The Tale of the Silver Fox: Part the Second

Clearly I was trapped. And equally clearly, my friends had to be dragged in as reinforcements. Because for one thing, they were pretending to ignore me, while secretly enjoying watching me try to wriggle out my predicament – and I simply could not allow that to continue. And for another thing, the only way out of my predicament that I could see was to bring them into the conversation, thereby changing the dynamic of the situation, from a one-on-one thing between myself and the Pitbull, to a group conversation. Just like warships use decoys to distract heat-seeking missiles and cause them to ‘lock on’ to fake targets, I would throw Bunny and Snuggles at her, like my own protective screen, and hopefully escape targeting.

The results, unfortunately, were not what I hoped for. I explained to the Pit Bull, for at least the seventh time, that I couldn’t go with her because I was out with friends. From there I segued into introducing her to Bunny and Snuggles. Names were quickly exchanged, and I began to breathe a little easier. But it was too soon, true believers, far too soon.

Bunny swung around on his barstool, considered the Pit Bull for a moment, smiled and said, “I see you’ve been getting to know Dan here. He’s a really cool guy, isn’t he?”
“Oh yes he is,” she replied.
“Did he tell you the Silver Fox story yet?”
“Silver Fox story? No he hasn’t – what’s that?”
“Oh, it’s a great story! Really funny. Ask him why he’s called the Silver Fox.”

And with that, Bunny swung back around on his barstool and resumed his conversation with Snuggles. The Pit Bull turned to me with an eager look in her eyes.
“So why do they call you the Silver Fox? Tell me the story.”
My brain was still catching up to the sudden turn of events. Silver Fox? Who calls me the Silver Fox? Oh no, wait a minute…
“Er, there is no Silver Fox story. Nobody calls me the Silver Fox.”
“But Bunny just told me to ask you about it. Why would he do that?”
“It’s a joke. He’s just having you on, yanking your chain.”
“I think you’re lying. C’mon tell me the story.”
Jesus, I thought. I’m lying!? She thinks I’m the one lying here? Oh Bunny you evil bastard.

This exchange continued for several more minutes. The Pit Bull alternately pleaded and demanded that I tell her the Silver Fox story, occasionally suggesting that I could tell her the story once we’d moved to another bar. For my part, I desperately tried to convince her that there really was no Silver Fox story, that it was all a joke. Finally, I started to get through to her. She tapped Bunny on the shoulder to get his attention.

Bunny swung around on his barstool once more, to face the Pit Bull. She opened her mouth to speak but he shushed her and beat her to the punch.
“Let me guess,” he said, “Dan said there’s no such thing as the Silver Fox story. Right?”
“Yeah, he did, “ she replied, clearly amazed that Bunny had anticipated her question.
“Well don’t take no for an answer. Dan’s just a little shy about telling the story, but it’s really a great story. You have to hear it.”
And with those last words of doom, he turned his back on me, leaving me alone. With the Pit Bull.

The struggle began anew. Since she was convinced beyond all hope that there was a Silver Fox story and was determined to drag it out of me, and since I was equally determined not to go anywhere with her, it devolved into a contest of wills. In hindsight I suppose I should’ve just made up a Silver Fox story on the spot. But that might have only got me deeper into a situation I was fighting to get out of. So she demanded, and I denied. And on it went.

I wish could end this story in a satisfactory manner. I wish I could say I escaped the Pit Bull through my own guile, charm and wits. But in all honesty, left to my own devices I would probably still be there, at this very minute, trapped at the local and damned by the treachery of my friends. By now I’d be an urban legend, the modern equivalent of Charlie on the MTA - Danny at the Local, doomed to argue forever in the bars of Quincy. But it was only kind providence that saved me, in the form of her friend. She dragged the Pit Bull away to go to another bar.

Bunny of course, thought it was hilarious. He still does. But he also knows I await the day when vengeance shall be mine. Revenge, I've often reminded him, is a dish best eaten cold. To this day I have only to say 'remember the Silver Fox' and he starts looking over his shoulder, trying to convince me to let bygones be bygones.

My day will come. The Silver Fox will have his payback.