I hate fog.

When fog rolls in, the nasties roll out and I always end up fighting with some reject from hell that wants either to kill me and eat me or mess me up so bad that my girlfriend will leave me for being too ugly.

Tonight is one of those foggy nights that tap dances trouble on a wet sidewalk to telegraph that death is on the prowl. The street lamps chase the stalking shadows that move between the tumbledown buildings. A full moon casts a silvery topglow over everything, cutting the contrast and making it hard to see.

A sudden noise catches my attention from my left and a fleeting shadow moves tenatively just inside my peripheral vision. I quickly cross the street to intercept, nightstick at the ready. When it moves again, I move as well and swing hard, smashing it a crushing blow to the chest. It falls hard.

I am dismayed by what I see; a clean cut college kid in a heap, gasping at my feet.

Blasted frat pledges!

There’s real danger afoot. I don’’t need this.

Off in the fog, a wolf howls.

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