The Fox in the Garage Part 4: Our Game

April 19, 2010

At night Terrence and I like to play a game called Kill That Fox. Every time we hear the fox rummaging in the litter box, we shout a funny way we’d like to see him die. Like this: Chinese bamboo torture! This will startle him and he’ll stop rummaging around, at least for a minute, and we can fall asleep. When you’re playing Kill That Fox You can say any idea you think of. It doesn’t matter if it’s expensive, and it doesn’t matter if it’s real gross. Here are a few of my favorites: Drop him in acid like the Joker in Batman. Strangle him with his own tongue. Terrence eats him alive (not that Terrence would EVER do anything like that but it’s fun to imagine). Stomp him to death. His own mother eats him alive. Inject him with Parkinson’s disease and watch him deteriorate over time. If I had my way there would be a game show called Kill That Fox and I’d be the host. Before each episode the announcer says “What are we going to do?” and the live studio audience shouts “Kill! That! Fox!” It’s a simple show, like Deal or No Deal. People from all over the world line up on the driveway and sign up. I pick names at random and if you’re chosen you can kill him however you want and you don’t have to clean up the mess. The fox somehow comes back to life after being killed each time because it’s television. You can bring an X-Acto knife or a shotgun or Saran wrap (for suffocating). Whatever you want. The only rule is that you can’t kill him and then eat him because you could get real sick and sue us. Sorry, but there isn’t any prize money. I’m thinking the only reward will be the satisfaction you get from killing him. Not that I know what that feeling feels like. The fox didn’t eat the meat I laced with rat poison. The hamburger patty sat untouched on the litter box for three days. The animal book said foxes eat raw meat, but maybe this particular fox doesn’t like raw meat so I figured I’d cook it. I took the patty to Circle K to use their microwave, and as I walked in Scott said, What now, Linda? “I’m just heating up this hamburger patty that’s laced with rat poison so when the fox in my garage eats it, he’ll die. He’s been chewing my hoses like nobody’s business and he started a fire that ruined the best parts of my house. He’s asking for it.” And Scott said, OK, but next time you have to buy something. Scott’s the kind of guy who loves telling people what to do. Is he the man for me? No way. “This is a business, not your kitchen.” I bought Rolos to shut him up.

I cooked the patty medium-rare and brought it home. I sprinkled on more poison and placed it on the litter box. The next morning I went out to the garage hoping to see a rotting fox corpse. No dice. He was still sitting on the litter box and chewing those hoses as if they were Charleston Chews. The patty was on the floor. The fox must have knocked it off the litter box to toy with me, to let me know he’s not going down without a fight.

Next: Do We Need Cynar? 2

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