Poor Arthur Lemming has been cursed to turn into a werewolf under the full moon, and the poor fella killed his beloved wife and daughter.
Whilst wandering around like
Except they're not so innocent:
And so a plan is hatched:
Hmmm, perhaps you shouldn't trust a coven of witches that you've just turned into mincemeat. And forcing them to help you? Could be counterproductive. I'm just sayin.'
They never explain why this coven of witches just happened to have a mummy laying around. The again, why not?
They proceed to transfer the werewolf curse from Lemming onto the dead mummy...
Except, of course, these witches are dickweeds.
Yep, they didn't transfer your curse...they transferred your soul into mummy. Ha ha ha ha!
Oh, dear...those idiots did it during a full moon. So now they must face:
Hey, you got werewolf in my mummy!!
And you got mummy in my werewolf!!
Which inescapably leads to one incontrovertible fact:
YOU DO NOT F#$% WITH A WERE-MUMMY!!!
Dear Dynamite...since you just bought the Vampirella rights, would it kill you to throw in a few extra cents so you have the rights to Were-mummy as well? Please?? I promise to buy it...
The ultimate radness of the Were-mummy (whose story continued for several more issues, because, well, WERE-MUMMY, dammit!) was by Steve Skeates and Martin Salvador in Eerie #54 (1974). Five bucks says Were-mummy could take Frankencastle...