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>>camp happiness — chapter three: the male bitch::

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Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.



Fox frantically dialed into his cell phone ducking behind a cabinet in an empty office he found. There was silence, then a ring.

The elderly hare was mixing a bowl of cookie batter humming to a tune when the phone rang. He answered. "Hello?"

"Peppy?!" came a frantic voice.


"Peppy! It's Fox! Get me out of here!"

"Oh Fox! It's so good to hear from you. They were talking about you on the news just now."

"What?! Listen to me, call Pepper, tell him to pull me out of this whole thing!"

"It was all about how you helped that little retarded girl paint. Truly commendable Fox. Your father would be so proud!"

"Hello?! Are you hearing anything I say?! I said get me the fuck out of here!"

Peppy stopped mixing to lick the wooden spoon "I wonder what James is thinking right now." The hare sighed.

"He's probably thinking hey let's fucking help Fox!"

"Help?" Peppy grew concerned. "Are you in danger?"

Fox growled. "No… well yeah! Look I just need you to call Pepper and… no you know what, fuck, nevermind. Is Falco there? Get Falco, put Falco on the phone."

"Fox I'll send you some of these cookies I'm making right now. You'll feel so much better. And I'm sure the kids will love them too. Remember what I told you about sharing."

"Yeah yeah, just get Falco."

"Falco who?"

"Falco Lombardi! The guy we've flown with all these years."

"I don't recall him."

"What?! Did Slippy give you your pills?!"

"Sli…Who? What pills?"

"Fuck! Slippy!" Fox banged his head on the cabinet he was huddled against. "Peppy don't go anywhere! Just keep making those cookies or whatever."

Peppy looked around confused, "Cookies? Who's making cookies?"

Fox hung up and immediately started dialing another number. There was a ring again.

"Yo?" came a high pitched voice.

"Slippy you fucking dumb ass!"

"Oh hi Fox."

"Pills! Peppy! 4p.m.!"

There was a pause on the other end. "Oh shit."

"Yeah oh shit you sack of shit! It was your job this week!" Fox hung up and started dialing yet another number. There was no ring, but a click instead.

"Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice message system," said a robotic voice. "FALCO" was grunted by a male, "…is not available at this time. At the tone, please record your message."

Fox felt his fur stand on end, he heard the beep. "Falco! Keep your fucking phone turned on you dumbshit!" He shut his phone and threw it in rage. It zipped across the room, bounced off the top of a chair and burst through a window. It sailed through the air outside before smacking a raccoon boy in the face.

"For God's sakes you keep disappearing!" came a shout from the doorway. The golden retriever stood with a phone in her hand. "I've been trying to call you for the past five minutes, what the hell are you doing?"

"Gee, I don't know, jacking off?"

Her eyes went tired from the curt response.

Fox continued, "I was busy okay? Look I got a life of my own, I never wanted to come to this stupid camp with these stupid kids in the first place!"

"They're not stupid! They're just… special."

"That's the ugliest thing you've said so far." He grinned.

"Thanks, I've yet to outdo you. The sun's setting and we got a lakeside campfire thing you need to be on the cameras for. Let's go."

Fox nearly growled his sigh.

"Oh shutup, sometimes I think you're a five year old."

"Sometimes I think you're a nazi bitch."

She turned on a heel and Fox recoiled hoping not to get another slap. "When we're over with this PR shit I'm going to crush your balls McCloud. Mark my words."

A sudden smirk appear. "Oh I might like that."

"… with my stiletto heel."

"Ok maybe not."

She was already on her way out the door and Fox couldn't help but enjoy the wagging gold tail sticking out the retriever's short green skirt. Wagging the eye candy he always said.

The kids swayed around the campfire shouting out their song along with guitar and drums. "Hey Bungalow Bill! What did you kill? Bungalow Bill?" The opus was just coming to a close as Vilda tooted on a trumpet lazily. The reporters filmed the scene with diligence, especially Fox as he was the one strumming the acoustic guitar. The retriever publicist had her arms crossed but was for the first time somewhat impressed by Fox. He smirked at the cameras and winked as the kids whistled the close to the song. The small crowd of reporters started clapping to round out the finish. Fox put the guitar aside and rubbed a kitty girl's head laughing mirthfully with the youngsters.

"Kids, that's why the Beatles absolutely rock." Fox found the golden retriever's eyes and was surprised to see her smiling with actual feeling. His attention was quickly yanked when Vilda tapped him with the butt of her trumpet.

"We make a good team Mr. McCloud."

He tried to hide his disgust with the fat old hippo. "Okay V.D."

"You know Fox, if you need a room to stay in tonight, mine has a…" she cupped her cheek out of coyness, "…rather large bed."

"No thanks, I'd rather take it in the ass."

She seemed excited at the response, "I'm a backdoor Suzie myself!"

"Ew what the…" before he could finish a response a paw grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. It was the golden retriever.

"And where the fuck did you learn to play like that?" She seemed angry with him.

"What the hell! I put on a good show for your fucking cameras and you still act like a bitch to me?!"

"I was just asking a question! You're so childish!"

"Bitch bitch bitch…"

"I can't even talk to you without you blowing up!"

"Bitch bitch bitch…"

"Augh fine, you're impossible."

Fox patted another kid on the head as he walked by. "You know you really shouldn't give into stereotypes."

The retriever was caught off guard. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Oh hmm, let's think. You're a female canine. Put two and two together…" He held his hands like a balance.

The retriever's face vaulted, "You know you're a bitch too, just a different kind. You're a male bitch."

Fox laughed, "A male bitch?! What the hell is that!"

"It's you!" She stomped off nearly knocking over a little raccoon boy on her way.

The raccoon boy walked over to Fox and stood next to him watching the retriever walk further and further away. "Well," he started in an innocent voice. "No tangy tuna for you tonight." Fox was nearly about to smack the kid when he heard a phone ringing on the ground nearby. He recognized the ring tone as his and started searching the grass for it. He found it and quickly answered.

"Pizza Pizza?" came a deep bellow. "I need twenty-seven cheese pizzas immediately."

Fox looked around confused while holding the phone to an alert ear. "General Pepper is that you?"

"How do you know who this is?!" he shouted. "Pizza Pizza gives anonymous deliveries under 31 minutes! I demand a refund with my twenty-seven cheese…"

"General!" Fox yelled into the receiver. "It's me, what the hell is wrong with you?"

There was a long pause at the other end, then a short sob. "I really want a cheese pizza Fox."

"General," Fox clenched his teeth. "Could you calm down for a second?"

"…a pizza with just cheese, no other pansy ass toppings on it. Is that so hard to ask for these days? What is happening to Lylat, huh Fox? What! Your father would be so ashamed of…"

"My father!" Fox cut in, "would not be snorting cocaine on his desk right now!"

Pepper wiped the ashy white substance from his greasy nose. "How dare you! You got spies!"


"Spies watching me! Coming after me!" Pepper slowly wheeled back in his rolly chair. "The spies! They're camouflage, but I can SEE them!"


"But can the spies handle my?! …CHOP!" He flailed from his seat and hit the wall.

The phone clicked dead and Fox blinked, slowly returning the phone to the pocket in his leather jacket.