While we’re answering questions from the audience, you might ask, if neither I nor my assistants knew what a werewolf looked like, how I knew the disguises were inadequate? Simple. I deduced the fact after one look at real werewolves. That and the Woof Writers told me so. Didn’t I tell you they were great folks? Of course, they let us sweat for a while before admitting that they knew we were poorly disguised humans all along, but I myself tend to credit that to their dubious sense of humor. It’s Massha who insists it was blatant sadism. Of course, she was the one who had to eat a bone before they acknowledged the joke.
Anyway, I was talking about the Woof Writers. It was interesting in that I had never had much opportunity to watch a husband-wife team in action before (my parents don’t count). The closest thing to the phenomenon I had witnessed was the brother-sister team of Tananda and Chumley, but they spent most of their conversational time trying to “one-down” each other.
The Woof Writers, in contrast, seemed to take turns playing “crazy partner-sane partner.” They never asked my opinion, but I felt that she was much better at playing the crazy than he. He was so good at playing the straight that when he did slip into crazy mode, it always came as a surprise.
“Really, dear,” Idnew was saying to Massha, “wouldn’t you like to slip out of that ridiculous disguise into something more comfortable? A werewolf with only two breasts looks so silly.”
“Idnew,” her husband said sternly, “you’re making our guests uncomfortable. Not everyone feels as easy about discussing their bodies as you do.”