Mister Fox was stacking dead rabbits against the wall of his hut like cords of wood.

"What a haul!" he exclaimed. "At this rate there'll be no need for a Sunday scavenge."

He had finally paid off his mortgage and ended a dreadful relationship with a total bitch.

He was eating well and looking good. He was dating lithe and youthful girls again. One such specimen slept happily in his straw bed after a wild night of freaky fox sex as he tended to his morning chores.

Things were looking very promising. The air was cool and the sun was warm upon his whiskers.

An old wolf, who happened to be passing by, noticed the sprightly fox and introduced himself at once.

"You certainly are looking well today," said the old wolf with a chuckle.

"As are you my good man," he cheerfully rejoined.

"And may I ask what revelation has brightened your little corner of the forest?"

"Life, Mister Wolf, can be a pretty sweet fruit sometimes."

"Oh it can, but if I may put forth a slice of my own philosophy," said the wolf as Mister Fox stopped and turned his ear, feeling nothing was at risk to indulge the old curmudgeon and perhaps also being a bit curious as to what he might have to say, "It is risky business floating as high as you are. Especially when life can change so quickly."

And as his words hit their mark, the wolf pounced upon the sleeping girl in Mister Fox's bed and pressed his teeth into her throat and he fucked her as she died. Mister Fox was terrified and fainted and hit his head on a birch stump.

The wolf slung the lady fox over his shoulder and stuffed into his mouth as many dead rabbits as would fit and kicked over the side of Mister Fox's hut, causing it to collapse in a cloud of dust.

Mister Fox awoke with a banging head and a crushed soul. Such pain and darkness he had never known.


Several years passed by and the old wolf was suffering terribly. He had stepped on an acorn and the cap broke off inside his paw. It was badly infected now, leaving him quite unable to do much of anything. He thought back upon his life as he lay dying in a patch of crab grass, dwelling on all the awful bits. And as this hazy stream of regret washed over him, Mister Fox stumbled by on his Sunday scavenge.

"Is that you Mister Fox?" cried the old wolf weakly.

"I should hope you'd remember my face," he replied. "And what do you propose I do with you? Crush your head with a stone? Eat you alive? Or just let you rot?"

"The stone," said the old wolf, "crush my head with it. There is nothing left for me in this forest."

Mister Fox kneeled beside the old wolf and, after thinking long and seriously, took his injured paw and licked it a little. He scratched gently around the wound and poked a claw in as the old wolf writhed in agony. He pinched out the acorn cap and tossed it aside.

"Why?" asked the wolf, but Mister Fox had nothing to say. He wrapped the wolf's paw in a bandage made of sapling bark and mud and went home with an empty stomach.

Mister Fox frequently returned to where the old wolf was convalescing. He brought the wolf food from his own scant supply and changed his bandage but never said a word.

Then one crisp Sunday morning, after going on like this for weeks, the old wolf had recovered enough strength to stand and walk again. What a marvelous feeling!

It was as if he had been reborn. He stretched his back. The air was cool and the sun was warm upon his muzzle. And as the wolf bathed in the glow of so many promising days to come, Mister Fox assailed him from behind and dashed his brains out with a stone.


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