In Progress
Fox Nest
Fox nest is my second book/cartoon that takes place in Paris France in the nineteen-sixties. Its about a fictional character, a 18 year Jewish boy, that takes up an imaginary identity "Uncle Salamander Sally," after moving to Paris France. Survivor of a Nazi Concentration Camp where many Jewish people we killed. It's difficult enough to move on to a new city, but learning a new language, trying to make friends and having family issues all together can cause quite the frustrations. Much less entering the work force in a new city that's speaks a different language.
Chapter 1 :
Looking away from the hardship and witnessing the world together. A boy and his stick. A survivor of the self justified motioned Parié’s reputed Chef unintentionally. Taping everything in sight while mumbling random rhymes together with natures music and the symbolic gestures of his crooked stick.
"Rickity tickity tockity I like the chalkity walkity. I make the mockity blockity walkity down the sidee up the sidee in the sidee and out the sidee. . .umm this stick doesn't make as much noise off these damp building. I'll need a biggy wiggigiy stickity to makity."
"Hey kid," yelled out Paris's finest Chef. "I don't know what all the noise is out here, but we got dishes soke'n and need cleaning, you need a job?"
"What's your name?"
"Um, me? My names Uncle Salamander Sally."
"Huh? Salamander? You got to joke'n?"
"Bonjour Mon Sally. I’m Chef Ready, Tom Ready that is. Or as in my junior gymnastics days, Cartwheel Tom."
"Hey boss! We got a new Dishboy!"
Whispering off the side of his mouth, "hey boss, go easy on him, he sounds German and looks Jewish, he might of been in one of those war camps."
"I washity doshity moshity the dishity wishy."
"Hey Salamander, You speak French?"
"No," replied Salamander Sally.
"Where are your parents from?"
"I live with Gramps and Gram,"replying with sadness.
"Your name really Salamander?"
"Boss, come meet dishy wishy Salamander!"
“Vulgarity is his forte.”
“Cussington Bob?” replied Salamander.
“ENGLIAISH ! My Cussington! HE MAKE NONE TO THEE!”
“Noo Nooo! To many suds Salamander! To many suds! Bubbles never end.”
“My kitchen of bubbles.”
“I’m going to place your stick outside Salamander, okay?”
“My Bob’s, I am Bob, a business owner an now I am a My Bob, a Cussington of vulgarity?
I now that of the Cussington? All that I have ever become is now that make, that model of a Cussington? I’ve placed my entire world, my savings, my life into a random message of Cussington?”
Kitchen commotion “The sausages! Mi Mi, you haven’t started the sausages?!
The bubbles, the heat, the nonesense, why haven’t you started the sausages?
The pride of our cuisine, in hands made.”
“My Bob’s. . .the raspberry origins of La Grandpire brownies. And I’ve become that of the Cussington?”
“A stroke of genius there Salamandray. Would be to the dismay of any Cussingtons delight. Very impressive recover. These dishes, these customers would all be at ease if that of any astonishing Salamandray”
“Huh, a girl.”
“Labrieé. My names Labrieé.”
She walks in with Parié delight these stars are always out to the make of unpredictably unpredictable.
Labrieé, bed-head sandy hair, a dirty face, a smile as big as the world, and a face so cute it would be offensive to incorporated that of the make-up.
“Labrieé, You know Uncle Salamanders war story?”
“I was going to make a meaning of asking you. . .his name? Uncle Salamander Sally?”
With a slight giggle, “He’s goofy, no?”
“His grand ma ma walks the streets with little twigs she picks up in the yard. Breaking them while she walks, usually to the grocery. She been so traumatized. Its like she’s alive. . . but not willing to acknowledge it.”
“And, so, Uncle Salamaders stick?”
Looking away from the hardship and witnessing the world together. A boy and his stick. A survivor of the self justified motioned Parié’s reputed Chef unintentionally. Taping everything in sight while mumbling random rhymes together with natures music and the symbolic gestures of his crooked stick.
"Rickity tickity tockity I like the chalkity walkity. I make the mockity blockity walkity down the sidee up the sidee in the sidee and out the sidee. . .umm this stick doesn't make as much noise off these damp building. I'll need a biggy wiggigiy stickity to makity."
"Hey kid," yelled out Paris's finest Chef. "I don't know what all the noise is out here, but we got dishes soke'n and need cleaning, you need a job?"
"What's your name?"
"Um, me? My names Uncle Salamander Sally."
"Huh? Salamander? You got to joke'n?"
"Bonjour Mon Sally. I’m Chef Ready, Tom Ready that is. Or as in my junior gymnastics days, Cartwheel Tom."
"Hey boss! We got a new Dishboy!"
Whispering off the side of his mouth, "hey boss, go easy on him, he sounds German and looks Jewish, he might of been in one of those war camps."
"I washity doshity moshity the dishity wishy."
"Hey Salamander, You speak French?"
"No," replied Salamander Sally.
"Where are your parents from?"
"I live with Gramps and Gram,"replying with sadness.
"Your name really Salamander?"
"Boss, come meet dishy wishy Salamander!"
“Vulgarity is his forte.”
“Cussington Bob?” replied Salamander.
“ENGLIAISH ! My Cussington! HE MAKE NONE TO THEE!”
“Noo Nooo! To many suds Salamander! To many suds! Bubbles never end.”
“My kitchen of bubbles.”
“I’m going to place your stick outside Salamander, okay?”
“My Bob’s, I am Bob, a business owner an now I am a My Bob, a Cussington of vulgarity?
I now that of the Cussington? All that I have ever become is now that make, that model of a Cussington? I’ve placed my entire world, my savings, my life into a random message of Cussington?”
Kitchen commotion “The sausages! Mi Mi, you haven’t started the sausages?!
The bubbles, the heat, the nonesense, why haven’t you started the sausages?
The pride of our cuisine, in hands made.”
“My Bob’s. . .the raspberry origins of La Grandpire brownies. And I’ve become that of the Cussington?”
“A stroke of genius there Salamandray. Would be to the dismay of any Cussingtons delight. Very impressive recover. These dishes, these customers would all be at ease if that of any astonishing Salamandray”
“Huh, a girl.”
“Labrieé. My names Labrieé.”
She walks in with Parié delight these stars are always out to the make of unpredictably unpredictable.
Labrieé, bed-head sandy hair, a dirty face, a smile as big as the world, and a face so cute it would be offensive to incorporated that of the make-up.
“Labrieé, You know Uncle Salamanders war story?”
“I was going to make a meaning of asking you. . .his name? Uncle Salamander Sally?”
With a slight giggle, “He’s goofy, no?”
“His grand ma ma walks the streets with little twigs she picks up in the yard. Breaking them while she walks, usually to the grocery. She been so traumatized. Its like she’s alive. . . but not willing to acknowledge it.”
“And, so, Uncle Salamaders stick?”
Chapter 2: God Sent
Chapter 2: God Sent
La Street is filled with commotion. The cars have stopped to a halt. Cartwheel Tom is carrying on like he’s a cartoon character. Arms flailing in the wind and his legs dancing in a random frantic mess. “Cussington Mo Bob! A ship! The Ship! Is sinking! Oh dear mother nature, two worlds collide! Mother nature! Salamandray! Cussington! Labrieé! The Ship! Would you make no mistake of it all, oh dear they’ll drowned. We must hurry!”
"Jumping jimminy Christmas! The people! They’ll surely drowned! The people!
"Help is not always on the way."
"Mo Bob the scene is a catastrophe!"
"Make no mistake of it Cussington! We need to jump in!"
Somewhere in the word someone is drinking lemonade with condensation droplets without a care in the world. And we’re in the middle of a water catastrophe.
Sometimes at the bottom of the sea everything that has to do with the sea is the sea itself. The life of nature mirror images its surroundings. Like a rainbow. A rainbow can be beautiful anywhere even on the water. Its what happens before that lifeless soulful treasure enters the environment that lingers in hearts forever.
“Get what you can, I’m an excellent swimmer! Salamander help them up while bring them in!”
The panic in the air. All the patrons in the restaurant rushed through the kitchen to see the commotion. A clown car would have had an easier time managing with so many people rushing through it at once.
"How many? We must. La Pont!"
"Make of the stick Salamadray. . .the stick!"Shouting Labrieé.
A madness of motion and a certainty of rescue and yet the atmosphere is exactly the same as it has always been in this area of the world with the many other moments mutually shared in previous years. One minute two love birds are sharing conversation in the exact place and moment of day and the next day or year, absolute madness is occurring in that very spot. Mo Bob and Salamander helping one after the other climbing out for their lives. Labrieé splashing a new dance to the spontaneousness of every persons shape and size as her rescue is that of an elegance she never new she had.
“She’s a God sent Salamander” Preached Mo Bob Cussington.
People of all shapes and dress sitting along their lives in an daze without any joy of this life. How could one not feel so bad for them. Drenched in water, hurt and confused. Their entire life just flashed before their eyes and here they are in moments notice, their adventure turned from scenic romantic Parié to torment and soggy feet.
“Cussington how blessed could we have been to have been in this hot miserable kitchen and not on that ship? ”Realized Cussington. “Lets get coffee going Cussington, soups. . . we feed them too."
“I have blankets and clothes left from mon Ma and mon Pa."
“Come on Salamander hurry. . .mon? You do speak Frençais? It’s mon Pére"
"Why do they call you cartwheel tom?"
First Song:
Paris la pont
rebuilding a past
sinking dishes
sinking ships
some ghosts of glory
some of Mo Bob
breaking cartwheels
breaking motion
spending time with
a lost Salamander
losing time with
learned rescue
rescuing time with
bubbles of norm
a stick for you
the stickler, rescue me from the rest.
Chapter 3 The statue of a saint la pont angel
La Street is filled with commotion. The cars have stopped to a halt. Cartwheel Tom is carrying on like he’s a cartoon character. Arms flailing in the wind and his legs dancing in a random frantic mess. “Cussington Mo Bob! A ship! The Ship! Is sinking! Oh dear mother nature, two worlds collide! Mother nature! Salamandray! Cussington! Labrieé! The Ship! Would you make no mistake of it all, oh dear they’ll drowned. We must hurry!”
"Jumping jimminy Christmas! The people! They’ll surely drowned! The people!
"Help is not always on the way."
"Mo Bob the scene is a catastrophe!"
"Make no mistake of it Cussington! We need to jump in!"
Somewhere in the word someone is drinking lemonade with condensation droplets without a care in the world. And we’re in the middle of a water catastrophe.
Sometimes at the bottom of the sea everything that has to do with the sea is the sea itself. The life of nature mirror images its surroundings. Like a rainbow. A rainbow can be beautiful anywhere even on the water. Its what happens before that lifeless soulful treasure enters the environment that lingers in hearts forever.
“Get what you can, I’m an excellent swimmer! Salamander help them up while bring them in!”
The panic in the air. All the patrons in the restaurant rushed through the kitchen to see the commotion. A clown car would have had an easier time managing with so many people rushing through it at once.
"How many? We must. La Pont!"
"Make of the stick Salamadray. . .the stick!"Shouting Labrieé.
A madness of motion and a certainty of rescue and yet the atmosphere is exactly the same as it has always been in this area of the world with the many other moments mutually shared in previous years. One minute two love birds are sharing conversation in the exact place and moment of day and the next day or year, absolute madness is occurring in that very spot. Mo Bob and Salamander helping one after the other climbing out for their lives. Labrieé splashing a new dance to the spontaneousness of every persons shape and size as her rescue is that of an elegance she never new she had.
“She’s a God sent Salamander” Preached Mo Bob Cussington.
People of all shapes and dress sitting along their lives in an daze without any joy of this life. How could one not feel so bad for them. Drenched in water, hurt and confused. Their entire life just flashed before their eyes and here they are in moments notice, their adventure turned from scenic romantic Parié to torment and soggy feet.
“Cussington how blessed could we have been to have been in this hot miserable kitchen and not on that ship? ”Realized Cussington. “Lets get coffee going Cussington, soups. . . we feed them too."
“I have blankets and clothes left from mon Ma and mon Pa."
“Come on Salamander hurry. . .mon? You do speak Frençais? It’s mon Pére"
"Why do they call you cartwheel tom?"
First Song:
Paris la pont
rebuilding a past
sinking dishes
sinking ships
some ghosts of glory
some of Mo Bob
breaking cartwheels
breaking motion
spending time with
a lost Salamander
losing time with
learned rescue
rescuing time with
bubbles of norm
a stick for you
the stickler, rescue me from the rest.
Chapter 3 The statue of a saint la pont angel
