Tim Tam the Cutest Fox in the World ch2

Out the building and onto the parking lot, I whined silently in my cage. Courage to fight for my freedom eluded me, as well as my adorable charms; not that they would have any effect on this demon. With optimism failing, my whines grew more high pitched with cascading tears pouring down my muzzle. Their taste bitter in flavor, like my luck.

SMACK! "Shut it you," my captor said as he hit my cage with the handle of his gruesome knife. "I wouldn't want ta gut ya 'ere and now. We've got a long drive ahead of us, an I want ya to be warm when oi take that pretty little pelt."

Heeding his warning, I stopped. Still, no amount of threats could wipe away my tears. Even my freedom would bring me tears of joy. Freedom, what a blissful word--one I've now taken for granted.

The parking lot was pretty empty, save for about five to ten vehicles parked around the building, three of which would've been better owners to leave with, but no. I was tossed into the back of this old rusted Pickup, much like the residents around my camp owned. Only obvious difference was it didn't reek of death or was driven by a mad man. And as the truck bed closed, my cage fastened to other more larger cages on either side of me, I contemplated where I'd be if I hadn't gone after that bread in the meadow so covetously.

As we drove on down the road, my head uncomfortably banging on the roof of my prison with each passing bump on the road, I, soon to be the cutest corpse in the world, Tim Tam, recollected and lamented in my state of nostalgia of all the good I've possessed. So much, I let all the forest I passed by know.

"Woe is me! That I, cute adorable Tim Tam, should face an untimely demise for something so petty as my flesh! Nay I say to all of you, do not mourn for me, for the cutest fox in the world shan't spare tears of sorrow, but tears of joy. For I shall join my vulpine brethren in th skies, and bask in the meadows where it's always sunny. Where chickens are in plentiful supply, and farmers forever absent. Where rabbits hop and leap all day, and I may hop with them not as my prey, but as my friends of peace, and prosperity. Who knows, yay, that I may live among them and become uncle of their offspring, and one day a young bunny, with cuteness and adorability matching my own may say, "Good Morning Uncle Tim Tam. Yes *sniff* truly I tell you, not one among you, no, not one, may replace me here, in the vast world. For I, the cute Tim Tam *sniff*, will be surely missed by all, bwahahaha! Momma, momma I need you, waaaaaaah!"

After my lamentation, my outlook changed direction. All the sorrow, fear, and bleakness of my heart was now all poured out. It no longer seemed as if I was on a ride to my execution, but rather, on the gravy train to my salvation; gravy with mashed potatoes, corn, and a turkey leg.

"Its fine, everything will be okay. Sure I'm riding with a madman, but that doesn't mean it's the end of the world right? Look at me, just moaning and crying, I'm not even trying to escape. Haha, yes! All I have to do is-just-budge-a little-and-get-my-paw-to-the latch. Uuugh, if I could reach the key hole."

It was a pointless attempt, since I was too crammed in the cage to even lift my paw over my head. The accursed cage was much too small; if only I were stuffed in a box again. Still though, I remained the optimistic fox. Sad truth was I could think of more sorrowful dialog then charismatic. I made quite the dramatic scene back at my acting troupe in the forest. So, when I couldn't come up with any more encouraging words, I sang the song of my foxy free spirit.

Run, run, leap, leap
Round the barn and past the heap
Nab a chicken, time to flea
Farmer's hounds are after me
I am small, but quick and sly
As they near, it's time to fly
Leap, run, you wont catch me
Give it up, I'm foxy free!

I repeated singing to my hearts content until nostalgia hit me of the free life I once had. I'd eaten too many chickens and now the farmer has caught me. Is one's survival really a crime? Well, I wouldn't know since I've never been near a farm or have had chicken, well, other than what campers cooked up and kindly gave me. Still, I've never hurt mankind and now I'd be suffering such a death.

Thinking and singing of freedom sort of threw off my cute cheerful mindset, and instead unleashed something more…er…savage. It was quite embarrassing now that I think of it, but better so given current circumstances.

The fur on my back stood up as my eyes darted wildly about, looking for the slightest sign of help. The numbness of my limbs within the cramped cage bugged me as I allowed the circulation for splint seconds. Madly, I chomped down on the cage lining, believing my all powerful incisors might actually be able to chew through; anything for freedom.

Panic ensued, and unstable, I grew lost in my madness; which, I admit, was a little more fun than acting optimistic. "Let me out! Lemme out-lemme out-lemme out! I don't deserve this you hear me! I am Tim Tam, and I promise you! If you lay one of your ashy blood stained paws on me you'll be sorry! No one imprisons Tim Tam and lives to tell the tale! You'll be hearing from my lawyer! Vincent Vanderbear is the best attorney in the forest! But I wont press charges if you set me free."

After the threats, I sunk to a lower state of mind, which currently had me accusing others for my mistakes.

"Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of it! It's all Tod's fault! He's the one you want not me! He's been stealing your food while you were asleep! He's working with the raccoons! Plus, he made fun of the way I look when we were both in Vulpus elementary! He called me ugly, and everyone laughed! Which was stupid because I was the cutest in the class, but I guess since it was April 1st, he didn't really mean it. So…I guess it could've been more of a compliment…but he still made me cry and I hate him for it!"

Suddenly, as I wailed helplessly, I spotted three figures flying by at a close distance above my cage. Lucky for me the spawn of all that is dark and depressing, or my new owner, didn't drive too fast for us to lose them. My guess is he was busy contemplating all the ways he could torture me before acquiring my fur. If not, then his country music distracted him enough. I was just glad three pudgy little angels hovered over me without changing direction.

"Hey," I shouted, "Hey you three! Help, help me please!"

My continuous pleas gathered their attention. Breathing a sigh of relief, I calmed as they descended towards me. Finally, I thought, somebody I've met today that wasn't human. My excitement turned into an awkward silence, as the keys to my freedom came in the form of…pigeons. Pudgy pea brained birds who could barely keep a intelligent conversation, let alone open a cage door, but oh well; beggars can't be choosers.

Heads bobbing to and fro once they landed, I wore a sweet innocent smile, hoping the fact I was a fox wouldn't scare them away, since the fact I was caged was irrelevant to such unintelligent birds. "Oh thank goodness, I thought help would never come."

The trio looked back and fourth between me, them, and different parts of the truck. Always cocking their heads in a different direction or position. For awhile they stayed silent, which made me fear they were mute, and I didn't know feather sign language. Then suddenly, the one on the far right spoke, then the middle, then the left; each puffing out their chests and speaking in a queer rhythmic pattern.

"Ooh, a fox."

"A fox in a box?"

"And it talks."

"What problem sir fox in a box?"

For a moment, I was stunned in perplexity, but quickly remembered why I called to them. "Er- oh, please, you got to get me out, I--"

"Out?"

"He wants o get out."

"The fox in a box?"

"Without socks?"

"Surely a fox can't own socks?"

"Listen," I shouted, "I've been fox napped from my home and am being taken to my death. Can you help m--"

"Death?"

"Like evil Macbeth?"

"The fox in the box?"

"Yes, he shall meet his death."

"Unless, we--"

"All you have to do is lift up the latch on my cage, then--"

"Latch?"

"Reminds me of Hatch."

"Oh Hatch, she was quite a match."

"But Hatch, she was my match."

"Ha, what a batch!"

"She sure was a catch."

"Please, just get me out of here!"

Recoiling, the pigeons looked at me in disgust and continued their annoying speech pattern.

"How rude."

"The fox is being rude."

"The fox in the box?'

"He wants to get out."

"No need to shout."

"How crude that the fox is being rude."

I sighed, "Well if you would stop your dumb rhyming and help me perhaps I wouldn't be rude."

Suddenly, the trio gasped, and exchanged looks of horror, as if I had insulted some form of sacred ancestry.

"Dumb!"

"He said we were dumb."

"Apox! Apox! On the fox!"

"Apox on the fox in the box!"

"Indeed."

"No, no," I cried as they prepared to fly, "No apox on the fox, please! I'm desperate! I don't want to die!"

Sinking in my cage, I gave into sadness. The tears I had long ago have now come again, coupled with added misery, now that my attitude made me alone once again. But, be it by my mournful countenance or their sympathy, the birds remained, moved by my performance. Well, if it indeed was one, it would be enough to put an audience in tears; even with the bad dialog.

"Aww, poor fox in the box."

"He said he would die."

"Die?"

"No need to cry, fox in a box."

"Apox?"

"No apox on the fox in a box."

"We help."

"Pitiful whelp…er, kidding."

Flapping over , the three attempted to open the cage. Each flew on the roof, and stretching their necks grabbed the latch with their beaks. What I thought would be a simple means of escape turned out to be a bit more complex. The birds managed to lift the latch, but couldn't pull it loose to open the cage. A tugging sound was heard whenever they tried, as if some obstruction was keeping them from freeing me.

"What's wrong," I asked.

One of the birds peeked closer to what kept the latch from moving, "It's locked."

"Locked?"

"The box is locked."

"Plan."

"Man, we'll do what we can."

"How can?"

I was at a loss for words, shocked at how luck continued to toy and torment my emotions. Certainly my monster of a captor didn't trust that I, Tim Tam, possibly a dumb animal in his eyes, couldn't of figured out how to open a simple cage. Nope, he had to take more serious precautions and add a lock. Oh my dismay, which will now end in more tiring hours of driving and contemplating my death.

"So what could you do," I asked, praying in he fathoms of my foxy heat that they'd think of something. Despite that my life was in the paws…er…wings, of birds who couldn't even come up with a concise sentenced, I grew extremely depressed.

"Knox!"

"Knox?"

"The master of locks?"

"Yes, Knox the master of locks!"

"Don't worry fox."

"We'll bring Knox."

"He'll open the locks."

"Then open the box."

"Farewell fox."

"Wait, don't leave me. Er, who's Knox, and how do you know where I'll be if you fetch him?"

"Do you not hear fox?"

"Knox is the master of locks."

"He'll open this box."

"And you're free as a fox."

"Not the answer I was hoping, but fine. What about finding me? If this truck makes a turn you three might not even be able to find me."

Suddenly, the truck came to an abrupt stop. I couldn't see where in the truck bed, but based upon the reactions of the birds, I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw their smiling faces once they took a peek.

"Food!"

"Possibly for his brood?"

"Wait, you mean like a diner or something?"

During my time exploring the small town near my community with Ricky Raccoon, he gave me a grand tour of the various buildings and housing, and which one was more of a veritable gold mine for scavengers like him. We kept a distance away from a certain building Ricky loved to come to at night, which many humans entered, and by the look of the outside windows ate happily. He said it was called a diner, and always had plenty of garbage thrown away overnight. It sickened me to know he digs through that filth. Turning my head, I declined his offer to join him; I might be a fox, but I'm not an animal.

"Yes, I think so."

"Come, we must go."

"Fear not fox."

"We'll bring back Knox."

"The master of locks."

"Faster than you could say fox in a box with locks wearing socks without clocks that talk and-"

"Lets just go."

"Oh, right."

As they quickly took to flight with all speed, the door to the truck slammed shut. I perked up my ears, hearing the clang of the spurs on his boots receding into the distance, until they were no more and I was finally alone. It was calming knowing he was gone for now. Gone, during which I closed my eyes and attempted to rest. This day was very tiring on my limbs, on my subconscious, on my heart. So much water had passed through my eyes to the point of them aching. My head was throbbing from all the thoughts of freedom, and of what I would've been doing right now in my forest. It was like standing in line at the longest ride of an amusement park; by the time you get on the ride you've spent a hour waiting for five minutes of entertainment…or, so I've been told. So it was with my predicament; waiting hours just to either die, or be free.

But conveniently like a sign from the heavens above, or like momma bringing me freshly killed rat during the winter (When I was a cub) my meal ticket to freedom arrived sooner than I expected. The three birds returned with what first looked like an owl to me, or was it an eagle, whatever it was it was larger than the pigeons, and wore a quiver and hat resembling the attire I once wore for my performance of Robin Hood; that Maid Merriam certainly was a fox…literally, a vixen to be precise.

"You see fox," spoke the pigeon on the right, then following with the middle and then the left.

"We bring Knox."

"the master of locks."

"See Knox, it's a fox."

"In a box."

The large bird came closer, its golden eyes inspecting me. Its talons were in full view, sharp and intimidating. Getting but a scratch from those beauties would certainly knock me down the cute ladder, and place me in the same category of a platypus.

"Hmmm," said Knox looking directly into my sparkling eyes, and admittedly, I added a slight cute dose to them in order to possibly gain his sympathy. "Indeed, this fox in a box is without socks. Did you apox?"

"Yes, we apox."

"Well, he apoxed."

"I apox."

"But no Knox, we pity the fox."

"Oh great, another one," I groaned, putting my head to rest on the cold steel.

"Hahahaha, no, just joking lad, I do that whenever someone meets those three."

"Oh, er, sorry."

"Its fine foxy," he puffed out the plumage on his chest, with beak held high in a sharp smile exhibiting a type of regal look. His voice was strong, and reassuring, with a countenance like that of a mighty badger. "I'm Knox, the Master of Locks as my companions call me. And you are?"

"Tim Tam," I said, still gazing at his frightening talons. I didn't have a choice. He was tall and it ached my neck to make eye contact.

"Well, Tim Tam, you certainly aren't like other foxes I've seen. Not as, dirty and…shifty. I trust if I let you out you wont attack either of us, because trust me, when you fight with Knox, don't count you're chicken hawks before they hatch."

"Trust me Mr. Knox, fighting with you is the last thing I'd ever want to do with my life."

"Oh, well splendid," he said cheerfully, "Now lets get you out of this cage."

From out of his quiver, Knox pulled a bobby pin, then stuck it in the lock. It surprised me that such a creature would know how to pick locks, then again, I'm part of an acting troupe. Still, it always intrigued me when another creature possesses some type of unique skill outside the animal kingdom. Were it not for the humans and, Television, as they call it, we wouldn't have most of the fun activities we do now in the forest. Which posed the question to me. If I learned what I have from, Television, where did Knox learn lock picking.

Click. "That should do it," Knox spoke proudly. "Open her up lads."

Quickly, the pigeons fluttered over, sitting atop of my cage, grabbing the latch, lifting it up, and pulling it out, releasing the door. Shifting out of the cage, I proudly placed my paw on the outside, the rest of my body following. It was invigorating to freely smell the air again, to lift my head up high, to no longer deprive the world of the cuteness that was me, Tim Tam.

"Owww!"

"What's the matter," asked Knox.

Collapsed on the floor, I lifted a paw, and felt a slight tingly sensation as my muscles stretched. "I think my legs are a little numb from being caged for so long."

"Are you well enough to jump over the truck bed?"

I looked to where he pointed. All the cages within the truck bed practically created a stairway to my imminent freedom. "Yeah, I'd say so," I said, slowly standing up and attempting not to falter.

"Well then c'mon, get your cute bottom off this truck. And you three, cover his tracks as soon as we enter the woods."

"Yes, tracks."

"Don't look back."

"The man is back?"

"No! Don't look back."

"Don't look back when covering tracks."

"Oh, okay."

Hopping onto my former holding like a mountain goat, I climbed up the two next larger cages and got up to the truck bed edge. The altitude of the drop caused me to gulp and freeze for a moment. I never thought of myself being afraid of heights, but something about long drops like this made me hesitate; I even admit to feeling discomfort whenever I dip my head into the snow for mice.

"What are ye waitin' for foxy, get to jumpin'," shouted Knox.

Much like a cat, I stretched as much of my body down the truck to decrease the altitude, then I allowed myself to fall. I then limped my way toward the woods, following Knox who flew ahead within the trees. It was a righteous feeling, to once again be free. To smell the incense of fresh pines, to feel the warm dirt under my paws. I wanted to rest then and there, but I wasn't out of the woods yet…hehe, out of the woods.

"This way fox, you could rest with Picker for the time being, then you'll be on your way."

"What about them," I asked, looking to the three pigeons who carried small branches in their beaks, sweeping away my tracks. "What if the hunter comes after them?"

"Don't worry, they're smarter than they seem. Besides, it's you he wants. Just think about you, I'll keep you safe."

Safe…was it that easy? The pigeons covering my tracks reassured me, and by just looking at him, I trusted Knox. There was some, compassionate, and trusting look about him that kept me believing I was safe. He had the eyes of a leader: certain, firm, strong. I owe it to him, and I give back to all I owe my gratitude toward.