The Afflicted
The gypsy chihuahua Sylvia regarded her unsolicited visitor steadily with expressive dark eyes. "And so, Mr. Talbot," she asked, "what brings you to me?"
Lawrence Talbot looked to the small canine before him, aware of her awesome reputation and unparalleled familiarity with the occult. "Madame Sylvia, only you can help me," he begged. "Break me of the terrible spell which holds me captive! When the moon is full, I turn into a werewolf!"
"So, what's the problem?," responded Sylvia dismissively with a flick of her paw.
"Gypsy, I don't wish to kill again! I can't go through another cycle. If you can't break this spell, I only want to die!"
"What you ask of me requires a powerful spell indeed!," lectured Sylvia. "More powerful than that which I cast upon the stupid one!"
"You mean G.W. Bush?," questioned Talbot.
"No!," huffed Sylvia. "I cast spells, not perform miracles! The stupid one I refer to lived in Nowhere."
"Gypsy, please work your magic!," pleaded Larry Talbot.
"Very well!," shrugged Sylvia, picking up her saxophone. She intoned the following incantation, each verse followed by a bluesy riff on her sax:
When moons shall rise,
And bring you dread,
Take you my power,
I yours instead!
Lawrence Talbot fell to the floor, and buried his face in his hands. "The curse...it's gone!, he exalted. "But now I have your powers...and I can see into the future!"
"So, go and make yourself a fortune at the race track! Or perhaps the stock market," suggested Sylvia impatiently.
"I will...thank you, great gypsy!," exclaimed Larry Talbot as he raced from Sylvia's humble abode into the night.
The gypsy transformed into a were-chihuahua, casting a giant shadow in the light of her cooking fire. "What is to one a curse is to another their fondest wish," mused Sylvia, bearing her now awesome teeth.
She winked at her observers. "Draw blood!," she said, flinging herself from her wagon to begin the first of many successful hunts...