–The gypsy chihuahua Sylvia regarded the sweating man who sat before her in the small enclosed wagon that served as her home. “So, Mr. Talbot,” inquired the chihuahua, “what can I do for you?” The question was at best a formality as the gypsy already knew, just as she knew all things that were to come.
“Great gypsy,” said a very anxious Lawrence Talbot, “I know that you have awesome powers!”
“This is true,” responded the petite chihuahua, looking modestly at her paw but pleased at the compliment. “Please continue…”
“Gypsy, I bear the mark of the werewolf!–I cannot endure another cycle!–Free me, I beg you, of this curse!”
“What you ask requires powerful magic,” cautioned the gypsy, “and is not without its price!”
“No price is too great, Gypsy!,” assured the anguished Lawrence Talbot. “Hurry, I beg you, before the moon rises!”
“As you wish, then,” proclaimed the gypsy, working herself into a trance-like state and raising her saxophone. Her mouth then gaped open and she uttered the following spell, each verse punctuated by bluesy licks on her saxophone:
“When moons shall rise,/ and bring you dread/ take you my curse/I yours instead!”
The mysterious gypsy recovered from her trance as Lawrence Talbot jolted and twitched as if in a seizure. He then was still, opened his eyes, and exulted “I’m free, gypsy woman!–Your remarkable spell has freed me of this curse at last!–But suddenly I understand all mysteries, and can foresee the future!”
“And the down side, is?,” asked Sylvia with a dismissive wave of her paw. “So go take your new powers and make a fortune in the stock market, or perhaps at the racetrack!”
His eyes opened, the former Wolfman enthusiastically shook the gypsy’s paw. “You’ve given me a new life, Sylvia!,” he proclaimed. “I can never thank you enough!”
“Which doesn’t mean that you should stop trying,” counseled the gypsy. Nodding his head, the reborn man left the small wagon and vanished into the night.
As the moon rose, the gypsy began a startling transformation into a were-chihuahua, a snarling beast with menacing claws and savage teeth. A slight smile crossed the face of the transformed gypsy. “What is one man’s curse is another’s fondest dream!,” she observed before flinging herself into the night to begin the first of many successful hunts…
(…with thanks to Lon Chaney and John Dilworth!)
–There are great imponderable furry questions, such as who would win a race between Speedy Gonzales and the Road Runner?–The answer to that one is moot, since Speedy Gonzales would these days be judged politically incorrect, and possibly deported to Mexico as an illegal alien. The question that we consider here is who would win a fight between Dracula and a Werewolf.
FOXSYLVANIA 
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