It’s not every day you come across a former partner who now takes the form of a werewolf.
The usual conversation topics normally associated with running into an ex-girlfriend down the street in the local convenience store don’t seem to quite cut it when they are standing in front of you on all fours, sporting grey bedraggled hair over their entire body, wearing a snarl instead of a smile and now reside as a beast of the underworld and not down the road from Sam’s Chippy off the High Street.
“So, how’s things,” Harold asked politely, “apart from the obvious of course.”
“This whole werewolf thing gets a bit tiresome after a while. How have you been,” Mary asked.
“Good.
“You can ask you know?
“Ask what?
“You know damn well what. Go on ask me.
“Ok, why didn’t you meet me for that drink at the Inn that night? What did I do wrong?
“I had assumed you would ask about the werewolf thing first, not why I stood you up.
“Oh that.
“See that’s whey we didn’t work, your complete ignorance of the plainly obvious.