Werewolf-Sax-Solo

“You’re reporting a domestic disturbance?”

“Oh it’s a disturbance all right. Very disturbing indeed, officer.”

“Right. So you’d like to go on record as having heard, quote, ‘…crazy sax solos coming from this guy Marty’s apartment once a month for the past year.’ Does that about sum up the infraction?”

“No, damn it, you’re not listening! This isn’t just noise pollution I’m complaining about here. It’s much more than that. These saxophone solos come from the very depths of hell.”

“Uh huh. And can you describe these… detrimental sax stylings?”

“Don’t you get it, man? These aren’t just your average riffs. It’s beyond raunchy, beyond infectious. These sax wails get into your blood.”

“Yyyyeah.”

“I’m serious! Every full moon, hot passionate saxophone madness comes howling down from Marty’s roof, striking fear into every corner of your heart. There’s no way what I’m hearing is from this world. I’m convinced what we’re dealing with isn’t even human!”

“Are you saying—”

“That’s right, officer. What we’ve got on our hands could very well be… a Wail Wolf!”

“A… a werewolf?”

“Oh no, officer. A werewolf you can kill. A werewolf merely hunts you down and tears you to shreds. But a Wail Wolf? They influence your most animalistic nature, your most primal instincts. At first all you hear are some harmless Billy Joel excerpts and you think, ‘Hey, that guy’s pretty good. I hope he does “It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me” next.’ But that’s only the beginning.”

“What do you mean?”

“Pretty soon the Wail Wolf squeals out some Huey Lewis, maybe a little Men At Work. Then you recognize the solos from ‘Maneater’ and ‘Rio’. Before you realize what’s happening to you, you’re willingly swaying along with ‘Careless Whisper’ featuring George Michael.”

“Dear lord! We’ll send out a task force right away! I just have to file this report first. How do you spell your name again?”

“That’s Kenneth Bruce Gorelick. G-O-R…”

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