Fox

Last we left off, I was engaged in a vicious battle with “The Skunk”. . .

The two of us squared off against each other, my back to the wall–actually, door. Tony’s door. His razor sharp claws had just missed their mark when I elegantly dove out of the way, beautifully planting my face (and body) against the door. Drool dripped from the mouth of my foe as he prepared another strike. I had dropped the rake during my expertly executed dive and now found myself unarmed against a deadly (smelling) enemy.

“Prepare to eat dirt, Fox!” his breath was as stinky as the rest of him, and I found myself feeling nauseous when he spoke.

“Silence, foul beast! Your terror ends here!” I took my battle-stance, known as Downward-facing Fox, and readied my strongest defense. He leapt at me, fangs gnarled and dripping with slobber. I rolled onto my back, swinging my legs at my target–his face. THUNK! Contact. My heels smashed into his soft, furry nose like a wrecking ball into a sack of pillows. He didn’t stand a chance. His chin snapped back and his body flung forward, colliding with the backside of my legs, then he fell to the ground, Thump.

“Ye-eah! Who’s yo’ daddy now Skunk!” I stood triumphantly over my fallen enemy. “You mess with the Fox, you get a steel-plated heel to the nose! Hurts, don’t it!” My jests were for naught though, since the Skunk was out cold. Oh well, the life of a superhero is an anonymous one. That’s why I have this blog–to tell all of you about my heroics and whatnot. Anyway, after saving the neighbourhood, I returned to my den and resumed my slumber, where my dreams were filled with skunks. . . which I skillfully annihilated one-by-one. It was a good night.