The swat team burst through the windows in a hail of glass.
“Down on the ground!” The swat captain shouted. Screaming guests dissolved into a frenzy, dropping their champagne flutes and scrambling beneath silk-upholstered divans.
“What’s the hell is going on here!” The host shouted, mustache trembling.
“Colonel Dempsey, you’re under arrest!”
“What has my husband done this time?” A woman whose fleshy neck was girdled in diamonds demanded, as she crawled from behind a sculpture of the Rape of Proserpina. “Is this about the child trafficking?”
“No, Ma’am. Your husband is suspected of lycanthropy!” Mrs. Dempsey gasped in horror. Just then, the clouds shifted, and the full moon shone through the window, directly onto the colonel. His monocle fell to the floor, and his bushy mustache spread over his entire face.
“You won’t take me alive!” Colonel Dempsey growled as he scampered on all fours into the devilish night.