My Game is Foxy

DAV

It is common knowledge that men of nobility, sport, horses, moustaches and free weekends will, on the sublime occasion, embark on a rather noisy and doggy quest to locate some game.

Of course, this game is not completely random. They do not hunt for chess or monopoly or baseball or rugby. Certainly, their interests do not lie in the quest for Heads Up: Seven Up!

The "Game" is a fox.

It's a dark irony that such a happy past-time is spent by these leisurely folk playing a game WITH ANOTHER CREATURE'S LIFE!!!!!

That poor little fox is "The Game," terrified by the blasts of the loud fox-horn, desperately seeking shelter from the incessant sense of Bloodhound smell, running into tiny holes and scampering through low shrubbery to dodge the stampeding hooves of a multitude of horses... Nobody even considers the fox's personal problems. What if he's also hungry and tired. Maybe he had a bad break-up with his foxy lady recently? Maybe his legs hurt really bad because his new gym instructor had him doing squats?

It sucks to be the game. The fox should be called "The Sucker."

Anyway, my big question is: Why, when there is a proposition, the agreeable response can appropriately be: "I'm game."

?

Maybe I'll write in my two cents on the issue later. Until then...