"I think I just hit something!" Belinda said, staring in her rearview mirror and seeing only darkness. The full moon did not provide enough light for her to verify the dark shape on the roadway that grew smaller and smaller with each passing second.
"Keep on drivin'" said Kevin, her beloved husband.
"I am going to find this 'UBHNDME' person," said Archibald, the werewolf that she just hit with her car that had the presence of mind to read her license plate.
Kevin and Belinda arrived home and surveyed the damage on the car.
"Not bad, we can get insurance to pay for that," Kevin said, looking at the wrinkled bumper and bent fender. "Say that we were in a hit and run."
"Oh, Kevin, but what if we hit something and it is hurt?" Belinda asked, worry crinkling her face.
"Bah!" Kevin said, waving his hand to dismiss his wife. They went inside to drink some wine and eat some cheese.
Night fell, and Archibald emerged from the bushes where he'd been hiding. He checked the license plate and saw the damage to the car.
"Bingo," he said.
He limped over to an open window, tore the screen out with a claw, and climbed into the window. Kevin and Belinda were asleep on their couch. Archibald picked up the open bottle of wine on the coffee table.
"At least my assailants have good taste in wine," he said.
Belinda woke up and screamed.
"I'd hate to be a guest at one of your dinner parties if this is how you react when somebody drinks your wine," Achibald said. He poured himself a glass, plopped himself into a recliner, and cranked the mechanism until it reclined.
"You're...a werewolf," Belinda said.
"Yes," Archibald replied.
"Did I...hit you with my car?" Belinda asked.
"You're damn right that you did," Archibald replied.
"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry. Please, help yourself to the wine and cheese," Belinda said.
"Why, thank you. I won't trouble you long, I just needed to rest my sore paw for a time, and I came over here rather impulsively," Archibald said, munching on a piece of cheese.
"The hell you will!" Kevin roared, erupting from his chair. As he rose, he pulled out a fat, silver revolver from beneath a cushion of the couch. He pointed it at Archibald.
"Get out of my house!"
"Kevin! What're you doing?" Belinda asked.
"I won't tolerate any werewolves in my house! I could smell him when you hit him with the car, that's why I didn't want you to stop!"
"I filthy vampire," Archibald said, shaking his head. "I thought I smelled a stink."
"Be careful," Kevin said, smiling an evil smile. His teeth were long and sharp. "I've loaded this with silver bullets."
A growl rumbled out of Archibald's throat, and he bared his teeth.
"Stop it, both of you!" Belinda said.
"Shut up, this is about a blood feud," Kevin said.
While he was distracted, Archibald snapped off the handle for the recliner and threw it with an assassin's accuracy into Kevin's chest. The end stuck out of his sternum.
"Plastic," Kevin said, "you think I'd have wooden stakes in my house? My goddamn clothes hangers are plastic."
He fired and the bullet hit Archibald. He yelped, then paused, and pulled a bullet out of his fur.
"Where'd you buy this 'silver' bullet? Down at the lead mines?"
"I was scammed!"
Archibald got up out of his chair and limped towards Kevin. His hackles stood up like he'd been fooling around with the house's electric system, and long strands of saliva dripped from between his bared teeth.
"I said, stop it!" Belinda said. She reached out two long, robotic arms and wrapped her titanium pincers around their necks. They were helpless to continue the centuries-long blood feud between vampires and werewolves.
The Moral: Chewing on robots doesn't do any good, and shooting them with silver bullets just makes your death more expensive.