A cyclops stuck its head out of the upstairs window a few doors down. ‘Oi, Roger!’ it bellowed, ‘you’re three days early. Full moon’s not till Tuesday.’ Holding my policeman’s helmet on my head with one paw, I looked towards the cyclops. My jaws opened. I gave a howl, to show him my forty two jagged white teeth. In the moonlight I saw him roll his eye and he slammed his window. With a fumbling paw, I took a key out of a pouch hanging next to a set of handcuffs on a belt round my waist. I’d planned to…

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