by Pete Lockett
“Okay then. D’you want any help?”
“If by help you mean accompanying me and making me walk at 3 metres an hour then I have to decline. You stay here. You’ll be fine. I’ll be half an hour or so, max. Chill out and relax.”
With this, the fox leapt up and sped from the lair, brush flapping excitedly behind. He knew just what he wanted for supper and where to get it. He headed out into the quickly darkening twilight and up along the path, away from the stream where he had met Ed earlier that day.
“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?”
Sam tossed the unopened chocolate bar next to the chicken pate and nudged the lettuce over towards Ed.
“Thanks, but how am I going to open this?” he bemoaned as the round green globe finally rested beside him.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that for you. This will all last us until tomorrow. You can’t have any chocolate though. It’ll make you sick.”
“Marvellous. You’re my doctor now as well I suppose. It just so happens I don’t particularly like chocolate so it’s not an issue.”
With this the fox moved over and started snarling and gnawing as his shiny, white teeth tried to rip open the plastic wrapping of the lettuce.
“Well, how on earth did you manage it? I can’t imagine you waltzed into the shop and filled up the box.”
“You’re absolutely right. Truth is I went round the back and rummaged through all the stuff that had been thrown out. There’s some good stuff in there normally, any shop, any town, any country. A lot of waste.”
“Good idea! You’re too clever.”
“Whatever! Anyway, the most difficult thing is nuzzling the box all the way back without being seen.”
“Yeah, I guess it would be. This is better than flowers for me though. I am grateful, thanks,” said Ed, as the fox clasped the outside of the lettuce between his teeth and tossed it from left to right, unravelling the plastic and revealing the tortoise-friendly, tasty meal.
“I’ll need to rip it apart for you. Otherwise you might have a bit of trouble eating it. Don’t worry about catching anything from me. You’ll be dead in a day or two anyway.”
“Ever the optimist,” replied Ed ironically as Sam chomped, dissected and sliced the lettuce with his razor sharp teeth into smaller and smaller pieces for Ed.
“I might as well do the whole thing and then that saves me a job tomorrow,” he gasped, as he gathered the pile of cut lettuce next to Ed in the corner.
“Thanks. This smells really good. I don’t think I ever ate lettuce when I was a human. I missed out on something there. Much better than processed tortoise food.”
Ed turned around and started munching at the leaves. “I don’t suppose you got any napkins did you?”
Sam ignored him as he began tearing at the cardboard cover on the large pot of chicken pate. That still left him the tough plastic shrink wrap to get through before he could get to his tasty meal.
“I’ll have half today and the rest tomorrow,” he said as he finally got into the container, covering his snout, whiskers and black button nose in the surrounding jelly. Eagerly, his long wet tongue came out and swiped around the whole area, nose and all, to clear up the oily mess.
“I love that bit. The jelly is the best. The pate itself is overrated,” he blurted as he dug his teeth and tongue down into the soft mixture in the pot, covering himself once again.
&n
bsp; Silence ensued as they respectively consumed their nourishment. Soon they were both in sleepy digestive mode and the evening became night, became day.
Chapter 4
The last supper
Slowly Ed came around, eyes still closed, taking in the soothing snoring sound resonating around the small space. He remained still and calm, scared to move in case he woke into his nightmare once more. How he longed to wake in his nicely decorated bedroom, with feather pillows and pretty wife, go downstairs for coffee and toast and jump out into his car and off to the office. The snoring continued. Maybe it was his wife, maybe everything would be okay. Nervously he engaged his eyelids, raising them like heavy external shutters outside a shop. Soon reality smashed him in the face and there he was staring at the large brown furry fox, the steaming black button vibrating ferociously with every loud snore.
“Oh fuck. Fuck! Fuck! This is too much,” thought the tortoise, once more back in his new reality. The fox was unmoved, motionless apart from the loud expulsions of air that loudly ripped through the lair.
“As if things weren’t bad enough, why does he have to fucking snore? Please help me someone,” exclaimed Ed, looking upwards for divine providence. Sadly for him the fox slept on undisturbed, deafening Ed for what seemed like hours until suddenly coming around with a start.
“Ah good, you’re still here,” stated the fox as he got up onto all four feet, stretching his body out full length before ripping into an exhausted yawn. Ed stared in disbelief into his large mouth with its razor-like, offensive dentures and unpleasant looking tongue.
“Wow, those teeth look really sharp, Sam.”
“I know, that’s ‘cos they are,” replied the fox before adding, “Did you sleep through okay?”
“Yes, but I’ve been awake for hours watching and listening to you snoring. It wasn’t a whole lot of fun, I can tell you that.”
“Don’t worry, I’m awake now. No more snoring, I promise,” replied Sam reassuringly.
“That’s good. Anyway, I’ve got to be honest with you, Sam. Sleeping on this hasn’t made this whole scenario any more believable,” said Ed, as Sam began to stir.
“I know. It wasn’t easy for me either in the beginning. I’d wake every morning, hoping it had all gone away, and that when I opened my eyes, I’d be with my wife on holiday. It was really only after my first transition that I properly started to come to terms with it. If you can believe for now, then reality will take control once you have jumped. Don’t despair, you’re not the only one,” said Sam trying to comfort the first-timer.
“Yes, I keep telling myself that, but comforting oneself with the notion that it’s okay because you’ll be killing yourself soon does have a few contradictions in it,” replied Ed reflectively.
“Well at least you’re killing a tortoise and not something you love.”
“You’re full of confidence-boosting insight, Sam,” replied the hard-shelled animal ironically as he turned and began munching a lettuce leaf to his left. Sam did likewise with the pate before ripping open the Mars bar and scoffing the lot.
“Crikey, that lot went quick! You’ve got some on your snout, it looks weird. You’re a very messy eater,” observed Ed as Sam’s tongue came out and swept the outside of his face, clearing up the mess, as he returned to his horizontal position, leaving his head bolt upright looking at Ed.
“You look like one of those pharaoh’s statues outside a temple.”
“They were cats weren’t they?” replied Sam.
“Whatever. One thing’s for sure, you can get up, stretch, yawn, move around, sit down, and stand up again. All I can do is sit in this same bloody position with my arms, legs and head all poking out like a bloody starfish. It’s very annoying,” barked Ed.
“I think they are all legs. I don’t think any of those are arms. Just a small observation. It doesn’t change anything really.”
“So my head’s a leg now is it?”
“No, not your head, just your arms. Well, they’re not arms, they’re legs. You know what I mean?”
“Very helpful once again, Sam. Thanks for that. At least I liked the lettuce though. I can’t get over how much I like it.”
“Yeah, there are lots of surprises like that as you go from animal to animal. On the positive side, you’ll certainly get reincarnated into more agile animals than a tortoise, trust me.”
“I’m sure. Anyway, changing the subject, I was wondering to myself last night what life is worth without ambitions, possessions, desires, success and all that. What do you think? Was that a problem for you?” enquired the tortoise with interest.
“For sure, but then it’s all about being philosophical and trying to understand your own position in the scheme of things. Of course one feels sad about losing life as we knew it, but that would have to have ended at some point anyway,” replied Sam.
“Yes, but it makes me sad to lose it before my time.”
“Well don’t get too despondent, Ed. Life as you knew it was temporary, fleeting and finite. There’s nothing permanent at all, either about your existence, your species or even the planet or solar system that hosted it all.”
“You are so comforting.”
“I’m just stating fact. Becoming aware of that puts you in a much better position to become enlightened or liberated.”
“I know. It’s a shock though. I did think of things as permanent. That’s what I built my ambitions and objectives around.”
“That’s no different than imagining a holiday camp is permanently yours, even though you would be fully aware that it was only a two-week holiday.”
“Yes, but it feels like yours when you’re there.”
“That’s as maybe but at the back of your mind you always know it’ll end and you’ll be back in your office, school or workplace at some point. The equivalent with human existence is the awareness of death. We all know it will happen but choose not to dwell on it. We notice it deeply when someone we know passes. That sadness is not just about the loss, it is also a realisation that it will definitely happen to us one day as well.”
“That’s very true. Luckily not many people I knew died. When they did, it was horrible though. A strange, dark absence, looking at the seats they sat in and the shoes they wore. It was hard to accept that they would never return.”
“Yes, but we have a different perspective now, eh!”
“Well, if everything you say is true then we certainly do. Going back to my question at the beginning though, what is our life worth now without ambition, possessions, success, objectives and goals?”
“As long as we stay in the four-day periods and keep self-aware, we retain a semblance of that. By trying to understand our predicament we have objectives, goals and hope at least.”
“You can’t seriously compare that to what we would’ve had as humans? That’s like saying a life prisoner lives a good life because he has an ambition to escape. The point of human ambitions is that they propel us forward to better states of existence and hopefully a more fulfilling life, not just to survive,” replied Ed.
“That’s very true. On the positive side some human traits won’t be missed at all.”
“Such as?”
“The desire for fame for example, or greed. The ridiculous tendency to compare ourselves negatively or arrogantly to those around us. The negativity of hoarding well beyond what would ever be necessarily required. There must be more,” replied Sam.
“Good point. They’re all negative, but for sure, comparison is by far the most painful for people personally. I can’t say it didn’t affect me. I remember sitting on the train as a boy feeling like a complete geek because I had the wrong jeans on, or something that wasn’t too fashionable. It would lead me into a completely negative cycle and before I knew it, I hated how I looked and what my body was like. I would stare in the mirror with dismay wishing I was like some of the other boys. It was a really horrible feeling. Right up to the end I couldn’t dance at parties because I felt so self-consciou
s.”
“We’ve all been there, Ed. Bad dancing won’t kill the ground though.”
“Philosophical yet again, Sam.”
“Truth is everyone probably felt the same way, comparing themselves to someone else, maybe the older boys or some young pin-up lad or whatever. The cycle never stops.”
“I think girls and women were worse, don’t you?” enquired Ed.
“It’s not so much about better or worse, it was just different. The end result of self-loathing or arrogance would probably be the same.”
“Very true. Well, we’re agreed that we won’t miss that. I can’t imagine I’ll be going around comparing my six-pack to that of a local tortoise do you?” said Ed ironically.
“Exactly my point.”
“Greed as well, Sam - can’t imagine any need to hoard stuff if we are only around for a few days.”
“Yes, It never made any sense to me. I always thought there was enough money and resources in the world for everyone if it had just been shared out a bit,” replied Sam.
“It’s hard to say really, without having all the facts and figures. One thing is for sure though; the habitually greedy didn't do much to help the needy innocents. It’s hardly surprising that there was so much conflict all the time.”
“Sad but true, my reptile friend, sad but true…”
Sam and Ed continued talking throughout the afternoon, debating, musing and considering life, death, morals and reincarnation. The evening dusk began to advance upon them and soon crept down into the lair on a mild twilight dew. The previous night Sam had gone out around this time to get their impromptu meal. Tonight he was going to leave the lair for a very different reason and for the very last time.
***
“Don’t come with me, Ed. I must be on my way now. You don’t want to see me go to the next stage of my journey. It won’t help you for tomorrow.”
“But can’t I at least come some of the way with you?”
