Its 1954/2010, its a warm summer night and the crickets are singing. He's taken me for a picnic on some cliffs overseeing the city lights and then the vast ocean. We drove up here in his ford mustang, and when it started to get a little chilly he placed his letter-man jacket over my shoulders. We were both a bit dazed after our evening venture and lay under the stars. There's a full moon above us. I undo my hair clips so my hair falls around my shoulders. He growls, and we hold paws. We can hear the radio from the car, its playing something perfect for a date with a werewolf.