Hey there, turncoat. Today is the day. Come to the roof.

Not now, later. Noon. It’ll be fun. Recess. Big fun.

Falcon. Looking good today. How strange. Whose idea to enroll Falcon? He’s preened his feathers. He’s polished his beak. He’s polished his talons. They glisten like metal. Black metal. I know what he wants. Everyone else, not so much. They taunt. They Prod. Compliments on looking good for once. Today is that today? About time.

In the hall is a fight. Stupid fight. One sided fight. Cougar and Bear versus Armadillo. Those that care watch. Not Gator. Gator shrugs it off. Enemy’s enemy is he. Cougar and Bear pause for Gator. Gator walks on. Not today. Good day for Cougar and Bear. Maybe not. Armadillo’s friend Porcupine wants in. In the school. In the fight. Swish, swish, swish, poke. Cougar and Bear back off. Bell rings.

End of fight.


English class.

Wolfette’s sitting beside me. Silver and white. Moon eyes. She winks and passes a note. I don’t open it. I don’t have to. Wolfette’s a den member. Wants me to be one, too. Gawd Father on the town council. Gawd mother on the PTA. Big brother’s class president. Big sister’s drill team varsity captain. Wolfette’s a den member to be. Wants me to be one, too. The Kommonwealth of Kanid Kulturalists. Not just any dog gets in. Obviously those that can spell. I pocket the note and smile. My winter coat’s not in yet.
Between class I act toilet trained.

In the bathroom are Opossums. One and Two. Raccoon brought catnip. Raccoon brought anti-freeze. Only opossums drink anti-freeze. I think only opossums. With catnip up their nose. They sip and pass. Sip and pass. Sip and pass. They offer some, of both. I’ve tried them once. Only once. The catnip was useless to me. The anti-freeze didn’t sit well. Canids can regurgitate at will. There’s signs on the stalls. Flush the toilet and use mouthwash. I sometimes forget the later. Sometimes the dispensers are empty.


Math class.

Quiz day. Thank Gawd for my friend Ferret. The teachers like Ferret. He always want to know. He’s always waving his hands. Bobbing his head. Screaming the answer. Flipping out at wrong answers. Laughing, reading, writing, and studying. He’s never wrong. Never wronged. A test? A quiz? Wee, dance, dance, wee.


Art Class.

Ferret’s a ferret until he’s bored. He broods. He fidgets. Then he becomes Weasel. Teachers don’t like Weasel. The school hates Weasel. Fears and dreads Weasel. Weasel does magic. Naughty words appear on walls. Naughty symbols appear on walls. Sciency things go boom. Ghost skunks in the bathroom. Virtual worms changing scores. Virtual worms keep changing my score. School keeps changing them back. They want to blame Ferret. They want to catch Weasel. He’s never there. School keeps giving me detention.


Recess.

On the roof are Opossums. One and Two. They’re all floppy now. Cobra was here. Possums love Cobra. Possums love Bear, Cougar, and Gator. Wounds and poison. Especially poison. Cobra’s willing. Bear, Cougar, and Gator aren’t. They avoid Opossums. They call Opossums killjoys. Opossums laugh at Death. Death sighs and rolls its eyes. Death must hate possums. More than Bear, Cougar, and Gator do.

Falcon pokes me. Falcon’s looking over the ledge. We’re three stories up. Falcon, the Opossums, and me. Clear field all around. Students everywhere sunning themselves. Playing in the fallen leaves. Chasing each others’ tails. Being sociable.

Lovely view, yes, turncoat?

I agree yes. Yes, Falcon. Lovely.

I am Death’s puppy dog. I am Cerberus junior.

So, says, Falcon. So who first?

I see red. Red foxes. Colorful fools. I change by the season. Can’t help it. I’m an arctic. A turncoat. They stay the same. They look better, though. Both my looks are dull. White now, brown later. White and brown to blend in. Disappear. Be forgotten. Ignored. At school. Malls. Amusement parks.

Abandoned.

They’re red, white, black, and brown. Bigger, bolder, bushier features. Everyone sees them. Moles, bats, and rhinos see them. They want that. Love that.

Them, I say.

Click goes his beak. Ka-chink of his claws. Now he’s on the ledge. Zoom in. Focus. Pop as he pushes off the ledge. A vulpine. Fellow vulpine. His forehead vomits blood. He does a pratfall. His friends scream, flail, and run. Falcon’s good. He leads. Another goes down.

I could be Cerberus junior. If I applied myself. If I studied like Ferret.

Wow says Opossum one. What says Opossum two. Check that out. Point. Point. Blink. Blink. This could be fun, I think. If too blurry, then get closer. What, oh, right, okay, turncoat. Woops. Flip, flip, flip. Boom.

Opossum two’s floppy on the ground. Hurting like hell? Definitely. Bleeding inside? Possibly. Dead? Students are drawn to find out.

Sunlight glints off Falcon too late.

Ka-chink. Pop. Falcon is faster than Cheetah.

Ka-chink. Pop. Falcon gets Stag between the antlers.

Everyone’s scattery again. Trying to protect themselves. Keep themselves presentable. Sociable. Mateable.

Especially the bunnies.

Everyone loves bunnies. The ox, jocks, and the macropods. They like bunnies down under bleachers.

The loners, stoners, and nerds with boners. They like bunnies in bathroom stalls.

As for teachers of these creatures. Commando bunnies in the first row. Scissor-kicking bunnies on desks. Quality time in the back rooms. That’s how they like them best.

I wish I was Cerberus junior. The packs. The flocks. The herds. The prides. They all need thinning. There’s too many others. Too many options but me.
I’m never approached. Especially by bunnies.

Everyone loves bunnies. Accept for Boar loving bunnies. Boars are mean. They like only bunnies, heifers, and does. They beat up everyone else.

Falcon’s looking over the ledge. Click, ka-chink, pow.

A Bear behind a tree to late. He yowls. Paws the side of his head. Falcon mostly missed.

Bunnies love bunnies. Bunnies love bunny on bunny on dog on cat on bunny on bunny.

Falcon pokes be again. Pokes me just to poke me. Who now, asks Falcon.

Caw, caw, caw. Crows come out to get some.

Caw, caw, caw. This is their element.

Caw, caw, caw. They smell death. They love death. Death, loud noises, and shiny things.

Caw, caw, caw. Some swoop around from the school. Most swoop in from the streets.

Caw, caw, caw from everywhere.

I’m scared. I could be here by mistake. They don’t care. They just want a target. Some retribution. An outlet for their ancestral suffering. Where and when? I don’t know.

I suck at history and geography.

Everyone loves bunnies. At least before they multiply. Nobody wants bunnies with bunnies inside. Bunnies that multiply go away. No more school for them. I guess they know too much. They go to hutches instead. Learn to make more bunnies better.

Caw, caw, caw. Crows don’t aim, but their numerous. They break windows. They hit the wall and the ledge. Not Falcon. He’s cool, calm, collected. Falcon waits for a pause. A recouping.

Ka-chink. Pow. One crow goes down.

I’m scared. I wish I was an opossum. The Opossum two on the entranceway. Opossum one laughing beside me. I bite his tail. He jumps to his feet.
Caw, caw, caw. Opossum one staggering backwards. Staggers around. Blood popping from here and there.

I’d give anything to be Cerberus. That’s not me though. My summer friend Panther. He always has a mate. He’s always looking for a lone one. The ungrouped, asked for it, kind. I couldn’t do it. I watched. He offered seconds. I declined.

Everyone loves bunnies. They’re always innocent and willing. There’s never that doubt. That broken look in the eyes.

The crows haven’t noticed me yet. If Opossum one stays, I’ll be next. I know I’ll be next. I’m between phases. Falcon is calculating and patient. Gone. Back inside the school. Looking for a new perch.

I push Opossum one out. Out to them. The crows. I want him with Opossum two. Opossum one wants me there, too. He hooks me with his tail. I forgot they do that.

Self preservation betrays me. My legs head for the ledge.

My head hits the roof. The ledge. The wall is rising beside me.

My breath leaves me.

Caw, caw, caw.

Pop.

Caw, caw, caw, caw, caw.

Pop.

Then nothingness.



Nobody likes bunnies with bunnies inside. Accept for me. Those are the rare ones. The hidden ones. The treasure hunt prize.

That wasn’t suppose to happen. The Opossums being there. Me falling off the school. Falcon being cornered and ripped asunder.

The outcome won’t change, though. I live. Bruised and hospitalized, but live. I was a victim. A hostage. I cry and moan on camera. Give my sympathy. Hope for sympathy. Hope for a bunny.

Falcon says this will work. Falcon has a plan. Ferret likes the plan. The chaos. The distraction. Destruction. The distraught institution.
Falcon says this will work. Falcon says everyone will grieve. Especially the bunnies. They like safety. Security. An open giddy field to bounce on. Students will want alone time. Faculty will want alone time. Bunnies will get alone time. Won’t like it. They’ll want company instead. Close company. Very close company. They’ll want comfort and safety. They’ll want companionship and peace.
Bunnies will want renewal. The school will want order. The school will want renewal.

Safety in numbers.

Bunnies will want bunnies inside. The school will let them stay.

Yay.