Ginger Dingo

So. Got woken at ridiculous o’clock by an utterly horrific sound, like someone being sodomised by a gorilla.





Turned out it was only a fox. A fox looking for friends.





























Just as I was about to run outside with a bloody chainsaw, he stopped. Watching him scuttle off, probably to go eat some trash, I saw he was limping heavily, and my heart broke. Our resident fox (who I decided to name Nigel) was not only mentally retarded (because why else would he be yelling for friends who clearly weren't coming?) but also physical disabled and friendless.

I didn't have any friends growing up either (I've always lacked the social skills to interact successfully with other girls).





So I felt like I understood Nigel. We were compatriots in our loserness. I decided I’d be more lenient in future, should he ever return.

He came back the next night.

And the following.

And the following… In the end I couldn’t take it anymore and I did something I'm not very proud of. The Aussie bogan came out,

"GET OFF IT YOU BLOODY GINGER DINGO!"

He didn't come back, and now I kinda miss him.