Last night would have been a good night to be a werewolf. The menacing kind, I mean. I don't know if the moon was full, but the dense fog had me flinching at every muffled sound on our cobblestone sidewalk as I waited for Leia to sniff the grass. I wish I knew the secret code dogs have with their noses and piss. Actually, no I don't. I once dated a girl who eventually started to smell like pee so I broke up with her, so maybe we do know the secret code.
It's funny how much we take our noses for granted. Think about all the smells and scents that keep you coming around. Sauteed onions, Christmas trees, a lover's skin, new electronics fresh out of the box. Campfires. Wanna get laid? Build your chick a fire. Boom.
There's a lesson in there somewhere. Something about fear of what we can't see and appreciating the crooks of our wives' necks. AKA don't fuck it up. Drink that shit in like forbidden Gatorade. Also, make sure you got plenty of wood, because you might need to keep that fire going all night. Also, there's no such thing as werewolves.
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