Hey, it's Vlad. All my loyal fans might recall that in our last thrilling installment, I was pondering a question that spread across the internet faster than a video of a cat dressed as a pirate:
Could 100 men beat a gorilla in a fight?
Thankfully, for the sake of gorillas and humanity's dignity, that debate has finally been put to rest.
But during that chat, I began to ponder a much more realistic and relevant scenario:
What if a fox...say, a very handsome, heroic and humble fox, had to fight 100 chipmunks? This thought stayed with me all day and followed me into my dreams, or should I say nightmares.
Picture it...l'm sitting on a sun-warmed boulder in a peaceful forest, eating a rice cake I found on the ground. I don't know how long it had been there, but foxes don't do the 5-second rule. We follow the "does it smell funky?" rule. If yes, we roll on it. If no, we eat it. Don't judge.
Suddenly, the ground trembles, like a thousand tiny maracas shaking in the dirt
I turned around, and there they were. Chipmunks...a hundred of them.
They were advancing in coordinated rows, like a marching band that had their instruments replaced with rage and acorns. Their leader was a particularly jacked chipmunk wearing a walnut shell as a helmet.
The advancing column halted inches from my paws and the leader said, "You ate our rice cake."
I considered honestv. I considered diplomacv. Then I lied. "What rice cake?" | said, as puffed rice fell from my chin in glorious slow motion.
They were not amused. They charged and began nibbling my toes.
Now, l'm a peaceful fox, preferring a meditation garden to a battle area, but enough was enough. I stood tall on my boulder, sun behind me, fur tousled like l'd just survived a shampoo commercial, and said one word:
"Enough."
The chipmunks stared up at me with something between fear and respect. Probably fear.
And just as I was about to deliver my next heroic line, I heard a voice in the distance. "Vlad, wake up! Yuri has got his head stuck in a hole again!"
I opened my eyes. Sergei was standing above me with a worried look in his eyes and the jaws of life in his paws.
Duty calls.
Vlad out.