What Does the Fox Sell

Knock, knock, knock. The door to Little Timmy’s rocked in its frame as an uninvited guest struck it repetitively from the other side.

            “Co~mi~ng!” Timmy called. The knocking persisted until he unlocked the bolt of the front door and opened it.  There, to his disbelief, stood a fox in a suit on his hind legs.

“Hello!” he greeted, grinning mischievously. “May I interest you in this astounding product I have here for you today?” Timmy stared at the shiny, obscure object he held. He couldn’t quite make heads or tails of it. But he wanted one. The fox bobbled it up and down in his paws. “I call it,” he announced, “The Jiggimahickerydoo 5000!”

            “Oooooo!” Timmy cooed, “…What’s a Jiggimahickerydo 5000?”

            “What a silly question,” the fox snickered, “A better one would be, what isn’t a Jiggimahickerydoo 5000? Nothing!”

            “It’s nothing?”

            “No, you fool, it’s everything! One cannot simply comprehend the limitless uses of a Jiggimahickerydoo 5000! It’s the second coming of the rubber band!”

            Timmy poked at the Jiggimahickerydoo suspiciously. The fox swatted his prodding finger away, grunted indignantly.

            “I know what you’re thinking,” said the fox, “’But Mr. Handsome Fox, sir, what does it do?’ Wonders, my boy. Whatever you normally don’t not do is what the Jiggimahickerydoo does for you! For example, with it, you can scrape the dry paste off of a toothpaste tube! Scrape the dry spit off your chin! Run! Clean! Dry! Cry! Learn Mui Thai! Detect a lie! Shake and bake a cake or pie!” Suddenly, he pointed one tiny claw in the air in front of Timmy’s face. “BUT WAIT! If you buy it within the next thirty seconds, I’ll throw in this Whatchamacallitometer for free!” He reached into the inside of his suit and pulled out a tiny pencil sharpened up to the eraser.

            “But it’s just a pencil,” said Timmy, poking his finger on the tip.

            The fox gasped. “Well. I suppose you don’t need this fabulous, mysterious tool meant for only the most amazing people, then…”

            “For amazing people?”

            “But of course! Didn’t you know? Only the greatest mathematicians would use this! Forget endless nights on your math homework, this will get the job done in a jiffy! Calculate! Philosophize! Speculate! Anatomize! Measure anything! Measure meters! Measure miles! Measure feet! Measure toes! Measure anything in any way you can’t immediately think of off the top of your head! Like the number of cats it takes to put in a heating lamp! Or the walking distance in between Neverland and Narnia! Or the number of sparkles in Edward’s chest hair!”

            “I want it!” Timmy shouted excitedly jumping up and down.

            “And you can have it! As long as you grasp this opportunity by the throat and be among the first to own both a Jiggimahickerydoo and your very own Whatchamacallitometer for free!”

            “Yeah!” Timmy shouted, reaching out for the Jiggimahickerydoo and the Whatchamacallitometer, as the fox suddenly pulled it out of his reach.

“Ah, your thirty seconds are up.”

“W-Wha-?” Timmy stuttered, “B-But I wanted a free Whatchamacallitometer!”

“I understand your pain, but the deal was only for those who qualified, and unfortunately you no longer qualify.”

“B-But I thought I was special…”

“And you most certainly are! In fact, just because I like you, lad, I’ll throw in this free pencil. Just for you.”

“Yay!” Timmy cheered. The fox pulled out a clipboard from underneath his suit and gave Timmy the pencil.

“Now I just need you to sign here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, over here, down here, fingerprint in blood right here, and pay no attention to the small print as you sign here.”

“Okay,” said Timmy, scribbling unintelligible nonsense all over the paper. “Let me go ask my mom for some money to give you.”

“Money?” the fox sneered, “You mean that dirty green paper that I mistook for lettuce on your table when I snuck into your house last night for food?”

“When you what?”

“Nothing, nothing. No, I will not accept your filthy colored inedibles as payment for such a revolutionary product.”

“Okay, but how do I pay you then?”

“It is to my understanding that you have roast pheasant in the fridge?”

“Yup, my mom cooked it last night.”

“That will do. Here’s my card if you have any questions.” He pulled out a small scrap of paper from his suit that said, “1-800-Thisnumberisfake.com” in sloppy print. Timmy cheerfully hopped back into the house and pulled out the roast pheasant from the fridge and brought it back to the fox. Salivating at the mouth, the fox snatched it from Timmy, tossed him the Jiggimahickerydoo and the free pencil, and scampered off on all fours with the poultry in his mouth.

Timmy carefully observed the shiny little rock in his hands, and suddenly, it clicked. “Hey,” he complained, “This looks exactly like my brother’s Superdupinator 3000!” Little Timmy raised the glittery rock in his hands up to the sunlight. “I can’t wait to show him how much cooler my Jiggimahickerydoo is!”