The bad fox has only one thing on his mind: how to get a chicken or an egg.
It was noon on a Sunday. The sun was warm and the weather was warm. The bad fox didn't get up until noon. It rubbed its sleepy eyes, scratched its hungry belly, and continued to lie on the bed in a daze and get angry:
"When can I have breakfast in bed? I mean a real breakfast with scrambled eggs, hot milk, fried sausages, and pork liver pate! Not this kind of stinky bean sausage or sour vegetable soup!"
"I'm really fed up with the smell of stinky beans! How can a sausage made of beans be called a sausage? Isn't this a pure scam? How does this piece of shit smell? It's just a sausage. Sausage sausage! What is a sausage? It has to be a stick that is full of meat in one bite and has an oily mouth full of oil to be called a sausage! Do you understand? You bunch of country bumpkins! This piece of shit should be called a fart-flavored sausage!"
Intention: to understand the philosophy of life after laughing