Out of gratitude, and after being saved by a man, a savage she-wolf secretly turned into a human in order to become his loving wife. They lived happily for years without him ever knowing her secret.

Then late one night, under a full moon, the man looked inside her dressing room only to discover her true nature. Mixed with her human form, she turned back into the savage she-wolf, killing her husband, before she disappeared into the darkness, never to be seen again.

On full moon nights, she can be heard baying skyward and in shame for what she’s done.

Tell that someone you love jus’ how much you love them and do it today because life is too short to wait. Also, scream it at them in German, because life is also very terrifying and saying it in German also sounds funny — in a dirty-minded way.

If I were a betting man, and I’m not, I think most ‘social isolating’ men in the US are so hard up for current sports programming, that they’d watch foreign soccer matches, even if they didn’t understand a word being said. Best bring on the beer and chips, if they do.

They keep saying, “You’re locked down for your own safety,” and all I keep thinking is, “So was Jeffery Epstein.”

It’s that odd, quirky, out-of-step writer — the one whose thought appears out of place, raw and real, unedited, uncorrected, imperfect, impure, poorly spelled, without proper grammar, but boldly written down and publicly shared, that fascinates me. And I like dogs, too.

It’s been a couple of months since I’ve have a night-terror. Again, I was being violent in my sleep, being physically attacked by another person. I wish I were able to figure out why these occur like they do, why they disappeared for the while and why they’ve returned.

My continued battle with insomnia is bad enough, but jus’ getting to sleep only to have this happen, sheesh! So, here I am, sitting at my computer, that I had shut-off an hour-and-a-half earlier, logged on and writing.

On the plus side, I finally got my unemployment filed. However, I received a message from the website saying I have to call them to complete the interaction. That ticked me off at first, then I saw the ironic humor in it and found myself laughing at it instead.

Think I’ll go lay down, try to get some sleep. Not!

The year was 1993, when now-convicted serial killer Samuel Little was preparing to head out of Las Vegas and back to Los Angeles, in his 1978 yellow Cadillac Eldorado. While still in Vegas, he says that he met a black woman near Owens and Jackson and later killed her.

Little describes her as a thin, dark-skinned, African-American woman, about 40 years old, around five-foot, five-inches tall and between 110 and 120 pounds. He believes the woman had naturally short hair but wore a long-haired wig.

He also remembers the woman pointing out her son, a black male who was somewhere between 19 and 23 years old at the time. After meeting the young man, Little says he took the woman to a motel room, where he strangled her to death.

He claims that he placed the woman’s body in the trunk of his car and drove to the outskirts of Las Vegas, where he pulled off on a remote road and rolled the woman’s body down a steep slope. He then threw her clothing out of his car while traveling down another side road.

Because of the lack of remains or a missing persons report in this case, Little’s account of killing this woman has yet to be confirmed. If you have any information linked to the woman depicted in the sketch, please contact the FBI at 1-800-CALL-FBI or submit at tip online at tips.fbi.gov.

She followed her Grandpa into the woods behind his home. She’d never been allowed to go there, but at seven-years-old, she was a big girl now.

He had told her the name of the forest as they stepped onto the trail that lead through the tall Redwoods, but it was so hard to say, she jus’ stayed with, “I tell the truth” woods. Grandpa said that if she were to say anything, it would come true in these woods and she believed the old man.

She was trotting to keep up with his longer strides, and when he realized this he found a fallen log and sat down on it. As she scrambled up next to him, he was busy packing tobacco into his pipe and lighting it.

“Are their fairies and dwarfs in these woods?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said delighting in her childhood imagination, adding, “And giants, too.”

She looked around, “I can see a fairy over there and there are two dwarfs looking at us from under those ferns in front of us.”

He smiled.

“Are they dangerous?”

“They can be. Fairies never, dwarfs sometimes, when they’re being mischievous, and giants always.”

“What keeps them away?”

“Tobacco and tobacco smoke.”

“How does that work?”

“The Yurok Indians offer tobacco to the Spirits to keep themselves and their families safe. Sometimes they leave it in a single spot, or they let it spread on the wind or they smoke it.”

“So, is that why those three giant’s behind us won’t come any closer?”

“That’s right,” he said as she looked down at her.

It was then that he took note of her face, the terror in her eyes, the slight tremble in in her lower lip. He turned and looked behind them.

To both his shock and amazement, he saw three very tall giants standing behind them. He jumped from the log and turned to face them.

The three didn’t move.

With no time to figure out how such mythical creatures could be, he instructed the little girl, in a near whisper, “Get under the log and hide. And when the giant’s follow me, you get up and run back to the house as fast as you can. Understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered back.

He gently tapped the glowing cherry from his pipe, crushed it under foot and then yelled loudly, waving his arms frantically, “Follow me, you ugly beasts!”

The three giants sprang back at the sudden commotion.

A second later the old man took off at a sprint up the trail and the three giants followed. And though his legs carried him quickly, they were no match for the giants, who gained on him in less than half-a-minute.

One of them grabbed him up, then held him upside down, shaking him aggressively. Everything in his pockets fell to the ground, including his gold pocket watch and he even lost his glasses as they slipped from his nose.

“I’m done in,” he thought, “But hopefully she’s made it home by now.”

As the giants grunted over their upcoming morsel of food, they failed to notice the tiny figure that stood in their midst. She had her grandpa’s pipe and was filling it with tobacco and lighting it a quickly as she could.

She breathed in and then breathed out and with a violent cough, sent up a large blue cloud of smoke, then shouting and waving her arms, “Let my Grandpa go!”

The trio stood there, confounded and puzzled by this child’s behavior. Never in their hundreds of years had they seen one so young, so little, act so brazenly.

“I said, let my Grandpa go!” she hollered and stepped forward, before blowing out another cloud of tobacco smoke.

The one dangling Grandpa upside down, dropped the old man with a thud. Unhurt, but very frightened, he got to his feet and quickly walked over to his granddaughter.

Smiling, she handed him the pipe and he took a long, large drag from it’s bowl and stem, before turning on the giants and heaving a breathe of dark blue smoke in their direction. The three took several steps back before turning and running away, disappearing into the Muscheyowok’ Forest.

“You were right Grandpa, tobacco smoke does keep us safe,” the little girl announced.

“But only because you didn’t run away like I told you to do,” the old man weakly smiled.

Then with some haste, Grandpa grabbed the Granddaughter’s hand and began making for home along the trail. He had only a short while to figure out what to tell his wife and worse yet, his daughter, the girls mother about what had happened.

I can’t be the only person doing their best to avoid one of those bald spots a baby gets from laying around all day.

Thinking that a homemade clothe face mask is going to stop a virus is like believing your underwear will stop the smell of a fart.