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In Which Everybody Regrets Their Life-Choices

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When he comes home from Josie’s there’s a hamster waiting at his door. Yes, waiting. Foggy isn’t surprised. Not after the cat, the goat and the snake. (A snake! Foggy is afraid of snakes. Properly afraid.)

“At least you’re small and furry again. No space-problem and not a snake.” He says while picking the hamster up and opening the door.

“Though I do wonder how you did make it up those stairs. Hamster-ninja-backflip? Sadly I have no hamster-wheel so that you can continue your workout.”

He swears the hamster is looking mortally offended at that suggestion.

Foggy sits down and almost puts Matt on the couch-table but changes his mind last minute. Matt still has his senses (or at least had in his last animal-forms) but he had said that being in a body of a completely different size made things difficult. (Very difficult apparently. A goat smashing its head in your leg leaves quite a bruise as Foggy has learned). He doesn’t want to risk Matt falling off the table.

“You really should try to find a talisman with a counter-spell or something. What if you ever turn into something so big that you won’t fit in my apartment? Or something so small that I won’t see you? Things could get really awkward.”

Matt hangs his head and sighs. He hadn’t known that hamsters could do that.

“Anyway somebody should be at the office tomorrow in human form and awake so excuse me while I go to bed. You know where to go.”

He puts Matt down and watches him scurry towards the corner where Foggy has put some old clothes. They make a comfortable bed (at least Matt has never complained and if he ever does Foggy intends to remind him of how much crap he’s putting up with for Matt’s sake) and once he turns back Matt has something to protect his remaining dignity. Foggy is considerate like that.

“Good night.”

The hamster squeaks.

There’s a noise at his bedroom window. Clicking. Like someone is tapping something against it.
Not something.
A beak.

“A pigeon? Really?” He says while opening the window. The pigeon flies in like it hasn’t quite figured out how wings work, very narrowly avoids banging against Foggy’s bookcase but eventually manages to sit on top of it.

“I really really hope this is you Matt. Because if I you – Matt is happy and human at the office tomorrow and I just let in a wild pigeon in my flat because of his nightly activities I will be so pissed at him.”

The pigeon jumps down, lands on his shoulder and rubs its head against Foggy’s neck.

“OK, no ordinary bird would be that weird. I am relieved. And no I’m not sorry for you. Stop chasing wizards.”

(He leaves his window open after that. He doesn’t have anything to steal anyway.)

Foggy has almost fallen asleep when something flapping above his head pulls him back into wakefulness.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Flap. Flap.

“That’s like the most cliché thing you could have turned into.”

More very angry flapping. Probably Bat’s aren’t actually blind in Morse-code or something.

“But your flying is better. You don’t look as drunk anymore as you did as a bird.”

Flap. Flap.

Foggy is watching football when there’s a bark outside. A ridiculously loud bark.

“Oh not again.”

He opens the door to a Bernese mountain dog the size of a calf. (Matt has never been an actual calf…or a pig or anything that might be confused with something that escaped from a butcher’s. Foggy is very grateful for that).

Matt has barely trotted it and sat down next to the couch when the doorbell rings. Foggy opens without thinking but only a small gap. That turns out to be a good thing because it’s Mr. Tanner from upstairs.

“I heard a dog. Barking.”

“What?” Foggy does his best to feign confusion.

“Dogs aren’t allowed here.”

“And I don’t have one. That was just…a loud advert. Sorry.”

Unfortunately the football-game doesn’t sound like it was anywhere near an ad break in the last minute.

Tanner pushes past him. “I definitely heard a dog.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Hey! Out of my flat!” He yells.

There is no dog in his flat.
Tanner checks behind every corner, even looks in his bedroom, despite Foggy’s continuing protest. He checks under the bed where there wouldn’t be space for a dog half Matt’s size.

“No dog. See? Now would you just leave or would you like me to list the paragraphs of the laws you just broke?” Foggy snarls.

Tanner mumbles a half-apology and leaves (which is good because it would have been a pretty short list).

“Now where on earth are you?”

His bedroom-closet opens and Matt comes out.

“You managed to open the door and then close it from the inside? Impressive…though my suits are probably all smelling of dog now.”

Matt might look guilty but then Foggy always found that with these faces Bernese dogs just looked a bit guilty in general.

Foggy sighs. “It’s OK. Not like you were in there long. And better than having to search for a new flat because I broke the rental agreement…though really that would have been your fault at well.”

Now he definitely looks guilty.

Foggy misses the days where the news that people claiming they spotted a moose in Hell’s Kitchen would have been simply an amusing distraction. Now he sighs, checks Twitter for information on where he has last been spotted (there’s a hashtag: #LooseMoose), grabs some spare clothes and rushes off.

There are some abandoned warehouses not far from where Twitter claims the moose was recently.

Great idea. If he roars loudly as an answer that wouldn’t only catch your attention.

It takes some time till he finds a moose trying to make himself as small as possible behind one of the buildings.

“I think over there is something that doesn’t look like it’s about to collapse in the near future. But I’m not sure if you fit through the door. Your antlers are like…massive.”

Foggy manages to open the door and Matt manages to get himself through it (he has to hold his head sideways though).

“I don’t think anybody is going to look for you in here.”

“I hope so.” The moose says.

Foggy squeaks. “You can talk

“No. You have finally gone mad and are hearing voices.” The moose snaps sarcastically. Foggy at least assumes it’s sarcasm but then he isn’t sure what a non-sarcastic moose would sound like.

“That’s new.”


“Any idea why?”

The moose shrugs. Or tries to which causes him to lose his balance and stumble forward. Foggy has to jump back to avoid getting stabbed by the antlers.

“Sorry.” Moose-Matt looks miserable.

“Ah, well. That happens. Who hasn’t almost stabbed his best friends accidentally while being a moose?”

Very carefully Matt sits down. Either he has no idea how to work the limbs in this body properly or moose simply aren’t very elegant creatures because it looks awkward (and hilarious. Once again Foggy wishes filming this would lead to some decent black-mail material but it’s not like he could show it to anybody).

“Thanks for coming by the way.”

“Always. Though I am a bit disappointed that I’m with a talking moose but can’t play I spy with him.”

“What?” Matt is utterly confused.

“My friend one day I will tie you down and we will have that Disney-marathon I threatened you with.”

“That might actually be preferable to being turned into more animals.”

Matt is pouting.

“Have you any idea how my costume smells? I mean I can’t exactly bring it to the dry-cleaners so I’m stuck with trying out various washing-powders. But so far all I achieved is the smell of animals and additionally washing-powder. Well and trash because there are helpful people out there who hide it when it’s lying somewhere too open. Only that usually means under a dumpster.”

“You are truly a miserable moose my friend.”

Matt looks like he’s about to stab him with his antlers.

A butterfly lands on Foggy’s hair while he is going over some case files

“I don’t have any spare clothes at the office you know.”

The butterfly flutters to Foggy’s laptop.

“Why didn’t you come to my place last night? Or did this happen on the way to your office?”

The office-door opens. “With whom are you talking?”


“Who else?” He sticks his head through Foggy’s door and looks confused.

“You are…you?”

“Who did you think I was?”

“Nobody. I mean I thought that was you.” He points.

“Butterfly.” He adds because he isn’t sure if Matt can pick up something that small over the buzzing of the electronics.

“For once not. Thankfully.”

I hate you Foggy wants to say. Only in the current situation he can’t.

“I am so sorry about this.” Matt says for what must be the 100th time. Foggy still hates him.

“I had no idea that this guy knew who I was and would come after me when I wasn’t in my costume. When I was with you.”

Yeah. And Matt had managed to duck away from the spell in time. Only as it turns out spells can ricochet and so it had hit Foggy.

“On the plus side: You are one of these small horses and some people use them as guide-animals so nobody can complain when I take you to my flat.”

Matt can’t see the murderous glance Foggy is throwing at him which is a real pity.