The Stuffed Fox

The two stood at the cavernous fireplace in the old drawing-room. The fire threw fantastical shapes on the ornately decorated walls, as they contemplated their dilema.

"What will we do?" asked Bart.

"We don't have a choice, do we!" replied Carrie, nervously biting her nails.

"Well, we could keep it" Bart said, looking sideways at her. She looked beautiful. He hated arguing.

"No! What would the rest say if they find out? We'll be kicked out!"

"Not if nobody knows. For god's sake, this is a chance for us! Get a grip Carrie, it's not like stealing!"

Bart looked at the stuffed animal. After it had fallen from its mount, and split open on the old hardwood floor to reveal the fantastic jumble of jewels, he could think of nothing else but escaping the stuffy mansion, the stuffy life. He was tired of trying to live up to other peoples standards. Vulgar, self-indulgent snobs!

Carrie worried. It had fallen in their lap, a hidden treasure! The family skeleton! What if someone else knew? But they could be far away soon, the poor fox glued back together, none the wiser. And neither would the family she had joined. She looked at Bart. Handsome. Caring. Could they make it on their own?

"OK, lets do it! Might as well put it to good use, eh?"

Bart whirled to look at her.

"Oh Baby, we'll dance on it forever!" he sighed, as he took her hand, kissed her, and then they began to count.