Midnight Marauders

Hello and welcome,

The sun has shon its golden beams of joy upon the gentle earth all day long and, finally, night descends. With it come a plethora of night-time species, alert and ready to prowl. I say this not in an unkind way, for some of the inhabitants of this lump of stardust that we call 'earth' are, in fact, merry and benevolent. Some, however, are not. The clock ticks. The still silence draws around the matchstick bungalows like lions around stricken prey and somewhere, deep in the twisted woods where no man has ever set foot, evil manifests its gnarled and grotesque head. I speak of none other than a chilling and dastardly plot by many of the myriad minions on 'earth' to succumb the human race to permanent enslavement! For whilst busy workers go about their day, there is a darker force at hand. Discarded wrappers, empty coffee cups, plastic bags; scattered like bees from a broken hive and none see the greater scheme of things but I. The clock ticks. Denizens of the dark and fausty places frolick in the ill-begotten pleasure of seeing the human species bound to such pitiless activities and revel in the knowledge than soon the world will be theirs. I only know of this dastardly plan through an overheard coversation the other night. Whilst tending to my herb garden by moonlight, as I often like to do on sleepless nights, I heard a surrepticious whispering bearing on the verge of hearing but like so many cats was sucked in by curiosity. Whom should I find behind the red-bricked walls of the garage but two wily foxes engaging in what can only be called a midnight tryst! Had they seen me observe their secret rendevous? Something told me otherwise, as they briefly discussed the orders of the 'high fox' and went about fastidiously diseminating rubbish. Their words left me cold and alone. For they meant none other than an insidious plan to foist upon humans the task of producing and distributing so much litter that this world would become uninhabitable to the 'two feet'. In the meantime the amourous exterior of the vile beasts hid their genocidal plans while they drank coffee behind the garage and scarpered on sight.
What was I to do? I have explained all I know in the hope that it is not too late. A world without foxes would be unthinkable, due to their role in the food chain, but their evil plans are to exterminate us!
Something must be done. We must mind our matter; levee the litter before we peril at our own folly. Then at night, whilst tending the rosemary bush I will hear the ghastly cry of a foiled and fiendish fox, safe in the knowledge that we are still free.

I am not bonkers.