"A tragedy in Glensdale last night. A deadly wolf attack. We have John here who wants to share what he saw. John?" Marlene, the blonde with a bob and lipstick too vibrantly colored for her complexion, asked.
"I was helping with work out on the farm when I seen 'em. Hop right over the fence they did. Straight to the chicken coop. Killed the chickens, of course that didn't satisfy 'em nothin and they tried going to the sheep. So… My pop's got a gun and blew one's head clean off, but the other one was to fast for him. Knocked him straight down and took his damn arm." John rambled, sweat rolling down his forehead that took a handkerchief out of his overalls to wipe off.
"Is that so?" Marlene asked.
"Mhmm, and then it went into town, I heard it got the baker and the barber and killed 'em dead." His eyes widened.
"And that has been confirmed. At least 2 dead. Plus the chickens." She seemed strangely amused at herself at that last part.
"Them wolves weren't anything like I've ever seen. They were huge! And they knew how to navigate the town like they'd lived there the whole night. And you know it was a full moon last night." He pointed his finger at her.
"What are you suggesting?"
"Oh I'm sure you know, Miss. Werewolves. There's no other explanation." He shook his head.
"Well, there you have it, folks." Marlene said, turning back to the camera. "Werewolves."