Phox

Today I woke in a daze. Fumbling, bumbling, stumbling and mumbling my way through the morning as was normal in most days. Today I was still around 20 minutes late as usual and I even had to walk to school which was also usual. On my way to school something unusual happened though. As I scratched my rough but sad excuse for a beard, yelling slanderous abuse at bystanders I saw a phox. Not the "PhoX" that was designed by Christophe Raffalli but in fact the common garden phox. It was gold with a white tip at the end of it's tail. As I opened my mouth to insult it, I saw something. Something about it caught my attention. I had a look in it's eyes as if it had kept a certain value that we humans had lost many a time ago, it had a certain air of sagacity. It stood there looking at me as if it wanted me to do something for it. I shrugged. It nodded it's head towards the bushes behind it, almost beckoning me. I had no choice other than to follow it. I walked for what it seemed was for hours, through brambles, vines and what ever mother nature had to throw at me. I finally reached the home of this majestic phox. When there, the most peculiar, abnormal, strange, other-wordly thing occurred. "The phox stood on his two hind legs and started a conversation with me. It sounded something like this. "hello my name is james the phox, I am not one for idle chatter nor wasting valuable time so I will slice straight to the point. I have lived in these woods for over a century now and have live peacefully with the surrounding nature". He paused for effect and then started again. "Recently (in the past 30 years) the savage race we phoxs refer to as pumans have set up a nest in the nearby vicinity, containing their spawns and hoping that by forcing through inane worthless cycles that they will grow into insidious adults like the rest of them". "The only way these children can release their rage is by insulting or hurting others and it seems as though we are their target, we need you to save the phox race". At the time I was still pretty dazed (although I am unsure as to whether it was due to the phox or my lack of breakfast) and was pretty hungry so I pulled out my knife and ate the phox. To this day I still wonder who this vile and savage race was that the phox called 'pumans' whoever they were they must have been ugly as. I believe that the moral from this event in life was one of three things.
1. Eat phoxs, especially when they are near your school as they taste pretty nice
2. Avoid Pumans ,or
3. When yelling abuse make sure no-one else is around