VOLUME 0: AUDITIONS

Entry #26: Icko, The Late Fox Bloomer

ICKO, THE LATE FOX BLOOMER

One of the stories I have hid from the hands of time is the story of a red fox who broke the misconception that all foxes must learn how to steal and be sly every second of their lives.

This fox owns red tuft of hair over his body like his Great Father. The foxes in their region adore his father. By the time he was able to hear and comprehend words, he learned how notorious his father as a fox.

Praises follow him everywhere he goes. Not only once nor thrice did the grown foxes call his name and ask him to deliver their gifts and praises to the hand of his poppa.

It's true that Icko looks exactly like his poppa but the cunningness and quick fluid moves failed to be pass to him.

Icko, he's the fox who doesn't know how to lie. He doesn't know how to grin. And more importantly, he doesn't know how to steal.

"You're not a real fox yet. Just wait," his father would say. This would comfort him and give him hope but then its effect expired. And this is one of the nights his mind wonders what do it takes to be a real fox.

He wants to be a real fox now, he doesn't want to wait. It has to be now.

There's a reason why he wants to cheat with time and grow faster, he could tolerate no more the names his fellow little foxes throw at him. Late Fox Bloomer, Little Goody Foxy, Hoax Fox, and Bastard Fox. Everyone expects him to be as fox-like as his father, to be deceitful and clever as him.

Midnight, he packed inside his bag made from the skin of a rabbit, a map, berries, two squirrel-meat his father has saved for tomorrow's breakfast, and a handful of dead crickets and caterpillars.

He has heard of the young fox, younger than him, who leveled up to the cunningness of his poppa. He will find him and beg to share his secrets on how to be a real fox in such an early age.

"First, run until you can't feel those legs." He kicked Icko's legs, the latter yelped. "Don't stare at the thing you want to steal. Stick to those two and the rest will follow."

It did. It worked. He now moves like a real fox, steals like a real fox, performs a scheme like a real fox. But somehow, it didn't feel good.

"Yer better than those foxes who steal 'cause ye 'no it's wrong," said the parrot.

"What will I do? They'll hate me."

"Ye now can fill yer stomach with yer own paw. Ye don't need 'em"

Thanks to the parrot, Icko's fate became better. Better than a burglar, than any foxes, than his father.

He became the King of Animalia because of his good heart and his encouragement to the little animals: never be afraid to leave a system you don't want to be in.