So there I was, riding my bike down the green belt this morning, when lo and behold, out jumps Br'er Fox, right in front of me! It was at a point on the path where the fences on both sides are close for a good stretch, along with a bridge, so he didn't really have any way out. Sly as a fox, my ass ... what kind of incompetent buffoon gets himself into that type of situation without a rational, well-planned exit strategy?
Anyway, he trotted along, about 10-15 feet in front of me, for about 200 yards. It was kind of cool at first, but those who know me know that I live to work, and he was slowing me down. Those numbers ain't gonna crunch themselves, you know. So I sped up, pulled off my frame pump, and whacked him on the back of the head. One less threat to the henhouse, the way I see it.
Note to PETA: The last 4 sentences are not true. Please do not throw blood on me or blow up my car (or is it the ELF people who blow up cars?).
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