A Survivor's Guide to Eternity(16)

“I don’t want bloody slugs or snails anyway,” Ed barked petulantly, way too late for the fox to have heard.

Ed sat quietly in the lair, trying to come to terms with the situation.

“This is such a massively unlikely scenario. Maybe I’m really dreaming after all? Maybe I’ll wake up in a cold sweat and realise it was all one big false alarm? How can it be possible, surviving with my consciousness and getting grafted into another creature? It’s ridiculous. What would it mean to me, my ambitions, loves and desires? Would they all suddenly become completely meaningless? How could it possibly be worth living without those incentives, just eating, shitting and sleeping? It would be totally pointless. We’re driven by our desires and ambitions and pulled into family circles with the gravity of love. I can’t be me without that; more to the point, I don’t want to live without that. This is horrible, the longest and nastiest dream I have ever had. Christ, if I had any hands, I would pinch myself,” thought the tortoise, getting more despondent with every passing moment.

***

Time whittled by, with Ed alone in the lair. He started to worry the fox would never return. An empty nervous feeling brewed in his stomach as he decided to make his way out of the lair to see if Sam was anywhere near. It was dark outside with just the gentle light of a half moon.

Mmmm, is that waxing gibbous? he thought as he stared up at the stunning celestial body. Just at that moment there was a strange rustling noise down the path. In the half light he couldn’t quite make it out but was sure it was the fox. Even so, he cautiously half retreated into his shell, slightly less nervous, bearing in mind he was planning suicide a day or so later.

The rustling got closer as he began to see a vague silhouette in the distance. It looked mysteriously like a cardboard box coming along the path.

Now that would be taking it one stage too far, thought Ed, resigned to his temporary reptilian form but keen not to become a cardboard box.

As it got closer Ed backed towards the entrance of the lair. It was indeed a cardboard box. However, he could clearly see that behind it was a proud, bustling brush, erect but flexible as it swooped from side to side.

“Biodegradable, don’t worry, the box is biodegradable,” he heard, barked out from behind the box. At that moment, the forward motion stopped a few yards short, and the fox appeared from around the side.

“It’ll just break down into compost or something,” he added before pushing the box over with his snout.

“I knew you’d be waiting outside. It’s dangerous you know.”

“Well how dangerous can it be for someone… er… for ‘something’ that’s only got a day or so to live anyway?”

“Good point,” replied the fox as one of the items tossed from the box rolled towards the tortoise.

“That’s for you,” uttered the fox, as a big green ball twice Ed’s size rattled against his protective shell, forcing him instinctually to withdraw completely from sight.

“Great,” he said, as he peered out from his shell, his head brushing the outside of the plastic wrapped sphere. He could see the label clearly: ‘Iceberg lettuce.’

“Lovely - did you get dressing?” said Ed, as Sam nudged the lettuce down into the fox hole, sending it rolling down the opening like a cannon ball in a barrel.

“No, it was a quick in and out job,” replied Sam as he went back to the box to retrieve another object.

“This is for me,” he said, as he clasped his teeth around what looked like some sort of plastic pot.

“What’s that?” asked Ed as the fox tossed the item into the hole behind the lettuce, knocking it from where it had got stuck and down all the way into the depths of the lair.

“Chicken pate, lovely stuff. Saves me killing a chicken, squirrel or anything like that. I try to avoid killing if I can. I’m upset enough about having to leave the plastic wrappers down here. Not biodegradable at all.”

Sam headed back towards the box.

“Is there more as well? How on earth did you manage all this, and the box as well?”

“You need to be wily if you become a fox. Foxy schemes, cunning and crafty; I’ll tell you about it when we get inside. Go on, you first.”

The fox grabbed the final item from near the box before nudging it into the undergrowth with his snout. Ed meanwhile headed down the hole, nudging the chicken pate pot forwards with his head as he did so. It ended up beside the lettuce as he made his way into the chamber, followed by Sam with a double size Mars bar in his mouth.

“A Mars bar? Are you kidding me? How the hell did you manage all this? Do you have your visa card with you or something?”