|Wolf-Man portrait by Hal Dickens|
AB: Certainly. So, how did you become a—I’m sorry, but is your name really “Harry Bach”?
WM: I told you I preferred “Harold.” My brother had it worse. He was “Albert”: “Albie,” for short.
AB: Was he a wolf-man, too?
WM: Nope. Killer robot. I come from a less-than-traditional family, you might say.
AB: Not exactly Wally and the Beaver, eh?
WM: Huh? Oh! You mean my cousin, Wally? Yes, he’s a beaver—but only during the full moon! The rest of the time he’s an otter.
AB: And what about you?
WM: I’ve never been an otter.
AB: I mean, about the full moon.
WM: Oh. Right. During the full moon, I do become a wolf.
AB: And when did that begin?
WM: The full moon? Not for a week or so, yet.
AB: I mean, when did you start changing under a full moon?
WM: Ew! I don’t change under a full moon! I change at home like everybody else! Otherwise, it’s public indecency!
WM: Is that what you wanted to know? Why didn’t you just ask?
WM: I’ve been a wolf-man for 250 years—
AB: Wow! That’s amazing! The things you must have seen! The history you must have experienced!
WM: —of course, that’s in dog years.
WM: Yeah, you’d think so. Actually, it was a bad hot dog at Wrigley Field.
WM: No, just kidding. It was a wolf bite.
AB: Anything you’d like our readers to know about wolf—er, people? There are wolf-women, I’d guess.