“Look, sir. Look, sir. Mr. Knox, sir.
Let's do tricks with bricks and blocks, sir.
Let's do tricks with chicks and clocks, sir.”
Like Green Eggs and Ham, there is not a lot of plot in Fox in Socks. The reading pleasure is derived from the language. The language here is a more sophisticated and complicated than the marketing technique Sam-I-Am uses to convince a poor sap try eating what he clearly does not want to. But while the language here is more fun, Fox in Socks is not nearly as thematically satisfying. Mr. Fox here invites Mr. Knox into his world of verbal fun. The relationship is not of the same sort as that between Sam and his mark, but it does get a little tricky once the verbal gymnastics begin becoming more intricate and sophisticated. If only things had stayed as simple as this introductory effort.
“When beetles battle beetles in a puddle paddle battle
and the beetle battle puddle is a puddle in a bottle...
...they call this a tweetle beetle bottle puddle paddle battle muddle.”
Inexorably, the rhyming games of Mr. Fox become increasingly more complex and intricate until the place gets to is far cry indeed from where he started. Eventually, he has reached a point where he is not just making nonsense rhymes, but giving what almost amounts to an oratorical speech on the subject of tweetle beetles which commences when he inquires of Mr. Knox, “What do you know about tweetle beetles?” It is at this point that Mr. Knox—who has barely been able to get a word in edgewise—finally reaches the breaking point. And, in light of the above, who can blame him?
“Now wait a minute, Mr. Socks Fox!
When a fox is in the bottle where the tweetle beetles battle
with their paddles in a puddle on a noodle-eating poodle,
THIS is what they call...
...a tweetle beetle noodle poodle bottled paddled
muddled duddled fuddled wuddled fox in socks, sir!”
The story concludes with Mr. Knox finally getting so fed up with the rhyming games of Mr. Fox that he interrupts him with firmness and finality. He thereupon proceeds to reveal that he is not exactly a rank amateur himself when it comes to stringing together excessively complicated tongue-twisting rhymes and ends up getting the better of his persistent pestering opponent in a way that the object of the similarly aggravating Sam-I-Am can only dream of enjoying.
