The quick fox jumped over the lazy dog. However the poor thing misjudged his leap and landed on top of a chicken. The chicken, in its panic, began squawking and carrying on. It ran around in circles, flapping its wings, and the fox hung on for dear life. The dog, meanwhile, pulled out his mobile device and started recording and laughing. The Fox was not very happy and he grabbed the chicken’s neck to maintain balance. With the fox’s paws hanging on around its neck, the chicken could not breath very well in its excited state and it soon collapsed with the fox on top of it. The dog posted the video on YouTube and updated his FaceBook status while the fox stood up and looked down in horror at the still form of the chicken.
‘Get up’ he said, nudging the chicken with his paw. There was nothing from the chicken. The dog was busy typing in a Twitter update when he looked up and saw the look of worry on the fox’s face. ‘What’s up?’ he asked. ‘The chicken’, the fox gulped, ‘I think its dead’. ‘I never liked that bird anyway’, said the dog. ‘Always running around and pecking at other people’s business. Kept getting out in the road, going back and forth, back and forth. Do you know how hard it is to try to keep a chicken in the yard?’ he asked. Just then his phone beeped with a Facebook update. It seems that rabbit thought the video was funny and gave it a resounding ‘lol’. The fox, however, was still worried and starting to grow more and more anxious. His fur started to itch and his tongue came out of his mouth (foxes can’t sweat and have to loll their tongues).
The dog continued his rant. ‘Why is it that people automatically assume dogs to be gaurdians of things? I mean, seriously! Whenever something goes wrong, who do they yell at?’ he paused for some unknown observer to chime in with likewise righteous indignation. After recieving none the dog continued ‘US!’ and poked his paw into his chest. ‘Why, don’t get me wrong, I’m not a bad sort. I try to play along, do the good deed, and so forth. If I have to save one more kid from some forgotten well then so help me…’ he growled. ‘I mean, how hard is it to mark your territory? If you dig a well, mark the nearest bush!’ he said with outstretched arms. ‘But nooooo, humans are always losing track of their wells and their little offspring. It is a wonder they are still on the planet and haven’t been eaten out of existence.’
The fox had stopped listening to the dog, who had started onto one of his sermons about justice and inequality. He had continued to stare at the still form of the chicken, hoping for a miracle.
In all truth the fox could not remember the last time he ate a chicken. Indeed he was struggling to remember exactly what it tasted like. He was sure that there was something that chicken tasted like, though he couldn’t remember. Eggs, however, were indeed a different story and the fox loved chicken eggs. He would, truth be told, steal into the chicken coop to procure an egg or two for his breakfast. He was, after all, training for a race with a tortoise. Normally he wouldn’t consider training for a race with the tortoise but since the unlikely defeat of the rabbit in the Tour de Forest last Spring, the fox didn’t think that he’d underestimate the tortoise who obviously had some secret he was keeping hidden from his competitors.
The chicken was still not moving and the dog had started pacing in circles now, throwing out exclamations of this and that in his excitement. The fox’s thoughts turned back to the chicken’s unmoving form in the dirt before him. What to do? He was unsure. Could he get rid of the evidence? He did know where some forgotten wells were. He could easily dump the chicken down a well. But that wouldn’t last for long because it was summer time and that meant visits from other children. With an increase in the number of children also meant an increase in the number of lost children in wells. It was only a matter of time until the chicken would be found. Yet why do anything at all? No matter where the chicken was hidden, whether it was discovered or not, the fox was sure to be the first to be blamed for the missing chicken and they’d come after him with their bugles and beagles. What annoyed him the most was that the beagles ran around yelling ‘hey foxy foxy foxy, we’re gonna give you a haircut’. The fox didn’t like those uptown beagles who lounged about in their country club estate, eating the best food and keeping warm, only to come out to the real country whenever a fox hunt was on. Nope. The fox thought and thought, what to do with the chicken.
Just then a door shut behind the house. The farmer’s wife must be on her way to feed the chickens. The fox quickly wondered where the other chickens were at during all of this? No matter, for the farmer’s wife was walking toward the coop, her singing was growing louder and louder as she got nearer. The fox looked over at the dog and said ‘you are absolutely right! It is an injustice the conditions of the working dog!’ The dog, goaded by a the fox, erupted into a high frenzy. He moved around and stamped his paw and moved his arms in wild abandon, all while detailing the oppression of the working dog and the injustice of having to wear stupid holiday outfits. Already having a condition of excessive saliva, the dog’s excited state caused even more saliva to run and soon his entire mouth was a foamy mess and it dripped down his front onto his chest. It got everywhere. There were spit trails in the dirt and on the chicken. The fox, quietly slipping behind some farm equipment, gave another ‘power to the dogs!’ and disappeared. The dog was spurred on even further and started howling. Just then farmer’s wife came around the barn corner and stood facing the spectacle of the dog, covered in spit and with frothy mouth, howling and barking and standing over the unmoving body of the chicken.
The fox, however, was nowhere to be seen.