bed every night, and today, I casually yawned, rolled over and woke up to see that it was 3:30 in the afternoon.


Also, my goddamn DVD player broke. I'd go get another one if I hadn't already blown 12 hundred bucks on the pigs.

They better be tasty.

I mean, I know that I need to start looking at my livestock expenses as a necessary expense, seeing as it could potentially be saving lives, but Jesus! "The Incredibles" just came out on DVD and I really wanted to see those bonus shorts.

It's no wonder you don't see a lot of werewolf movies taking place in cities. The living expenses just kill you.

Sorry I haven't been posting.

It sucks being sick.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Sick again.

You know what?

It turns out that rum isn't the BEST thing to drink when you want your head cold to go away.

I'm loopy on Nyquil right now.

It's the sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever, won't do a damn thing for your lycanthropy but still makes you woozy medicine.

The room is spinning.

The pigs, they mock me.

I'm goin' back to bed.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

The pigs showed up!

I've still been feeling a bit under the weather, but I'll tell ya, a green tea with some vitamin C power, a spoonful of clover honey, and a couple of fingers of rum does wonders for the soul.

In so far as the names, I went for Janney, Joyce and Neely.

They only have a couple weeks left, but their namesakes had a short, yet glorious run as well.

Jesus, I miss hockey.

The pigs make a lot of noise.

I wasn't expecting that.

Ah- well.

Any suggestions for next months feast?

I also googled "female werewolves." Didn't get much to report on. I keep thinking about that girl werewolf in Scotland that Alyssa told me about.

Ahh well- it probably doesn't matter.

That always happens, when you start thinking about an ideal woman, the reality never matches up to the fantasy.

Plus, we'd probably kill each other.


I mean, it's nice to think about hanging out with someone who you have shared interests with, but really, we would tear each other apart.

Ahh- screw it.

I'm watching more Deadwood and going to sleep. I just finished the episodes where the chick from Veronica Mars plays a teen whore. It didn't end as cleanly as it does on the WB.

Life often doesn't.

Friday, March 11, 2005


My head is filled with every kind of mucus known to man and wolf.

Jesus, my mouth tastes more disgusting than I can remember, and you're talking to a guy who once woke up in the woods with a mouthful of moose intestines dangling from his chin.

I feel like death.

I'm gonna go eat some beef stew and watch Deadwood. I started the DVD's of season 1 yesterday, and am facinated by how many cowboys are saying "cocksucker." I didn't know that cowboys said "cocksucker." I mean, they very well might have, but I wasn't aware of it, maybe because I've never seen a western where they say cocksucker a lot.

Still, it's working for me, once I got over the initial shock of it. It kind of makes me wish that more classic westerns had cowboys saying "cocksucker." By the way "Cowboys Saying Cocksucker" is my new favorite indie rock band. They have a new album out on Matador, I think.

In fact, I'm so entranced by the idea of cowboys saying cocksucker, that I have for you, reproduced some lines of dialogue from classic westerns, with cocksucker added. I think you'll appreciate the additions. I certainly do:

From The Good, The Bad and the Ugly:

Man with No Name (Clint Eastwood) : "You see, in this world there's two kinds of cocksuckers, my friend: Cocksuckers with loaded guns and cocksuckers who dig. You dig."

From True Grit:

Mattie Ross (Kim Darby) : Who's the best Marshall they have?
Sheriff (John Ducette) : Bill Waters is the best tracker. The meanest one is Cocksucker Cogburn, a pitiless man, double tough, fear don't enter into his thinking. I'd have to say L.T. Quinn is the straightest, he brings his prisoners in alive.
Mattie Ross: Where would I find this Cocksucker?

From The Man Who Shot Liberty Vallance:

[Valance (Lee Marvin) has tripped Rance (Jimmy Stewart) in the diner causing him to spill a tray of food]

Tom Doniphon (John Wayne) : That was my steak, Cocksucker.
Liberty Valance: [Laughing] You heard him, Cocksucker. Pick it up.
Ransom Stoddard: You are such a cocksucker. I won't pick...
Tom Doniphon: Hold it, Cocksucker. I said you, the other cocksucker ; you pick it up.
Liberty Valance: Three against one, Cocksucker.
Tom Doniphon: Kitchen door; cocksucker.
[Valance looks and sees Pompey at the door holding a rifle. He is wearing a sandwich board reading: "Liberty Vallance Sucks Cock" ]
Valance: Cocksucker!

OK- that oughta do it.

God I hope I feel better tomorrow. That's when the pigs arrive.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Still no pigs.

Damn this weather.

I'm getting a cough, too.

These 60 degree temperature swings really do it to me.

Still, I got up early, (for me) and was smart enough last night to load up the crock pot with Beef Stew fixins. I got up at 10:00, and by quarter to twelve, I was living it up with beef stew. Also, there is a Star Trek marathon on Sci Fi. I know that I have a lot of problems, but lemme tell you, he ins and outs of lycanthropy go down a little smoother with tasty-ass beef stew and Original Trek on the TV.

I was never into it when I was a kid, but I've been enjoying it recently. I never got into the newer Star Trek shows either, but lemme tell you- it's fun to see Captain Kirk just sitting around making tough calls. He has hard decisions to make and he fucking MAKES em! Maybe I just enjoy seeing someone named Kirk actually taking charge of his life.


The pigs were supposed to arrive two days ago, and I just got off the phone with the guy. He says Friday at the latest, and gave me a window where I had to stay at home.

He said, "Anywhere between 9:00 and 3:00."

It's like the fucking cable guy, but with pigs.

I'm at the video store tonight. Stop by if you're around.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Alyssa called today.

It was sort of awkward.

I mean, she called to see how I was doing, and if I made it through the last change OK, but shit- it's been like 3 weeks since that happened. If she was really concerned, you'd think she'd pick up the phone a little earlier. Or, you know- BEFORE it happened.

She said that she'd been following it on the blog, so she knew I was OK, but still- a phone call wouldn't have killed her.

I told her as much, and by writing this, and knowing that she checks this blog, I guess she's reading it, but I'm not going to censor myself just cause she might be reading. I know it's kind of fucked up, to talk shit about her, but when you are infected with the disease of lycanthropy, being passive-aggressive just doesn't rank that high on the old affliction list. She said that she missed me, and that she's captured one werewolf, and had to kill three. She started in Italy, which she admitted was more vacation than vocation, and worked her way up through the Alps, where she was investigating a report of an Abominable Snowman to see if it was some kind of cold weather lycantharope. According to her, that whole legend is bullshit, and there was no real evidence she could find, so she went skiing for 2 weeks.

I have my doubts.

After the trip, she travelled through Germany, killed a pair of werewolves in Munich, after getting a distress signal from another werewolf hunter that used to know Williamson. They communicate online, and apparently have these coded websites devoted to werewolf activity. I asked her for the link and she said that she might lose a bit of her street cred if she gave out the werewolf hunter weblink to a werewolf. She has a point, I guess.

Oh, and don't bother googling it. I tried. If anybody has any leads on that, send me a link, I'd appreciate it.

Apparently, I'm fairly well known on the message boards, and on more than a few shit lists for killing not only Williamson, but Bruce as well. Fuck, for all I know, they read my blog too. Alyssa said she didn't tell them about it, but you know, she also conspired against me in a mind control plot that ended up with me having sex with dogs. So, you know- there's some fences that need rebuilding there is all.

Fuck it, I'm not doing any harm.

Still though, if anybody can figure out how to crack that, I'd appreciate it, I mean, sure- right now I'm pretty happy living here in Williamsburg eating livestock in a cage, and I can't imagine how I constitute a threat provided that the cage holds, but it'd be nice to know if some pissed off European Werewolf hunter is heading my way with a score to settle, you know?

Alyssa said she'd give me a heads up if that happened, but really- if you were a werewolf hunter with a vendetta, would you drop that info to the ex-girlfriend of the werewolf in question?

Who knows. I probably shouldn't worry about it. I've lived through worse problems.

Anyway, from Munich, Alyssa headed up to Scotland to do some research. Scotland is to werewolf study like Toronto is to Ice Hockey. They are really fucking into it up there. I wouldn't mind going some day, you know- provided that nobody wanted to kill me, cut me open, or do experiments on me. It kind of makes sense that Scotland would be the secret spot for werewolves and the study of them. I mean, is it really possible that a country's most impressive export would be men in plaid skirts and bagpipe music?

Seriously, they HAD to have something else cool going on over there.

So Alyssa met with this guy Cameron over there, and they went out on a double capture expedition that got a little hairy, so they had to kill one of the werewolves. Here's the kicker, the one they caught alive was female. It was fucked up too, the way Alyssa told me about her. She described the female werewolf in that annoying "Isn't THIS interesting" tone of voice.

You know the one.

It's the voice that that ex-girlfriends always use when they are trying to set you up with somebody. Except they never are trying to actually set you up with somebody,what they are saying is: "Hey- under the pretense of doing you the favor of letting you know about a woman you might relate to, I am actually letting you know that not only are we "still friends", but our relationship is totally fucking over."

I hate that.

Oh, and it's fucking snowing again today.

The pigs were supposed to show up, but the trailer couldn't make it through the snow.


What the fuck kind of name is that?

Screw it.

I'm gonna go make some soup.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Holy Crap!

It's like 60 degrees!

Fuck blogging, I'm heading outside!

Sunday, March 06, 2005

I've been exploring pig recipies.

I mean, I know- when it comes right down to it, I'm gonna eat 'em raw, but I couldn't help myself.

One of my favorites has been a blog about bacon, called "bacontarian." It's for people who love the fuck out of bacon.

This link is to a post entitled: "best bacon you've ever ate."

Their are 19 comments.

Needless to say, these motherfuckers love bacon.

Here's a sample:

"My worthless friends were finally roused only when I began to yell as I returned to the scene of the disaster. The bacon had been burned so severely that the only sign of its former potential was a black residue on the cooking grate. This was not the best bacon I have ever had it was the worst bacon, I never had. But this tragedy has taught me to savor life’s bacon as never before. This post is directed particularly to Ellen, who I hold primarily responsible for the death of the bacon."

I left a comment, explaining my situation, but I bet it won't get approved.

Ah, well.

I think we all can agree, however, that Ellen is a fucking bitch.

And people, whatever your individual situations, let's all remember to "savor life's bacon."

I wanna get that on a T-shirt.

Saturday, March 05, 2005

Dickhead, this is Giggsy and Rhonda. Rhonda and Giggsy, Dickhead.

OK- I'm REALLY done with that now.

But the dude's tag is "Dickhead," I just couldn't lay off.

By the way, that was a weak-ass bunch of reproachals. Ah well, I suppose if I wasn't a werewolf this blog would be far less entertaining.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't want to be a werewolf anymore, but really, would any of you bastards check in on this thing if it was called "What used to be happening to me?"

It doesn't have the same zing is all.

By the way, the weird thing about this site is I'm pretty much aware of what is happening to me. I turn into a werewolf on the full moon. So, yeah. That's it.

Again though, is it really worth a whole new url just to start up ""?

Screw it, I'm sticking with this one.

And who knows?

Crazy shit has happened in the past, maybe my life will pick up. I'm justa little bored right now. I worked at the store today, and watched "Bride of Frankenstein." Damn that's a great movie. That's pretty much how my relationships go by the way- you meet a woman who was made for you, she ends up not liking you, and the entire house falls in on top of you.

I also brought home Cube Zero. Looks cool.

I'll let you know what I think.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

Giggsy, this is Rhonda. Rhonda, Giggsy.

OK- I think that's out of my system now.

I appreciate the suggestions on pig names. I'm leaning towards Janney, Joyce and Neely, but I think I might just have to make a call when they arrive. Sometimes you need to see them to name them.

So I've been reading the site meter and have found some interesting search terms that have led people to this site. Here's a random sample:

liberace piano bench cartoon
kristen isn't cool.
fuck hockey
for every body candles los angeles
how can i shapeshift physically the easy way?
"clockwork orange"+"opening dialogue"
lycanthropy cures and treatments

Of course, there are a ton of "werewolf" , "zooskool" and "what is happening to me kirk" type searches, but that makes sense to me.

I just love the idea that someone was sitting alone in their home and desparately needed to take action to find a cartoon about Liberace's piano bench, and instead, found there way here.

I also like "fuck hockey", which sounds to me like an entertaining game, depending on the participants.

I must admit that I was kind of shocked to see "lycanthropy cures and treatments." I wasn't surprised that someone was searching for that, but I was sort of stunned that I hadn't thought to do it yet. So I did it, and I found some interesting, if not necessarily helpful stuff.

This from

Various methods also existed for removing the beast-shape...To kneel in one spot for a hundred years, to be reproached with being a werwolf, to be saluted with the sign of the cross, or addressed thrice by baptismal name, to be struck three blows on the forehead with a knife, or to have at least three drops of blood drawn have also been mentioned as possible cures.


Kneel in one spot for one hundred years.

With my attention span these days, I have a tough enough time sitting through a Buffy re-run.


To be reproached for being a werewolf.

Worth a try I guess.
Let's hear it commentors, reproach my ass, and make it good! But try to keep the reproachment pretty solidly on the "being a werewolf" thing. Don't muddy it up with saying how much hockey or Boston sports teams suck. Better safe than sorry, if this thing's gonna work.

to be saluted with the sign of the cross
I dunno. It might work, I guess I really haven't seen a cross in person in quite a while. I've been to church, but it was a Unitarian Universalist church and they aren't big on saluting each other with crosses over there. Who knows. Also, it begs the question whether that would work on werewolves who were Jews, Muslims, or proponents of Eastern Religions. But I guess that's the Unitarian in me talking. I guess I could try it.

addressed thrice by baptismal name
Well, let's try the other ones first. I'm still a little embarrassed about my middle name. Granted, I have no problem letting you guys know that I was shut up in a basement for months, having sex with dogs, but what can I tell you? Some things are personal. Maybe I'll get my parents to do it.

to be struck three blows on the forehead with a knife
Hmm. I wish Alyssa was here. She'd do that for me in a heartbeat. That's just not the kind of thing you ask a casual aquaintence for. You know, unless you're in some kind of bondage-y cash for abuse situation. And wouldn't know how to start looking for that. Plus, most of my disposable income is being tied up in livestock these days. I don't think bondage hookers are gonna be in the budget.

to have at least three drops of blood drawn
Jeez. That sounds icky. And vague. Drawn by who? And how much is in a "drop?" And what happens is more than 3 come out? Does that ruin it?

Ahh well, it was worth a look.

But let's hear those reproachals!

Don't spare my feelings here, people. Let's make them good.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Hi Rhonda.

What's up?

Oh, c'mon people- she said she checks in every day.

I think she said that I'm "addictive."

aww, yeah.

Who wants some sugar! First one's free, motherfuckers!

Oh, and I totally ordered pigs this morning. They get here at the end of the week. I ordered three. And yes, if you're concerned, I'm gonna huff and puff, and eat the fuck out of those guys in a couple of weeks.

Any name suggestions?

OK, I'm going to work.

Wish me luck.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Sorry I didn't post yesterday-

My internet was all wonky in the snowstorm.

I've been pretty solitary these days, and having your internet connection go down is rough going. I pretty much stayed close to home, ate some soup, and watched the movie "Werewolf of London." Watching werewolf movies can be fun when you're a werewolf, cause there are so many things about them that are just ridiculous.

It's sort of like watching one of those "hot doctor" shows with a real doctor. Actually, I've never done that, but I have watched "Boston Public" with my dad, who was been a teacher in the Massachusetts public schools for over 40 years. It's funny, when I watch that show with him, he basically explains that every serious dramatic plot point in that show would be solved in real life by one of two options, either firing the teacher or expelling the student.

Kid steals a human hand and puts it in his locker? Kid gets expelled.
Teacher sleeps with a student without knowing she's a student? Teacher gets fired.

No handwringing, no bellyaching, it'd be pretty cut and dried.

Werewolf of London was like that for me. My favorite part in the movie is when the dude changes into a werewolf, looks around his labratory, and before leaving, puts on his cloak and hat.

I mean, sure he's a werewolf, but there's a chill out there, for God's sake.

Another conceit that I enjoyed in that movie was the idea that the werewolf always seeks out that which he most loves.

If that were the case, every time the moon was full, I'd be a bloodthirsty beast on a murderous quest for a large raspberry lime rickey from Brighams, the Boston area ice cream chain.

Goddamn, that's a delicious beverage.

I wish I could go get one right now.