Add some retro excitement with Benicio del Toro and Anthony Hopkins in the Victorian supernatural thriller movie, The Werewolf.

Damn, with so much lycanthrope action, you better get vaccinated for rabies!

Jonsing for LEGO vampire action?  Then enter the YouTube crypt.

Funny, still looks like a recession from here. Money’s tight for everybody. And so, to stretch those already thin dollars, Jailbait Zombie is now available in massmarket paperback. As are The Undead Kama Sutra, X-Rated Bloodsuckers, and The Nymphos of Rocky Flats. Felix has something for everybody: horny undead femme fatales; alien gangsters; a lecherous evangelical preacher; treacherous sisters; a murderous psychic; and an assassin from West Point.

To cope with so much supernatural mayhem, I’ve asked two of my favorite authors to help carry the load.

Everyone agrees that as far as paranormal creatures go, werewolves are the most problematic. Vampires have glamour and mesmerizing glamour powers. Zombies have a certain laid-back “Who me, run?” attitude. And demons are the Eddie Haskells of paranormal world: charming bad characters who always have a fun plot for world domination.

Weres have fur and claws and are frequently mistaken as the common house-pet. Worse, when we hear about werewolves, our first thought is always, “But when they transform back to human, they’re butt-nekkid!”

Yes, but they’re also butt-nekkid in wolf form.

It’s time to acknowledge what we’ve long known: werewolves are all either laizzes-faire hippy nudists or exhibitionists at heart. The first is okay, but we all suspect that most shifters are like the middle-aged dude who likes to vacuum in the nude in front of the window and then wave to passersby.

When a zombie’s rotting flesh falls into the spinach dip bowl, you can always politely replace the dip with some guacamole and everyone’s happy. But when a werewolf transforms to human in front of you and his business is just wagging out there, it’s awkward. And then his jealous girlfriend is all, “What are you looking at?” And you’re all, “I wasn’t looking at anything?” and she’s all, “Are you saying my boyfriend isn’t worth looking at, bitch?” And mayhem ensues.

The etiquette books never give you the advice you could really use.

I may have issues with the Twilight series, but one thing is for certain: I am team Jacob. From the minute Jacob had his überpubescence (and yes, I feel creepy just typing that phrase) there was never any doubt as to who the real love interest should be, at least in my mind.

Despite my barghest’s predilection for remaining furry, however, fans have clearly latched onto Anyan. They are absolutely right to do so, as I’ve foreshadowed his evolving importance to the series and to Jane. Indeed, one of these signals is the fact that readers can probably see just how much I love Anyan, myself.

For I am apparently not only Team Jacob, but I am Team Werewolf, in general. I always prefer the werewolf (or weretiger, in the case of Charlaine Harris’s Quinn). In my real life, I’ve never dabbled in bestiality, or eyed up a friend’s labrador and thought, “Blimey, check out the tail on him!” And yet, in my urban fantasy, I apparently want my men to enjoy nice walks on the beach and a Milkbone or two.

I’m not going to delve into the Freudian connotations of this interest. I am, however, going to admit that I’m very much looking forward to Mario’s new novel, Werewolf Smackdown. I hope his werewolves are extra lickie. Just sayin’.

Obituaries (continued from page 32)

sphincter. The rest of him didn’t look too good, either. What we had, anyway.” So said Carol von Carol, deputy assistant chief medical examiner of the Morada County Coroner’s Office and Game Meat Cannery. “Cleto had the reputation of a tough guy, someone who never said no to nothing. Well, he should’ve said no to this.” When asked about rumors of zombies, von Carol scoffed. “I scoff at those rumors,” she said. “So we find a half dozen bodies with their brains scooped out and enough mad scientist equipment to bring a busload of murdered transients back to life, it’s purely coincidental. Zombies, I scoff once more.” Major General Scratchen Crotch added to those sentiments. He was visiting the county for an unrelated search for Dr. Leopold Hennison, who had once pitched to the Department of Defense an idea to reanimate dead terrorists and turn them against Al-Qaeda. “It was a thoroughly ridiculous idea,” said Gen Crotch. “The U.S. government has absolutely no desire to create revenant commandos. Never. Ever. Cross my heart. However (continued on page 81)