A silent room, almost a bar, Its name is not Bee they don’t have any que ball there. A woman dressed in red and blue, the music cool and slow, The old guy sits there, shy, lonely. She walks over, and asks for a light, his eyes begin to glow, in the dark. She waves her cigarillo, his eyes fade, and a lighter is produced, almost from thin air. The barkeep yells, “Hey ! Outside with that !” Old man smiles, and lights the candle in its little glass container, glowing redly, like her eyes. They journey out onto the porch, She turns towards him, fangs at the ready. He smiles a smile, points to the full moon, and he turns into a human. She screams in fright, and flys off into the night, oh well, he never can get a date, being a werehuman.