Have No Fear, Angry Mob, I’m No Werewolf — I’m a Werewoof

We will chuckle about this later, I am sure!

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Ah! But there is no cause for alarm, sirs. Please, please, do come in, no need to hover in the entrance. I too have been troubled by the disturbances during the last full moon: the chittering howls, the pawed-through garbage cans and clawed-through cables, the heavily nibbled tomato plants. I too have heard the rumors of a werewolf terrorizing our town, and I think I understand why you’ve come to see me with your torches and pitchforks and odd drawings of my own face covered in fur. Please, you mustn’t be troubled by the fur shed on the floor, puddles of recently drunk water, or the pile of decimated stuffed toys. I have recently transformed, it is true, good sirs…but into a werewoof.

I promise I have not misspoken! Do you imagine that upon the full waxing of the moon I transform into a terrifying fur-covered beast many times larger than a man, set only on death and destruction, of the quelling of my insatiable hunger? No, sirs! I know that is exactly what you imagined, and I do transform, it’s true, once upon a full moon, but into a mid sized, well behaved, house-trained domestic dog.

I understand your confusion — I too had never encountered a werewoof before I became one, or so I thought! You see, becoming a werewoof is…