How it's like to be a Fox
#3 of Other
There're so many misconceptions about us foxes and so many bad stereotypes that make me cry at night.
I want to go back to my little save space under the far left table I used to lie with some mice strapped to lathes. My only friends.
I can still smell the bowl with punch. It was peach I believe. Or maybe lychee. We used to drink ourselves into oblivion. Which took a while since lychee doesn't have much alcohol in it.
But it didn't matter. It was our time and we were young and made love in my father's car while he was driving grandma to the hospital.
They still judged me though and called me a "motherfoxer". I never fully understood why people hate each other so much. Why is the world like this, can anyone tell me?
I just wanted to be one of them and now I'm all alone with my tail and this last baked fig I saved for this one person who might come one day.
They never came. And tears were all that was left. And the delicious fig that tasted so sweet I could cry all over it again.
Fortunately the mice grew up into strong and self-determined crane operators.
I believe I'm drunk. Lychee sucks.
HOW IT'S LIKE
TO BE A FOX
You want to know how it's like to be a fox? Because you find us cute with our little snouts, the adorable marble eyes, pointy noses and all these fluffy tails?
Oh yeah, you love our tails, don't you? Don't be shy. Everyone does. I love them too.
Have you ever touched a foxy tail? There's nothing in the world this fluffy and puffy. Once you touched one and got enticed by its divine softness you'll never be satisfied with even the most comfortable of cushions. You won't ever be able to sleep again without tightly hugging one.
Yeah, I hug my tail too. All the time.
I don't need pillows. Need nothing. I have my built-in cushion and I hug the hell out of it whenever I'm tired.
Or when I feel cold.
Or lonely.
Or sad.
When I cry.
I silently cry into it.
I'm so lonely.
ANYWAY.
You want to know how it's like to have such an incredibly fluffy tail?
It definitely has its perks and I'd never ever want to be without it. To be honest it's also an object of pride. Have you ever noticed the gaze of a fox if another one of their kind enters a room? They sneakily check each other out. To see who has the biggest, the fluffiest tail.
Oh, they will be so mad if their tails don't look good. If they have a "bad tail day", when everything just hangs down without shape or grace. If a fox acts grumpily, their tail might be the reason for it. So don't take it personally.
And it's awfully easy to get you tail completely ruined from one second to the next. It's not just people wanting to touch it all the time or to grab it -- Never touch the tail of a fox without their consent! And never ever pull on it even if you got consent! We hate that! It feels ... really weird. Like somebody grabbing your spine and you feel the tug all the way up your back and into your brain. A bit like having someone putting a finger inside your belly button and rubbing it. Yeah, this ghastly, totally awkward feeling.
Some foxes even feel the urge to vomit if pulled improperly.
At least that's what I heard.
It's not just the touching and pulling. If you're not careful and don't keep your tail up safely above the ground you won't even be able to take two steps without someone stepping on it.
That's like pullpocalypse.
And don't think that people stepping right onto it is the worst. Oh no. No. It's the last two inches of hair right at the tip that nonchalantly brush the ground, when suddenly you feel a slight pinch and wonder what's going on and right before you can stop, turn around and check, the tip of your tail is ripped right out of your skin.
You scream and jump and feel like someone's trying to skin you alive. Then you'll curl up into a sobbing ball of fur, hug the remains of your tail and cry like a cub.
This happened to me at least twice this month. First when I was on a camping trip and didn't realize that this pudgy grizzly bear was walking right behind me. And the second time at my sister's wedding. I lied right under the table with the bowl of punch.
The melony taste was the only thing able to console me.
Because I'm lonely, fyi.
Even once all people are gone or when you ran back into your flat to cry some more about your ruined foxhood, don't feel too safe.
Because you're not safe. Nowhere.
There's always a door that closes behind you just quickly enough to claim some pieces of your fur. Or you miss to pull your tail out of the way when you close a cupboard. Or a drawer. Or your fur gets stuck in the cracks of an old chair when you stand up.
You involuntarily and often savagely lose fur every day. Everywhere.
Try it out, human: Pull the hairs on your head out one by one and enjoy every little pinch. If you're done with all, then maybe you've learned how it feels like to be a fox.
Dangers lurk everywhere. Everyone and everything is after your fur.
After this magnificent tail of yours.
I occasionally see people drawing us foxes with odd markings and tattoos. Do you even know how difficult it is to tattoo a fox? It's not cheap either.
There're basically two ways to do it that range from temporary and expensive to long lasting and I'm-going-to-sell-my-flat-to-that-hobo-and-start-looking-for-a-nice-bridge unaffordable.
If you're going with the former you basically buy some overpriced fur colorant and stencil and try to figure out how to put that fur tattoo you always wanted onto your butt. It lasts for almost a week and then it looks like some kind of bird took an artistic shit on your back.
Then you cut the stained fur and repeat the whole process.
The other method guarantees a precise and long lasting quality tattoo.
For this you just need to shave off your fur completely at wherever you want to get the tattoo. If you like to go full-body, make sure your razor is able to cut through stone, because everything less will get blunt after the second stroke.
Then you find a tattoo artist who gives you a tattoo like a human would get. And then comes the easy part: You just have to make sure to keep your fur from getting any longer than 0.5 mm or else your tattoo won't be visible and you just wasted an ungodly amount of money for special shaving equipment and a tattoo artist.
And if you keenly opted for a full-body tattoo, make sure to trim your fur at least once a week. It only lasts one to two hours to get everything removed. And your fur will dry more easily. Bonus, you sassy bastard.
Other foxes will be so jealous of you when summer comes around.
Oh yeah, that's another thing with all the fur: It gets too damn hot in summer.
You better get an appointment at your local full-body barber shop early, because if you're late you'll have to wait endlessly and all the hairdressers will scoff and snarl when they see you entering after all the sheep and wool pigs and lions and bears and dogs and llamas and raccoons and mole rats they trimmed and shaved all week.
And once you're finally done, feeling like a reborn god ready for summer at the beach, you step outside and notice: It's October already.
And you freeze to death before your fur managed to regrow.
You think I'm finished with talking about tails and fluffiness? Right?
Wrong.
Now try to imagine how to keep your fur clean. All of it.
You step into the shower -- dusty like a buffalo that fought its way out of a sand storm in the middle of the Sahara, smelling even worse than one -- and after an hour or so you come out with 50 more kilos of water hanging in your fur, being wet like Neptune and now feeling heavy like a buffalo.
You walk through your flat, flooding everything (I recommend taking a walk through the garden in this state to save time by watering the flowers in the meantime) and after two more hours or so you slowly start to feel the first dry spots on the tips of your ears.
Ever had chewing gum in your hair? Ever tried to remove it?
It's impossible. It sticks to your fur like the devil to the soul of Mother Theresa's unbaptized baby, making an absolute mess out of your pristine fur. And remember: Foxes basically consist of fur. This means the gum could get anywhere.
Imagine sitting down. Onto a piece of well-aged, savory gum that just waited for you there on this lovely old bench at the park.
Why you'd sit down on a park bench while butt-naked? I don't know. It happens. Happened to me just last week. It was damn hot, okay, and I needed to cut the gum from my butt cheeks. There's a hole now. Looks real good ... yeah.
But whatever. Don't change the subject!
By the way, how do you think this cutesy, fluffy, divinely adorable fox fur smells like? Do you want to know? Are you really sure?
Okay, try to picture a green meadow in the summer: There're flowers and the wind is slowly moving the grass and bees are buzzing around you. There's a nice little shack of an old romantic farmstead on a hill and you enter it to take a look around.
You notice how the sun has been shooting at the metal roof all day, turning everything inside into Lucifer's kitchen. And right there in the center where the air swirls in pure heat you find this bucket the farmer's cow took a shit into. It's now boiling in the heat and you take cover, fearing it could spring to life and attack you like a savage wolf.
You inhale this ungodly, foul stench and can already see the seventh gate of hell opening right next to you. There you then find the farmer's cow, lying on the ground, dead, rotting and boiling just like that shit bucket next to it.
This will be the time you know how fox fur smells like. You're welcome.
Don't say I'm exaggerating. It's all true. I'm a fox, you know. And I know where this smell comes from. Are you prepared to discover this secret too?
Okay.
You know about fox butts, right? These fluffy things many people seem to enjoy far too much. You know right in the center there's this tiny, adorable foxy hole.
Right.
And right next to it are two tiny, cutesy glands. Aptly called "anal glands".
They frequently ooze a substance that almost exactly looks, smells -- and if you're daring tastes -- like shit. But it's not shit. No, it's just equally nasty.
But nature wasn't done after only having one hole to put out ungodly filth. No, only the addition of two atrocious, goo-oozing hell warts right next to it was able to satisfy it.
They often ooze without you even noticing. Until you smell it.
Luckily you'll smell it quickly. While sitting in class. Or at a job interview. Or with your friends at the pool. Or while getting butt fucked.
Nature doesn't care. Devil's goo doesn't care. It just does what it does. Making you a walking, talking septic tank.
The smell can last up to several days. And whatever it touches adopts it for the same period of time.
I know.
You're welcome.
Oh and about the old conundrum of "What the fox says":
Imagine you're huddled comfortably in your comfy bed and the blanket just got warm enough for you to relax and to let the quarrels of the day behind you and suddenly you hear the ghastly screams of some kind of demon baby that seemingly tries to materialize its hellish grimace in the room right next to yours.
And then you think: "Oh, these ghastly screams of imminent death can only mean one thing: Fox sex."
Where on Earth did you get the impression from that foxes going at it is an "erotic" sound?
Does the sound of your pet gobbling up its own vomit and slurping whatever drools out of its mouth in the process make you "hungry" too?
No?
Exactly.
Since we're at the topic of sex -- I advise all minors to stop reading immediately. Otherwise I cannot guarantee for your safety or sanity.
I'll wait until you're gone.
Okay I think they're gone now.
Now think about this beautiful fox lady or guy who looks at you with an inviting grin, their perfect fur shimmering in the dimmed light of your bed room. They turn around and you're ready to go down to serious business.
Then you look at this sexy foxy butt and you eagerly examine these little, crusty spots that look like your mate just sat down on a chocolate cookie.
They're everywhere in the light butt fur, they glue some of the hairs together and created this interesting chocolaty ring around their love hole.
It's no chocolate.
Seriously, what's wrong with you humans and your portrayal of all these pearly fox butts that radiate light like the Holy Grail? Do you have any idea how long it takes to get your butt fur clean like that?
Remember the walking septic tank?
Yeah. After having been clean for 15 minutes or so your anal glands decide it would be much sexier to add some dark brown into the mix of soap and powder.
No fox I know of looks like having come right out of a Caribbean luxury spa when undressing. Or maybe they did come from one. More than 15 minutes ago.
You think the back entrance is bad?
Well, make yourself comfortable and we swiftly move on to the front.
I'm sure you're aware of what a "knot" is -- the poetically named "bulbus glandis". Indeed, this silly thing that occasionally grows on your dick like some kind of alien tumor you never asked for.
It's actually not that easy to get it out of the sheath. It's not like just thinking about something sexy and whoop: there it is, doing the weird alien thing again while draining your body off all its blood until you get dizzy.
No, no, no. You really need to work on the sucker until it finally decides to press its way out of this tiny sheath hole what usually feels much more awkward than sexy. And once it's out it won't leave for some time. Better make sure you've locked the door and told your grandma you're sleeping -- because trying to force the sucker back where it crawled out of hurts like hell. Don't try it!
And now imagine having this alien being all out and happy while having just enjoyed some fine sex. Your alien friend doesn't care whether you planned to do anything else this evening or not. You're stuck with it. Literally.
Ever having been stuck to a person you just fucked? It's not quite as sexy as it sounds like. Because if you didn't make sure in advance that you really like this person or this person decides to not like you all that much, you'll both have an awkward and potentially very interesting time after sex. You can talk a lot in the 15 to 30 minutes it takes for your alien to retreat.
And what if you forgot that you two ordered pizza? How do you plan to answer the door?
Well, there're only two options: Being stuck to a hungry person who may or may not actually like you all that much and who may or may not decide to bite your throat, or, being stuck to a person you then have to acrobatically get out of bed with and to the door like some kind of Siamese fetish twin or something.
You can only hope and pray that the delivery guy is a fox too. If he just smiles and says nothing, he understands your pain. If not, he might vomit at you.
Ever tried to get vomit out of your chest fur?
Okay.
I think that's all for now. I hope I could give you some insights into how it's like to be me.
A fox I mean.
If you have any questions, feel free to ask.