It was a full moon. Quite frankly, Charlie was sick to death of turning into a werewolf every full moon. Why can’t he live a normal live like everyone else? This month the full moon clashed with the date of the annual school dance. He rather fancied Betsy-Anne and had already invited her before he realized the clash of dates.
I mean, he couldn’t help it. The sun would go down; the moon would rise; Charlie would turn into a werewolf and pad off into the night.
“Blow it,” he thought. “I’m going to the dance with Betsy-Anne. I’ll tell her beforehand what will happen and she can dump me if she likes.”
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Betsy-Anne said she didn’t mind. And when the moon rose (to be rather ruthless about it) Betsy-Anne thought he looked rather sexy. They danced! Did they dance? They danced the night away. Midnight came sooner than they thought possible.
On the stroke of twelve Betsy-Anne leapt out of Charlie’s arms and dashed outside into her waiting coach. A glass slipper was all she left behind.