It happened just east of the M25, I’d come off near Stifford, and it was late and I was hungry.
I was just going to get some takeout, sit in my car and listen to the radio. That was all I wanted as I walked through the doors of the Maccies. It wasn’t busy, but it wasn’t quiet either - fellow customers - complete families, but that wasn’t what grabbed my attention.
I double-taked as I saw behind the counter a fox. Not sitting on the counter, or stalking around in the back room as people were panicking - no, a bipedal, upright fox wearing the uniform and everything. As I stared at him, he stared back.
Behind him I noticed there were other foxes too - each a different shade of red, and wearing a uniform and namebadge, doing exactly what you might expect from a fast-food worker - flipping burgers, frying chips, filling drinks.
I blinked, but no - those foxes stubbornly refused to resolve themselves into real human beings, and I found myself stepping inside.
The place had those new fancy terminals for ordering food, so I drifted over, and started keying in an order. All the while I was staring over at the counter. It’s a promotion, I thought, must be… They must be suits, but even as I stared I knew I was wrong.
His eyes were animal eyes, with no sign of a mask or make-up. His whiskers waggled as he wrinkled his nose. His ears twitched as he waited, somewhat impatiently. His nametag identified him as Rupert.
I finished keying in my order and drifted to wait area, and the order popped up on the screen. He turned behind, “Nuggets, drink and fries,” he said, in a Camden accent - slightly rakish with a hint of cockney.
I stepped back against the wall as I waited for my order, just watching in mild bewilderment. I was listening to the various conversations taking place around me, as I watched the foxes work from afar. The fox at the counter didn’t seem to have much to do, and pulled out his phone, carrying it in a thumbless, furry paw, cradling it with his pawpads as he tapped away with his claw (which, I noticed, had a little conductive glove on the tip).
“But, they’re foxes…” said a lady to my right. She was sitting down with what I assumed was a boyfriend or something.
“They can’t be foxes, it’s a trick. It’s an illusion. Must be a hidden camera show or something.”
“No, turn around, I can see them.”
“I don’t want to,” he said “Can’t we just eat and go. This is getting weird.”
I could understand the man’s reluctance to look, but I couldn’t take my eyes off them. What could I say? What was I supposed to think?
“454!” came the call, and it took me a moment to realise it was my order, and I stepped forwards hesitantly, not really knowing what to expect.
Up close the Fox was even more clearly an animal, and very much not a human. His limbs were spindly under the uniform - thin outlines of legs and not arms, and the slightly awkward shuffling of limbs that didn’t quite move like arms should was all but confirming what I was thinking.
“I think it’s all there, sir,” said Rupert, with a toothy smile. Canines, I reflected, really could really show off their canines.
The food was handed over on a tray, “Ah, I thought I’d ordered to go,” I said, some part of my brain still operating on the practical as the rest was trying to get over the fact I was talking to a talking fox.
“Oh, I’m sorry sir, would you like me to bag it up?” he said.
I hesitated, and was about to answer before he gave me a wink. It was so fast I barely noticed. He leant forwards a little, and was grinning. He whispered to me, “Why not just go with it?”
And there it was. It was impossible to ignore now. The elephant in the room - that is, the fact they were foxes - was revealed. It wasn’t an illusion. They really were there, in bright red fur and ill-fitting uniforms.
I let out a little laugh. Was it nerves? “No… No a tray is fine, thanks,” I said, taking the food and backing away. I didn’t turn away. I didn’t dare. I realised that whatever strange thing was going on was somehow enchanting me. I slumped into a stall, still facing the counter.
So, there’s a couple of things you should probably know about me. When I was younger, before I became a travelling advertiser, I was obsessed with Animorphs - you know, that crappy book series where people could transform into animals. Later, I briefly had ambitions to become a vet, or animal scientist, but flunking out of uni put an end to those ambitions. Life just kept on getting more complicated, and the nature of it’s demands meant I’d let go of a lot of things.
As I stared with fascination I had a childlike wonder. Slowly the other patrons started to filter out - a couple taking surreptitious photos before departing. At one point Rupert came to the front of house, flipping the open sign to closed and gathering disgarded trays. “Don’t worry, sir, you can stay as long as you want to finish your meal.”
I’d barely touched my food, too engrossed despite the rumblings of my stomach. There was something beautiful in the stiff, sometimes awkward movement of the foxes as they worked, and chatted amongst themselves.
Just go with it. The words echoed in my mind, but how could someone just go with this? What were you even supposed to do? A rogue thought crossed my mind and declared that this couldn’t possibly be sanitary. They didn’t need hair nets - they needed whole body nets. Maybe I should call the food standards committee or something. But I didn’t. I just sat there, like a child in a zoo, gawking at the animals.
The foxes went from cooking to clearing up, their thumbless paws inefficient at gripping brooms and mops, or wiping down counters, but persisting all the same, and doing a decent enough job.
Eventually, I realised I was the only person left. Alone, surrounded by foxes. I felt my apprehension rising, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as Rupert’s eyes fell upon me again, and he grinned and started to make his way over.
Some primal aspect within me felt like I was in danger. I remembered that foxes were predators, with sharp claws and jaws designed for tearing. They were typically solitary hunters, but there was no real reason they couldn’t be group hunters.
Rupert sat down opposite me, and a box of nuggets rattled as he placed it on the table. “I love these things,” he said, conversationally. “Chicken nuggets. Probably not real chicken - probably reconstituted crap from the factory floor, but man - that batter and the salt… honestly you just can’t beat it.”
“They’re alright,” I said, a little reassured he wasn’t going hungry.
He chomped down on a nugget and I got to see those massive teeth in action. He wasn’t exactly someone to eat with his mouth closed, practically wolfing down the nuggets
“They let us eat the leftovers, but y’know, there’s always plenty of leftovers for us if you know what I’m saying, hah,” Rupert said.
“I know a place that got it’s entire staff fired for that,” I said.
“Ah, we’re far too cunning for that - our manager is in on it too.”
“Is he also a… a…” even after staring all evening I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
“A fox?” Rupert said, grinning as only a fox can. “Sure he is.”
“...How?” I asked. How was it possible? How had it come to be in some random restaurant that everything I had known to believe was being questioned. I felt a surge of another emotion. Just as fear was ebbing away, anger started to strike back. How had I been lied to?
Rupert simply said, “You’ve just gotta go with it.”
“Nonsense,” I said, my scientific side rearing it’s head. “You can’t simply… go with this!”
“Why not?” said Rupert, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his belly. His whiskers flicked up and down as his body moved. I felt jealousy. Who was this fox, living my childhood dream and pretending it was nothing. I wanted answers.
“It’s impossible. It’s a trick.”
“You’ve watched us all evening. Even you don’t think it’s a trick now.” Rupert said.
“It’s an illusion. You’re a phoney.”
Rupert leaned forwards, and I recoiled. “Sounds like you’ve got a bit of a…” he reached forwards into my fries, and stole one. “…chip on your shoulder.”
“And that pun was awful, too,” I said.
“Ah, don’t lie - you loved it.” Rupert beamed. “I love puns.”
“I just… Don’t understand,” I said.
“Sounds like you need to let go,” Rupert repeated for the third time.
“I can’t even pretend to start to understand what you mean. Let go? That’s not how anything works.”
“Try it,” Rupert said, simply.
“What?”
“Try… It.”
And I thought of all those childhood dreams. The anger, and the hatred. The feeling like being trapped in my own body. The feeling like being a slave to a system not fit for people. The feeling of cold winters wrapped up in blankets, wishing I could hibernate instead of going to work in the morning.
I thought of ancient woodlands, brutal battles between desperate creatures. I thought of cities of trees, and creatures scurrying through the undergrowth. I thought of howls in the night.
I stared at the evidence right in front of me. Rupert’s eyes were dark as pits - a creature wholey unsuited for the bright light of a busy restaurant, and more suited to skulking in the dark between tree trunks.
And I started letting go. I felt calm wash over me as my anger fell to the wayside, and I examined my ideas from everything I had been taught and started letting those go too. No wonder I had failed my biology modules, I thought to myself. That’s not how the world really worked at all. Not when something like this was staring me in the face.
I had tried countless times when I was young to -think- myself into some sort of animal form - a wolf, maybe, or a bird of prey - a red kite, perhaps. Maybe an owl. This was different, however. This wasn’t trying to become something else, it was, as Rupert had said, simply letting go of what I was.
I felt the changes before I saw them, my skin all over my body feeling somehow bigger as it tingled and red hairs started to emerge as my pale, sparse hairs dropped out, and fell on to the floor and chair. My nose wrinkled, and as I blinked I saw it extend in front of my head, and my eyes briefly went hazey as they were pulled ever so slightly out of alignment, and I found my field of view suddenly increase.
My mouth grew, longer and more teeth-y, and I found myself gnashing my jaw just a little as I shifted through into a new comfortable form. Then I wiggled my ears. I’d never wiggled my ears before. But then they weren’t several inches long and pointed before either.
I stared down as my palms turned to pawpads, and my fingernails became claws, and then it was over. I breathed heavily as that sense of calm slowly faded, and a slight anxiety rose within me.
“Can… Can I change back?” I asked Rupert, after a few moments.
He shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried,”
“It’s just… I have a meeting in the morning and my hotel is pretty far, and I don’t think I can drive with… with this.”
“Yeah, you might raise eyebrows at the meeting too,” Rupert said.
“Oh… Yes… I hadn’t considered… But… I can switch back right?”
“Do you want to?” he said.
I hesitated. This was all so sudden. Too sudden. It was too much. I had a life to think about. I had bills to pay. I had a car - it was almost fully paid off. “I have things I need to take care of,”
“Do you?”
“Yes, of course I do. Didn’t you?” I asked.
“I did, but then I didn’t. I used to be an accountant, y’know. Then I started working here one night. We’ve got another apron, if you fancy it.”
“What? But… I…”
What did I really have, when it came right down to it. Living hotel to hotel, a car I didn’t even own, surviving on motorway fast-food. I didn’t have a family. Never seemed to have time for girls.
“By the way,” said Rupert, “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I think your tail is super cute,”
“W-what?”
“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t swing that way, but I just wanted to say, I do, and I would, if you get my drift,”
“I… This is hardly the time to… Are you… Flirting with me?”
“No, I’m hitting on you, but it’s okay dude. I know it was a shock. It was a bit of a shock to me too. You take your time.”
I turned, self-consciously, and looked at my tail. It seemed to have a mind of it’s own - thick and bushy and just flicking idly, hanging off the side of the stall, poking up and around the belt on my trousers.It was the first time I’d turned away from the foxes for a long time, and somehow looking outside to my car felt less real than anything else in the world right then.
“Well,” I said eventually, “Do you at least have a uniform in my size?”
Rupert grinned.
