The Man Fox and He

A Story by ZackOfBridge

Destructive Binge

It was then that his mind had lost its comfort of reality, or likewise reality had lost its hold of his mind. It happened when the night came and did battle with the buzzing light under the aluminum stall. The same aluminum stall under which was our ‘he’, a young uniformed man, bearded and all, at the time of his disillusionment he sat bobbing his head to the tune of the 80’s from the neighboring car dealership’s speakers. Understand he was alone as was custom of the new porters to be stocked into the late hours for the relief of veteran porters. He bobbed his head, got physical as the song instructed of him, and just sat watching the still cars. The cars were aligned; their headlights empty of light besides that of the same buzzing light of which he sat under.

Do not grow impatient because in one swivel of his neck, some odd fluids ruptured and his sight first stood on the cardboard cutout of a humanistic fox. This fox, a mascot for a car company stood atop a stack of tires, his white t-shirt snug and hung slightly over a pair of cool gray khakis and his paws pressed to his hips. There was indeed a smile etched into the fur of his face and eyes round that stared straight into our he. Those fluids from some mentions back, drowned out the sense in his brain and he saw clearly the man fox step from his stack of tires, and also step from his cardboard outline and into the buzzing light of the aluminum overhang. This being the same buzzing light that our he sat under, yet, he no longer bobbed his head, but felt the sense in the form of blood drain from his face and go cold. What does one say to a cardboard man fox come alive, he now found he must think for the very first time.

“Get back in there, fox.” He told the man fox with a direction of his finger point.

The Man Fox, his hands still tucked at his sides walked with a slight two dimension. We must give the man fox a moment to accustom himself to the cumbersome dimension that is the third. He took to it rather fast, and with better gusto than most animate cardboard figures. He kicked his feet out, stretched his fur hidden neck and dwiddled his paws, and since he was a man fox these paws he dwiddled sported a fine set of fingers.

“Did you hear me fox? Get back in there, you have left your cutout blank.”

“I won’t. Leave it blank.”

“Now fox, you must. There is nothing here for you. Without your feet atop them those tires will grow cold.”

“Nothing here for me? It seems this is the first instance of any good fun since my creation some times back. What is it you do here? Such freedom to move about this way.” The Man Fox said. He paced about under the aluminum overhang; he jabbed at the empty air and tapped his feet on the cold asphalt.

“Freedom, fun. That is laughable. What is it I do? I work, fox. Hours and hours, days and days. You in the prior sense, as a cardboard cutout tamed to stand still and look upon the passing moments, and I in the present sense have much of the same nature.”

Though his ears were perked tall upon his head, the Man Fox was not listening to Our He, but was fixed on the car under the aluminum overhang. He set his fingered paws on the freshly waxed rear of the car. “Oh this immaculate, I have watched you and others like you slave over these for the hours and hours, days and days you have mentioned.” It seems the man fox was listening after all.

“Be careful not to smudge that car. Before he left, Jose put a lot of time into buffering the whole of this car. Not to provoke a pun, but paws off, fox.”

“You have taken to cowardice naturally and to petty slavery quite willingly. Watch as it is done.” The Man Fox allowed the claws of his fingers to point and he dragged them with ever stability and precision across the side of the car. Four rows of claw scratch met with the paint from rear to front.

“You dirty Fox! He said and was to his feet now too. He tugged at his hair, both the hair of his head and of his chin. The pain of the tug did no such help in delivering sanity. Now the fox’s tail swung like that of a torch in the hands of an epileptic. Our He put his fingers on the scratches to confirm their depth; deep indeed. “Those aren’t going to be buffed out!”

“You are of cowardice and slavery, but surely not apathy. If you could see the red of your face.” The etched smirk remained on the Man Fox’s face, sharp miniscule teeth showed. “Have you done such damage to a car before?”

“Never, I wouldn’t. It isn’t right.” Our he now scrambled for a rag and polish. He hoped that the mixture of polish and elbow grease could clear the marks against him. “These cars aren’t mine.”

“Precisely, my naked faced friend. They are not yours, what trouble is it to you if they are thrashed in good fun?”

“Trouble of the law. I cannot blame it on you or I will be submitted. I have lost my mind and I know it has gone.”

The strength of this Man Fox was considerable if considered he were a cardboard cutout not even an inch in thickness moments before. The refrigerator, paid for by all the porters, toppled. The glass door shattered on the asphalt, but the shriek of pained glass lasted only a moment. The laughter, pitched high and malicious, of the Man Fox drew on and on again with night’s echo. “What fun this is. You tell me you have never? Certainly, you must. Allow yourself to take this stool and pass it through a window of one of these immaculates.”

“Their will be trouble, but if I can not stop you, possibly helping you may satisfy your destructive binge.” Our He took the stool from the cushion, the steel legs rose to the air as it went over his head. Our he pushed his feet hard on the asphalt for momentum's gift and put the stool into the window of the immaculate. The glass shattered and fell like solid tears of musical relief. The stool, like any great tool had more use in it than the one, and so again he took it to the side doors. The moon above was full and the craters resembled much of the dents now in the cars.

The Man Fox watched on from underneath the aluminum overhang. He stood atop his tires, with his hands pressed to his sides and a smile etched into his face of fur.