Shem drove reluctantly in his Dodge Viper to his former home, where his mother Elizabeth lived alone to tell her of his brothers' deaths. His careless brothers Ham and Japheth had recently died. They were found amidst the ruins of their homes with deep bite marks all over their pig bodies. The deep red gashes were oozing by the time they were discovered by the blind neighbor. The cause of their deaths was still unknown but Shem didn't care to know anyway. They had taken off on their own lives and only came to him when they ran out of money. The scorn he felt for them clouded his mind like a thick heavy mist.

"Why do you insist on drinking too much wine and gorging yourselves on meat all day long? Can't you try to stop and get a job and do something productive for once?" Shem growled for the millionth time at his brothers. He gnashed his teeth in exasperation and huffed and puffed at their gluttony. "Get up from that couch and do something. Lazy hands make a man poor, but diligent hands bring wealth." Ham closed his puffy eyes and stretched out some more on the couch. The bumpy stuffing in the couch and the bent spring wires stuck out from all sides. The greasy stains all over the floor and eclectic collection of leftover food and drinks lay strewn. Japheth drooled onto the ragged remnants of a pillow.

"I'll work when I need to. Just leave us alone Shem," drawled Ham with his eyes still closed. Japheth drew a frail breath and breathed out the stale smell of beer and rotten meat. His eyelids twitched and his empty eyes stared blankly at the moldy ceiling above them. "Forget it then. Stay here and waste away everything you have. Don't you dare come to me when you run out of money you senseless hogs," Shem yelled and slammed the door. He clambered into his car and sped away.

Glowing yellow eyes peered at the two dozing pigs and gleefully took in their plump bodies. The ruthless claws delicately traced the stain next to Ham. A swift flick of his dangerous claws severed both pig heads before they could even utter a moan. Pure white teeth sunk into the pink flesh and devoured the pigs. Crimson blood dripped down mingling with the spilt beer. All traces were wiped away and the agile body slid away onto the dark road.

Shem arrived at the house and got out of the car, being careful not to accidentally strike his head on the roof of the car again. He approached the door and heavily knocked on the wooden door. It was left unlocked, so he just went in. The door creaked open slowly and he gloomily walked in. The silence clawed at him the moment he closed the door to the fast-paced city life outside. Its weight sucked out his breath. Suddenly, the tinkling of his mother's laughter broke through the silence and Shem was about to walk towards the source, when a gruff voice was heard. Shem abruptly stopped and an intense pain gripped his throat.

In the glaring sunlight that streamed into the kitchen, his mother sat with a heavyset wolf. The wolf's cunning yellow eyes peered out from underneath lazy eyelids that hid his slyness. His sharp long claws tapped against the table as he listened intently to Elizabeth with his pointy ears that twitched ever so slightly. The bright cheery light contrasted drastically with the murky mud-colored fur. Shem reached the door with a growl in his throat and his pointy chin stuck out. He had burst in and clutched the table while trying to maintain a cool voice. "What are you doing here?" he hissed. The red glare would have quelled almost everyone, but the enigmatic wolf just smiled.

His mother flinched but lightly replied, "He's just over for some tea. He'll be leaving in a moment Shem." Her nervous giggles rankled his nerves and grated his ears. "Didn't I tell you not to allow any strangers in the house? How many times do I have to remind you?" he cried not caring that his mother's eyes quickly escalated from nervousness to terror. "Mr. Wolf isn't a stranger. He's been our neighbor for almost 3 years and I have not found anything wrong with him the entire time," she said and played with the tablecloth in front of her, "He may be a wolf but I don't think you should judge others for that, dear." The calculating eyes of the wolf took in the entire conversation and penetrated the tension-filled atmosphere.

"Mother, we need to watch out and be on our guard against all kinds of greed. The abundance of possessions is not all of life. There are more than materials that someone can take from you." The wolf leaned back in the flimsy chair and stretched out his legs onto the sparse rug in front of him. "He means the world has become filled with evil, wickedness, greed, and depravity. It's full of envy, murder, strife, deceit and malice. Be on guard from them all. Of course I don't see the reason for such worry when with a neighbor, but I suppose someone who is so arrogant and insolent wouldn't love his neighbors as himself."

The sudden interruption by the deep hoarse voice of the wolf startled Shem. "Don't make the judgment that Shem is boastful Mr. Wolf. He's just going through a stage and he's an intellectual. He's studying philosophy at his university." Elizabeth said soothingly, "You two would get along very well."

"I guess I will be going now. I'll stop by some other time." cried Mr. Wolf, and he quietly slipped out the house, closing the door while snickering in a low voice.

The moment the door shut, Shem angrily lectured his mother, "Why are you always giving so much to strangers? That dirty wolf looked like a hazardous criminal! Don't allow him in here ever again." Shem waited a few seconds for her reaction, and started off again. "Look at him! Did you see the way that despicable wolf acted? What is--"

"Shem, listen," his mother asked, "That unfortunate wolf had been abandoned as a young child! As a poor, ditched child, he was deprived of caring parents and a stable shelter, things that we had. He is so fortunate to be studying philosophy at such a prestigious university. I`m sure you wouldn't have gone to school and succeeded if you were so deprived. What would you have done?"

"Well, how do you know that the wolf has been telling the truth? He just doesn't look trustworthy enough." Shem knew for a long time that his mother's naivety and trusting personality was always exploited by others. Even if someone she barely knew was sick, she would immediately go to see them and bring them a gift. It didn't matter if someone was a pig, wolf, or anyone else. Shem's mother wanted to help everyone. However, this intensely irritated Shem, and he always got into fights on what was appropriate for his mother to do.

Shem�s mother never understood why Shem hated her helping so many others. "I don't understand why you are so suspicious of everyone! There is nothing bad about Mr. Wolf. He definitely seems to be a very trustworthy individual. In fact, I planned for him to stay at the house for a while starting tomorrow. He will stay in the room next to yours. This is only because the poor wolf cannot afford to pay for his mortgage. Remember, he has nobody to support him." Shem did not feel like arguing anymore. It was no use. His mother could not ever resist helping strangers. He walked away with a heavy uneasiness in his heart and went into his room. Shem was very suspicious of the stranger his mother was allowing into the house. He had heard discouraging stories of evil wolves before. He would never trust so easily a stranger, especially not one like Mr. Wolf. His mother would have to be shown the foulness of the wolf.

The next afternoon, Shem was resting in his bed. He lethargically laid in his soft, worn-out mattress with the old cotton bed sheets wrinkled around himself and rested his plump head on the drooping white pillow and massaged his cartilaginous snout. He felt very satisfied and comfortable, until he glanced through his window. What he saw made him bounce up, startled and appalled at what was about to happen. His mother was coming home, but this time, with the wicked wolf! They nearly held hands as they walked, and Shem heard them talk about the real estate company, seeming to get along with each other effortlessly and perfectly. The piercing laughter of the wolf seemed ear-damaging even from the outside, shooting into his ears like lightning. But his mother appeared to be enjoying it completely. Shem felt fierce loathing circulating from his arteries to his capillaries, and he hid his face under the limp pillow, waiting for the evilness of the wolf to invade the house.

The croakiness of the wolf's voice upset Shem intensely. His room would be directly across Shem's, since it was the only extra bedroom left. Mr. Wolf carried two wooden suitcases, untidily packed with various items. Mr. Wolf entered bringing in the echoes of his gruff, vociferous laugh and firmly shut the door behind him. Shem scowled at this ominous sign, thinking of all the dangers the wolf would create in the house. Later that day, Shem came out for dinner. As he walked into the kitchen, he noticed that his mother and the wolf were sitting at the table already waiting for him. Elizabeth wanted Shem to become friends with Mr. Wolf and knew that Shem was reluctant to even be cooperative. The only reason Shem tolerated his life at the house was because it was clean and organized.

Shem's mother seemed to be extremely interested in Mr. Wolf that night. "So what courses do you take?" she asked curiously. Shem frowned at her, giving a long sigh.

"Um. ah," the wolf hesitated, and then began talking smoothly in his crusty voice again. "I take philosophy, of course, and also an advanced math course, Calculus. The subjects aren't too challenging, but they are interesting enough." "Good for you!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Shem took biotechnology and psychology as a university student." Shem looked at her as if he were ashamed, and quickly finished dinner and went back into his room.

I will have to store this gun here, Shem thought to himself as he took his gun out and put it into the drawer. Elizabeth called for him to come back down for dessert, but he evaded her by quietly slipping out of the window to go for a walk.

Downstairs, Elizabeth called for Shem again while taking out cake for dessert. When he still didn't respond, she shrugged and turned the wolf. "Oh, well. Maybe he felt sick after eating all of that food. Do you want some cake?"

Mr. Wolf growled, "No. I don't eat cake." His jaws quivered as if in protest against the thought of eating such a disgusting thing.

Elizabeth looked up in interest. "Really? If you don't like cake, what do you like?" She watched the wolf jeering at her. "And what's the look for? Do you want some other dessert?"

Mr. Wolf licked his lips and thought about his favorite meal. "I would really love a nice side of ha. I mean ice cream," he stammered. He glanced nervously at Elizabeth and then turned around, shutting his eyes. Dying pigs flopped about and screeched in his brain, so loud that he nearly couldn't hear. He was so hungry, and one more couldn't hurt, he supposed. But maybe he shouldn't; after all, she had been nice to him.

Now why would he say ham? Pigs are killed to make ham, thought Elizabeth. As a sudden realization hit her, she gasped. In that instant, she saw clearly her terrible mistake. Shem had been right, and she had been wrong. This wolf was a monster that preyed on the weak. She stumbled backwards in shock. Mr. Wolf lunged to catch her, but she slipped out of his grasp and ran. Slipping on the floor, she fell with a sickening crack, jerked twice, and was still.

Mr. Wolf stared at Elizabeth's body. There was a look of horror on her face and her contorted limbs were spread like a discarded marionette's. As he bent over to examine her further, a cry from across the room got his attention.

Shem was standing there, on the steps leading up to his room, pistol in hand. Anger, pain, fear, flashed through his eyes. "You murderer! How could you do this, after all of the things my mother did for you?" Tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them back angrily.

The wolf snarled, "She was an old hog anyways. She had it coming, just like those other two slobs." At that, Shem unleashed a howl and raised his gun. Mr. Wolf leaped to the side, and the bullet missed and hit the wall. Shem raised the gun to fire again, but the wolf had already retreated behind the wall.

"Stop shooting," called the wolf from safety. "If you kill me now, you'll suffer the consequences. Think about it. The police will think you'll have killed your mother and me, and you'll be taken to jail and killed yourself. If you leave me alive, I'll back up a story about your mother dying accidentally."

Shem lowered the gun, and thought about it. There was his dead mother and the gunshots from the gun that belonged to him. An easy crime for the cops to pin on him. With the thought of impending doom on his mind, the world seemed bleak. His beloved mother was gone, and he would now have to lie with her murderer to save himself. He raised the gun to his own head, and fired one shot.

With a smirk devoid of all emotion, the door was calmly opened and carefully shut. The wolf's lithe body slinked onto the dirt road. Shem looked out the dust-covered window. And his eyes stared with a haunted desperate look at the back of the wolf that rippled away into nothing. The huffing and puffing of the wind swept away the traces of footprints and vanished all signs of any life before.