Just as you come to the realisation that your right foot is now more rabbit than man and more rubber than flesh, you hear a rustling from some nearby bushes. Jumping from the bench, you turn to face them, your eyes fixed on the spot the noise seems to have come from. For a time nothing happens, and you're just about to assume that the sounds had simply been the wind when you see the bushes shake a little. You aren't alone.
Panic streaks through your mind. Either one of those monsters has come to finish the job or someone's seen the freakish deformity that is your right foot. Either way this is serious trouble, and you have only one reasonable option: turn around and run as though your life depended on it (since it very well could). It's an option you're more than willing to accept, but before you get the chance your watcher leaps into the open.
You see a flash of purple as the latex wolf-thing from before stands menacingly before you, this time with its gaze solidly transfixed on you. It looks like the monster wants to make you its next victim.