free and wild

Franklin Bean: Any fox problems?

Walter Boggis: Are you joking?

Nathan Bunce: It's horrible!

Walter Boggis: We're miserable!

Nathan Bunce: He's laughing at us!

Walter Boggis: It's humiliating!

Nathan Bunce: We're furious!

Walter Boggis: I don't even want to talk about it.

Franklin Bean: [drinks a glass of cider] Perhaps we ought to kill him.

Walter Boggis: Well, that seems rather obvious.

Nathan Bunce: He's too sneaky!

Franklin Bean: Ah, yes. He's very clever, isn't he? Might be a bit difficult, I suppose.

[shoots every light around in one fluid movement]

Franklin Bean: But I already figured out where this fox lives. So tomorrow night, we'll camp in the bushes, wait for him to come out of the hole in the tree, and shoot the cuss to smithereens. How does that grab you, fellas?

Walter Boggis: Yeah, don't see why not.

Badger: Don't buy this tree, Foxy. You're borrowing at nine and a half with no fixed rate, plus moving into the most dangerous neighborhood in the country for someone of your type of species.

Mr. Fox: You're exaggerating, Badger.

Badger: [chuckles] I'm sugar-coating it, man. This is Boggis, Bunce, and Bean, three of the meanest, nastiest, ugliest farmers in the history of this valley.

Mr. Fox: Really? Tell me about them.

Badger: All right. Walt Boggis is a chicken farmer, probably the most successful in the world. He weighs the same as a young rhinoceros. He eats three chickens every day for breakfast, lunch, supper, and dessert. That's twelve in total per diem. Nate Bunce is a duck and goose farmer. He's approximately the size of a pot-bellied dwarf, and his chin would be underwater in the shallow end of any swimming pool on the planet. His food is home-made donuts with smashed-up goose livers injected into them. Frank Bean is a turkey and apple farmer. He invented his own species of each. He lives on a liquid diet of strong alcoholic cider, which he makes from his apples. He's as skinny as a pencil, as smart as a whip, and possibly the scariest man currently living. The local human children sing a kind of... eerie little rhyme about them. Here, listen to this.

[turns on the radio]

Children's Song: [singing] Boggis, Bunce, and Bean / One fat, one short, one lean / Those horrible crooks, so different in looks / were nonetheless equally mean.