Day 234: Fox Fail

Young fox

I can't believe I forgot the foxes! Yesterday, I had the pleasure of two fox fixes. One was very young, sheepish, beige, 'petite' if a fox can be such a thing. Looked like a young boy. His human equivalent would have had shorts and a cap, like a Billy Bunter sidekick. I was passing on the train. He was trotting on the track. He didn't look up. 


The second fox did. He was bigger by much. If Billy's mate was cat-sized, this big boy was  more 'oversized Collie' or 'young Alsatian'. He was redder, scruffier and braver than the track-trotter. He was nipping along the pavement all light-footed, as they do, and he snuck into the brushy front garden at number 53. I think he had an apple in his mouth. I many have imagined it. I definitely imagined the onion up his arse (just now). He stood for a while and looked at me. He did a bit of dodging, but he let me get quite close. He gave me full on eye contact. I liked him. 
I suspect he was a girl.

Jazz fox

And oh, today, today! A MASSIVE dose of the little, curly bag of magic that is Beectoria Sandisom. I lob her, I really do. O... Remember in American Werewolf in London - or pretty much any other film, when the transformayshiom begin to takeen the place.


O, jis. Thees thay, I have starteem the thay weeb Beectoria Sandisom en the Pret een Youstom estayshiom. Ousithde, een the fac. An we talkeen and eschayngeem the itheas an berry mach ober also. O no... the esleep, she eateen the eyes. of me. why ees thees? 


Eenaff! Ju wanneen mother ob Leedle Spanish Mam, she mass comeen an sorteen ou thees. My eyes tell me more than my brain every would. I think. oh  bum... i'm