Clem was standing on the porch enjoying a pipe. He’d just finished a breakfast of grits, fatback and gravy. It was a nice sunny day, a day for working. He was pleased with life at the moment. Then, he became displeased with life. There, not forty feet away, was a fox trotting along with one of Clem’s chickens in it’s mouth. The fox never broke stride. Just trotted away.

Clem threw the pipe at the fox, missed and the fox didn’t seem to notice. “Dad-burned chicken-stealin’, good fer nothin’ fox. Ahm gonna git yer surry butt and nail it ta the shed!”.

From inside the house Clem heard, “Now, Clem, Ah don’ cotton none ta usin’ the Lawds name in vain. So, you bes’ ju’ hush thet mouth of yorn”.

Clem rolled his eyes. Mary had become a little hard to live with since she found Jesus. “Mary, thet fux don’ stol’ a chicken”.

“Ah don’ care. Thet fux is a heathen thin’ anyways. Ah’s a gud Christian woman and you suppose ta be a gud Christian man. Watch thet mouth a yorn”.

Clem never thought of himself as a good Christian man. he liked his liquor too much. The preacher didn’t like drinking at all.

“Still, Mary, Ah got to git thet da- fox. Can’ haf em stealin’ right out from under mah nose.”

Clem got his rifle and started tracking the fox. It was easy at first. Blood and feathers were easy to follow. Then he found the chicken head and the end of the trail. Clem knew that chicken-stealing fox was close by. He’d be resting from his meal. Resting and watching. watching Clem.

The fox was watching Clem. He was hoping that Clem was smarter than he looked. Hate to have the idiot start shooting all around. Hate to die from an accidental shot. Stealing from this guy was like stealing from a baby.

That night Clem took his rifle out and sat on a tree stump. He’d see if that fox tried it again. If he did, he’d be a dead fox. The fox, watching from the treeline, laughed to himself. How stupid did that guy think a fox was. Well, the fox would wait to see if Clem stayed awake.

Clem didn’t. His head drooped and he jerked it up. His head drooped again and again he jerked it up. His head drooped a third tome and a third time he jerked it up. This time he jerked it up because the rifle fell over and went off. That got Clem awake. It got the cows mooing, the pigs squealing, the dog howling and Mary on Clem’s butt.

“You ole fool! Thet thar shot coulda hit me in bed. I mighta been shot! Looks like you done shot a chuckem as it is. You ain’t no better’n thet fux”, Mary told him.

“Wahl, lesways we git to et the chicken an’ not some ole fux”, Clem defended himself as he and Mary walked back to the house.

The fox? He heard all the noise and figured the chickens were already squawking so he may as well take another one.