My wife is extremely beautiful; dark skin, a rocking bod', short black hair and an amazing smile which I have to admit is what caught my attention the first time I saw her.

I remember the first time I introduced her to my best friend Barney. The first thing he said when we were alone was: "Damn, dude. She's beautiful." And she was. Was.

Right until she grew fangs, claws and bat wings and started to try to kill me.

I zoom down the steps, taking them four at a time as I hear her new found claws dig into the wall as she misses me by a hair's breadth.

She lets out an awful shriek in that terrible new voice of hers; like metal grinding on metal. A voice which seems to be the new replacement for the beautiful soprano she had just five minutes ago.

At the bottom of the stairs I sprint into the living room headed for the door, but when I remember that I don't have the key and that even if I did I can't afford the luxury of taking the time to open the door, I head for the window instead with every intention of jumping through the damn thing.

I get my wish, sort of, because before I can get to the window I feel her evil, clawed hands grab my shoulders and the next thing I know I'm swinging around in the air, flying in a straight line, smashing against the glass and landing so hard on the lawn outside that I know I've broken at least two dozen major bones-–never mind how many there are in the body to begin with.

I go bouncing and rolling like I imagine a rag-doll would if shot from a catapult and by the time I finally stop, I'm on the curb.

I'm so disoriented and nauseous from the spinning and rolling that I can't even tell which way is up.

My head finally begins to clear and I force myself on my hands and knees, my back aching like crazy. 'How am I even alive?' I think as I look myself over. I've got a few cuts and bruises, a lot of aches, and I'm covered in dirt from head to toe, however I've got no major injuries and most disturbingly; I'm alive.

The window is now a gaping hole in the wall of the house and shards of glass are scattered on the rose bushes. I look down and can actually see the gorges in the dirt that mark the path I took during my crash to where I now kneel.

Wondering just how much of a scene I must have caused with my "grand exit," I'm astounded when I check and see the neighborhood is as quiet as a graveyard with the lights in every house turned off.

Disbelievingly, I focus on the house across the street from ours; Mrs. Rudolf's, and I'm shocked to not find her peeping at me through her window. I mean this woman watches me wash my car and you mean to tell me she didn't notice me fly ten feet out my window?!

Huh. I guess I should do that a lot more often.

Vivian-that's my wife's name-walks out of the house then, actually using the door like it's a normal day and she's just headed out for groceries, and doesn't have leathery bat wings or didn't just toss me out the window.

She walks out and closes the door then sets her gaze on me.

As she walks toward me I try to run, to escape, but when I stand my legs wobble and I fall back down.

She stops and stands a few feet from me, the moonlight reflecting off her leathery gray skin, as her purple negligee blows softly in the cool evening breeze.

She stares up at the moon, looking sad as she says in a voice that sounds closer to normal: "You messed up Jimmy, you messed up. All you had to do was not mention the moon, that's all you had to do."

She looks down at me. "But you failed James. Like all the others. And for that you'll have to die."

Oh right, I forgot to tell you. The reason my wife literally went bat crazy and is trying to kill me, is because I mentioned the moon right before sex.

Yep, that's right. That was literally all I did wrong. I know you're confused, so I'll just run you through it.

Today's our first anniversary, and being the sweetheart that I am I actually had an awesome dinner set up, complete with flowers and music and candles… the whole shebang.

So I took her out on an amazing date and brought her home to a candle-lit dinner-am I great or what? Anyway, after dinner we had two bottles of really expensive wine, and then she went upstairs telling me to wait for her because she had a surprise for me.

She called me up to the bedroom a few minutes later and when I got there, I saw her in the very negligee she now wears.

Needless to say though, I thought she was way hotter in it then.

Before I could compliment her attire-or do anything for that matter-she pounced on me, her lips on mine in fierce passion as she pressed her body against mine, clawing at my clothes like they were annoyances in her way.

And now that I think about it, this was without a doubt the reason why I remembered the ridiculous 'fact of women'-as he called it-that Barney told me earlier in the day.

See it's quite simple. Today's a full moon, and Barney had told me to expect some off-the-charts anniversary sex tonight, because apparently-according to him anyway-Mahatma Gandhi had spent years studying the phases of the moon and the effects it had on the female libido, and had concluded after a decade of tiresome study that women were-to put it simply-hornier at the full moon than at any other time.

Of course I didn't believe any of it since Barney is-and has always been-full of it. However at that moment when what he said came to mind, I well… I laughed.

Vivian's reaction was immediate; she pulled back and gave me a questioning look. "What's funny?"

"It's nothing," I said, more interested in going back to what we were doing than in telling her about Barney's baloney.

However she was adamant and I began to worry that not telling her may have worse repercussions than telling her possibly could-I know, huge error in judgement. So I told her.

After I did, she got up and walked some distance away from the bed, her back to me.

"Don't worry about it hon', you know what Barney is like." I started to say, before her voice cut me off. It was the voice.

With a sound like metal grinding on metal coming from her, she said: "Just like the others. You had to mention the moon, just like the others."

She sighed. "Pity, I actually liked you."

And that's when the wings grew. Huge, black, leathery wings sprouting from her shoulders like they'd always been sitting there beneath the surface, just waiting to get out. Her skin turned wrinkled and gray, like old leather and a network of black veins popped up all over her arms and legs.

When she turned, I saw razor sharp fangs in her mouth; fangs that looked like they could rip out a Buffalo's throat no problem. And oh God! Don't even get me started on the claws.

As one would expect, watching this made me freeze in fear, shock, confusion and a lot of other emotions that were all struggling for dominance. Well… at least until she lunged at me with the obvious intention of biting my head off.

I rolled out of the way just in time and the moment my feet touched the floor, I took off toward the stairs running for my life first before bothering to ponder what the hell was going on and that, as you may have guessed, is how I wound up here.

She raises her hand, her razor sharp claws glistening in the moonlight, and as she brings it down toward my face, I scream "Wait!"

She stops, looking at me questioningly. "So," I pant out incredulously. "You're going to kill me simply because I mentioned the moon?!"

Her brows furrow as she considers this, then: "Yes," she says as her claws swoop down.

I spring upright in bed, my body covered in a cold sweat.

My heart is pounding and my breath comes in pants. I feel something touch me and I'm off the bed so fast that I slam into the dresser.

It's Vivian, completely normal, looking a little scared and very worried. I instinctively check her hands for signs of claws but don't see any, and when she speaks it's with her normal voice, "Jim, what's wrong?"

I don't answer her, instead I head directly into the adjoining bathroom and stick my head under the faucet in the sink. I let the cold water run over my head as I try to calm down.

It was all a dream, I think to myself as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is disheveled, my eyes wild and bloodshot and the colour is just now returning to my face.

"Jim?" I hear Vivian call me from the room as I try to still the slight tremble in my hands. "Are you okay?"

I focus on her voice, on her normal, not-evil voice and remind myself that it was all a dream. That Vivian is back there in the bedroom, and that she sure as hell isn't going to transform into a bat-thing and kill me over something as ridiculous as mentioning the moon; no matter how real it had felt or seemed.

With that in mind, I step into the bedroom and lean on the doorpost. Vivian is sitting up in bed, worry etched on her face. The covers are held under her arms to cover her nude form and she looks just as beautiful as always.

How could my mind have cooked up such a nightmare from someone this beautiful? I think, getting rather pissed at myself. I'm ridiculous.

"James?" Vivian calls. "James," she calls again, bringing me back to focus. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say trying to sound upbeat.

"Just a nightmare is all." I walk towards the bed. "Maybe I shouldn't have drank all that wine."

I sit on the bed getting ready to go back to sleep, but Vivian still looks worried so I lean over and kiss her.

It's a long deep kiss, and when I pull back I place my hand on her cheek and look into her eyes and say-more for my benefit than hers: "Vivian, I'm fine."

She seems to accept this, because she says: "Well that's good. Because you looked like you saw a demon or something. It was creepy."

"Sorry about that." I apologise, smiling sheepishly and trying hard to forget the demon bit in her comment.

"What did you dream about anyway?" She asks as she lies back down. I too slide under the covers and she scoots over resting her head on my chest.

"Demon babies from outer space." I lie, already resolved to not tell her the truth.

She bursts out laughing. "Demon babies from space?"

"You may think it's funny," I tell her, feigning seriousness. "But it was no laughing matter in my dream. Oh no, it wasn't."

"They were small, with beady black eyes and the worst part was they only went after good-looking young men."

"Uh huh." She intones, her laughter fading. "And I'm guessing they all came after you. You know, since you're so good-looking and all."

I fake-gasp. "It's like you were there." I whisper, making her laugh again.

I know she can tell I'm lying, because for one thing it will take a lot more than a dream about alien-demon-babies to elicit such a reaction from me.

She doesn't seem to want to pry though, because she says: "It's okay though. You're safe now. After all it was just a bad dream." Which thinking about it, seems like a very odd thing to say; almost like she's consoling a child who's had a nightmare.

But then I suppose I haven't really acted like an outstanding example of manhood either.

Vivian yawns. "Well this has been exciting, but I'm tired so… goodnight."

"Yeah, goodnight," I reply.

Vivian soon falls asleep. And a few minutes later as I'm about to drift off myself, I hear her say in a quiet, sleepy voice: "Oh and James, never mention the moon again, okay?"

"Sure," I reply as I fall asleep without really hearing what she said.