She is mixing the blue dye on the kitchen counter. We are going ahead with the plan without the bleach. “After all,” she’d said when we were figuring out what to do, “wouldn’t a turquoise fox still be the most exquisite thing you have ever seen?” I wasn’t sure if that’s how hair dye worked, the same as mixing paints, but I couldn’t disagree. I pause to see how it is coming and she turns her head to smile at me. Her eyes are still a little red. I am still adjusting to her baldness. We decided our plan would be transparent if the ringleader of our circus’ hair was the same color as our Fox’s. We also thought a bald woman would hold an aura of mystique and respect that would set us apart from our competitors. She pulls it off well. She has a very pretty face, which her hair typically distracts from. She reminds me of the pretty lesbians who would march in protests downtown, though sometimes they scared me and she does not scare me. She says the dye is of a desired consistency and it is time to begin. She moves the bowl of thick blue to the table beside the Fox and begins applying it to the top of his head. I load my blowgun with the last dart and train the scope to its neck. It will be waking any minute. The little tufts of fur expand with each of its steady breaths. It is a beautiful animal. Ever since we first caught it I have imagined our life together once we are rich. We will build the Fox a house of its own with rooms of plush and of forest. “It’s working,” she says. I look up and see a streak of light green on the Fox’s head and sigh relief. She is beaming and I think I might kiss her when suddenly the Fox bites her hand hovering an inch from it’s face. There is only a fragment of surprise on her face before her lip curls. “You little shit,” she says and slaps it, her skin vibrating in contempt. Its head is knocked down against the kitchen table and before I know what I am doing my scope is trained on her neck. I blow and there is the whistle and a slight twap and she looks at me the most angry I have ever seen her and I realize I am scared of her as she collapses to our tiled kitchen floor.
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