Liars and Thieves

The silver fox trotted along, seeing his friends the Golden Fox, the Quartz Fox, the Marigold Fox, the Scarlet Fox, the Azure Fox and the Black Fox. The White Fox was there, but he was off playing with the Beige and Tan Foxes, best friends.             

When the White Fox joined this group, the Black Fox trotted up to him, him slipping a paw around the shoulders of the White Fox. All looked at the silver fox; however, they weren’t listening. The silver fox walked from one sidewalk to the next. Across the street, where there weren’t any cars. The silver fox said he wanted to be one of them--would just like to be accepted like the rest of them all.

"Right?" He grinned happily. 

“Would be if you stopped telling us something when there really isn’t!”

“When we’re out hunting, to tell us to come back home because you caught all the chickens. The chickens were clearly out and about in the cornfield, so they were plump and ready for us to sink our razor-sharp teeth into them. We didn’t need to starve until next week—all because we believed you! ”

“Yeah.” The silver fox explained, extending a paw. “You see, I can’t control it. I see something, and I tell, oh, I don’t know, little Bobby to stay behind me. Then a guy walks out of the barbecue pit restaurant and I tell Bobby to go get me some barbecue right on the stick. He says, ‘Can’t do that. It’ll be stealing.’ I say, ‘No, it won’t. It’ll just be a little taste for my rumbling stomach to stop rumbling! Bobby—he can’t. He can’t steal. But I’m hungry. You see?”

The foxes were silent. One shook his head. The Black fox leaned over to the White fox, whispering words of condemnation. The silver fox looked at this fox. “I’m sorry! It's not my fault--"

"Your parents don't love you?"

He widened his eyes, shocked they knew. He then thought to himself, “Fine. If no one loves me, I'll have to lie and steal! Yeah--then they'll apologize to me! They'll be sorry!”

“Not until you’re telling this so-called Bobby he’s right. Not until you return all those pies. Not until you’ve let us eat dinner for once in eight months. Not until you let all the children run free instead of chase them. They’re going to skin you alive, fox! You’re going to get all our tails tied together and lit on fire. The farm’s master will shoot us. Do you want us dead? Do you!”  

“No.” The silver fox’s voice was very soft.

“Then stop sneaking up to a poor restaurant guest and taking the chicken out from underneath her napkin when you’ve told us you were going downtown—that’s the opposite direction! Or how about this? You’re two seconds away from getting scorched because you’re so paw-licking hungry that you can’t just catch a chicken instead of stealing those hamburgers right from under these neighbors' noses; stop telling us you’re out to take a bath. How about you just get yourself a nice den and call it a bathroom, huh? What is it, really? A sheep pen?” Some of the foxes laughed heartily. The silver fox stared hard at them.

“Well—” One of the foxes walked slowly up to the silver fox, who widened his eyes at the other fox’s narrowed ones. "We’ve told you plenty of times. In the barn. In the stables. In the chicken coop. out on the farm. Here—right here in the neighborhood, with the smoking grills and the yelling boys and barking dogs two and three houses downwards. But, no, you just want to keep playing the same old game, don’t you?”

The silver fox was hunched so that his neck showed ruffles of skin under that silver fur, the other fox towering over him. His green eyes bored into the meek brown ones, the brown ones shaking with fear. He looked back. Good thing no cars came! “Please!” The silver fox begged. “I don’t want to be hit by a car.”

“Then be real with us!”

The silver fox feigned honesty, and the other fox backed off, telling everyone to avoid this silver fox.

Yeah, maybe because you all don't give a tail wag about me--all because you are loved and welcomed. Well, never mind. I'll find love somewhere else--a liar and thief are the jobs to go!

The silver fox trotted away, finding a nice forestry area in which to curl up. The bones of his chickens and sauce drippings of his barbecue meals stolen from restaurants and neighborhood grills reminded him of delicious theft. The smell of the barbecue sauce filled his nose, his mouth-watering. His eyes blinked at the smoke licking the air. His ears pricked at the sound of neighbors coming and going. The mouth moved towards juicy hamburgers sizzling on that black iron monster known as a grill. The silver fox’s stomach rumbled, growling for more. 

The silver fox put a paw to his stomach. He saw his friends frolic with each other, dancing together at a picnic. “They don’t know what it’s like to have to forge for food ever since you were a kit! They don’t get it.” The silver fox growled to himself. “No one understands what it’s like to eat nothing but cat food and dog food for years and years. They had it easy—their parents coming home with loads of meat in their mouths, laying it all down at the kits’ paws. Like they earned it. They didn’t do nothing!”

“Well, if they didn’t do nothing, they should’ve done something!”

“Shut up, groundhog!” The silver fox snapped at the surprised, angry groundhog, who left in a huff, burrowing himself once again. The silver fox scurried away, hiding among the trashcans and stairwells of the back alleyways. The alley cats lived here, meowing for food and receiving nothing but a couple of fish bones or, if lucky, a chicken bone. Their fur barely covered their ribs and the bones of their very skinny tails. The silver fox shook his head. I don’t have friends anymore. All that chicken and pasta and barbecue were digested long ago!

Some of the cats looked over at him, their eyes pleading with him to mollify their growling stomachs. The silver fox trotted off. One of the cats mumbled about whether he’d like to be laughed at if he were the one waking up to nothing but his own reflection staring back at him in dirty, oily rainwater every day. The silver fox ignored the cat. I’ll make it somehow. When a special person sees a lonely fox, he’ll be taken in, right?

 The day became night before he reached anywhere. An old movie theatre’s lights didn’t blink anymore. The sign was cracked, and the letters were all out of the white baseboard that was hanging by a metal thread off of its wall. The walls were chipped, and the paint had eroded long ago so that it was an ugly grey. A musty smell made the silver fox sneeze, but the silver fox moved on. The more he walked up pebbly roads and down empty sidewalks, the more he felt like those cats—wasting away.

I’m a fox! My family’s never been there for me, and neither have my so-called friends. What else allows me to be the fox I am, except to lie? Steal? If love’s not what I’m given, then I’ll get it myself.

The silver fox trotted and trotted, seeing other silver foxes somewhere in a field. A cornfield is where all his siblings and he liked to play when they were kits. The silver fox ran to the cornfield. The silver foxes greeted each other. He strung a huge string of stories that took the silver foxes by storm—some were gasping and looking at each other, others were putting paws to their mouths and eyes were bulging in surprise. The silver fox, nodding assertively, put his paws on his hips as he stood upright, his stories spinning out of control.

“Show us, show us!” the silver foxes pleaded.

“Yes, my siblings.” Vengeance was born. “Let’s go.”

Soon, they reached the cornfields. But there were no chickens like he had said there were—only a fire, from which the fox gleefully left his siblings to fend themselves. When the silver fox returned to the movie theatre, the beat-up sign still lay there off the wall like a lame tongue hung out of a dog’s mouth. Finally, after hours of touring the neighborhood (guided by the lights of the streetlamps) and entering even the city ways beyond the neighborhood, the silver fox saw himself in his reflection.

Fool! 

He tore away from it. He had enough of this poor life. He could see himself in a rich royal robe, all foxes of every shade—including evergreen, bronze, daffodil patterned — waving ecstatically to him as he walked that fine red carpet. The fox heard laughter, and looked over. There, in the streetlamp’s brilliant light, were the silver foxes. They were all waving, alright. But their paws told a different story—they were slapping each other on the backs, telling each other never to visit their sibling again.

They raced off together.

Huffing at them, the silver fox went his own way. Soon, he came to a great big place with many, many cars and seemingly endless amounts of feet going to and from places on the sidewalk. Lights of all kinds were lit up, and the fox found himself hidden beside trashcans. Garbage of all kinds smelled, and the silver fox got out of there before any of it clogged his nose. The fox scampered away to a back alleyway, hoping no cats showed up. The silver fox didn’t see any, but knew they’d be here by now. Startled by a guy coming outside in a greasy apron and huge hands coming down upon him, the fox scurried out of the way.

“Aw!” The man chuckled. “I was just going to make you a fine fox dinner!”

The fox stopped. A fox dinner? He turned around, hope shining in his eyes. Good. Maybe the man wouldn't notice him stealing from his very hands! The fox crept up to the man, who threw a trashcan lid on top of a trashcan and, guffawing to himself, headed up the small staircase inside the house. The silver fox spied on him. The man grabbed a huge knife and raised it backwards past his ear. The fox’s eyes, which could see inside the little home because his legs stood on the half-covered can, narrowed.

Then the knife slammed down onto a fish lying on a cutting board. The fox grinned. The man mumbled and the fox hurled off the garbage can, it making all kinds of noise. “Stupid foxes!” Someone yelled.   

It was the fish killer! But there was no fish. The fox, terrified for his own life, dashed away. He, exhausted, came upon some wet plants, and looked up. It was a mini jungle. Where he was, he'd hide here--maybe the fish wouldn't be as good as chicken. Something caught his eye. A black spot. No, brown. And then yellow followed it. Every so often, a brown spot would appear.

“A leopard!” The fox asked it if he saw any chickens. Or rabbits. Or even moles. The cat shook its head. “Keep looking. That is, if you’re not too shifty a character!” Then it laughed. “Oh, I enjoy entertaining myself.”

“Well, where’s the best food around? I need to eat!” The fox’s stomach growled loudly, and he told it to be polite.

“Oh—I don’t know.”

The fox shook his head. Why am I even bothering? He left the leopard. The cat said he’d be better off with other foxes to hunt the chickens way down yonder. “If they believe you!”

The fox thought.

"Could you do me a favor?" His voice dripped with honey-sweet kindness.

"No!" Was the impertinent reply.

The fox shuffled off, annoyed, near starvation. Stupid leopards--never obeying anyone. Why'd I waste my time?

The alley cats didn’t help—they just meowed for their dinner that never came. They’re too poor and helpless for my help. I never should've helped them! 

Disgusted with himself, the fox saw a piece of chicken hanging out of a man’s hand. He pursed his lips. Then he snuck around, stealing a piece of chicken from a man’s hand. Success was the name of the game. The fox snickered to himself, telling them to get more for him as he ate this one.

Someday, they’ll thank me. And come begging for a family. Me—raising cats. Hah. They’ll serve me, fetching my food. Lying for me.  

He ordered them around. Years passed. They all started worshipping him. He grinned.

“We need you!”

The fox trained the cats to hunt on their own. They were wild cats, so the cats had to be skilled at—

“Getting food for me."

The fox said that they’d have to mew and beg. Some children wandered up, the fox saw from his hideout, and took pity on the poor cats. The parents, disgusted, said no. The children trudged away. The fox shook his head. The cats played at being cute. The fox saw that no one wanted them. Then the fox, smiling to himself, had the cats mewing at people’s doors. Some children begged for their parents to rescue the cats. Some parents took them in. The fox then reminded the cats through paw motions (instead of hand motions) how to steal for him. They did so, the fox greedily eating the dinners.

Then the parents said they couldn’t afford to adopt a cat with a baby on the way. The fox, wanting to lunge for these foolish humans, glared at them. But the cats returned, saying they’d have to move somewhere for food. The trashcans were all empty. The fox, disgusted with their lifestyle, led them to a marshy area, where the cats caught fish and mice over yonder. The fox, pleased with himself, saw the cats bring him gluttonously huge amounts of fish. He ate like a king.

“Happy?”

The fox jumped. The Black, White, Scarlet, Marigold, Beige, Tan, Quartz, Golden and Azure foxes were all there! But they were looking pleased with him. The fox was speechless.

Excusing himself, the fox impatiently, angrily taught the cats how to catch the mice and fish. Some of the foxes laughed. The silver fox rolled his eyes. The foxes left the fox to deal with cats who didn’t know how to be cats. The fox kept at the training, eventually being brought a whole net of,, well, fish. Then, the starving cats watched him eat greedily, salivating before him.

“Yeah, well, my family would love me if they saw me do this with cats!”

Laughing with a belly full of fish, the fox abandoned the starving cats. He tried finding a place where animals showed off their talent. Any animal actors out there? One day, he was taken in by someone in a shiny scarlet uniform. Someone called an animal trainer.

The fox soon was an all-star. Tricks and stunts wowed the crowd. The fox sought out his siblings to watch him. He’d steal the chickens, hamburgers and steaks from all of them if they didn’t come! He kept looking out the window, seeing whether his siblings showed up. Even the cats would make him happy. That group of colorful foxes—they would be delighted!

But not a single tail or paw showed up. The fox found his siblings and the cats, showing them all these tricks and stunts like in his movies and shows. They just looked at him. The frustrated fox growled at them, demanding they pay him applause.

“Come on, love me! Or I’ll tear you apart—limb by limb.”

The foxes and cats burst into applause. The fox basked in the glory.

They love me!

The fox contined showing them all the fine stage on which he performed. The cats and foxes all (along with his siblings) were picked up by animal trainers, too. As time went on, these animals showed off to each other, the fox being the best, he gloated to their disgruntlement.

The fox walked away one day, the stage rarely occupied by him. They only got there to escape their horrible life. He shrugged. I guess I’ll just be that shifty fox after all!

The fox eventually landed a role somewhere. But this time, the fox was swallowed up by the fame of other animals. Ostracized again, the fox needed a resting spot. Putting his paws on the balcony, he looked out to the rest of the city, its nighttime shading every building to black and midnight blue. The colors formed a bruise in the fox’s mind. The fox talked to himself.

“Not if I can help it!”

The fox jumped. Could the vixen love a liar? She pressed him for answers. He spilled. She shrugged. “It’s what we foxes do.”

“Yeah.” The fox smirked.

The vixen introduced her family. “So, my brothers—they want to show you their stealing skills!”

 The fox gladly turned the tables—he convinced these boys to steal and lie. They did, enjoying their new jobs along the city streets and alleyways. Cats of all sizes and shapes and social statuses cried out, arguing and shaking their paws in fury as the cackling foxes got away, the silver fox promising to bring the food back, but never doing so. A hidden gleam came out in the vixen’s eyes. “Not if I can help it!” She found him on the balcony overlooking the city right in front of him.

 “You steal?”

“Yeah.” The fox nodded bodaciously. “Why not?” He gloated. "My family's never really paid attention to me. So why should I care about what I do?"

The vixen blinked sadly, the silver fox saw. “So sorry!”

This vixen moved, a chicken coop right by her new den. The silver fox saw his family, his siblings all damaged by the fire. The fox feigned mourning, but the siblings cried out that they saw the evil of their abandonment already. The parents offered him home with them. He saw the sincerity in their eyes. He spat back at them, stole those chickens with her. 

“You’re a fox, no? Who told you that you couldn’t be a fox?”

The fox shrugged. He dashed off, leading the way. Laughing, the vixen joined him. They didn’t just lie; they stole.