Foxlights in the Cemetery

On this fine-as-feathers early spring evening,Fred Fox finds himself both hungry AND a tad mischievous.It`s the old waiting game for Fred and his boy Everby. A young kit with a solid grasp of the absurd and a bright,bright future

          It`s such a slow evening at the cemetery that the boys are right on the verge of packing it in.....maybe amble over to the Waffle House dumpster on Pine Way before it gets shackled closed for the night..... At the last minute,some would-be Romeo swings his high-toned DeSoto into the spot between the gates....looks like Chef PaLaToot and his favorite filly,Ms Oyl

           Fred has been witness to this scene,or some variant thereof, countless times over the years.The "De-Waxed Toboggan" they called this con, back where Ed grew up in West Calastooga.....and tonight would be an ideal time to pass the lesson on to Ev

Fred goes to work immediately..... acting the "concerned bystander" presenting one likely suspect after another,Fred claims each part,in turn,had probably fallen off `Toot`s remarkable, yet haphazardly  assembled auto.........he tells Tootsworth that fortunately,his brother-in-den has a wrecker nearby and can be here at the drop of a hat.......while Fred spins the web of impending doom,Everby checks out the in-dash 8-track

After a point,the angry little chef has had enough falderal from this duo of upgraded rodents !!!! Chef Spitoolie takes the boys for a little ride down to the wharf.......as they ponder their fates, he asks them if they prefer to be cooked with onions and garlic or in a more subtle treatment of shallot,rosemary and Burgundy...........it finally sinks in !!!......not a "De-waxed Toboggan at all !!!!......this is turning into a Bowery Boys routine 41 !!!!!....if foxes weren`t so well upholstered,you could `o heard their knees knocking

Having made his point,and in the process losing Olive Oyl to some surly overly muscled sailor,Chef returns the boys to the cemetery ......young Everby demonstrates the impossible speed of youth......one swooosh and he`s in the wind,gone to ground,and practically just a distant memory.......Fred considers the evening having gone worse than many,better than a few.....he`ll eat the old fishing boot tonight,maybe watch a little Carson,and dream of conquerors,heroes, and very slow rabbits