Curse of the Jer-Wolf



"Remind me to talk to Bob about our gigs," Mike groaned.

"Check," Reggie said.

Jerry just nodded. Mike wasn't too happy with some of the el cheapo gigs Bob put the Discophonics on. Bob was incredibly cheap, and usually spent more money on the Monkees and the Mallards. Jerry didn't care about it one way or the other, since he didn't consider himself that great a singer to begin with, but Mike and Reggie didn't think it was fair that the Monkees and the Mallards got to play huge arenas (so did the Discophonics, but that was only if the Monkees and the Mallards were on the bill as well), and the Discophonics (on their own) got the small potato gigs, like this one. They were at a carnival, drumming up some publicity for their latest album. Mike and Reggie didn't think it was fair to Jerry, but he never seemed to mind the small potato gigs. Once they were done with their set, they climbed off the bandstand and started to look around the carnival.

"This is one of those seedy things, isn't it?" Reggie asked.

"You ain't kiddin'," Mike said. "I've seen seedy carnivals before, but this one's sendin' my sixth sense reelin'."

"That's bad?" Jerry asked.

"No, not necessarily," Mike said. "It's just creepy."

"Yeah, and the midway games are nothing but shams," Reggie said.

"Hey, I know," Jerry said. "Steel pier, Atlantic City. Been there, done that, complete rip off."

"A good waste of time and money," Mike said.

"You think that about midway games," a creepy sounding voice asked. The three boys stopped in their tracks. "But what about attractions?"

Mike looked over his shoulder and saw a fortune teller, standing in the doorway of her tent. His sixth sense began to act a little weird.

"Would you boys be interested in your fortunes?" the fortune teller asked.

"It depends," Reggie said. "Are you for real?"

"Yeah, lady, how do we know this isn't a sham?" Jerry asked.

"I wouldn't waste my money," Mike said, trying to get a good fix on the lady. He finally gave up, and turned to Reggie and Jerry. "Come on, guys, let's get out of here."

Reggie and Jerry nodded, and they walked off. The fortune teller went back into her tent and sat down in a chair, drumming her fingers on her crystal ball.

"They'll be back," she said, dropping the fake gypsy accent, and using her real, Brooklyn, voice. "They always come back."

The Discophonics walked around the midway for awhile. Mike couldn't shake the feeling he got from the fortune teller. He was dying to go back to the tent.

"Guys, I want to check out this fortune teller," he said. "Who knows? Maybe she'll be good for a laugh."

"Okay sure," Reggie said. "And if she is, I've got a bridge in Brooklyn to sell ya."

Jerry started laughing, but the boys went back to the fortune teller anyway. The three of them stepped inside the tent.

"I knew you'd be back," the fortune teller said, using that gypsy accent. "You want your fortunes told, I take it."

"Not necessarily," Mike said. "Reg, Jer, cut out. I'd like a little privacy."

"Awww," Jerry groaned. "Can't we see what your fortune is, Mike?"

"Yeah," Reggie said.

"Out," Mike replied.

Reggie and Jerry grumbled and started to leave. The two of them didn't get farther than the doorway. Mike knew they were still standing there. He groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Out! All the way out!" he shouted, without even having to turn around!

"He's no fun," Jerry said.

"Come on," Reggie said. "Let's go gorge on grease and sugar."

Jerry and Reggie left to find a concession stand or something along those lines.

"So you care to have your fortune told?" the fortune teller asked.

"Cut the cute stuff. I know you're from the Other Realm."

"How'd you know that?" the fortune teller asked, dropping the gypsy accent.

"I can smell witches a mile away, and I oughta know a witch when I see one, ‘cause I'm part witch."

"Well, there goes the neighborhood. Your pals, are they part witch, too?"

"Nah, they're one hundred percent mortal. At least Reggie is. I'm not so sure about Jerry, though. But enough of that. Are you one of those who can see the future?"

"Yeah, I can see the future. Can't you?"

"Nah, I can only read minds."

"Oh, a mind reader, huh? Yeah, I've seen all kinds of witches with special psyches. Some can read minds, some can see the future . . . . . yeah."

"You sure you can see the future?"

"Positive."

"Wait here."

Mike stood up, and walked out of the tent. He knew the fortune teller was a witch, but he had a very distinct feeling she couldn't tell the future from an English muffin. He found Reggie and Jerry standing around, stuffing their faces. Reggie was pulling cotton candy off a stick and Jerry was chowing down on a burger and some fries.

"So how's the food?" Mike asked.

"Lousy," Jerry said. "I have a feeling this burger's been sitting under a heat lamp all day. Bleah."

"Yeah, well," Mike said. "Come back to the fortune teller's tent with me."

"Why?" Reggie asked.

"I want to see somethin', now come on."

Jerry and Reggie shrugged, trashed the food, and followed Mike back to the fortune teller's tent. The three of them walked inside, and Mike indicated Jerry to sit down.

"Okay," he said. "Predict his future."

"All right," the fortune teller said, going back to her gypsy accent. She sat down and waved her hands around a crystal ball (which lit up by stepping on a button on the floor, Mike saw through his sixth sense).

"I see . . . . . I see . . . ." she said. Jerry peered over the ball himself and got a good look.

"You know what I see through this crystal ball?" he asked.

"No, what?" the fortune teller asked.

"My reflection."

Reggie began to laugh. The fortune teller threw him a dirty look, and continued her act.

"Let's see . . . ." she said. "Ahh, here we are. Oooh, my crystal tells me you are a disc jockey. You were born and raised in Philadelphia, you like oldies music, and you're fluent in Italian . . . . . . wait, something's coming to me. You are also quite the dancer, actor, and singer. Oh, wait, there's something else. Ooohh, you are a wolf. A Casanova of sorts. You have many girlfriends."

"Hmmm," Jerry said. "Go on. Please go on."

"Your future is filled with attractive young women. My advice to you, young man, head for the French Riviera. You'll find romance beyond your wildest dreams. The mind of a single man is easy to read."

"Pretty good," Jerry said, reaching under the table. He pulled out a copy of Teen Scene magazine, from the previous year. One that featured an article about Jerry, long before he even met Linda. All the information that the fortune teller had said was in the magazine, right up to the French Riviera. Jerry opened the magazine and read some of it.

"The dynamic Jerry Blavat's future plans include more movies at the Screen Gems studio," he read. "A TV dance show, and heading to the French Riviera to check out the girls. Next time, try using a more recent teen magazine."

Reggie was practically rolling on the floor laughing. Mike hadn't counted on Jerry figuring out the whole thing, and he was impressed.

"How'd you know?" he asked.

"I saw the magazine in the crystal ball," Jerry said. "You might want to change the light bulb in that thing."

Of course, there was a line outside the tent. Many a patron began talking among themselves, shocked. They had all believed this fortune teller was for-real, not some fake who used an outdated teen magazine to predict the future! They all left. The fortune teller wasn't too happy. She stood up, and gave Jerry one killer Look.

"Uhh, Jer," Mike said. "Maybe you shouldn't have said anythin'."

"Why?" Jerry asked.

"She's a witch."

"She's a witch? Oh you gotta be kidding me! If she was any kind of witch at all, she'd be able to predict the future!"

"That does it!" the fortune teller shouted, going back to her Brooklyn dialect. "I'm not gonna make any money out of this town thanks to you and your big mouth!"

"Yeah well, that's the way the crystal ball bounces, baby," Jerry said.

"It's your fault," the fortune teller said, and she picked up a box that was sitting on a shelf inside the tent. "I'll show you."

"What are you gonna do to me? Cast a spell? For a witch that can't predict the future, this oughta be good."

"Jerry, don't antagonize her," Mike said. "I'm pickin' up these really weird vibes."

"What's she gonna do?" Jerry asked. "Turn me into a toad? It is to laugh."

"A toad is to good for the likes of you," the fortune teller said, and opened her box. Some kind of smoke came out of it and began to wind itself around Jerry. "True, that magazine may have been a little out of date, but you were a young wolf once. Every night when the moon is out, a wolf you will become. Standing in the moonlight, you will become a wolf. Then see how many laughs you have, pal!"

The mist sucked itself back into the box. Jerry merely yawned.

"Oh no," he said, sarcastically. "I've been cursed. Oh whatever will I do? Puh-leeze."

"Now all three of ya get outta here before I blast ya outta here!" the fortune teller shouted.

Mike, Reggie, and Jerry left, and quickly. Reggie and Jerry began laughing their heads off about the whole thing.

"It is to laugh!" Reggie shouted. "She cursed you!"

"Yeah, like when the moon comes out tonight, I'm gonna be a were wolf," Jerry shouted, and began a mock howl. "Ooowwwooooo!"

That set Reggie off. He was laughing so hard his eyes began to water. Then he started howling, too. Both Reggie and Jerry were howling and laughing at the same time, as if this was the biggest joke of the century. Mike didn't see t he humor in it at all.

"I don't think that's so funny," he said.

"Aw come on, Mike," Reggie said. "Lighten up."

"Yeah, she couldn't have been much of a witch," Jerry said. "I mean, she couldn't even see the future."

"Neither can I," Mike said. "Doesn't that tell you somethin'?"

"It tells me you can't believe everything you hear about witches," Jerry said. "Come on. We've got another set to do."

The Discophonics headed for the bandstand. They were supposed to do a couple of songs during a fireworks display, and it was already starting to get dark. Mike was getting that uneasy feeling again, but decided not to worry about it. Yet. The Discophonics did their thing, with the fireworks going off. The crowd loved it. After a couple of bows, the Discophonics got off stage, and headed towards the parking area.

"Boy am I glad that's over," Reggie said.

"You're tellin' me," Mike said. "Come on, let's get out of here before the moon comes up."

"Afraid I'll turn into a were wolf in the car?" Jerry teased.

"Where's my supply of silver bullets?" Reggie asked. Both of them started laughing again. Mike rolled his eyes.

"Guys, come on," he said. "That lady was definitely a witch. Trust me, I can tell these things."

"Okay, but if she did, how do you know this curse will work?" Jerry asked.

Mike stopped for a minute. He never thought of that. In all honesty, he thought it was a bunch of malarkey himself!

"You have a point there," he said. "Yeah, you're right, Jer. It probably was just a hoax, anyway. Like her fortune tellin'."

Reggie started laughing at that. The boys began howling like werewolves then, although Jerry sounded like he was hamming it up a little.

"Hey, that's pretty good, Jer," Reggie said.

"Yeah, thanks," Jerry said with a laugh.

"Yeah, you sound like a real wolf," Mike replied. "Come on. Let's go."

The boys climbed into Mike's car, and were off. Jerry began to feel strange on the ride home, however. He got this funny feeling in his stomach, but he couldn't really tell what it was, exactly. He figured it was the carnival food. At any rate, Mike dropped him off at Hank's house, and then took off again. Jerry walked inside, and headed directly for the kitchen.

"So how was the carnival?" Linda asked.

"We met a phony fortune teller after the gig," Jerry said, popping a couple of antacids in his mouth. "She put a curse on me."

"A curse?" Hank asked. "Oh come on."

"Yeah, crazy, isn't it?" Jerry asked. "Apparently, if I'm standing in the light of the moon, I turn into a werewolf."

"You gotta be kidding."

"Well, Cap, that's what the curse is. Personally, I think her magic is as phony as her fortune telling."

"Then what's with the antacids?"

"My guess would be the carnival food."

Hank shrugged and went back to reading the news paper. Linda was a little confused, but shook her head about it. They didn't hear another word about the curse until about midnight. Jerry was having some slight trouble sleeping. He kept hearing howling outside. He was surprised Linda could sleep through it. She was out like a light. Jerry figured all the howling was a neighbor's dog, or something like that. He got up, opened the window, and looked around outside, trying to see if there was a dog or something like that outside. The clouds suddenly cleared up, which left Jerry in direct path of the full moon. That funny feeling in his stomach grew worse then. He felt incredibly strange. He groaned, grabbed his stomach, and fell to his knees. He tried to get up, but he couldn't. It was like someone wanted him to stay on his hands and knees. What was happening was the strangest thing. Jerry's entire body went through some kind of metamorphosis. His arms and legs slowly became paws, and his face slowly morphed into a dog-like appearance. His ears grew larger, and pointed, and his eyes completely reshaped themselves, and turned yellow. Dark reddish-brown fur covered his body. He let out a scream, but it sounded more like a howl. A wolf howl.

There was a slight difference in the curse that the fortune teller had placed on Jerry. He hadn't turned into a werewolf at all. He had turned into a real wolf! And furthermore, Jerry didn't even realize what was going on in this form. He just jumped out the open window, and tore across the Stanley's backyard. Since he still had his clothes on, he started ripping them apart with his teeth, growling as he did. Linda woke up at the sound of some howling, stood up, and walked over towards the window. She looked, and saw a shadow of some kind running around the yard. She gave it a strange look, and then went over to the desk drawer, and pulled out a flashlight. She turned it on, and shined it on the shadow. Then she screamed and dropped the flashlight on the floor.

"MOTHER! DADDY!" she screamed. "THERE'S A WOLF IN THE BACKYARD!"

Of course, the yelling brought in Hank and Christine. Hank picked up the flashlight and shined it in the backyard.

"Good grief!" he shouted. "That's a wolf, all right!"

"Where did it come from?" Christine asked.

"My guess the woods," Hank said. "You know there's a wooded area around here. I have to say, I don't think I ever saw a wolf that was that dark reddish-brown color."

"Yeah, that's almost exactly Jerry's hair color," Linda said. "Give or take a few shades of brown."

"Well, what are we going to do about that wolf?" Christine asked. "And what the heck is it doing?"

"Looks like it got on someone's clothesline," Hank said. "I'll go call an animal control specialist."

Hank went down the stairs and picked up the phone. Linda and Christine continued to watch the wolf. Once he was finished tearing off the clothes, he jumped over the fence and took off. Hank returned moments later.

"He just took off," Christine said. "I don't think we'll find him now."

"Well, you two better get back to bed," Hank said. "I'll tell the animal control people he ran off right after I called them when they get here."

"Okay," Linda said, and closed the window.

"Incidentally, what happened to Jerry?" Christine asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Linda said. "He probably got up or something."

"Worry about it later," Hank said. "Just go back to bed."

Linda and Christine shrugged, and went back to bed. Hank wasn't worried about Jerry. He figured his son-in-law was down in the basement recording something or another. Little did he know his son-in-law was the wolf that was in the backyard. At that time, Jerry was wandering around Los Angeles, scouting the city in wolf form. Nobody else was around to see him. He got out of the city after awhile, and began to check out some of the farm lands. He came up to a farm which he saw was loaded with sheep. His animal instincts took over. Jerry couldn't use his human instincts, since his human form had sort of blacked out. He was all animal now. He crawled underneath the fence. One of the sheep woke up, and began to go completely crazy. The other sheep woke up as well, and they began running around the pen, bleating, "baa"-ing, what have ya. Needless to say, Jerry was creating quite a ruckus. The owner of the farm, John Miller, came outside just then.

"What's going on out here?!" he shouted.

Mr. Miller ran out to the sheep pen, but he was a little too late for one of the sheep. Once Jerry saw him coming, he squeezed under the fence, and ran off. Mr. Miller saw him go, and he wasn't too pleased.

"A wolf," he said. "Oh wonderful. That's just great."

Mr. Miller inspected the sheep pen, and saw a tuft of fur stuck on the fence. He took it off, and inspected it.

"I've seen wolves before," he said. "But none of them were ever this dark reddish-brown color."

Mr. Miller took the piece of fur inside, and headed back to bed. He knew who he could turn to in order to comply information he wanted, but it would have to wait until morning. Jerry, in the meantime, had settled on a patch of grass near the farm. He curled up and went to sleep, and staid there until morning. Imagine his surprise when morning broke, and the first thing he heard was the sound of a rooster crowing! Jerry, having turned back into a human the minute the moon went down, felt terrible. He sat up and held his hand to his head, wondering what it was exactly that happened. He figured it was some kind of crazy nightmare.

"Oh man," he groaned. "What a night. What a nightmare!"

Jerry then realized that he was outside, and furthermore, wearing absolutely nothing. At that moment, he knew what happened the night before wasn't a dream.

"Oh my god," he said. "She did it. She actually did it! I've been cursed! I've got to call Mike!"

Jerry shot to his feet, and started towards the city, but realized something.

"Okay, first of all, I'd better find some clothes or else I'll get arrested for indecent exposure," he said.

Luckily, Jerry was close enough to the farm, and he noticed the clothesline. There were towels hanging from it. No one was around, so Jerry snuck over as fast as he could, yanked a towel off the clothesline, and tied it around his waist, making sure the knot would hold. Then he ran for the city and the nearest payphone. Lucky for him, he managed to find some loose change on the sidewalk. He jammed the coins into the phone and dialed Mike's number. It was about five thirty in the morning, and Mike was extremely groggy.

"What?" he asked once he picked up the phone.

"Mike, it's me," Jerry said.

"Oh. Hi, Jer. Am I late for work or somethin'?"

"No, I . . . ."

"Oh good. ‘Cause it feels like minus one in the mornin'. See you in a few hours."

"Mike, don't hang up! I haven't told you where I'm calling from."

"My guess would be Cap's house."

"No. A payphone."

"A payphone?"

That woke Mike up a little. He sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Whattaya payphone?" he asked. "What are you doin' at a payphone this early?!"

"You know that supposed curse that fortune teller put on me?" Jerry asked. "The one Reggie and I made fun of?"

"Yeah?" Mike already had a pretty good idea what Jerry was going to say next. His sixth sense began to twinge slightly.

"Well, it happened," Jerry said. "But she didn't turn me into a werewolf. She told me into a real wolf!"

"What?!"

"No kidding, Mike! I heard howling outside last night, I opened the window to take a look around, and next thing I know I'm growing fur and fangs, and attacking a farm!"

"Sounds a little farfetched. Are you sure?"

"Mike, I woke up outside the farm this morning. I'm telling you this curse is for real!"

"I don't know, Jer . . . ."

"I am not kidding, Mike!"

"Okay, where are you?"

Jerry looked out of the phone booth, and told Mike the street corner he was on. Mike nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Stay there. I'll come get you."

Mike stood up, and snapped his fingers. Within seconds, he was wearing his usual clothes, and started heading out the door. Phyllis leaned up and stared at him.

"Where are you going this early?" she asked.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Mike said, and left.

It took Mike twenty minutes, but he arrived at the phone booth on the corner. He got out of the car and knocked.

"Okay, come on outta there," he said. Jerry sheepishly opened the door. Mike looked at him and clicked his tongue against his teeth.

"You'd better be glad it's too early for the cops," he said. "At least you've got that towel."

"I know," Jerry said. "Zap me some clothes or something, please!"

Mike snapped his fingers, and Jerry appeared in some regular clothes. Then the two of them drove to a nearby diner, known to be open twenty-four hours in order to get some breakfast. Mike wanted every detail of the night before, and Jerry filled him in.

"I'm not exactly sure what I was doing," Jerry said. "It was like the animal in me began to take over, and the person was shut out the minute I morphed. I'm not sure."

"What farm where you at?" Mike asked.

"I don't know, man. I don't remember much of what happened! All I know is that I morphed the minute I saw the moon, jumped out the window, tore my clothes to pieces, ran off, crawled under a fence, chased around some sheep . . . . . I think I may have killed one, I got this weird taste in my mouth."

"Probably wool. Or raw sheep."

"Ooh!"

Jerry immediately felt sick to his stomach. Mike wished he hadn't said that, but there was nothing he could do about it.

"Okay, then what?" he asked.

"Somebody started coming, and I ran off," Jerry said. "Or crawled off, let's say. I crawled under the fence. Then I think I went back to sleep."

"Wow. What a night. You know, at first, I thought this curse was just a bunch of bologna, but in the back of my mind, my sixth sense began actin' crazy on me."

"What can we do about it?"

Mike was about to say something, when Mr. Miller entered the diner, and walked up to Mike and Jerry.

"Mike Nesmith?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's me," Mike said. "Who are you?"

"My name's John Miller. I have a farm a little ways from here. I wanted to ask you a favor."

"Okay."

"I have a thirteen-year-old daughter, who's a fan of the Monkees and the Mallards, and recently, she told me about an article she read in one of those teen magazines. It said you were half witch and had the ability to talk to animals. Is that true?"

"Uh huh, that's right."

"Well, last night I found a wolf in my yard, spooking my sheep. He got one of them, and now my sheep are completely spooked. I was wondering if you'd talk to them. You know, calm them down a little."

Jerry choked on his coffee. Mike leaned over and whacked him on the back. Mr. Miller just gave him a confused look.

"He's always doin' things a little too fast," Mike said. "Uhh, are you sure it was a wolf?"

"Positive," Mr. Miller said. He pulled the tuft of fur out of his pocket and handed it to Mike. "He left this on the fence. Tell me what you make of it."

"Well, I'd say it was wolf fur," Mike said, looking at the tuft.

"You know it's strange," Mr. Miller said, suddenly looking at Jerry. "But that piece of fur is the exact same dark reddish-brown color as your friend here, Mr. Nesmith."

"Uhhh . . . . ." Jerry stammered, a little nervously.

"You have a point there," Mike said. "Must be a new breed or somethin'. I mean, I've got black hair, and I've seen wolves with the same shade of black."

"Yes, I suppose that's true."

"What'd you think? Jerry was a werewolf or somethin' like that?"

"You never know, Mr. Nesmith. Are you going to come to my farm and talk to my sheep or not?"

"Yeah, okay. I'll speak with your sheep. Jerry, you stay here."

"How come?" Jerry asked.

"It's a farm, there may be horses there," Mike replied.

"Right."

Mike and Mr. Miller left. Once they got to the farm, Mike noticed all the sheep were cowering in the corner, "baa"-ing. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and turned to Mr. Miller.

"You weren't kiddin'," he said. "Okay, let me see what I can do."

Mike climbed into the pen and approached the sheep. None of them would come forward.

"Okay, sheep," he said. "I need a volunteer to come over here and tell me what happened."

"A woooolf," one of the sheep bleated (of course, Mike was the only one who could understand it).

"What kind of a wolf?"

"A big baaaaad wolf!"

"He'll be baaaaaack," another sheep said.

"Now tell me," Mike said. "Was this wolf a dark reddish-brown color?"

"Yeeees," another sheep bleated.

"He won't be back," Mike said. "I promise. Trust me."

"Okaaaay," the first sheep bleated.

"Okay, now break it up. Spread out."

The sheep "baa"-ed, and spread out around the pen. Mike climbed over the fence and turned to Mr. Miller.

"I think that solves your sheep problem," he said. "And don't worry about that wolf. I'll do what I can to keep him away from your sheep."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Nesmith," Mr. Miller said. "But won't that wolf just attack you if you try to talk to it?"

"I don't know, exactly, but I do know wolves rarely attack humans. It depends."

Mr. Miller nodded. Mike headed back to the city, and to the diner. Jerry was still there, feeling nervous.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"Next time there's a full moon, you're not goin' out at night," Mike said.

"How do you know this only happens during a full moon?"

"I've seen every werewolf picture ever made. It's always durin' the full moon, and last night was a full moon. We aren't scheduled for another one for quite some time."

"I don't know, Mike . . . ."

"What are you so worried about? It's only durin' the full moon, so there's nothin' to worry about!"

Jerry wasn't so sure. Mike seemed confident enough, but Jerry was still uneasy about the entire thing. At any rate, he and Mike headed for Screen Gems for another hard days work, of sitting around, doing nothing, except watch Mike zap movie scripts. Micky wanted to know how the carnival was.

"Rotten," Mike said. "The food was lousy, the attractions were lousy, and I wasted good money on a phony fortune teller."

"Yeah, one I had to antagonize," Jerry said.

"What happened?" Micky asked.

"Nothin'," Mike said. "Absolutely nothin'. Jerry just got this chick mad, that's all."

"Oh."

Micky walked off then. Jerry gave Mike a confused Look.

"Why didn't you tell him?" he asked.

"I didn't want him tellin' his werewolf stories," Mike said. "Besides, there's no sense worryin' everybody."

Jerry didn't say much after that. He just continued leafing through the script. At any rate, once quitting time came around, Jerry went back to Hank's. Christine and Linda were about ready to give him the third degree.

"And where were you all night?" Linda asked, the minute he stepped inside.

"Uhhh . . . ." Jerry stammered. "I went out for a walk."

"At midnight?" Christine asked.

"I needed some air," Jerry said.

"Why didn't you just open the window?" Linda asked.

"Well, I did. I mean, well, I don't really have a good excuse, Linda. Let's just say I went out and I staid out all night."

"Well, where were you?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Christine and Linda let that one go. They just let Jerry have his personal secret, and that was that. Nobody said much for the rest of the evening, anyway. Midnight rolled around. Linda was out like a light, as usual, but Jerry couldn't get to sleep again. He got up, and snuck out of the room. He had the icky feeling that he was going to turn into a wolf again, and this time, he wanted to be out of the house. He ran down the stairs, and out the door. The minute he stepped outside, he began to morph, although the moon wasn't completely full. Once more, he began tearing his clothes to shreds, howling, that sort of thing. He ran for the woods, and into another farm. It wasn't the Millers, though. This farm belong to an older man, Cliff Johnson. The cows and sheep were going crazy the minute they saw Jerry. The noise woke up Mrs. Johnson, who alerted her husband.

"Cliff, there's a wolf out there!" she shouted. "Get your shotgun!"

"All right, all right," Mr. Johnson said, and he got up. He went down the stairs and retrieved a gun from the mantle. Then he walked outside, and over to the barn. He saw Jerry, and aimed his gun. He fired, but missed by a mile. Jerry was taken by surprise, and darted back towards the city.

As Jerry was running for the city, the sky got cloudy and blocked the moon. Once that happened, Jerry morphed back into human form, much to his relief. He nearly fell flat on his face, though.

"Oh good grief," he said, leaning up. "Well, now I know I don't change by the light of a full moon. I change by the light of any moon!"

The clouds cleared again, and once one little piece of the moon was visible, Jerry started to morph, and this time, Mr. Johnson witnessed the change right there! Of course, he thought he was just seeing things.

"I need to get more sleep," he said. "Either that or wear my glasses every time I go out."

Mr. Johnson gave up the wolf hunt, and went back to bed. Jerry ran back to Hank's house, and sat on the front stoop. The clouds covered the moon then, and Jerry morphed back to normal. Quickly, he gathered up his shredded clothes, and dashed inside the house as fast as he could. Once he was inside, he crept up the stairs, put some clothes on, and stashed the torn ones in the closet. Then he climbed back into bed, and closed his eyes. It was like he never left. Linda shifted her position, smacking Jerry in the face with her hand.

"Ow," he groaned.

"Oh, sorry," Linda said, waking up. "A minute ago, you were gone."

"I had to get up and stretch. I was feeling a little restless."

"Oh."

Linda went back to sleep and left it at that. Jerry staid awake the rest of the night. The entire ordeal was starting to creep him out. The next morning, he headed into Screen Gems, groggy and disheveled. Mike cast him a worried glance.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Anyone around?" Jerry asked. He could barely see straight. Mike looked around.

"No," he said.

"It happened again last night," Jerry said.

"But there wasn't a full moon last night."

"I know. I change when I'm in any moonlight. Lucky for me last night was cloudy, and I managed to get home before I did some damage."

"Okay, I think we'd better go find that fortune teller and get her to lift this curse."

"Curse?" Reggie asked, coming over. "What are you guys talking about? That supposed curse that fortune teller put on Jerry?"

"I think we oughta tell him," Jerry said.

"You're right," Mike said. "Reg, that supposed curse that fortune teller placed on Jerry turned out to be a real one."

"Get outta here!" Reggie shouted.

"No joke. For two nights in a row, Jerry has turned into a wolf."

"You mean a werewolf."

"No, a regular wolf. Sheep stealin', farm terrorizin', that sort of thing. Four legs, fur, and fangs."

"Whoa."

"We were just about to go back to that carnival and find that fortune teller."

"I'll go with you."

Mike, Reggie, and Jerry walked out of Screen Gems, and headed to the fairgrounds, where that carnival was. To their complete shock, they had packed up and moved on.

"Oh no!" Jerry shouted.

"Great, just great," Reggie asked. "Now what?"

"I don't know," Mike said. "I don't know that fortune teller's name. If I did, I'd be able to find her, but I don't."

"Isn't there any way to find her?" Jerry asked.

"I could look up fortune tellers in the ORCD," Mike said. "But who knows how long that's gonna take."

"I'm desperate, Mike," Jerry said. "Do it."

"All right," Mike said, with a shrug. "But I don't expect any results for a few days."

"No problem. I'll just stay inside!"

Reggie just stood there, not knowing what to do. The three of them went to Mike's house to check out the Other Realm Computer Database. Mike began typing "fortune tellers" in the search box, and then pushed the mouse button. He got a very long list of every fortune teller that ever came out of the Other Realm.

"Great," he groaned. "Jerry, like I said, this could take awhile."

"Whatever it takes," Jerry said. "In the meantime, better close the curtains in case it starts to get dark early."

"Yeah," Mike said. "After what's been happenin', I don't think I want to let you out of my sight!"

Reggie was only slightly confused. He still had to get used to the fact Mike was half witch, and anything that could possibly happen to Mike and Jerry usually did happen. Nighttime rolled around. Mike was still sitting at the computer. Reggie and Jerry had fallen asleep on the couch. Phyllis walked down the stairs, and walked into the den.

"Mike?" she asked. "What are you doing?"

"Surfin'," Mike said, eyes never leaving the computer screen, and fingers never leaving the keyboard.

"You're still at it? I hope you're not becoming one of those Internet junkies."

"This isn't the Internet, Phyllis. This is the ORCD."

"What are you doing there?"

"Never you mind."

"Well, it's nearly midnight. Don't you think you should get to bed?"

"Nah, it's okay. Bob doesn't mind anymore if we don't show up for work. As long as we call in."

"Uh huh. Any reason why the curtains are closed?"

"I like 'em closed."

"Well I don't."

Mike didn't pay any attention to Phyllis. He just continued to work. Phyllis walked over to the windows, and opened the curtains. Then she walked upstairs and went back to bed. Mike didn't realize what she did until it was too late. The moonlight shot through the window, and hit Jerry. Jerry woke up from a sound sleep, and shot to his feet.

"MIIIIIIKE!" he screamed.

"I know, I know," Mike said, racing for the curtain.

"What's going on?" Reggie asked, awakened by the screaming.

"Oh, Phyllis opened the curtains," Mike said. He was about to close them when he stopped. He turned around and looked at Jerry, who was transforming right in front of his and Reggie's eyes. He watched intently.

"What are you waiting for, Mike?!" Reggie shouted. "Close the curtains!"

Mike just stood there, watching Jerry transform. It was the strangest thing he had ever seen in his entire life. The minute Jerry transformed fully, he let out a howl. Mike and Reggie just stared at him. Jerry sort of arched his back and began growling then. Mike studied him carefully.

"Jerry, are you in there?" Mike asked.

Jerry just growled. Mike couldn't make any English out of it. He tried to break into Jerry's thoughts, but he couldn't penetrate anything.

"We've lost him," he said. "He's all animal. He probably won't even remember we're his friends."

Mike was right about that. Jerry stood there, tensed up, growling at Mike and Reggie. The two of them stood there like statues, not really thinking. Jerry went back to what he usually did once he changed from man to wolf: tearing at his clothes, ripping them to shreds. Mike found the entire thing fascinating. Before Jerry could make dishrags out of his clothes, Mike zapped him, and he stopped tearing. He turned towards Mike and Reggie again, and walked towards them, growling, fangs in plain view.

"Mike, close the curtain," Reggie said. "NOW!"

Mike snapped his fingers, and the curtains closed. Once the moonlight was blocked off, Jerry morphed back into a human. Once he was back to normal, he collapsed onto the ground. Mike and Reggie pulled him off the floor, and over to the couch. He was still conscious, just a little disoriented.

"Why didn't you close the curtains when I first started to change?" he asked.

"I wanted to see it happen," Mike said. "You know, see how it was done. Maybe that'll help us."

"Does it?" Reggie asked.

"Diddly," Mike replied. "Don't worry, Jer. I'll figure somethin' out."

"I really hope so," Jerry said. "Christine's beginning to wonder about my clothes."

"I thought you stashed the torn ones in the closet."

"I do. She found them."

Mike nodded and went back to the computer. The Discophonics spent the rest of the night in the den. At least they wouldn't have to worry about Jerry attacking a sheep farm that night. Morning rolled around. Phyllis came downstairs. She found Mike asleep at the keyboard, Reggie lounging on the couch, and Jerry on the floor, somewhat like a dog, his clothes in somewhat of a ragged state. She gave all three of them weird looks, and headed for the phone to call Bob.

"I hope you didn't need Mike, Reggie, and Jerry today," she said. "They were up all night playing on the computer."

"I didn't know you guys had a computer," Bob said.

"Well, now you know."

"Yeah, okay. Fine. I can give Davy and Quackerjack some work to do today. No problem."

Phyllis hung up, and walked out of the den, and into the kitchen to start breakfast. Mike woke up a few minutes later, and staggered into the kitchen, followed by Reggie and Jerry, who were completely disoriented.

"What were you guys doing all night?" she asked.

"You wouldn't believe it," Mike said. "Just please keep the curtains closed at night."

"Why?"

"Because I want them closed, and if they aren't kept closed, I'm gonna get very testy, and honey, you don't wanna see me get very testy."

"I've seen it. Okay, I'll keep them closed at night."

"Thank you."

That was enough of that. As Phyllis and the boys were eating, the phone rang. Mike stood up and grabbed it.

"Hello?" he said. "Oh, Mr. Miller. What's wrong? What?! Again last night? And the Johnson's farm, and the MacDonald's farm? Any casualties? I see. Yeah. Okay. I'll be right over."

"What's wrong, Mike?" Phyllis asked.

"Apparently, a wolf attacked a bunch of farms last night around three thirty in the mornin'," Mike said.

"What?" Phyllis asked.

"Oh, you're kidding!" Reggie shouted.

Jerry didn't say anything. He looked awful guilty about something, though. Mike looked at him, and then dashed into the den. The others staid in the kitchen.

"PHYLLIS!" he screamed, and then stormed back into the kitchen. "Did you open the curtains in the den last night after I specifically told you not to?!"

"Mike, relax," Phyllis said. "I just opened them a little, thinking we could reach a compromise about them."

"I need them all the way closed at night! I can't tell you why, I just need them! Guys, come on!"

Mike, Reggie, and Jerry left the house, and drove down to the Millers' farm. Jerry staid in the car, and Mike and Reggie climbed out.

"Don't move," Mike told him. "I've got some questions for you."

Jerry nodded. He didn't know what to say. Mike and Reggie approached Mr. Miller, who was standing by his fence.

"Did you happen to see the wolf?" Mike asked.

"Yes," Mr. Miller said. "Same as the other night. Same dark reddish-brown fur."

"Good grief. Mr. Miller I can't explain this, I really can't."

"I know. But I have to tell you, Mr. Johnson and Mr. MacDonald aren't too pleased. This wolf is a menace!"

"Look, I can handle it if you'll just give me some time."

"I'll give you three days!" a voice shouted.

"I'll give him three hours!" another yelled. Mike, Reggie, and Mr. Miller turned around to see two more farmers, Cliff Johnson, and Lloyd MacDonald.

"This the lad who talks te animals?" Mr. MacDonald asked. He was definitely Scottish.

"That's me," Mike said.

"You know anything about this wolf?" Mr. Johnson asked, somewhat annoyed.

"I know a lot about this wolf," Mike said. "I just can't tell you much about it."

"You keep him as a pet?" Mr. Johnson asked. "Because if he gets into my yard again, I'll shoot him!"

"No!" Reggie shouted. "You can't do that!"

"Mr. Johnson, please!" Mr. Miller shouted. "I know it's not easy for all of you to have a wolf running around, but losing your temper about it won't do anything."

"We'll give this wolf one more chance, laddie," Mr. MacDonald said to Mike. "But if he gets into my sheep pen again, I dinnae think he'll be so lucky."

"I get the drift," Mike said. "But I don't think you can just haul off and shoot it."

"Yeah, Sarah would have a fit," Reggie said. "My girlfriend's really into animal rights and stuff like that."

"Then we'll take this to City Hall," Mr. Johnson said. "You'd better hope that wolf doesn't get into my farm again!"

Mr. MacDonald nodded in agreement, and walked off. Mike and Reggie turned to Mr. Miller.

"I'm really sorry," Mike said. "But you should know that this wolf doesn't mean any harm whatsoever. He's just not aware of what he's doin'."

"How do you know that?" Mr. Miller asked.

"I can talk to animals, remember?"

"Well, whatever you can do, Mr. Nesmith. But I'm with Cliff and Lloyd. If that wolf gets into my yard again, I'm taking drastic measures and bringing this up with City Hall."

"All right."

Mike and Reggie went back to the car. Jerry was biting his lower lip, ready to be grilled.

"You want to tell me what happened?" Mike asked, calmly.

"Well, we already know Phyllis opened the curtains," Jerry said. "I guess I must've changed while I was sleeping. I don't really remember what happened. Maybe I was sleep stalking or something."

"Yeah, you probably were," Mike said. "Jerry, you have to stay inside at night with the curtains closed. It's the only way I can keep you out of trouble until I find the fortune teller."

Jerry sighed, and nodded. It was about all he could do. Mike heaved a sigh, and put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Hey," he said. "Don't worry. I promise everythin's gonna be all right."

"I really hope so, Mike," Jerry said. "I don't trust myself at home. I'm gonna call Linda and tell her I'll be staying at your place for a few days."

Mike nodded, and climbed into the front of the car. Reggie did the same, and the boys were off back to Mike's house. Mike sat at his computer, and continued to work on the computer at the ORCD. Reggie was leafing through a magazine. Jerry was playing around with a piece of his sweater vest. Mike glanced over at him, and zapped him. His clothes were fully restored.

"Don't get used to that, Jer," he said. "I just couldn't stand lookin' at you lookin' like a pile of rags."

"Very funny," Jerry said. "Any luck yet?"

"Absolutely nothin'," Mike said, shaking his head. "This is doin' absolutely nothin'!"

"Maybe you oughta look up phony fortune tellers," Reggie suggested.

Mike shrugged, and revised his search a little. He got about the same amount of results as the other search. All three Discophonics heaved a sigh that could have been heard in Japan.

"I've got a lot of work to do," Mike groaned.

Reggie and Jerry groaned as well and flopped down on the couch. Then the two of them began looking through magazines. Once again, they fell asleep as Mike was still working on the computer. He stood up, and closed the curtains before anything could happen. Then he went back to his computer and continued typing. Phyllis came down the stairs, walked into the den, and leaned against the doorway.

"I take it you're not coming to bed tonight, either," she said.

"Bingo, baby-cakes," Mike said. "I've got a lot of work to do."

"Well, don't stay awake all night."

"Uh huh."

Phyllis walked back up the stairs. Mike continued to work. He had to crack this case if it killed him. Well, it may not have killed him, but it probably would kill Jerry, especially if Mr. Johnson had anything to do with it. Jerry was standing behind Mike, leaning on the chair, bored to death.

"Mike, I gotta get out," he said. "We've been cooped up in here all day."

"Well, it's the middle of the night," Mike said, still typing. "And I'm still lookin' for that fortune teller."

"Mike, please! I gotta get out of this house before I go stir crazy!"

"All right, all right. I'll create an overcast for you. That'll block the moon."

"Thanks."

Mike snapped his fingers, and clouds cast over the moon. Jerry opened the door, and practically ran out. Mike couldn't blame him. He'd be going nuts too if he was inside doing nothing all day. He went back to working on the computer. Reggie walked up to him.

"Are you sure that was such a good idea?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Mike asked, not looking up from the screen.

"How long are those clouds gonna last?"

"For awhile."

"How long?"

"One hour, two hours tops. Jerry will be back before then?"

"One hour, huh? Dig the window."

Mike sighed, stood up, and opened the curtains. His cloud formation hadn't lasted long, that was for sure, and the moon was out, nearly full blast.

"Uh oh," Mike said.

"Uh huh," Reggie replied, nodding. "Come on. We'd better get to Mr. Miller's before Mr. Johnson finds him with his shotgun."

"As far as I know, Mr. Miller's got a shotgun as well. We gotta split!"

"We'll take my Harley."

Mike and Reggie ran outside, and climbed onto Reggie's Harley Davidson. Reggie put it into high gear and took off like a shot. They managed to reach the Millers' farm in under twenty minutes, which turned out to be a good thing. There was Jerry in wolf form, stalking the sheep pen. Mike jumped off the motorcycle while it was still in motion, and ran towards Jerry.

"Okay, Jerry, don't do anything hasty," he said.

Jerry's response was a low growl, and he bore his fangs at Mike. Then he turned back to the sheep.

"I don't get why he doesn't understand a word I'm sayin'," he said. "Then again, I can't understand a word he's growlin'!"

"Your battery dead?" Reggie asked.

"No," Mike said, shaking his head. "Those sheep over there are goin' crazy. They're goin' ‘wooooolf' and ‘saaaave uuuus' and ‘heeeelp meeee' and whatever."

"Huh, weird."

"Don't I know it."

The back door opened then, and out ran Mr. Miller, holding a rifle. He saw Jerry and aimed. Mike really had to act fast.

"Mr. Miller, don't!" he shouted, sprinting over to the farmer. He tackled Mr. Miller, which caused the rifle to fire. The bullet shot into the air. Reggie breathed of relief. Jerry stopped in his tracks and stared at Mike and Mr. Miller.

"I told you I was giving that wolf only one more chance!" Mr. Miller shouted. "That thing is a menace!"

"That thing is not a menace!" Mike shouted. "He's my best friend!"

"You're crazy!"

"Mr. Miller, I know this sounds like somethin' out of a horror movie, but that man is Jerry Blavat. I'm sure your daughter's read about him."

"Many times. But how can that be possible? What is he a werewolf?"

"No, he's not a werewolf. He made a fortune teller mad, and got a curse placed on him. Every time he gets into the moonlight, he'll turn into a wolf."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Oh yeah? Watch this."

Mike snapped his fingers and waved his arm around. Thick clouds covered the moon, and this time, Mike made sure it would stay that way for quite some time. The minute they were covered, Jerry morphed back into human form. He stood up, looked at Mike, and then collapsed. Mike ran over to him, and pulled him into a sitting position.

"You see?" he asked.

"I can't believe it," Mr. Miller said.

"I don't think he knows what he's doing when he's a wolf, Mr. Miller," Reggie said.

"I can't talk to him like I could any ordinary wolf," Mike explained. "If I could, I'd talk him out of this, really. I can't control him when he's a wolf."

"Yes, I believe that's understandable," Mr. Miller said. "And after seeing it with my own eyes, I believe it's credible. All right. Should I tell this to Mr. Johnson and Mr. MacDonald?"

"NO!" Mike and Reggie screamed in unison. Jerry cringed, and started to clean out his ear.

"Mr. Miller, you can't breathe a word of this to anyone," Mike said. "Knowin' Mr. Johnson, he might try somethin' crazy like get silver bullets or somethin'."

"Yeah, that's the only way to kill a werewolf, and Jerry's no werewolf," Reggie said.

"I'm in the process of tryin' to find that fortune teller," Mike continued. "If I can find her, I can convince her to take this curse off Jerry, but please just don't tell anyone."

"All right," Mr. Miller said. "My lips are sealed."

"Thanks," Mike said. He lifted Jerry off the ground, and carried him over to Reggie's Harley.

"That was easy," Reggie said. "Can we trust him, though?"

"Mr. Miller? Yeah, sure," Mike said. "I'm not pickin' up anythin' off him. We can trust him. It's Johnson I don't trust."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know. I get the icky feelin' he's gonna find out about this."

Reggie shrugged, and put on his helmet. Mike positioned Jerry behind Reggie, clasping his hands around Reggie's shoulders. Mike climbed on next and sort of sandwiched Jerry between him and Reggie. Jerry was way to groggy to hang on himself. Reggie started his bike, and drove back to Mike's house slowly and carefully (a first for Reggie). Of course, Mike had a good reason to get that icky feeling. As it turned out, Mr. Johnson saw Jerry head over to Mr. Miller's when he was a wolf, and followed him with the shotgun. He wanted to shoot, but then Mike and Reggie showed up on the scene. He heard the entire conversation and was on the phone with Mr. MacDonald.

"No kidding, Lloyd," he said. "A real life werewolf! I saw him turn into a human myself!"

"Are ye sure?" Mr. MacDonald asked. "I thought the whole story of werewolves was in the movies!"

"I'm dead serious. That Nesmith kid asked John Miller to keep it a secret. I knew John would cooperate with Nesmith and his friends. He's too soft."

"Well, we cannae let this werewolf on our farms again. What do ye suggest we do?"

"Call as many farmers in the area as you can. Set traps, get some silver bullets, and the next time that werewolf comes around, shoot it."

"You're a bit trigger happy, aren't ye?"

"Spread the word."

"Aye, will do."

Mr. Johnson hung up the phone and began calling the other farmers in the area. Mr. MacDonald did the same. Pretty soon, the entire farming industry in the area knew of the werewolf, and they were about to call the government in on it. Mike had no clue what was going to happen, but his sixth sense was telling him he wasn't going to like it. The Discophonics spent the entire next day still at the computer, trying to figure out where to find the fortune teller. It was driving Phyllis crazy.

"The three of you have been spending the past three days doing who knows what on that computer," she said. "Why don't you go out and do something?"

"This is kinda important, Phyllis," Mike said.

"Whatever you say, Mike."

Phyllis rolled her eyes and left. Mike continued typing, searching, and clicking, but he was coming up with nothing. Nighttime rolled around. Jerry headed for the door.

"Hey Mike, give me an overcast," he said. "I'm heading out."

"Uh huh," Mike said, absently, but he snapped his fingers and obliged Jerry anyway. Jerry left.

"I hope that lasts longer than it did last night," Reggie said.

"Uh huh," Mike said, typing.

Reggie rolled his eyes and sat down on the couch. He glanced out the window every so often, checking Mike's clouds. An hour later, they cleared. Reggie threw his magazine down and swatted Mike in the back of the head.

"What?" Mike asked.

"Your clouds broke up," he said. "And Jerry's not back yet."

"Oh boy," Mike said. "To the Harley!"

Mike and Reggie dashed outside and jumped on Reggie's bike. They took off like a shot to the farm area. To their surprise, Jerry wasn't around.

"Well, he's not here," Reggie said.

"Hold it, Reg," Mike said, climbing off the bike. "Check out this barbed wire fence. We've got a piece of wolf hair here."

"Jerry's?"

"You betcha. Come on. I think I know where he might have headed from here."

Mike jumped back onto the Harley and Reggie started it up. They decided to head for the woods, since they were nearby. And besides, Mike heard some howling. The boys took off. Jerry, in the meantime, was in full wolf form, prowling around the woods. Unknown to him, Mr. Johnson, and Mr. MacDonald had tracked him down.

"Are ye sure that's the werewolf?" Mr. MacDonald asked.

"Sure I'm sure," Mr. Johnson said. "The werewolf has dark reddish-brown fur, and is really aggressive."

"I hope ye brought your shotgun, Cliff. I trust ye will do all the shooting. I dinnae want the ASPCA on me back."

"Don't worry about a thing, Lloyd. If the ASPCA gets on anyone's back, it'll be mine."

A few other farmers were with Mr. Johnson and Mr. MacDonald. One of them had set up a bear trap. Another had a rope in his hands, ready to throw it around any animal's neck. Jerry was prowling around, sniffing the ground in true wolf fashion, not really paying much attention to where he was going (he rarely paid attention to where he was walking when he was a human!) He should have been paying attention. He stepped right into the bear trap, and it snapped shut on his leg. He let out a very long, and loud howl.

"That's got him," the farmer who set the trap said.

"I'll get him now," another farmer said. He threw his rope cowboy style and lassoed Jerry around the neck. Then he tightened the loop and began to pull it. Jerry was unamused. He began growling and howling again.

"Better shoot, Cliff," the farmer said. "I can't hold him long!"

"Right," Mr. Johnson said, raising his gun. He took careful aim, and fired.

BANG!

"What was that?" Reggie asked, rolling along the dirt path.

"Sounded like a gun shot," Mike replied.

"Oh."

Reggie continued to drive, but then slammed on the brakes suddenly, realizing what Mike had just said. The boys looked at each other, panicked.

"A gunshot?!" they shouted in unison.

"It came from that direction!" Mike yelled, pointing. "Let's go!"

Reggie turned the bike around, and sped in the direction Mike was pointing. Mr. Johnson blew the smoke off his gun, and turned towards the other farmers.

"I think that about does it," he said. "Let's go."

The farmers proceeded to leave. Mr. Johnson had really let Jerry have it with that gun. The bullet hit him not quite in the back, somewhat close to his front leg. Jerry had fallen, rope still around his neck, leg still caught in the bear trap. Just his luck, the sky clouded over then, and Jerry morphed back into human form. Reggie had to stop his motorcycle then.

"My bike can't go through here, Mike," he said. "We'll have to continue on foot."

"Right," Mike said, snapping his fingers. Two flashlights appeared in his hands. He handed one to Reggie. "Let's go."

Mike and Reggie turned on the flashlights and headed into the woods, letting Mike's sixth sense do the leading. He stopped for one minute, and Reggie crashed into him.

"Don't do that," he said. "Which way do we go?"

"This way," Mike said, turning a corner. "Jerry should be . . . . ."

"Right over there."

Mike looked over where Reggie was shining his flashlight. Thank goodness the clouds were still covering the moon. Mike dropped his flashlight, and ran over. Reggie followed, still holding onto his flashlight.

"What in the wide world of sports happened?!" Reggie shouted, kneeling down.

"Give me a hand with this bear trap," Mike said. "I'll open it, and you pull his foot out. Gently."

"Gotcha."

Mike snapped his fingers, and the bear trap opened. Reggie took hold of Jerry's foot and proceeded to pull it out of the bear trap. Jerry sort of tensed up and groaned then.

"I said gently!" Mike shouted.

"Sorry," Reggie said, shrugging. "Man, you oughta see this."

"One sec, Reg."

Mike snapped his fingers, and loosened the rope around Jerry's neck. There was a red ring where the rope had been. Mike just groaned and shook his head in disgust.

"Johnson probably had somethin' to do with this," he said.

"Yeah, that's not all," Reggie replied. "Check out the scratches on his back. Must've been from crawling under that barbed wire."

"Yeah, and that's not all. Check this out by his shoulder here."

"What's that?"

"Offhand, I'd say it was a gunshot wound. I betcha that's what we heard awhile ago."

"Well, what do we do now?"

"Follow me."

Mike snapped his fingers, and a blanket appeared in his hands. He wrapped it around Jerry, and lifted him off the ground. Jerry sort of let out a mix between a moan and a groan then. Mike could only assume he was in a considerable amount of pain.

"I don't think we oughta put him on my motorcycle," Reggie said. "Considering how much he's bleeding now."

"Don't worry," Mike said. "I know of a cave nearby. It should be deserted. Give me the flashlight, and you take Jerry."

Reggie took Jerry from Mike, as carefully as he could, and Mike took the flashlight. Then the two of them headed for that cave. Mike did a quick scan, nodded to Reggie, and walked inside. Reggie followed.

"Even with that flashlight, it's dark in here," Reggie said.

"Yeah, I know," Mike replied. "No problem. I can shed some light on the situation."

Mike snapped his fingers again, and a lantern appeared. Mike turned it on and put it on the ground. Reggie set Jerry onto the ground, on his stomach, so he wouldn't cause the wound on Jerry's shoulder any irritation. Mike then handed the flashlight to Reggie.

"Think you can find your Harley on your own?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?" Reggie asked.

"I need you to head back to LA and get Dr. Brackett."

"At this hour? Mike, it's nearly five in the morning!"

"Well, by the time it takes you to find your Harley and drive to Rampart to get Dr. Brackett, it'll probably be six or somethin'. And if it's earlier, man, you are just gonna have to find him and drag him here. It's an emergency!"

"I know that, but why can't you go?"

"Two reasons. One, I want to stay here with Jerry, and two, Dr. Brackett'll never believe me."

"One more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Why Dr. Brackett? Why don't you want me to get Dr. Early?"

"Because Dr. Brackett can handle this better than Joe! Now please, Reg, get outta here now!"

Okay, okay, I'm going, I'm going!"

Reggie was off and running. Mike sighed. He hoped Reggie would be able to find his motorcycle and get back to the city fast. His sixth sense was beginning to act up a little. Reggie had found his bike, climbed on, and took off like a shot. The noise woke up a lot of farmers in the area. They weren't too happy, especially Mrs. Miller.

"John, what's that noise?" she asked.

"I'll check," Mr. Miller groaned, getting up. He looked out the window, and saw Reggie racing by on his motorcycle.

"Well?" Mrs. Miller asked.

"It's nothing, Liz," Mr. Miller said. "Just some nut on a motorcycle."

"What's a guy on a motorcycle doing out at this time of day?"

"Hey wait, I think I know that guy. He's a friend of Mike Nesmith's."

"The guy who you got to talk to our sheep?"

"Yes. If he's around, then Nesmith must be around somewhere . . . . . I wonder where he could be in such a hurry?"

"Well, it's none of our business, John. Why don't we go back to bed?"

"Nah, the rooster's only going to start crowing any minute."

Mr. Miller walked down the stairs, and over to the phone in the living room. He wanted to call Cliff Johnson. He answered the phone pretty quickly.

"Cliff, it's John Miller," Mr. Miller said. "Just out of curiosity, was that wolf out this morning?"

"Oh yeah," Mr. Johnson said. "We got him though."

"What do you mean ‘we'?"

"Oh, Lloyd, and Frank Peters, and Travis Andrews, and me. Travis set a bear trap, and Frank had this lasso . . . . heh, heh, yeah, that werewolf won't be bothering us anymore."

"How'd you know about that?"

"I heard you talking to Nesmith about it, and I saw him. Got me a silver bullet, and . . . ."

"Cliff, you are an idiot!"

Mr. Miller hung up the phone, immediately. He had to try and find Mike and ask him about this. Reggie had just made it back to the city, and over to Rampart. Lucky for him, it was early enough for Dr. Brackett to be there. Reggie stopped his bike, and practically ran through the door. He crashed into the front desk. Lynn and Dixie stared at him.

"Reg, this hospital does have a speed limit," Lynn said. "This is a thirty miles per hour zone."

"I think I just hit this desk at Mach two," Reggie groaned. Then he composed himself. "Where's Dr. Brackett?"

"Right here," Dr. Brackett said, coming over. "I think you came to me in time, Reg. What with hitting that desk at Mach two, as you put it. What was with the sudden burst of speed."

"You gotta come with me," Reggie said, catching his breath. "We've got a slight problem."

"What's that?"

"No time to explain let's just go!"

"Okay."

"And bring some surgery equipment. We're gonna need it."

Dr. Brackett shrugged, and went to get some equipment. He put them in the usual doctor's little black bag, and walked out with Reggie to his Harley. Reggie gave the doctor a helmet and then took off like a shot.

"Whoa!" Dr. Brackett shouted, hanging onto Reggie for dear life. "Can't you slow down a little?!"

"Normally, I would doc, but I don't have the time!" Reggie shouted.

Dr. Brackett squeezed his eyes shut as Reggie tore down the street, to the farming area, and into the woods. Then he stopped, and led Dr. Brackett over to the cave. Dr. Brackett saw Mike and glared.

"Oh it's you," he said. "Why didn't you tell me it was Mike, Reggie?"

"If he did, would you have come?" Mike asked.

"No."

"I rest my case. And besides, it's not me. I just sent him to get you because I knew you'd never believe me."

"Well, what is it this time?"

"It's Jerry. What I have to tell you may surprise you, but I'm dead serious and I don't want to hear any snide comments."

"Okay."

Mike took a deep breath and explained the entire story, right up to that point.

"So, somebody shot him while he was a wolf, and I think the bullet's still in there," he said.

"I can't take any X-rays," Dr. Brackett said. "I'd have to take him into Rampart."

"Well, don't move him. We already moved him into this cave, and he reacted badly. I think he's in a lot of pain."

"Yeah, no kidding. Hmm, let's see here . . . . I may have to stitch up his ankle. That's a pretty bad looking cut there. Now as for his shoulder . . . . ."

Dr. Brackett tried to examine Jerry's shoulder a little more closely, but the minute he touched the wound slightly, Jerry flinched and moaned.

"No doubt about it, Mike," Dr. Brackett said. "I'm gonna have to operate. Good thing Reggie told me to bring some equipment. The one thing I forgot was the anesthesia."

"He's already dead asleep," Mike said. "Except when you touch him or move him or somethin' like that."

"I know, Mike, but I need the anesthesia to make sure he stays asleep during the procedure."

"I could conjure it up for you."

Mike snapped his fingers, and the anesthesia Dr. Brackett needed appeared out of thin air, as well as three sets of scrubs.

"Anythin' else?" he asked.

"Yeah, stay out of the way," Dr. Brackett said. "Reg, I need you as my assistant?"

"Why me and not Mike?" Reggie asked.

"Two reasons," Dr. Brackett said. "One, you've got a medical degree, and two, Mike gets on my nerves."

"You're no Mr. Congeniality yourself, buster," Mike grumbled, but moved out of the way anyway. The only thing Dr. Brackett wanted him to do was make sure the face mask staid in place during the procedure.

"I don't know if this is gonna work," he said.

"It better," Dr. Brackett said. "But don't worry, Mike. I know what I'm doing."

"I don't doubt that, doc."

Reggie was glad Mike and Dr. Brackett weren't throwing insults at each other. They just didn't have the time for it. The entire thing seemed to take forever. Dr. Brackett was doing his best trying to extract the bullet, but it wasn't easy, and it was making Mike nervous.

"I hope it's not in there too deep," he said.

"No, it isn't," Dr. Brackett said. "It's just a persistent little bugger."

"I hope you get it out soon, doc," Reggie said. "I'm on pins and needles here!"

"Relax. I'm doing the best I can."

It took about five minutes, but Dr. Brackett finally managed to pull the bullet out. Mike felt like a cement mixer had been lifted off his shoulders. Reggie breathed such a loud sigh of relief it sounded like he had been holding his breath for that entire five minutes! Dr. Brackett did some stitching on Jerry's shoulder and his ankle, and bandaged them both.

"I wouldn't worry about the abrasions on his lower back," Dr. Brackett said, taking a needle out of his bag. "Captain Stanley made him get a tetanus shot last month, but I'm going to give him another one, just in case."

Mike and Reggie nodded, and watched as Dr. Brackett stuck the needle into Jerry's arm, giving him the shot. Dr. Brackett then packed up his stuff, and left. Mike and Reggie just sat there, not really sure of what to do next. Reggie got up and started for the entrance of the cave.

"Where are you goin'?" Mike asked.

"I'm gonna find Mr. Miller and ask him about this," Reggie replied.

"I already told you we could trust him."

"Then how come this happened?"

"Look, I don't know, all right?"

"That's why I want to ask him."

"All right. Fine, go."

Reggie left. Mike sighed and leaned against the wall of the cave. He just looked at Jerry, not sure what to do about him. Jerry groaned a little, and slowly opened his eyes.

"Mike?" he asked, in somewhat of a strangled voice.

"Yeah," Mike said. "It's me Jer. You all right?"

"Barely. What happened?"

"Well, you probably morphed into a wolf again, and went out to wreak havoc, but ended up at the mercy of a couple of farmers, I guess. I don't know. Reg and I got to you after you morphed back into a human and no one was around."

"Where's Reggie, anyway?"

"He just left. He doesn't trust Mr. Miller, so he went to grill him."

"Oh."

"You'd better go back to sleep. In all honesty, Jer, you don't look so good."

"I don't feel so good. Everything hurts."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

Jerry closed his eyes and went back to sleep. Mike was beginning to get a little worried. Dr. Brackett hadn't said anything about giving Jerry painkillers, but he didn't want to risk it anyway. At any rate, Reggie pulled his Harley up to the Miller's farm. Mr. Miller wasn't around, but his three kids were. They were thirteen-year-old Megan, ten-year-old Danny, and six-year-old Molly. They were doing their chores, so Reggie came up to him.

"Hey," he said. "Is this the Miller residence?"

"Yeah," Megan said. "What can we do for you?"

"Well, I need to talk to your dad," Reggie said, taking off his helmet. The three kids stared at him in awe.

"Oh wow!" Molly shouted. "Reggie Bushroot of the Mallards!"

"Wait here," Megan said, running for the house. "I'll go get my dad for you."

Reggie nodded, and waited. After awhile, Megan returned with her father. Once he saw the look on Reggie's face, he wanted to go back into the house!

"I need to talk to you," Reggie said. "It concerns Jerry."

"Oh," Mr. Miller said. Then he turned to his kids. "Uh, kids, why don't you go back into the house? Mr. Bushroot and I need to talk privately."

Danny and Molly groaned. They wanted to know what all this was about, but Megan lead them into the house and kept them out of her father's way. Reggie folded his arms across his chest and glared at Mr. Miller.

"I know it's gonna sound like I'm pointing fingers," Reggie said. "But I want to know if you know anything about gunshots and bear traps last night."

"Oh that," Mr. Miller said. "I can explain. Johnson overheard us talking the other night about your friend being cursed, and he and MacDonald got together with some other farmers, and they set the bear traps, and what have you."

"Yeah, Mike figured Johnson had a hand in this."

"Really, I had no idea about this. I only asked him about it early this morning. About your friend, is he . . . ."

"Well, we brought a doctor in. I think he's all right. Or at least he will be."

"That's good."

Reggie put on his helmet, climbed on his Harley, and drove off. Of course, Mr. MacDonald was driving by on his tractor and he heard snippets of the conversation.

"What did the lad want, John?" he asked.

"Hi, Lloyd," Mr. Miller said. "Nothing much. Just wanted to know if I was with you and Cliff during that wolf hunt last night."

"It was Cliff's idea, not mine. Not our fault there's a werewolf out there."

"I know, but he isn't really a werewolf. He's just cursed, that's all, and Nesmith was trying to lift the curse."

"Too late fer that now. He's probably gone by now."

"That's how much you know, Lloyd. If you want to know the truth, your ‘werewolf' is still alive."

"You got to be pulling me leg!"

"I'm not. And if you don't want to get yourself into trouble, I wouldn't go after him again."

With that, Mr. Miller left. Mr. MacDonald climbed onto his tractor and drove back to his farm. He picked up the phone and called Mr. Johnson.

"The werewolf's still alive," he said. "Miller told me so."

"And I suppose we have Nesmith to thank," Mr. Johnson said.

"Aye, I believe so."

"It's a conspiracy then. I'm calling in the government."

And he did. Some agents made it out to the farm, just in time to see Reggie fly by on his bike.

"Follow him," Mr. Johnson said. "He's with Nesmith."

"Are you sure about this?" one of the agents asked.

"Positive," Mr. Johnson said, nodding.

The agents shrugged, and got into their car. Then they followed Reggie over to the cave. He was just checking in, seeing how things were going.

"They're goin' fine," Mike said, working from a laptop. "I've got even better news."

"What's that?" Reggie asked.

"I found the phony fortune teller."

"Great!"

Mike scribbled something on a piece of paper and then handed it to Reggie.

"Here," he said. "Take this to Aunt Kate. She'll help you. I want to stay with Jerry."

"Sure," Reggie replied. How's he doing by the way?"

"Well, that red mark around his neck's got me worried, but other than that, I think he's okay. He's been sleepin' most of the time, anyway."

"Okay. I'll see you later."

Reggie walked out of the cave and climbed onto his Harley, and then took off. The government agents had driven up as Reggie parked his bike outside the cave. Once Reggie left, the agents climbed out of the car, and walked over to the cave.

"What about the guy on the motorcycle?" one asked.

"We'll worry about him later," the other said. "We want to get Nesmith, and this alleged werewolf now."

The first agent nodded, and the two of them walked into the cave. Mike was leaning over Jerry at the time, staring at the ring around his neck.

"Mr. Michael Nesmith?" the second agent asked.

"Uhh, yeah?" Mike said, standing up.

"My name is Jane Wednesday, and this is my partner, Paul Kelso."

"We're with the government," Agent Kelso said, as he and Agent Wednesday held out their badges. Mike looked at the badges, and then the agents.

"Okay," he said. "Uhh, what brings you down here?"

"Well, Mr. Nesmith, we were wondering about a werewolf conspiracy," Agent Wednesday said. "We got a tip saying you were involved in it."

"Just what exactly did you hear?" Mike asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"We got calls from farmers saying that you didn't want them shooting at a red haired wolf," Agent Kelso replied. "Because this said wolf was a friend of yours?"

"Ummm . . . ." Mike stammered. "Well, that is to say . . . . ."

"I see," Agent Wednesday said. "Mr. Nesmith, this can go a lot easier on you if you'll tell us what we want to know."

"Okay," Mike said, calmly. "I'll tell you what I know, Ms. Wednesday. First of all, me and my friends, Jerry and Reggie . . . . . Jerry's right over there, and Reggie just left, see. We were at a carnival a few days ago, and Jerry got this fortune teller riled up, and she put a curse on him, and we all thought it was just a bunch of malarkey, since this fortune teller was phony anyway. And since that night, whenever Jerry got into the moonlight, he'd turn into a wolf, and wreak havoc, but he really didn't know what in the world he was doin'."

"I see."

"And anyway, I was lookin' for this fortune teller, to try to take the curse off him, but then these farmers, Johnson and MacDonald, were a little steamed about this wolf, and then I told another farmer, Mr. Miller, about this curse. Johnson ended up overhearin' us, and tried to kill Jerry, but that didn't work out so well, but Jerry got beat around pretty good, see?"

Mike led the two agents over to Jerry, and began pointing things out, from the barbed wire scratches to the rope burn on his neck.

"We're just hidin' out in here just in case Johnson finds out he's still alive," Mike said. "Before I get a chance to actually get this fortune teller to take the curse off him."

"I see," Agent Wednesday said. "Mr. Nesmith, do you honestly think that story is believable?"

"Not really, no."

"I'm afraid we're going to have to place you under arrest."

"Under arrest?! What for?!"

"Conspiracy against the farming industry. Nearly the whole world knows you're part witch, Mr. Nesmith. A werewolf is something your kind would come up with."

Agent Wednesday placed a pair of handcuffs on Mike's wrists, and they were about to drag him out to their car. Mike kept looking at Jerry, refusing to budge, but finally struck a deal with the two government agents.

"Okay, look," he said, calmly. "I'll go with you calmly if you take Jerry with us. I don't want him left alone."

"Fair enough," Agent Wednesday said. "We'll want to question him a little later."

"Well, it would have to be a lot later," Mike said. "Jerry hasn't been feelin' too well these past few hours, and I think it's because of the nights he's been havin'."

Agent Wednesday took out a walkie-talkie and dispatched for a truck or something along those lines. They arrived in a few moments. Mike started to climb into the back of the truck, and turned to Agents Wednesday and Kelso for a moment.

"Don't put him on his back," he said. "He's been shot in the shoulder."

Agents Wednesday and Kelso nodded, and lifted Jerry into the truck, making sure not to set him on his back. After all, Mike was being cooperative. At any rate, they made it to some kind of prison facility in under twenty minutes. Mike found himself locked in a cell, and watched as Wednesday and Kelso put Jerry into the cell next to his. Jerry was still out of it. Totally out of it.

"Can't you put us in the same cell?" Mike asked.

"It's orders," Kelso said, shrugging. "He might turn into a werewolf and attack you, Mr. Nesmith."

"Not unless he's in the moonlight, and this is a windowless room."

Kelso shrugged again and walked off. Mike groaned, and sat down on the cot that was in his cell for a minute. Then he walked over to the other cell, and reached over, trying to get Jerry to wake up or something. It wasn't any use, he just couldn't reach in far enough to actually grab Jerry's shoulder and shake him until he woke up. Best he could do was brush his fingers against his hair.

"Don't worry, Jerry," he said. "I'll get us out of this. HEY KELSO!"

"What?" Kelso asked, coming into the room. He was officially on guard duty.

"Don't I get a phone call?"

"Yeah, okay, sure."

Kelso brought the phone over to Mike. Mike picked up the receiver and dialed his aunt's house. He knew she would still be there, considering the time of day, and the amount of traffic, and the amount of time it would take Reggie to get out of the woods and back into the streets of LA.

"Hi, Aunt Kate," Mike said.

"Hello, Michael," Kate said. "What happened now?"

"I'm gonna come straight to the point only because it's an emergency. A fortune teller put a curse on Jerry that turns him into a wolf at night, and a lot of the farmers think it's some sort of conspiracy because I wouldn't let them shoot him, so they called the government. So now Jerry and I are in some kind of holdin' tank, I don't know exactly what it is."

"So why call me? Need me to come bail you out?"

"No. Reggie's gonna be there in a few minutes, and I told him to go to you. I need you two to find Fredericka Futura. That's the chick who put the curse on Jerry, and she's gotta take it off him!"

"Fredericka Futura? Oh dear lord, Lady Crystal and Council are gonna have a fit when they find out she cursed Jerry!"

"Why's that?"

"She was always cursin' mortals. The Council warned her if she put another curse on another mortal, they'd take away her powers. So this is the wolf curse, huh?"

"Yes, and I'm worried sick right about now. A couple of those farmers trapped Jerry last night. Reggie and I found him caught in a bear trap, this rope around his neck nearly chokin' him, and then the gunshot wound. He's really out of it right now."

"Don't worry about a thing, Michael. Are there any windows where you are?"

"No."

"Then there's nothin' to worry about. Unless he gets outside while the moon's out, you're in absolutely no danger, and neither is Jerry."

"Thanks, Aunt Kate."

Mike hung up the phone, and began to massage his forehead. This whole thing was beginning to get to him. An hour passed. Mike was sitting on the floor, reaching into the other cell, running his fingers through Jerry's hair, as to reassure Jerry he was still around. It didn't do much good. Jerry was still oblivious to everything, although an occasional moan or groan came out of his mouth every now and again. Kelso walked into the room then.

"Nesmith, you have a visitor," he said.

"Please let it be Reggie and Aunt Kate!" Mike shouted, standing up.

No such luck. It was Phyllis, who heard about the entire thing from Kate. She wasn't too thrilled about this, but she wasn't angry with Mike. She was angry with Cliff Johnson!

"I can't believe he called the government!" she shouted. "What right does he have to throw you two in jail?"

"Well, I can understand why he wanted Jerry in here," Mike said. "But he thinks because I wouldn't let him shoot Jerry, I was conspiracin' to destroy the farmin' industry. Now how crazy is that?"

"Extremely crazy. How's Jerry?"

"Not well, I can tell you that. Last time he woke up was hours ago. He's in a lot of pain thanks to Johnson and his buddies."

"I'd like to take that rope that was around Jerry's neck, tie it around Mr. Johnson's neck, and just squeeze . . . . ."

"Phyllis, honey, calm down before Kelso throws you in here for takin' part in the conspiracy."

"Sorry, Mike, but I can't help it. How long are you going to be in here?"

"I don't know."

Mike and Phyllis talked about the entire mess for awhile, then Kelso told her she had to leave. Mike shrugged and sat back down on the floor, and continued to run his fingers in Jerry's hair. Another hour went by, and both Wednesday and Kelso came down to the cells. They walked over to Jerry's, opened the door, and practically dragged him out.

"Where are you goin'?" Mike asked, standing up.

"To make a positive ID," Wednesday said. "We want to make sure this is the werewolf Mr. Johnson saw."

"And then what?"

"We'll let Mr. Johnson do the rest."

Mike had a feeling he knew what that meant. He had to get out of the cell and stop the madness before it was too late. The minute Wednesday and Kelso left, Reggie and Kate tore down a set of stairs and over to Mike's cell.

"Michael, we've got bad news," Kate said.

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Mike said. "What is it?"

"The Witches Council got to Fredericka Futura before we could," Reggie said. "Not only did they take away her powers, but they deported her, and we have no way in knowing where she is now."

"Great, just great," Mike said, running both hands through his hair. "They just took Jerry outta here so Johnson could positively identify him, and then he's gonna take him out and shoot! I gotta get up there before he can!"

"Stand back Michael," Kate said, and she cracked her knuckles. Mike stood back, and Kate blasted the cell door off it's hinges.

"Come on, boys," she said. "Let's get a move on!"

Mike ran out of the cell, and practically flew up the stairs. Reggie and Kate were right behind him. Upstairs, in the meantime, Mr. Johnson had made the positive identification on Jerry.

"That's him," he said. "That's the werewolf all right."

"What do you want us to do with him?" Wednesday asked.

"Let me handle it," Mr. Johnson said. "There's only one way to take care of a werewolf, and that's to shoot it."

Wednesday and Kelso dragged Jerry out to the back of the building, and Mr. Johnson followed them. The two agents practically threw Jerry to the ground. Mr. Johnson raised his shotgun and aimed carefully. He was about to pull the trigger, when something blasted the gun, causing it to veer slightly to the right. The bullet hit the wall.

"What the?" Mr. Johnson asked.

"Don't you dare!" Mike yelled.

"How'd he get out?" Kelso asked.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Mr. Johnson asked, glaring at Mike.

"I'm not gonna let you shoot Jerry again!" Mike yelled. He turned on his heel and walked over to Jerry. He pulled his friend into a sitting position, and tried to get him to wake up.

"Come on, Jerry, please!" he begged. "Don't quit on me now!"

"I don't care what it takes," Mr. Johnson said. "He's a werewolf, and I'm not gonna let him roam free!"

"Mike's not the only one in this," Reggie said. Mr. Johnson was about to pull the trigger again, when Reggie jumped and tackled him.

BANG!

The gun fired, and the bullet soared into the air. Reggie tried to grab the gun, but Mr. Johnson wouldn't let go of it.

"Let go, you fool!" he shouted. "Or that werewolf will kill us all!"

"Michael, now's your chance!" Kate shouted. "Take Jerry and get to Rampart now!"

"Right, Aunt Kate!" Mike shouted, and he lifted Jerry off the ground.

Mike was about to head for the front gate, when Mr. Johnson saw them. He shoved Reggie off him, raised his gun, and pulled the trigger. There was no time to stop the bullet this time.

POW!

At the sound of that, Jerry shot to attention, with a scream. He looked around, and saw that he was in Hank's house, in the bedroom he shared with Linda. Hank, Christine, Linda, Mike, and Dr. Brackett were also in the room, staring at Jerry as if he had lost his mind. Jerry looked positively scared to death.

"Jerry, are you all right?" Linda asked.

"Yeah, man, that must've been some nightmare," Mike said.

"Nightmare?" Jerry asked.

"It must have been a bad one," Christine said. "Your moaning and groaning kept us up half the night!"

"Nightmare," Jerry repeated. He put his hand to his forehead. "All that . . . . . it was just a nightmare."

"And no wonder," Hank replied. "You, my friend, have a nice little case of food poisoning."

"Food poisoning?" Jerry asked.

"Yeah," Mike said, nodding. "Don't worry, Jerry, it's nothin' serious. You just ate an undercooked burger at the carnival last night. A lot of people had the same problem. Dr. Brackett was workin' all night."

"I have to tell you, Jerry," Dr. Brackett said. "That carnival should be more careful about handling food."

"Yeah, the FDA closed them down this morning," Linda said.

"But . . . . but what about the curse?" Jerry asked.

"Curse?" Hank asked.

"You know, the one Fredericka Futura put on me?" Jerry said.

"Oh the fortune teller," Mike said. "She's a phony, Jerry. I checked in with the Witches Council the minute I got home about a witch workin' in the carnival. She liked to put curses on mortals, and she did one too many, and lost her magic five years ago. She was deported and has been workin' in the carnival since then. It was just a ruse."

"Then the whole thing was just a nightmare," Jerry said. He felt a little queasy then. "Oh man, I can't imagine what would happen if it all was real!"

"You'd better get some rest, Jerry," Dr. Brackett said. "It's been a very long night."

The others nodded and left the room. Mike staid behind for a minute or so. He looked over at Jerry and stood up.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jerry said. "Now that I know there's no curse. That's a great relief."

"I'll bet. I'll see you later, Jerry."

"Bye, Mike."

Mike left the room, and turned off the lights. Jerry looked at the clock. It was only eight in the morning, the morning after the carnival gig. Jerry laughed, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep. Not one werewolf haunted his dreams this time.

The End