With there hands, plus Truks.
Terns out, what they were making is: sevral big wite boxes, with, written upon them, mistery werds. Upon my reeding of these werds, my felow Foxes looked at me all quizmical, like: Fox 8, tell us, what is Bon-Ton, what is Compu-Fun, what is Hooters, what is Kookies-N-Cream?
But I cud not say, those werds never being herd by me at my Story window.
FoxViewCommons seemed to be a plase Yumans came to put there Kars. They wud go into the wite boxes and wate there until there Kars were redy to go home? Sometimes I wud go up to a Kar, inside of which there is a Dog, and, due to speeking decent Dog, wud be like: How’s it going? To which the Dog wud either look blank at me, as if I was not even speeking Dog, or fling themself around inside there Kar, as if they wud like to brake out and do damage to me, a Fox!
But finally one Dog does answer, going: Prety gud, how about you? It is reely hot in here.
And I woslike: Frend, what is this plase?
He woslike: Par King.
I woslike: What is it for?
At which point he took a paws to lik his but. Wile I polite lee wated.
Finally he woslike: The Mawl.
I woslike: But what is the purpose of the Mawl?
By this time, however, he is asleep. With legs running, yet stil traped in that Kar, probly dreeming he is a Fox, with Fox lee freedom, and less pudgee.
But he was rite: it was Par King, it was the Mawl. Yumans wud go: You kids stop fiting, we’re at the Mawl, kwit, kwit it, if you don’t stop fiting how wud you like it if we just skip the Mawl and you can get rite to your aljuhbruh, Kerk? Or, speeking into a small box, a Yuman mite go, I have to run, Jeenie, I’m just now Par King at the Mawl! Or one Yuman slaps the but of a sekond, and the slapt one leens in, kwite fond, going, Elyut, you kil me. Or a lady drops her purse and bends to retreev her guds, when sudden lee her hat blows away, at which time, speeking a bad werd, she looks redy to sit and cry, own lee a nise man appeers, and rases off in kwest of her hat, tho he has a slite limp.
Yumans!
Always intresting.
One day I am krowching at the edge of Par King, gazing over at the Mawl, when out comes a pare of Yumans.
One woslike: OK, I will meet you at the Fud Cort when you are done with your lip waks.
And the other woslike: If you are late I will total lee kill you, Meggen.
And the other woslike: Don’t worry, I’ll find you. You’ll be the one with the way red lip.
Then they laffed.
That frase of “Fud Cort” prikked up my ears but gud.
Mite there be fud in a Fud Cort?
There mite, I felt.
Here I shud say, all my life, I have had kwite curative day-dreems. They wud just come upon me. And I wud enjoy them.
With some favrits being:
Some Yumans heer me speeking Yuman so gud they give me some Chiken, and I sit rite at there Table. And they go: How is it being a Fox?
And I go: Fine.
And they go: Foxes are our favrit Animal.
And I go: Thanks.
And they go: Why o why were we so stupid as to choose Dogs for our mane Pets?
And I go: I reely don’t know.
Or: Some Bares are chasing me. I stop and, holding one paw aleft, give them a speech about being nise, and they are like: Maybe this is weerd to ask, but cud you, a Fox, be our Grate Leeder, and teech us to be nise and not walk funy? And I go: Sure. And they applawd with their paws. But awkword. So I teech them to clap gud and they look at me with luv.
Or: Some Berds fly around my hed, going: What a prety Fox, we have flown everywhere in this werld and never seen one pretier! And one Berd goes: And smart too. And the others churp there agreement.
Now, krowching neer Par King, I had a curative day-dreem, about Fud Cort, which was: Go in, get some fud. Why not? How hard cud it be? If there is fud, it shud be fud for all, rite?
That nite, at Groop Meeting, I brot farth my plan.
But sad lee, my somewhat reputashun as a dreemer preseded me.
And not in a gud way.
Grate Leeder woslike: What is Fud Cort anyway? Sounds danjerus.
I woslike: Yumans are nise, they are cul.
And Fox 41 woslike, all snoty: O rite! Very funy! I’m sure we are going to trust the same Fox who once clamed he went to Collage with some Baby!
Fox 41 bringing up that Baby was so not cul.
Once, long ago, at that Story window, I day-dreemed those Yumans invited me in and let me hold there Baby. And that Baby luvved me so much, we soon jerneyed to Collage together, whering are little Collage Hats! It was grate! At Collage we lerned such Yuman skils as Werking Machines, and How to Play a Violin Complete Lee Screechy.
But when I came home and told my Foxes about going to Collage with that Baby, they did not beleev me. To proov it, I desided to show them my Collage Hat.
Which was when I remembered I had day-dreemed the hole thing.
The only Collage Hat I had was in my brane!
Tray embarasing.
So that is why, in Groop Meeting, Grate Leeder woslike: No, Fox 8. No Mawl. Gud input tho.
I terned to my other Foxes and woslike: Guys, pleese suport me on this.
But fownd the eyes of my other Foxes lolling up at the seeling.
Fox 4 woslike: No ofense, Fox 8? Your ideas are not super praktikal.
Dreem, dreem, dreem, said Fox 11.
Fox 41 woslike: Fox 8, does this honestly never get old for you?
Grate Leeder woslike: I have spoken.
And something in me woslike: Grate Leeder, bla.
I still luvved him but it woslike he was not being all that Grate. Or even a Leeder. I meen no disrespek. It was just a strong feeling in my hart that it was no gud for Foxes to give up and just be ded on perpose.
All that nite I cud not sleep for beens. But just lay awake, looking sad lee around at all my sleeping Foxes. And woslike, in my brane: Frends, you do not look so gud. The hare of your cotes is manjee. You are neerly all eyes, due to: super hungry. Your sides are like heeving in your sleep. Deer Foxes! You have known me sinse, as a Pup, I tryed to bite my own face in our Rivver. You knew me bak when, day-dreeming, I stepped in Poop of Wolf and brot it bak inside the Den, causing everyone to rinkle their snouts, going like: Fox 8, jeez, how cud you not smell Poop of Wolf when it is rite on your own dang paw? But you forgave me, and when I had got most of the Poop off, by rubing against a tree, even helped me lik myself all the way gud.
And sinse I luv you, shud I not do my best to save you?
Hense I desided to go alone.
And next morning set off for the Mawl.
You may have herd the Yuman frase, What are frends for? Well, I will tell you. Frends are for, when your hole Groop terns its baks on you, here comes your frend, Fox 7, of who I spoke of erlyer, as being the first Fox I ever spoke Yuman to, troting up beside you.
He woslike: I’ll go with you, Fox 8.
I woslike: Dude.
He gave this small shrug, like: No big deel.
We troted awile in gud cheer. Soon here was the Mawl. Cud we kros Par King? We cud. And did.
Here is how you do it:
Take a deep breth. Look left and look rite, very vigrus. Careful, careful.
Go. Go go go! Do not even paws.
FoxViewCommons is now bowncing, because you are galupping so fast.
A Kar almost gets you! Do a panic-yip. Stop. Take a slite brake under another Kar. Try to go. Too bad, you can’t. Too skared! Do a miner worry-yip.
Go!
Paws!
Look again, look again. Go. Stop! Look again.
Just reely buk it!
You made it!
And are not ded.
But now there was a problem we had not mulled, which is: a Dore. Dores being a problem for Foxes, due to being hevy, plus there handels may be hi.
But luk was with us.