WEREWOLVES and me.

UM. I once thought there was a werewolf down the end of my street.

Seriously! I was walking my best friend home to her house when we heard a huge guttural growl that we both, till this day, swear it sounded like no animal we'd ever heard before or since. So we raced to her house taking turns in running forward while the other ran backward to make sure no big hairy animal was going to use us as toothpicks.

Once getting my friend home safe and sound I gathered all my courage to walk back home all alone. This didn't last long and I soon found myself in another mates home calling my dad and explaining why it was imperative that he come pick me up. To which he replied "Get home now!" or something to that effect and hung up on me. I in turn, thinking of my mutilated body - being a writer with a VERY vivid imagination, started to cry. So my mates mum took pity on me and dropped me home.

This wasn't as long ago as I would probably like it to be ... but I have since grown big and strong. Now when there's a big bad wolf, or clean-shaven, even hairless one, I flex my arms, puff out my chest and say, "Bring it on!"