Dr. Simon Peterson has a big secret. An awful secret. Its name is Mr. Wooffles. Simon is a research scientist who runs his lab out of his large country estate on the edge of a desolate swamp. It is far away from any neighbors, and he enjoys the seclusion. It gives him the opportunity to run his affairs the way he wants without public interference. No one even knows he is working anymore. He was supposed to have retired a long time ago.
It was late morning, and the sun shone brightly outside. Simon was in a good mood. Mr. Wooffles had eaten well last night, and Simon was pleased. Although, at first, he was not. At first, it had been a shock to the system.
He dipped his mop into a bucket of soapy water and then slung the water onto the hardwood floor. He frantically swished the mop across the wood and whistled as he did so. Simon then held the mop over the large bucket and wrung it. Red liquid flowed into the bucket and stained the soapy water a shade of dark crimson. Simon stopped for a moment. His whistling ceased. He stared hard at the mess on the floor.
“Oops. I missed an ear,” he declared in a cheery tone. “I will need to get a trash bag.”
Simon resumed his joyful whistling as he walked into the kitchen and retrieved a black garbage bag. He opened the bag and proceeded to the den. Simon stopped once again and stared at the hardwood floor.
“Well, Mr. Wooffles, you sure made a mess. A big mess, indeed.” He chuckled and resumed his happy whistling.
He knelt down and scooped up a wad of flesh with his bare hands. Portions of the gooey mess slipped through his fingers and splattered back onto the floor. Simon just kept whistling and paid it no mind. He was in no hurry to get the mess cleaned up. He would just take his time and relax in doing so. It was not like he had any visitors. At least not until this poor gentleman that he was now scooping off the floor. But this man was an unexpected visitor.
It had all started late last night just a few minutes before midnight. Simon was awakened by the sound of glass breaking. It was followed by a high-pitched, ear-piercing alarm. The burglar alarm was sounding.
Simon jumped straight out of bed immediately, grabbing his housecoat, and ran as fast as he could. He heard the high-pitched shrieking of a man in pain.
“Oh no, Mr. Wooffles,” he cried frantically.
Simon made his way to the spiral staircase but stopped in his tracks just before reaching them. He heard a noise. A terrible noise. There were vicious snarls and the smacking of teeth. Then came the ripping sounds. What was happening?
Simon raced down the stairs and toward the sound. It was coming from the den.
“Mr. Wooffles, what have you done?” he screamed.
Mr. Wooffles was standing in the middle of the den, helping himself to a midnight snack. He chomped greedily. When he saw the doctor staring at him, he let out a whimper.
“Who is this man?” Simon asked.
Mr. Wooffles dropped the piece of meat from his mouth and looked bashfully at Simon. He knew he was caught red-handed and red-mouthed.
“Just how did you manage to get out?” asked Simon.
He looked over at the padlocked door toward the back of the den. The hinges were broken.
“I see,” said Simon. “This man, or what’s left of him, must have broken into the house, and you decided to bust out and fill your gut. Is that it?”
Mr. Wooffles tucked his tail between his legs and whined.
“Now, back in you go. I will have to get bigger locks this time. I don’t want you getting loose again,” declared Simon as he pointed to the dark room.
Mr. Wooffles let out a whimper and marched back into the depths of the room. The doctor slammed the door behind him. Mr. Wooffles loudly sobbed, but Simon paid him no attention. He had a lot of cleanup ahead of him, and he was tired already. He sighed deeply. Then, he began to look on the bright side; at least Mr. Wooffles was living up to his potential.
After Dr. Peterson cleaned up the den, he added wider padlocks and sturdier hinges to the door. He then carted the trash bags of body parts out to the back of his lot and dumped them into the depths of the swamp.
Then, Simon began to wonder. Where would he find more food? Perhaps the neighbors? They live a few miles away. How could he lure them here? Maybe for a banquet. He would tell them he was cooking an exquisite banquet for them. However, the banquet would really be for Mr. Wooffles.
“Marvelous!” The doctor proclaimed with a sinister grin. “This will work just fine.”
The next morning, he drove to the nearest house. The humble abode of the Thompsons. They were both in their late sixties and had been retired for quite some time. Mr. Tom Thompson had been a long-time professor of English and a literary critic. He had worked at the local university and also was involved in various columns on literature. He was a fickle man who could be genuinely nice at times but at any given moment turn verbally abusive and cruel. However, his feelings were consistent regarding Simon. He detested him. His wife, Martha, was a sweet lady that spent most of her career as a secretary at the university. Martha was polite and almost never angry; the opposite of her husband. It was a wonder that they ever got along.
Simon pulled up to the house. He sat in his car for a few moments, contemplating his words. He couldn’t sound too insistent, or they might get suspicious. He was a known recluse. Maybe there was no way to seem innocent. After all, it was far from innocent. It was downright immoral.
Simon gathered his thoughts and walked up to the door. He tried to hide his excitement, but it shined from his face like a neon sign. He rang the bell. It chimed loudly and rudely.
“Just a damn moment!” shouted Mr. Thompson.
“This is going to be good,” whispered Simon as he grinned from ear to ear.
Silence and a long pause.
Simon rang the doorbell again.
“Coming,” said Martha in a melodic tone as if she were singing.
She calmly opened the door, and when she saw the doctor, her face lit up in a wide smile.
“Well, Mr. Peterson what a pleasure to see you. It has been so long. I always tell Tom that we should come and see you. It is not like good neighbors to wait so long to see each other. As a matter of fact, I was just telling him the other day. Or maybe it was last week. Anyway, I was thinking about baking you a pie since you live all alone over there. Well?” said Martha in her high-pitched voice.
She paused and smiled widely at Simon.
“Well, what?” he asked.
“Well, what would you like in your pie, silly?” asked Martha.
“Shut the hell up!” yelled Tom as he came around the corner.
He stopped when he noticed the doctor.
“Well, if it isn’t the local jackass,” said Tom.
“Yes, here I am,” replied Simon with a grin.
The doctor tried to contain his excitement, but he was not doing a great job.
“What the hell are you so happy about?” asked Tom in a grumpy tone.
Simon stood there just smiling his sinister smile. He did not say a word.
“Well, man, say something,” said Tom.
“Oh, right,” said Simon. “I have come to invite you over for a feast.”
“Ah what?” asked Tom while scratching the top of this head and frowning.
“Dinner,” said Simon. “Tonight. As soon as possible. Now even.”
“Now?” asked Tom, looking puzzled. “Have you already got everything prepared?”
“No, not yet, but I thought we could talk while I prepared everything,” replied the doc.
“What?” asked Tom, still scratching his head and looking bewildered.
“Don’t you see, Tom? He is lonely,” said Martha, looking cheery. “Of course, we will go. We will go now.”
“But I don’t want to go. This man is a creep,” pouted Tom.
“Stop it, Tom,” said Martha. “Do you want us to drive over?”
“No, you can ride with me,” Simon quickly replied.
He knew this would be better as he would not have to dispose of their car or drive it back to their house.
“Sure,” said Martha.
“This sucks,” said Tom, grabbing his hat.
The three walked out of the house and got into Simon’s car. The couple had no idea what they were getting into, but Simon knew. He knew too well. The three arrived shortly at the doctor’s swamp estate.
“Why the hell did you want to live here, anyway? Your backyard is a swamp. Did you get the land cheap or something? Couldn’t afford anything else?” asked Tom rudely.
Simon said nothing, just kept smiling as he stood on the front porch staring at the couple.
The couple stared at Simon, and there was an eerie silence.
Finally, Tom broke the silence.
“Invite us in, you big idiot!” he shouted.
Simon said nothing but opened the door and continued to smile. The three walked inside, and Simon shut the door behind them, making sure to lock the triple deadbolt and secure a double padlock. He did not want anyone to leave now nor ever. Neither Tom nor Martha noticed the door’s added security.
“I do believe this is the first time I have ever been in your house,” said, Martha while smiling intensely.
“Nothing special,” snorted Tom. “Let’s get on with this already.”
“This way,” said Simon as he outstretched his hand toward the kitchen.
Simon led the couple through the den toward the kitchen. Tom stopped suddenly as he noticed something peculiar.
“What is that?” he asked as he pointed to a red splotch on the floor.
Simon knew what it was. It was dried blood he had missed when he cleaned up Mr. Wooffles’ dinner disaster.
“I cut myself shaving,” Simon quickly responded.
“In the den?” asked Tom.
“I always shave in the den. The bathroom is not appropriate for shaving,” replied the doc.
“And why not?” asked Tom defensively.
“Never mind that,” interrupted Martha. “Let’s go into the kitchen.”
“This way,” said Simon as he showed them to the table.
The kitchen was quaint and nearly barren. There was a crude rectangular wooden table and six chairs. There were two chairs on each side and one at each end. The cupboard doors were opened, and only a few boxes and cans were lurking inside. The refrigerator door was barely hanging on by one hinge.
“What in the hell are we going to eat, you son of a bitch!” yelled Tom. “This kitchen is bare. You brought us over here for nothing.”
“Just hold on,” said Martha. Her smile had now turned into a look of bewilderment.
“Just settle down,” said Simon. “I have the meat in another room. Tom, would you be so kind as to help me?”
Tom stood there and pondered the idea of helping Simon. He could not stand this man, and if it were not for his wife, Martha, he would not be here. However, he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, so he decided to aid Simon with the meat.
“Sure. Why not? It is not like I have anything better to do,” Tom said sarcastically.
“Come with me,” beckoned Simon.
“Martha, you stay here. I will be back in just a little bit,” said Tom.
Simon led Tom back into the den. Then, Tom stopped.
“I have got to use the restroom.”
“Oh, okay. It is right here,” said Simon as he pointed to the padlocked door.
“Why do you have padlocks on your restroom door?” asked Tom.
“You never know when a burglar might break into your restroom,” said Simon as he removed the keys from his pocket and inserted them into the lock.
“Why in the hell would anyone in their right mind break into someone else’s bathroom?” asked Tom.
“Well, you never know when they just might have to go,” said Simon as he placed his left hand on Tom’s back.
“What the?” asked Tom as he peered into the dark room.
“Exactly,” said the doc as he shoved Tom inside and quickly shut the door.
Hideous gruesome sounds came from within the room. Tom screamed and shrieked in agony while Mr. Wooffles ripped through his flesh. Then came the gurgling noises. Then silence. Simon left Mr. Wooffles to enjoy his meal and headed back to Martha.
“What was that dear?” asked Martha.
“I was just feeding my hamster,” said Simon as he smiled ear to ear.
He was pleased.
“Where is Tom?” she asked.
“Come, and I will show you,” said the doctor as he pointed toward the den.
“Oh, this way,” said Martha, looking puzzled.
“This way,” said Simon.
The doctor led Martha to the Mr. Wooffles’ door, except for this time, the door was not padlocked. Martha gasped at the closed door. Somehow, she knew something sinister was inside.
“What’s in there?” she asked timidly.
“You’ll see,” said the doctor as he opened the door while smiling at her.
Martha calmly walked into the dark depths of the room. Simon did not force her into the room. She walked in willingly.
Then, Martha screamed.
Mr. Wooffles snarled viciously.
The next morning, Simon awoke feeling well rested and in a fantastic mood. The experiment had proved itself a success. The ultimate security guard. The doctor smiled as he thought of his new creation.
“Now, the time has come for recognition!” he proclaimed loudly as he threw his hands in the air. “I will call Dr. Stevens at the university and ask him to see my wondrous creation. I am sure to win an award for this. There will be interviews and even books written about me.”
After the mad doctor finished his self-absorbed rant, he made his way downstairs and picked up his cell phone. He dialed the number.
“Surely Dr. Stevens will appreciate the science and engineering of my creation,” said Simon as the phone was dialing.
“Hello,” answered Stevens.
“Bill?” asked Simon.
“Hey! Is that you, Simon?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“What have you been up to these days?” asked Bill.
“Well, that is what I am calling you about. I have this experiment you see and-”
“What, you are working again? I thought you were retired. You know after that hefty fine and reprimand you got over genetic experimentation. It was such a shame. Your work was headed in the right direction. You were on the brink of discovering the cure for many diseases,” said Bill.
“Well, I am working on something different these days. I want to show you my work. Can you come over?” asked Simon.
“Sure, I am excited to see your work. What about this afternoon?” replied Bill.
“This afternoon sounds wonderful. What about two?” asked Simon.
“Great. Are you still living in the swamps?”
“Yep, same place.”
“So, Simon, tell me about this experiment. What is it? A cure for depression?”
“No.”
“A cure for cancer?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
“I will explain when you get here,” chuckled Simon.
“Oh, all right,” laughed Bill. “See you at two.”
Simon hung up the phone and walked to Mr. Wooffles’ room. He opened the door.
“Hello, Mr. Wooffles. Today, you are going to meet a friend.”
Mr. Wooffles snorted.
“I have got to chain you up as I do not want you to hurt him,” said Simon.
Mr. Wooffles whined.
“Sorry about this,” said Simon as he secured the restraints.
Simon then left the room and spent the remainder of the time pacing back and forth in the den. He wasn’t nervous but instead overly excited. When two came around, he was practically ecstatic.
Then, there was a knock on the door.
Simon ran to it and opened it wildly. It was Dr. Bill Stevens.
“Hi, Simon. It has been a long time, dear friend,” said Bill as he extended his hand for a shake.
“There is no time for that,” said Simon as he violently grabbed Bill’s arm and yanked him inside the house.
Simon slammed the door shut and hurried into the den, pulling Bill along for the ride.
“So, what is this all about?” asked Bill in a serious tone.
His demeanor had changed due to his friend’s rapid insistence. He was now concerned and apprehensive. He had never seen Simon in such a frantic mood.
“Just hold on. We have time,” said Bill. “Why are you so pushy all of a sudden?”
“I have been waiting to show you. To prove myself. To you and everyone else that I am not a failure. I am a mastermind.” said Simon as he gripped Bill’s arm tightly.
“Simon, you seem different. You seem frenzied and in great distress. I don’t like this one bit. I think I’d better leave,” said Bill
“No!” screamed Simon. “Not until you meet Mr. Wooffles.”
Bill opened his mouth, but before he could utter a word, he heard a strange sound coming from behind the closed door.
Woof.
“Wh-h-hat was that?” asked Bill.
“It is Mr. Wooffles!” declared Simon as he smiled ever so widely.
Woof.
Woof.
“Simon, who is Mr. Wooffles?” asked Bill.
Woof. Woof. Woof.
“Simon, what is Mr. Wooffles?” moaned Bill.
“Here, you will see,” said Simon as he ushered his friend to the door.
Simon opened the door. There was light coming into the room from the window in the den. It shined into the front section of the room. However, the rear portion was pitch black.
“Oh, God, what is that smell?” asked Bill as he placed his hand over his nose.
“Mr. Wooffles has been eating a lot lately. That smell is his leftovers,” said Simon.
Bill was terrified by the smell. It smelled of death in the room, and he did not like it one bit. Bill’s eyes began to adjust to the front portion of the room’s dim light. It was then he saw two eyes peering at him. They almost glowed as they reflected the small ray of light coming from the den.
“What is that? Something is looking at me!” cried Bill.
“It is Mr. Wooffles!” proclaimed Simon in a loud voice as if he were announcing Mr. Wooffles’ entrance into a grand banquet.
Woof.
“I believe there is a light around here somewhere,” said Simon as he fidgeted around with the wall.
“Oh, God,” moaned Bill.
“Here it is!” said Simon as he switched on the light.
Woof.
“Oh no, Simon, what have you done?” whispered Bill as he saw Mr. Wooffles standing before him.
Mr. Wooffles stood six and a half feet tall and stood on two very large muscular legs. His arms were just as sturdy and rugged as his lower half. Extending from his long bony fingers were long sharp claws. Mr. Wooffles looked shaggy and was covered in thick course dark brown fur.
“Woof,” said Mr. Wooffles as he reached both hands out toward Bill.
Bill was beyond shocked. His mind wrestled with his new reality as he tried to rationalize what he saw. His eyes fixated on Mr. Wooffles’ mouth. Razor sharp teeth lined the jawbones of the creature’s snout. His massive head was thick and wide and resembled an animal.
“A wolf,” cried Bill. “Mr. Wooffles is some kind of bipedal wolf.”
“That’s right, dear friend. He is a man-wolf that can walk on two legs as we do,” said Simon as he admired his project.
“B-b-but how?” stammered Bill.
“I meshed the DNA of a German Shepherd, a man, and another animal I bet you can’t guess.”
“But he doesn’t look anything like a German Shepherd,” observed Bill.
“Woof,” said Mr. Wooffles as he continued to reach out to Bill as if he wanted to give him a hug.
“He is hideous,” announced Bill.
“Don’t say that!” yelled Simon. “He is beautiful.”
“Woof,” agreed Mr. Wooffles.
“Can you guess what the third ingredient is?” asked Simon.
“No clue,” said Bill as he stood horrified.
“Dire wolf.”
“Dire wolf?” asked Bill. “But they are extinct.”
“That is correct, my dear friend. I found fossil remains and extracted the DNA. I have long admired the dire wolf. Its massive bite force was capable of breaking bone. Once it was broken, the prehistoric wolf would drink the marrow inside and then feast on the flesh of its prey.
“What’s the point?” asked Bill frantically.
“The intelligence and two legs of a man combined with the loyalty and willingness to please of a German Shepherd. Lastly, the strength and hunting skills of a dire wolf. Makes-”
“Makes what?” interrupted Bill.
“The perfect security guard,” said
Simon.
“What?” asked Bill.
“He can sense someone coming before they get here, and he can also take care of any intruder. The perfect guard. The perfect living weapon.”
“Woof,” said Mr. Wooffles while still reaching out to Bill.
“You are mad,” said Bill. “You have created a monster.”
Simon’s smile turned to a frown. His elevated mood now deflated. He had spent so much time and preparation into his project he never once thought that someone might not agree with its success. He was extremely disappointed.
Then, he began to get angry.
“I should have known you would be jealous!” shouted Simon.
“Jealous?” replied Bill. “Why in the hell would I be jealous?”
“Jealous that I created something new! That I have done something no one else has ever done! That I was the first!” shouted Simon.
“No, I am not jealous. I am horrified.” proclaimed Bill.
Then, there was a long pause. Neither man knew what to say next. After a few moments, Simon broke the silence.
“There is one thing left to do,” he said as he made his way to Mr. Wooffles.
“I am glad you have come to your senses,” said Bill. “I will help you destroy him and clean up the mess. There is no need for anyone else to know about this.”
Simon said nothing as he began to unlock Mr. Wooffles’ chains. Once Mr. Wooffles was completely free, Simon turned and stared at his longtime friend, Bill.
“Bill, I am so sorry,” he said calmly. “Mr. Wooffles, kill him.”
Mr. Wooffles took no time and sprung immediately into action. He leapt forward and grabbed Bill’s face with his long sharp claws. Bill had no time to react. With one swift tug, Mr. Wooffles ripped off Bill’s face and threw it against the wall. Bill screamed in agony and swung his right arm toward Mr. Wooffles’ jaw in a failed attempt to punch him. The creature caught his hand and twisted it violently, pulling off Bill’s arm at the elbow. Mr. Wooffles put the severed arm into his mouth and sucked out the bone marrow. He then finished Bill with one massive bite to the throat. Once Bill was dead, he devoured his body, ripping it limb from limb. Chunks of flesh flew into the air, and blood splattered onto Simon.
“Good boy, Mr. Wooffles. Good boy,” said Simon.
“Woof,” replied Mr. Wooffles. “Woof.”
Simon was pleased. Very pleased. Even if no one else was.
