I hope my title wasn't too subtle, cause I really want ya'll to enter this here contest we have going on. In case you are just joining us there are only 5 days left to enter for a chance to win R.L. LaFevers' newest book WEREWOLF RISING. All you have to do is leave us a comment telling us a little bit about werewolves and what they mean to you. It can be funny, sad (you know, like The Day The Werewolf Ate My Homework), fake, a favorite moment in a book you have read that includes werewolves, ANYTHING GOES, but you have to enter to win, so leave us a comment and let us know.
And, since I realize this isn't the easiest contest -I'm posting my entry (although I can't win) here and Dee has already done hers. I was actually going to post mine a couple of days ago, but, and I swear this is true, right as I was getting ready to post, my husband came walking (loping) out of the bedroom on all fours licking himself. No joke.
After the initial shock wore off, and my husband was walking on two legs again, we did a little research into his family tree. It appears that his chest is hairy because his great-great-great-grandfather, was in fact a werewolf. I know, "inconceivable!" But, as it turns out, when the males in my husbands families are born they are put on this very special diet. They have learned that if you never feed the growing boys meat, especially red meat, it can (and usually does) suppress the "changing gene". Unfortunately, my hubby married a carnivor, and since I love me a big, fat, juicy, dripping steak, and I make them often, the urge to change has resurfaced in my husband.
This is a new adventure we are embarking on. Usually, a werewolf will undergo their first transformation around puberty, my hubby is well past this age (just don't tell him I said he isn't as spry as he once was) so it makes things a bit difficult. For one, he truly makes a terrible werewolf. He spent the whole of the last couple of days, curled up at my feet whimpering. It's worse than when he is sick. There just are no killer instincts in my man.
He has never been the type to deer hunt. So this is gonna really put a crimp in my food budget for the coming months. He has found, that while in wolf form, he has a hankering for T-Bone steak. And while he usually enjoys his with a side of baked potato, he now wants them with a side of Rib-Eye. When I suggested that he try to hunt for his food ( I am all about encouraging my man to tame his inner beast) he looked at me and said, "I cannot believe you! I thought you were a nice person! And now I find out you want me to kill Bambi's mamma!" I thought about that and told him that I would actually prefer it if he would kill Bambi's daddy, lots more meat and I could use what was left for jerky.
The upside to this is 2-fold. After a whole 2 days with a cry baby wolf that looked a bit like daddy in the house, Miss Beautiful is no longer afraid of dogs. The other is this great new game my hubby likes to play - Little Red Riding Hood. And in our version, the wolf really does get to eat Red.
Well, there was my entry. I'm off to get my red parka cleaned.