The wolf rolls out red carpet, remnants of Red Riding Hood. (Le loup déroule le tapis rouge, - Ce qui reste du Chaperon Rouge)

The werewolf by the moon. The wererat by money. (Loup garou par la lune. - Rat garou par les thunes.)

Sheep are under the bed, but the wolf is on the bed.

Good for Christmas-time is the ruddy colour of the cloak in which--the tree making a forest of itself for her to trip through, with her basket--Little Red Riding-Hood comes to me one Christmas Eve to give me information of the cruelty and treachery of that dissembling Wolf who ate her grandmother, without making any impression on his appetite, and then ate her, after making that ferocious joke about his teeth. She was my first love. I felt that if I could have married Little Red Riding-Hood, I should have known perfect bliss. But, it was not to be; and there was nothing for it but to look out the Wolf in the Noah's Ark there, and put him late in the procession on the table, as a monster who was to be degraded.

That red carpet has to be felt to be believed.

He burst into the house and ate Grandma, an entirely valid course of action for a carnivore such as himself.