A Fox Story

Friends, Romans, and countrymen,

Sorry to all the cool and uncool people here. This speech or words are about my fox.

Ted Hughes Fox had fled from somewhere to write my story. Is the fox a foe or a friend?

I don’t know.

I took a paper. No, she took a paper.

Started writing my… sorry, her story.

Maybe that was all she could do. He was known throughout for his sharp wit and keen insights.

But it had a flaw. An untreatable flaw.

He was incredibly judgmental.
He would sit on his rock and watch the other people go about their days, snickering to himself and making rude comments about their behavior.

Sorry, Fox is a powerful figure, and he may complain to the police station about this defamation.

He scoffed at the birds for singing in their own nest, the tortoises for their slow walk in their courtyard, and the rabbits for being too timid.

He even judged the other foxes for not being as wise and clever as he was.

Sorry, the fox story is boring.

I took a gun and shot the fox.