Clawing their way out of the tomb, these shambling undead creatures lurch into the light of day, repelling decent folk with their hideous, decayed appearance, themselves tangible evidence of the ravages of time. Am I talking about zombies and ghouls? No, I'm talking about comics about zombies and ghouls, specifically 50s pre-Code horror comics revived by a series of super-cheap publishers in the midst of the horror boom of the early 1970s and published in magazines, thus preserving these bloody awful comics for a new generation of easily disturbed youth.

Here's a secret for publishing success - publish a bunch of comics in the 1950s, hang onto the original artwork, and then twenty years later just publish 'em again! It's like free money. That just what Myron Fass did with his "Witches Tales" black and white magazine, giving the magazine racks of 7-11s across the nation a taste of bloody, frequently incoherent, and sometimes stupid horror stories, just like this one, which is about the curse of a witch, the curse being "I will jam my fingernails into your neck and it'll hurt a lot."

Ah, the good old days, when men were real men and witches were burned alive in the castle courtyard. Especially if they're witches who turn themselves into wolves, and then drink the blood of the living. So that would make them werewitchpires. Better burn her three times just to make sure.

Here's the secret trick THEY don't want you to know about how to deal with witches and their evil spirit curses!

And things were great until that pesky world war happened. Dang those things!

Nazi bombs blast open the grave, but it's another eight years before whatever 50s comic this originally appeared in was published, so you're going to have to hold off on that vengeance for a while, miss werewitchpire... hold on... wait for it... now go! Venge that vengeance!

Murdered by the curse of a ghost witch werewolf vampire? Who you gonna call? The famous ghost doctor, the hastily re-named "Uncle Martin", that's who. I wonder what his original name was and why they changed it? Maybe it was something that was fine in the 1950s but not in the 1970s. DDT, getting your feet x-rayed at the shoe store, leaded gasoline, who knows.

And at bustling Croydon Airport (their motto: "Screw You Heathrow, We're Not Going Anywhere") the experienced Ghost Doctor Uncle Martin arrives, ready to diagnose and treat all your ghost problems. Stop the car, it's the wolf girl whose witch vampire spirit has cursed us all!

BTW it's nice to see a left-hand drive car tooling around in England. Reminds me of home. Or poor research, one or the other.

And brother, when it disintegrates, it disintegrates!

Nothing scares a werewitchpire spirit off like a malfunctioning ghost disintegrator. Maybe the spirit saw Uncle Martin waving this beeping gimmick around and was just so embarrassed for everybody that she just left.

Just drop one hint about vengeful spirits to Scotland Yard and they'll have your house surrounded by bobbies before you can say "waste of valuable police resources!"

Uncle Martin's experience in grappling with, snuggling, and having hot makeout sessions with ghosts serves him well here, as all his ghosts senses tell him something's screwy with THIS ghost strangling.

What? But I thought... can there be... somebody's impersonating a wolf-vampire-witch-ghost, and the REAL wolf-vampire-witch-ghost has arrived to stop all this foolishness? I guess that's the risk you run if you decided to impersonate wolf-vampire-witch-ghosts, kids

Ha-ha-ha-haaaa- there can be no escape Edwin Bane, not from the vengeance of my vengeful curse spirit, or from your new-found interest in wearing women's clothes! Will the evil 15th century witch spirit murder Edwin Bane horribly in a ghastly spray of crimson death, or will they go shopping together in the bustling commercial center of Croydon? Continued on back cover!

Oh, it's murder. Murder death kill all the way. Let this be a lesson to you - choose your ancestors wisely! Avoid those with curses on the family name!

While we're at it let's just plant this deep in the subconscious of any 1950s boys who might be reading this: wearing other-gendered clothes is bad and will lead to bloody horrible death. There. Heteronormative supremacy is assured for generations to come!

It was all a Scooby-Doo plot, except there wasn't a dog, and people actually died horribly, and there was an actual ghost in addition to Old Man Jenkins putting on a sheet and hollering "boo," and there weren't any guest appearances by Sonny & Cher or the Harlem Globetrotters. But other than that, just like Scooby-Doo.

And with that one killing - or I guess it was two killings, I haven't seen the police report on that first killing - with those one or two killings the curse of the werewolf vampire witch ghost has ended. And now we must only ask ourselves, where are Uncle Martin and Pam driving, and why is Uncle Martin driving Pam's car, and how exactly does somebody become a witch, and then become a vampire, and then become a werewolf? Pick one and stick with it!

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