The dreams are always about drinking wine and having wild sex with screaming women. I catch my wife checking the Farmer’s Almanac as September advan...es, but I pretend not to notice. We both know what’s coming. Just prior to the full moon illuminating the chill dusk of October, my wife feeds me a very large porterhouse steak, cooked very rare and dripping red with blood, and pours me a large glass of red wine on the pretense of celebrating the end of the crop season. My head starts to lighten. "You saw these the other night...do you still like them?", she asked. I told her I told her I very much did. I wasn't prepared for her next question, which was, "Just what were you and Lore doing up here before she left this morning?" Somehow, she must have known we had been together. I tried to sound convincing as I said that my aunt needed help with something. "Listen young man," she said, "Let me tell you a couple of things. I know you and Lore aren't blood relatives, that she is very. More

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