You're standing in the kitchen, humming along to the radio as you churn the sugary mixture in your bowl. Tossing in mashed banana and bits of walnut, you smile to yourself, knowing your concoction is ready to be poured into a bread pan and put in the oven. Finally done, you put the pan in the oven, wiping a buttery hand down your apron in satisfaction. Your brow furrows as a sound reverberates through the open window, causing you to lower the volume of the music. You wait, listening for the sound to come again. And there, on the night air, you hear it. The howl sends shivers up your spine; it's too close to be ignored. You decide to call for help, making your way through the house to the telephone, but you stop as you hear the shuffling sounds of movement just outside your door. Moving back, you stifle a scream as a sudden thump sends splinters of wood scattering against the floor, the door popping open with a squeal of protest. Before you stands a massive, salivating wolf, remnants of a blue shirt still clinging to his shoulders. He looks you over, coming forward to sniff at your apron loudly, before bounding past you. For what feels like an eternity you sit, listening to the sounds of sharp nails on the hardwood floor. Finally you find the courage to crawl towards the back of the house, and what you see baffles your terrified mind. There, in the center of your kitchen, the werewolf sits on the floor, his muzzle shoved into the bread pan, remnants of your freshly baked banana nut bread scattered across the floor, and all over his pelt. He looks up at your entrance, licking his chops with a satisfied grin.