One evening, while walking by Fox's house, Rook noticed a light on in a window.
                    "Leave us see what dat Fox is up to," said the wily bird. "I needs a new scheme ta get some moolah from dat chump."
                    So the black crow tiptoed up to the open portal, glanced inside, and promptly did a double take, his eyes ballooning out of their sockets.
                    "Holy Toledo!!"
                    Fox sat upon a stool in the center of his austere yet tastefully decorated living room, his rapt attention upon a yellow magazine in his forepaws. His features took on a maniacal cast; a depraved, yet truly goofy, lust filled his eyes as his tongue hung out, a large droplet of drool dripped from it.
                    Rook hopped through the open window, and Fox quickly stood up, pulling the periodical behind his back.
                    "Why, er, Rook," he stammered; sweat beaded in huge globules upon his brow. "I was just, um..."
                    At that moment, he looked downward and quickly shifted positions, utilizing his magazine to cover his mid-section as best he could.
                    "Lemme check dis out!" said Rook, deftly pulling the booklet from Fox's vulpine grasp. "Must be pretty hot stuff."
                    Fox collapse upon the floor with a pathetic bleat.
                    "What the..!?!" The bird held the magazine in front of him, staring large-eyed in disbelief. He looked down upon Fox's crumpled mass in disgust.
                    But then an idea hit him. With a melodious "Hmmm," the bird's eyes tightened, and he rubbed his chin in contemplation. A sly smiled played upon his beak, as he pulled the fox upright.
                    "Do you know dat yur a sick individual?" asked Rook, pointing at his companion with the rolled up magazine.
                    "I... I..." was all he could reply.
                    "Don't ya know dat pornography is a sickness?"
                    "I'm so ashamed." Fox's normally white face was as red as the rest of his fur.
                    "Not to mention yur exploitin' dose poor women."
                    "I'm vile!" sobbed Fox, who was then upon his knees attempting to rend his chest fur.
                    Rook placed a wing upon his shoulder and looked down magnanimously, a soft, forgiving, religious gleam in his eyes.
                    "But yur not lost," he said. "I kin help ya. It is a sickness, but it kin be cured."
                    "Oh, please, help me. I've fallen so."
                    The crow looked towards heaven, his wing on the mammal's head.
                    "But first, you must admit you have a problem."
                    "I have a problem."
                    Rook's face has taken a positively beatific glow as he stares out into open space.
                    "No, ya needs to tell me exactly what da problem is."
                    Fox looked terrified.
                    "I... I..." He looked downward, chin on chest, ashamed. "I like to look at the pictures of naked natives in National Geographics."
                    At that moment, the Rook transformed back to his old shyster self.
                    "Now," he said, "you need to say it on national television!"

"Welcome back to The Hippo Show. Hippo's first guests are Mark and Judy. They were happily married for five years before discovering they were brother and sister... And they love it!
                    "It added zest to our love life," said Judy.
                    "Later on, it's a love dodecahedron, as Arnoldo discovered that Kathy was sleeping with Jack, who learned that Frieda, who is married to Joseph, is having his baby, after her lesbian affair with Christy, who left Peter, who is also sleeping with Arnoldo."
                    "And then," continued the announcer, "we have a man who likes to look at natives in National... What the hell is this?"
                    Fox, who had been waiting backstage, fending off unwanted attention from Arnoldo, was approached by a large female hippopotamus, who promptly grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, led him to the back door and violently threw him into the trash-filled alleyway.
                    "Don't waste my time, small fry," she said wiping her hands on her dress.
                    Fox lay facedown, his behind in the air, when he heard Rook approach. The bird stood next to him, counting a wad of paper money.
                    "It's OK," he said. "I got paid."
                    "B-b-b-b-b..?" replied Fox.
                    The crow pulled the fox to his feet and put a wing over his shoulder.
                    "Look, kid, we gotta try a new approach. But it'll cost ya."
                    Under the wing of his avian companion, the Fox found himself led down the street, holding his wallet open, as Rook removed bills. "I've set up a sexual addiction help group for you to attend. Here, lemme take dat money."
                    Rook guided Fox to a circle of chairs, each containing a small woodland creature. Fox sat down as the bird took center stage.
                    "Here we is. How's about everyone introduces demselves?"
                    "I'm a size queen," squeaked a cute little mouse.
                    "I like water-sports," giggled a cute little squirrel.
                    "Leather." Said the cute little skunk.
                    "I spent a month's pay on lapdances," exclaimed the cute chipmunk merrily.
                    "Rough sex," quacked the cute little duck.
                    "I'll sleep with almost anyone," purred the cute fuzzy bunny sitting next to Fox.
                    "I like to look at pictures of naked natives in National Geographics!" said Fox.
                    For a moment, the room was silent.
                    "Ew!!" said the bunny, pulling her chair away.
                    "Yuck!" said the chipmunk, who was trying to look down the bunny's shirt.
                    "Pervert!" cried the duck.
                    "Gross!" exclaimed the skunk.
                    "What kind of group is this?" asked the squirrel.
                    "How big are you?" asked the mouse.

"Well, dat was a bust!"
                    Fox was strapped into a large chair in front a movie screen, his eyes propped open with metal clamps. Rook, wearing a lab coat, was hooking up electrodes to the fox's crotch. Fox looked about nervously.
                    "Now we tries the B.F. Skinner approach."
                    "What's that?" gulped the Fox.
                    "Dis machine is set up to show you certain, um, pictures. If da picture makes you too, ahem, excited, youse gets a shock. Fully automatic. Works like a charm.
                    "But before I leaves, you need to sign this check for services rendered."
                    Even with his wrist straps, fox could move enough to sign his name.
                    "And dis waiver. Just a technicality."
                    Fox complied.
                    "OK, let's let 'er rip!"
                    ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!

"Well, Rook, it worked. I'm cured. No more National Geo for me..." Fox vigorously shook Rook's wing.
                    “Dat's good ta hear, Fox, old boy.”
                    "And I'm in love."
                    "Love?" asked the bird.
                    Fox, grinning stupidly, held up a shiny new toaster.
                    "Here she is!"
                    "A toaster!?! Haw! Haw!" Rook laughed so hard he fell, pounding his wing upon the ground in hysterics.
                    Fox's face grew dark.
                    "You're laughing at the household appliance I love!"
                    Fox then delivered upon the Rook a right good thrashing.
                    And as Fox walked away, speaking soft words to sooth the toaster in his arms, the crow held up his wing filled with a huge pile of cash.
                    "Anyways," he said through his bent beak, "I still gots da moolah!!"