The Strange Life of Dr. Normal

"The boars of France! The boars of France!" He screams into the night. His trembling, naked body glistens with sweat in the half-moonlight. His heart is pounding. His pulse rising. A look of horror contorts his shadowed face. Somewhere, in the distance, a baby is crying for its mother. And still, all he can force out is, "The boars of France!"

He darts frantically into an empty alleyway. There is a brief but violent struggle...then nothing.

A few hours later, he wakes up, stretched out on the ground like a slab of butcher's meat. A deep, guttural moan steals from him almost involuntarily as he tries to move. His hand accidentally knocks against his side and waves of electric pain rip through him until he almost loses consciousness for the second time. He takes a few deep breaths to try and calm himself and regain some sort of composure--though it would be considered fragile at best. Then he gently, but deftly, moves his left hand to his hip...waits two interminable seconds...and in one swift, brave motion grabs hold of the alien protrusion, and yanks it from his side.

The moon showers its soft sympathetic glow on the slumbering earth 240,000 miles below her...on its sleeping children and on the quiet shelters they call homes...on everything that's sound and sane in this world...while Dr. Normal gazes long and hard--and in sheer terror--at the bright, blood-stained ivory fang in his hand!