4 The Red Fox

If there was a color-coded scale for cuteness like there is for Terror Alert Levels, the red fox would be at Level Orange -- way above Adorable Bomb Threat and just half a notch below Snuggle Jihad. Look at him! He's got little stockings. Like a sweet little furry whore. I would name him Mr. Pringles and feed him chips. You know he'd eat them all tenderly and shit.

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Now, here's the sound he makes:

If you came of age in a small town, you/re probably already familiar with the sound red foxes make. Here is the exact transcription of the time you found out:

You: Jesus, this weed is amazing. Am I being paranoid, or is the ground trying to sneak up on us?

Your Dickhead Friend Barry: Ha! You're high, man. You're like, you're ... you're like, high. Man.

Red Fox: AWWAAUUUUGHHGGGHHHH!!!!

You: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

Your Dickhead Friend Barry: What was what?

You: Don't "What was what?" me, you son of a bitch. What the hell was that sound?! Is somebody raping a baby?!

Your Dickhead Friend Barry: That's just a fox, dude.

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You: There's a fox raping a baby?

Your Dickhead Friend Barry: No, that's what foxes sound like.

Red Fox: AHGOOOOODDAAHHHHELLP

You: Fuck that. Those were words. That's the Devil. That is the Devil screaming for help. I'm going home. I'm going home, and I never want to see you again, for fear you will remind me of this night.

Your Dickhead Friend Barry: Don't be such a pussy.

Red Fox: AAAEEEAAATYOURSOUUUULLL

Your Dickhead Friend Barry: OK, that's the Devil.