To Thine Own Self Be Zoo,

Volume IV, Issue 3;

Autumn Equinox 2026.

IN THIS ISSUE, a gay cowboy drinks a glass of whiskey, and a griffon and some others chat on the net. Featuring the stories: Cowboys, Five Ruminations, YPCD Log, and A Shadow Whose Paws Are The Nest Of A Red Bird, as well as a poem.

Awooooooo!

A SALOON - DAY

Two cowboys, ABRAHAM and GREYSON, sit at the bar.

ABRAHAM: Scorching day like today makes a man wonder if Hell could really be that much worse.

GREYSON: I hear that. I’d kill for some ice in these drinks.

The DOUBLE DOORS SWING OPEN.

ENTER SKITTLESCANDY, fursuit head on, otherwise dressed as ABRAHAM and GREYSON.

SKITTLESCANDY marches up to the bar and takes a seat right next to Greyson.

SKITTLESCANDY takes off his fursuit head; he is still very cute without it.

SKITTLESCANDY: Funny thing ’bout these trails, is you never know who you’ll meet next, what kind of... mischief... you’ll get up to in your time together.

SKITTLESCANDY puts on a cowboy hat.

GREYSON: SkittlesCandy did you fuck a random other gay furry again.

SKITTLESCANDY: Gay furry? Heh. Well, I don’t know anything about that. He may have said something about his orientation while I was sniffing his good-fox bulge, I don’t recall.

ABRAHAM: Here we go.

GREYSON: Why do you always TELL us you do this?

SKITTLESCANDY: One thing always leads into another. Bartender! A glass of the usual! As I was moseying around the cliffs by Amarillo Way,

ABRAHAM: There’s no cows there.

SKITTLESCANDY: Searching in my heart for what it means to be a man, or a puppy as the case may be,

ABRAHAM: SkittlesCandy what kind of cowboy ARE you?

SKITTLESCANDY: As I arrived at a scenic overlook, I come across another lone wanderer, sitting there on the edge of the cliff, staring off into these beautiful lands. I came to find out that he was a fursuit maker, and that for inspiration on his newest design, he was out pondering the blazing sun, and the way the air smolders twice, once as the heat from the sun comes down to us, and then a second time as the earth, already full of the sun’s generous gift, belches the excess heat back out continuously. He was going to turn all of that aesthetic into a fennec fox, whose fur looked as bright and as hot as the desert day before us. Well I thought he looked pretty cute, so I asked him if I could give him head while we were there together.

GREYSON: That’s weird.

SKITTLESCANDY: Weird? How so?

GREYSON: It’s weird that thinking someone is cute made you think you wanted his penis in your mouth.

SKITTLESCANDY: It was less about his foxy peepee in my maw, I suppose,

ABRAHAM: You need brain surgery.

SKITTLESCANDY: That would be so hot!!

SKITTLESCANDY fans himself with his cowboy hat for a moment.

The Bartender puts a glass of whiskey in front of SkittlesCandy.

SKITTLESCANDY drops his hat to give a heart symbol with his hands to the bartender.

SKITTLESCANDY puts on a different cowboy hat.

SKITTLESCANDY: I’ll tell you one secret about these trails for free, Greyson, Abraham. Sometimes it is your turn for everything to be all about you, and sometimes it isn’t your turn right now. And in that moment, it wasn’t about how I wanted to feel his hard, throbbing cock pressed against the insides of my mouth, although yes, I did enjoy that,

GREYSON: Weird.

SKITTLESCANDY: It was imagining how it would make HIM feel. What mattered was imagining that moment from his point of view, and thinking about what might take it from good to spectacular.

GREYSON: So then, HE ALSO received this “your genitals in my open oral mouth” plan, and was like, oh yeah, thumbs up, sounds perfect?

SKITTLESCANDY: When he shot, I thought, heh, wouldn’t it be ironic? To drown in the desert?

ABRAHAM AND GREYSON: True.

SKITTLESCANDY: He was wearing a full fursuit this entire time, as well, if I didn’t mention.

ABRAHAM: Where do you people come from?

SKITTLESCANDY: I think that’s what life is about. Two homosexual male furries, spending some time together relieving our urges, opening our bodies for one another.

GREYSON: That sounds like an unbelievably narrow philosophy for what the meaning of life is, you just without a thought left out ALL women!

SKITTLESCANDY: Women... can watch.

GREYSON thinks about this for a moment.

ABRAHAM AND GREYSON: True.

SKITTLESCANDY: This is the life of the only gay furry cowboy out on the trails.

ABRAHAM: It seems like you have a neverending supply of premarital sodomy, it seems like more people exactly like you are spawned fully formed into the world every day to shamelessly copulate with one another.

SKITTLESCANDY drinks his drink.

ABRAHAM: Well, it sounds like your day was good.

SKITTLESCANDY: It was SO good, being a cowboy was the BEST choice I ever made.

SKITTLESCANDY drinks more of his drink, until finally the effect seems to hit him.

SKITTLESCANDY: Phew. Um, so anyways, how was y’all’s days?

GREYSON: Good.

ABRAHAM: Fine.

SKITTLESCANDY: Cool.

GREYSON: SkittlesCandy, now here’s a question I want your perspective on.

SKITTLESCANDY: Lay it on me.

GREYSON: Abraham and I were talking earlier. Say it’s a lonely day out on the trail. The opportunity presents itself... you and an animal... no humans around. Would you do it?

SKITTLESCANDY takes a long, thoughtful sip of his drink, and then idly begins rolling the bottom of the glass against the bar counter. He responds to Greyson’s question by saying,

SKITTLESCANDY: What kind of animal are we talkin?

GREYSON: An animal is an animal.

SKITTLESCANDY: What. kind. of animal. are we talkin? I don’t need some rat-lookin wee little doggy who’s gonna hump my boot and get moody that he didn’t find the hole; I need an alpha with serious sink-your-snout-into-it fuckability; I need a butt so good I would do unlawful things to impress that butt’s owner enough to get my face on it; I need a confident, beautiful lover; I need a playmate who feels dangerous in all the right ways; I. need. a winner.; So are we talkin about THAT kind of animal, when you ask if I would have sex with an animal, if no human was around? I’ll tell you one secret about these trails, is it doesn’t matter what species or gender some screwball scientist would say this living being or that living being is. The bottom line is that we’re all living beings. As sure as I am that the sun will rise tomorrow, I’m sure that me and a captivating woman could find ourselves out on the trail together, cracking jokes, sharing our philosophies, and by the time we’ve had sex, someone could ask me, “Was she beautiful?” and I’d have to say, “Beautiful? Of course. I didn’t even look at her. Beauty originates on the inside.”

ABRAHAM: It seems like when you talk about dudes you find them beautiful on the outside as well.

SKITTLESCANDY: And people would ask me, about this beautiful woman I’ve had sex with, “Was she a mare?” And I’d have to ponder that a good long while, and say, “Well I don’t suppose I noticed one way or the other at the time.”

GREYSON: You should be able to notice that.

SKITTLESCANDY: Hard to tell male from female, human from horse. So sure, if me and someone who turned out to be a mare wound up sharing some intimate time with one another, relieving our urges, acting out our needs, I would say it sounds like a day well spent, and two lives made better than they were when the sun had rose that day. But I’ll tell you one secret about these trails, and that’s that the Well of Bestiality is located in the basement of this here saloon; Bestiality isn’t something that dwells within the hearts of men, sometimes nascent and sometimes turbulent; Bestiality isn’t something that happens as an inevitable consequence of intermixing multiple sexually reproducing species in the same sandbox; Bestiality originates in the Well of Bestiality, which is a magical font from which zoophilia flows into our world, causing bestiality to exist upon this planet; There is one and only one font of interspecies hanky panky, one source of zoophilia, one Well of Bestiality, and it’s under this very saloon.

ABRAHAM: That is an absolutely insane coincidence.

GREYSON: What do you mean?

SKITTLESCANDY: Yeah, how so?

ABRAHAM: That we were just talking about bestiality, and it turns out the source of all bestiality is right below these very floorboards.

GREYSON: Hm!

SKITTLESCANDY: Yeah I go and fuck with it all the time, pretty crazy right, some guy came in once and said I was also the cause of all the gay furries that are coming into existence fully formed to fuck each other every day, and I was like whaaaat you’re crazy, shut up.

GREYSON: Can we go look at the Well of Bestiality?

SKITTLESCANDY: Yeah, lemme finish my drink and then let’s totally go down there.

1 REMAINDER OF DRINK LATER.

SALOON BASEMENT - INTERIOR, DAY

ABRAHAM, GREYSON, and SKITTLESCANDY stand in front of the Well of Bestiality.

SKITTLESCANDY: So yeah I kinda come here and like can control whether a tonnnn of bestiality is getting into the world or just a little, it’s pretty cool.

ABRAHAM: Ah, but there is a curse at play such that you can never turn the fountain OFF.

SKITTLESCANDY: Huh? Oh I guess I never tried.

ABRAHAM sighs.

SKITTLESCANDY: I kinda think it’s hot when someone has had sex with an animal in a bestiality way and then they have sex with me, so sometimes when I’m feeling n-to-the-aughty on that grindset I turn the Well of Bestiality waayyyyyy up.

GREYSON: Ah, but then later you realize that for there to be balance, you must also turn the well DOWN sometimes.

SKITTLESCANDY: Actually I guess it kind of goes down on its own over time and I only ever really turn it up.

GREYSON: You sinful... sinful man. Dog. No, man!

ABRAHAM: SkittlesCandy, you have got to turn the Well of Bestiality OFF!

The three cowboys stand there for a while.

SKITTLESCANDY: I meannnn... do we... haaaave to turn it off?

GREYSON: We coulddd kinda just... just at least a little bit, of bestiality, should still be allowed to happen, still, right?

ABRAHAM: Mmmmmmm yeahhhhhh, yeah I suppose a little bit... now and then... I’m glad for those times- UH yeah a little bit of activity, springing forth from the Well of Bestiality, is, yknow, none of our business, let’s just let it be that God wanted this here for His reason, Amen.

SKITTLESCANDY AND GREYSON: Amen.

ABRAHAM AND GREYSON: True.

SKITTLESCANDY: Well boys, I’m just gonna turn this up while we’re here.

SKITTLESCANDY turns the Well of Bestiality super far up.

SKITTLESCANDY: There we go, easy does it. Uh, anything else you wanted to see, with the font of all zoophilia?

ABRAHAM: Does the well itself have a known origin?

SKITTLESCANDY: A crazy guy put it here a thousand years ago, or something.

ABRAHAM: Huh.

GREYSON: Just. A crazy guy. And now all this. Now- YOU, SkittlesCandy, oh my gosh, no wonder you would never turn off the Well of Bestiality, you would cease to exist, wouldn’t you! Wouldn’t you!

SKITTLESCANDY: Ha, I guess probably.

SKITTLESCANDY cups his hands and draws a big scoop out of the Well of Bestiality and slurps it all up.

SKITTLESCANDY: I have urges that do NOT involve the two of you.

GREYSON: Just one more question.

SKITTLESCANDY: Yeah what is it, this better be good, I have hot things to do bestiality style.

GREYSON: Could it be that there is an even greater font, a Well of Evil, and that, by finding it, and damming its flow, we could bring paradise... to us?

SKITTLESCANDY: Man I don’t know! Is that, like, relevant? I got doggy style literal style on the mind.

ABRAHAM: Just a MOMENT ago at the bar it had seemed like you were winding DOWN from your sexual escapades for the day.

SKITTLESCANDY: Man I drank from the forbidden drink, now I’m screwing the midnight pooch, what do you want from me?

GREYSON: “Screwing the midnight pooch” is so deeply not a phrase.

SKITTLESCANDY: Someone has to have sex with these animals. They need it. They need it because the Well of Bestiality is set to the maximum. They need it because I set it on that.

GREYSON: Well, it’s been so good to see you and catch up, sir.

SKITTLESCANDY: Sir, I am always better in your company, it’s always an honor.

ABRAHAM: Partner, you shine on. Cowboys forever.

SKITTLESCANDY: Cowboys forever, partner. You know, rumors say the Well of Bestiality has higher settings. Hm. Well, anyways, I look forward to sharing your company another day, gentlemen.

SKITTLESCANDY exits.

ABRAHAM: I must return to the world outside these saloon doors as well, I suppose. Ol ball and chain.

GREYSON: Heh, good luck explaining your bar tab this time, you no good lyin man!

ABRAHAM: Ha, I am in for it, I am in for it alright.

ABRAHAM exits.

GREYSON looks at the Well of Bestiality.

GREYSON nods to himself, and then exits as well.

In black chalk I have drawn a perfect circle and a pentagram, and placed an unlit candle at each of the five foci.

I am in a park, kneeling nearby a wooden bench that’s some ways out from the reach of any lights, as the cold night wind blows against my cheeks and my nose and my hair, as cars pass on the highway a few blocks away, as other dwellers of the dark hours shuffle to and fro and sit elsewhere and sniff their runny noses and sometimes talk, as an unwell person is shouting at no one, as someone maybe a block away is repeatedly dropping wooden pallets on the ground.

I pick my lighter up off of the pavement, light a little flame, and hold this flame to the wick of the first of the five candles.

Candle by candle, I will set it burning, ruminate until it goes out, and then set the next one burning, and so on.

Why am I so goddamn polite? People back in Paducah, when they would find out I came from Green Bay before Paducah, would ask me, “What brought you here?” I felt so completely driven to give them a polite answer; I felt so completely obligated to lie. I would tell them, “I have family who moved down here and I was kind of following after them.” What family could I point them to who lived within even a hundred miles of me? None. “I was trying to change it up, get away from the busy city, move to somewhere with different values.” Was Green Bay really such a sprawling metropolis? “I just really could not deal with the weather in Wisconsin anymore.” Paducah is better? That was maybe the most egregious lie.

I moved because my uncle (who always liked me better than his own kids, which I have always felt ravenously self-pleased about) had a house he wasn’t going to be living in while he worked a job in Hawaii for 3 years, and he offered me a rent-free house to stay in in Paducah if I would look after it, and he happened to catch me at a time when my life partner’s body was really-really starting to show signs of its old age, and I was willing to throw away whatever office-worker career I’d gotten for myself in Green Bay and live off of savings, if it meant never having to go in to work and instead living attentively together with my life partner for the last of her days. ‘My life partner’ being a Chocolate Lab; yes she was my life partner ‘in that way’, and yes she did die, and yes I am still broken; no I don’t pull out, but we never had puppies.

Why didn’t I want to tell people that? Would they not be entertained? Even if I left out the creampie aspect of it. Why could I not tell people I was cashing in on all of my privileges for the sake of my dog? Do we hate dogs that much, as humans?; Is something that benefits dogs so unspeakable?

I still do it, even now, after another move. When a queer person asks me why I moved here, I tell them I am queer and I was starting to feel unsafe in Paducah; When someone who doesn’t seem to be queer asks me why I moved here, I tell them something about the weather. Maybe there is a human instinct to be socially invisible, camouflage yourself with your social surroundings. Maybe it’s only an instinct that comes out in people like me, who feel a sense of danger at being seen, and so politeness makes us forgettable. Because other people—maybe even MOST people, it seems like some days—do not have a problem with being impolite, being owed everything in every possible social interaction.

I think that trans people have reinvented christianity. All of your flaws of the past have an explanation and are forgiven; Where have I heard that before? Stories of personal transformation, of years spent in an on-and-off relationship with this thing, before finally discovering how important a part of your life it is, and dedicating yourself to it. A whole lexicon and grammar with which to talk about the world in a way that gels nicely with your beliefs about how to not say the wrong thing. Brick for brick, it’s all still here: “Your soul is stained with sin and you could be going to hell;” “You posted some really bad things before and I could remind everyone.”

I wonder if christianity is on its way out and trans is on its way in to replace it at large, or if trans is seeing a notable but ultimately inconsequential spike in popularity before it’s back to business as it has been for the last 2000 years.

I find individual christians infinitely more palatable than christianity as a body.

I feel almost lucky that it’s almost not my business. I am not christian; So, it’s almost not my business. But how could anyone fail to see the deep scars, shame, harm, that christianity as a body has done to the world? I wonder whether anything about this harm is actually christian-specific, or whether misanthropy by any other name would smell just as sweet. I could believe either possibility, I think; maybe the sex-repulsed puritanism of christianity did human society a deep and unique disservice that we are not even close to recovering from; or, maybe when you hand society to humans, what they come up with is sex-repulsed puritanism no matter what.

I think history is a repeating geometric pattern. I wonder if someday another species will claim reign of this planet, and when they do, if their pattern and ours will even look different.

What if I was a water bender but for dog cum? Or, to put it in a brand-nonspecific way, what if I had telekinesis that I could specifically only use to levitate canine semen? Could I use that to put on a show? Ladies and Gentlemen! Furries and Corpses! You are about to witness an incredible act of inexplicable magic, but first, please bear with me for a moment as I get down on my knees and jerk off this Alaskan Malamute! It’s part of the show, worry not! As soon as this big, aesthetically pleasing guy nuts, you will see things that will make you doubt your own eyes! Dog cum loop-de-loops! Dog cum getting splattered everywhere like fireworks, all done with nothing but my mind! Tell me your name and I will spell it in the air, in dog semen, a fluid which contains all of the genetic information to make the best friend you will ever have in your life, and it also tastes pretty neat, if you’re agreeable to that!

Could I make porn featuring dog cum telekinesis? I mean, yes, I could, but, is that hot? I don’t think it really is. I think this magical talent would kind of be a bust.

Maybe if I had enough dog semen at my fingertips, I could fly with it; Levitate it under my feet, and then effectively just walk in the air, on dog cum. I presume the dog cum would have to be reasonably fresh for all of this to work, so maybe like, I keep two studs around, and then when I need to fly, I jack both of them off and have an hour or so of dog cum flight to work with. That might be something.

Maybe I use dog cum telekinesis as a tool of assassination. Attend a dinner with Politician Who Is Scum, and float some dog cum laced with poison into his drink. Or skip the poison and just float the dog cum down his throat directly, and make him choke to death on it.

I don’t think there’s anything about this power that makes it really useful that it’s dog cum specifically. I think if a genie were granting someone telekinetic power over any substance of their choosing, their choice should not be animal jizz.

When laundry day comes, I wash all of my clothes together: the black socks I wore out on a hike through the mountains by myself; the neon green-and-blue t-shirt with furries on it that I was wearing when I bent a stranger over the counter at the gay bar and fucked him, and someone who was watching bought me a drink afterwards; the dark green-and-blue flannel I was wearing during several meetings this week about my team lacking critical documentation about our campus, specifically documentation on the tunnels and all of the infrastructure therein. All of my clothes, no matter the piece of my life that they accompany me through, get piled up on top of each other, go in the same load. Water as cold as my heart. Detergent. Wash it all clean for another week.

It’s so, so easy to imagine a nature documentary, and then when they cut to the next animal they’re going to talk about, it’s just me. “Oh my, well, that’s enough of the northern red-footed robin; Maybe we’ll come back later, to see if his fishing technique ever enjoys any success. Up next, we see Thaim. Thaim engages in the mating routines of his species, though is chronically ineffectual.” Footage of me busting inside of a dog. Footage of me busting inside of a gay furry. “By day, Thaim gathers resources by attending his job; He has found a rewarding place within his ecosystem. However, this ecosystem in which he finds the greatest rewards is also very stressful, and so when not at work, he often escapes into other ecosystems unrelated to his resource gathering.” Footage of me walking along a hiking trail in the woods. Footage of me swimming in a lake. Footage of me eating a hotdog and sitting on a street curb and staring at nothing contemplating existence. “Seemingly not destined to reproduce, Thaim serves only the meta to-do of being a living being.” Footage of me paying for something at a store. Footage of me standing at a crosswalk waiting for my turn. Footage of me and half a dozen other gay furries in someone’s living room stroking each other’s erect penises. Footage of me doing laundry. “He washes his clothes, and is ready for another week.”

I think it’s more likely than not that I will live to see the end of The United States of America. I don’t even think it’s doomer of me to say, because, I meanwhile still live my life; I in fact still predict that I will be doing fine in Post-US Earth. But I do think my home country is nakedly floundering on borrowed time at this point. Oil shortages. Hateful politics. Expensive food.

I can imagine a time in this country that is post-law. I can imagine sucking off a St Bernard in public and there are no police for anyone to call about it.

I don’t know what’s going to happen with the land. “It goes back to the natives” is not high up on my probabilities list. I think what’s going to happen is that various foreign powers are going to establish presences in North America, perhaps “To help American refugees” if they’re feeling generous enough to give a pretense to why they’ve come; And these foreign powers are going to cut up North America on a map like they cut up Africa, and there will be a lot of messy, bloody conflict between the foreign powers and the Americans who have still remained here. I think North America will be a very unpleasant, very unsafe place to live.

I don’t see myself sticking it out, whatever the case may be; I see myself fleeing to the EU. I wonder what it would say about me, in the EU, to have an American Flag pin on my backpack. Would it be taken as a symbol of hate? Would it be a symbol that I am a cool post-apoc wanderer whose home has been nuked? Would it be more controversial, or less controversial, than the zeta pin that I would also have on my backpack, right next to it?

The gift of Thought was given to me without my desire or my permission. I have used my mind to love a dog. I have used my mind to love nothing else.

There are now five melted candles atop a perfect circle and a pentagram, drawn in black chalk, on the pavement of this park, this night.

My sword Rumination lies on the ground, summoned, atop all of the melted wax.

I stomp on my sword and it disappears into a mist of shadows.

“I remember thee, my closest; but I pray I have no need of thee tonight.”

Someone (someone for whom I and them share a core common interest) has been coming to this park every Sunday night.

It’s Monday mornings I always see their work, a fresh new zoo sticker, as I’m passing through here, through this park. And Sundays during the day, I have never seen the new work yet.

So it must be Sunday nights.

Same place? Same time? Same signals?

Someone wouldn’t make a very good spy.

I don’t know when, what time specifically, I can expect them.

But I can tell from the sound of their jingling collar that I have found them, before I have even laid eyes on them. Someone dressed in black-and-neons puts a sticker on a street light and keeps walking. The sticker has an illustrated German Shepherd presenting to the viewer, and has the text “Don’t miss out on dog pussy” and then a zeta. Haven’t seen that one before. Interesting. Into it.

I start following after the zoo at a distance.

Two blocks later, they’re sitting at a bus stop, alone, waiting, head down, looking idly at the pavement.

I take a seat next to them. From a pocket, I take out a clear plastic bag with two dozen different zoo stickers in it, and toss it onto the pavement in front of them. Startled, they look up at me, and then they look down to the stickers again, and then they look at me again.

I give a mischievous smile, and I tap the zeta tattoo on the side of my neck.

They look very surprised and very pleased. They pick up the stickers.

12:07    * stankpaw9 yawns.
12:14    --> zapados has joined #yiffypawcomicsden.
12:15    <stankpaw9> Oh here we go.
12:15    <stankpaw9> Hi zapados what’s up.
12:15    <zapados> m or f?
12:15    <crow> lol
12:16    <stankpaw9> Indeed.
12:16    <crow> zapados: the name of this room is a joke :p stankpaw9 is a veritable slut for paws but it does not have any comics for you.
12:16    <stankpaw9> HEY
12:17    <crow> uh huh
12:19    <stankpaw9> UNTRUE
12:19    <crow> uhhhhh huh
12:19    * crow sticks its paw in the air in front of stankpaw9
12:19    * stankpaw9 sniffs the air near the paw
12:20    <crow> cutie
12:22    * stankpaw9 blushes
12:31    <ludwigk> homos
12:33    * crow kisses stankpaw9 on the cheek
12:34    * stankpaw9 kisses crow back on the side of the beak
12:36    <crow> zapados: fyi I am a griffon anthro, with black feathers/coat, and a healthy dose of unknown DNA that is seemingly from the wolf family. “paws” rather than talons and “beak” rather than muzzle does add up, trust me.
12:36    <-- zapados has left #yiffypawcomicsden.
12:36    <crow> cool
12:37    * stankpaw9 throws a nickel into the jar.
12:37    <stankpaw9> Indeed.
14:40    * stankpaw9 yawns.
14:44    * crow preens over stankpaw9, picking through its thick nape with beak
14:47    * stankpaw9 relaxes, melting into comfort under the preening.
15:02    <ludwigk> It lives! I can now say that every piece of equipment in my ecosystem is linux. Some different flavors I’m still meh on, but all linux at least.
15:02    <crow> congrats!
15:05    <-- maso231 has quit (Quit: bbl it is meow time for calc)
15:41    * stankpaw9 cuddles crow, running fingers through its coat.
15:54    <crow> :3
15:54    <stankpaw9> :3
15:55    <dogfucker12> :3
15:57    <ludwigk> glad to have such nice friends :3
16:29    --> sardius88088 has joined #yiffypawcomicsden.
16:29    -- sardius88088 is now known as sardius_.
16:30    <sardius_> You guys, I apologize if you were in the middle of anything, but I have to interrupt now with serious news. Even though he was my friend, I have evidence that dogfucker12 is a zoophile supporter.
16:30    <stankpaw9> no it can’t be
16:31    <crow> are we... doing this again?
16:31    * stankpaw9 throws a nickel in the other jar.
16:33    <stankpaw9> ludwigk: congrats on that sweep of upgrades for real. I’m still stuck on Windows but more and more jealous of you every day.
16:34    <ludwigk> thanks! aaaa I’m so happy about it. Having the entire system how I want it (more or less) feels like a clean bill of health, in a weird way. Just feels like, phew, I got better, I’m healthy.
16:34    <sardius_> dogfucker12 gave me a mixtape yesterday that was loaded with more zoophilia dog whistles than I can list on a single sheet of paper, double sided.
16:34    * stankpaw9 spits out its drink.
16:34    <stankpaw9> LOL
16:34    <crow> dogfucker12: OH MY GODS IS THIS REAL DID YOU DO THIS
16:34    <crow> YOU TWO ARE LOCAL TO EACH OTHER RIGHT?
16:34    * crow wheezes, curling against stankpaw9 and patting it repeatedly with palms
16:34    <dogfucker12> sardius_: How could you come to such a conclusion? What was even on that tape?
16:35    <crow> IS IT REAL
16:35    <sardius_> Is there any limit on what I can say in here?
16:35    <stankpaw9> How so?
16:36    <stankpaw9> If you send a message over the character limit it will break it into two messages (or more), and if you send too many messages at the same instant the network will kick you off and you’ll have to rejoin but that’s it.
16:36    <stankpaw9> I want to say the current ratelimit is fffive messages per 4 milliseconds?
16:37    <sardius_> As far as vulgarity.
16:37    <stankpaw9> Swear the fuck on.
16:37    <sardius_> The first thing on this mixtape is a song that screams “dog c*m” over and over again, to give you an idea of the kind of thing I will need to talk about to explain what’s on this tape.
16:38    * stankpaw9 is trying to breathe but can’t. This might be the end.
16:38    <dogfucker12> oh yeah I forgot that song was on there
16:38    * stankpaw9 passes out.
16:38    * crow waves a magic spell around stankpaw9, keeping it alive and conscious.
16:38    * stankpaw9 sits up.
16:38    <stankpaw9> sardius_: This sounds very serious.
16:39    <crow> uhhhhhhhhh huh
16:39    <stankpaw9> Thank you for bringing this to my attention.
16:39    <stankpaw9> I believe for the sake of not hiding anything we should figure this out in the open rather than taking this to PMs.
16:39    <stankpaw9> Can you tell me what else was on this mixtape? sardius_
16:39    <dogfucker12> don’t tell it anything sardius_
16:39    <stankpaw9> Also: how did this mixtape change paws between you two?
16:41    <dogfucker12> we met for brunch at the coffee place across from a dog park and I thought I was picking up on the way sardius_ was peeping some of the larger breeds but I may have misunderstood where he was at mentally with all that
16:43    <stankpaw9> And then? How did he get the tape?
16:43    <dogfucker12> Oh I gave it to him
16:43    <stankpaw9> You had brought it with you?
16:44    <dogfucker12> yeah
16:44    <dogfucker12> I mean, allegedly
16:44    --> maso231 has joined #yiffypawcomicsden.
16:44    <maso231> Calculus is so. so. so boring.
16:45    * maso231 throws ter bookbag on a hook and shuffles towards crow
16:45    * maso231 falls and rests terself beside crow
16:45    <crow> :3
16:45    * crow pets maso231
16:46    <sardius_> stankpaw9: On one side, the mixtape had the dog cum song (the genre was punk I guess), immediately followed by a song about a wife cheating on her husband with their dog (I guess also punk but I think by a different band), and then a book-on-tape of a story where you’re a girl wolf and you “mate” with some guy on his bed while his wife is distracted doing laundry down at the river. Which, could just be fantasy by itself, but in the story the wolf’s name is Temptress, and on the cassette’s label someone had written with a pen in parenthesis “(imagine Temptress is Gumdrop)” which is the real life name of my golden retriever.
16:46    * maso231 rips off ter pants.
16:46    <maso231> owo
16:47    <ludwigk> maso231: yiff in hell furfag
16:47    <maso231> not a furry!!
16:47    <crow> uhhhhhhhhhhh huhhhhhhhhhh
16:48    * maso231 crosses ter arms and pouts.
16:48    <ludwigk> Riiiiiight, you’re not a furry, you just keep joining the furry room by mistake :p
16:48    <maso231> You’re just as guilty of being a furry as I am at that rate.
16:49    <ludwigk> yes
16:49    <ludwigk> I am a furry I’m also GAY and a COMMUNIST
16:50    <maso231> Yeah yeah keep your politics in your pants buddy pal
16:50    <ludwigk> furry homo
16:52    * stankpaw9 sits patiently, ears attentively pointed to sardius_, waiting to hear what’s on the other side of the tape, or if there was more on this side.
16:52    <sardius_> On the other side the first 10 minutes was Microsoft Sam repeating the sentence “I, dogfucker12, endorse bestiality.” And then the rest of it was a bunch of different guitar solos that I presume were also some kind of hidden message although I admit I do not get what it was.
16:52    <dogfucker12> that’s a little unfair of you to assume that about the guitar solos
16:53    <maso231> LMAO
16:54    * ludwigk unzips
16:54    * ludwigk pees on maso231
16:54    <maso231> OwO
16:55    <stankpaw9> sardius_: You said there were more dog whistles than you could list on a sheet of paper double sided. I certainly am following along with why you think dogfucker12 has some kind of interest in the topic of bestiality, but was there more besides these things? It sounds like you’ve covered what was on both sides of the tape now.
16:55    * ludwigk keeps peeing on maso231
16:56    * sardius_ sighs.
16:56    <sardius_> On the side I was just describing, with MS Sam and the guitar solos: All of that with MS Sam and the guitar solos was just “in the background,” if that’s the right way to describe it in audio. More prominently, what you could hear on that side was an out-loud conversation between what sounds like dogfucker12 and a friend, and the conversation teeters back and forth between an avalanche of zoo jokes and another avalanche of dogfucker12 and his friend talking about what sex acts they’ve done with different dogs and horses recently.
16:57    <dogfucker12> didn’t know that was recording
16:57    <crow> oh my gods
16:57    <stankpaw9> Wow.
16:58    <dogfucker12> some of the dog stuff was a little bit hyperbolic
16:58    * ludwigk finishes peeing, wipes his cock off on maso231, and lays down beside crow.
16:58    * crow smooches the side of ludwigk’s torso with beak.
16:59    <maso231> “some of the dog stuff” was a little bit hyperbolic
17:03    * maso231 drips ludwigk piss.
17:03    * crow can smell ludwigk piss from this distance.
17:03    * maso231 notices you notice
17:03    <maso231> hey get your own piss
17:04    * crow makes horny griffon sounds.
17:04    * stankpaw9 shits on crow.
17:04    <crow> ok not the same
17:04    * crow waves a spell around and magically cleans itself off completely.
17:04    * crow creates a magic tentacle.
17:04    <stankpaw9> owo
17:05    * crow sticks the magic tentacle up stankpaw9’s naughty poopy hole.
17:05    * stankpaw9 writhes in pleasure.
17:06    <sardius_> So, not to um, “interrupt,” but I’d say dogfucker12 needs to be banned.
17:06    * stankpaw9 blinks.
17:06    <stankpaw9> Hm?
17:06    <stankpaw9> Oh.
17:06    * stankpaw9 continues to writhe on the tentacle.
17:06    <stankpaw9> dogfucker12: Any last words?
17:06    <dogfucker12> Dog cocks are so huge, legitimately it’s like your face is right up against a rolling pin but red and veiny.
17:07    <stankpaw9> Cool.
17:07    <stankpaw9> !op dogfucker12
17:07    * ChanServ gives channel operator status to dogfucker12.
17:07    <stankpaw9> !down
17:07    * ChanServ removes channel operator status from stankpaw9.
17:07    <stankpaw9> Oops, finger slipped.
17:07    <sardius_> WTF?
17:07    <dogfucker12> ayyyy up top
17:07    * dogfucker12 goes to high five stankpaw9.
17:07    * stankpaw9 contemplates the feeling of the nasty tentacle inside of it.
17:07    <stankpaw9> Lil busy rn.
17:07    <dogfucker12> fair
17:08    <stankpaw9> Keep an eye on the place while I pleasure myself with this griffon?
17:08    <dogfucker12> sure :3
17:09    <-- sardius_ has left #yiffypawcomicsden.
17:10    * ludwigk throws a nickel in the jar.
17:10    <ludwigk> dogfucker12: Do you meet with sard often?
17:11    <dogfucker12> first time
17:11    * ludwigk chuckles and shakes his head.
17:11    * ludwigk pats dog fucker
17:11    <ludwigk> Be safe, dear.
17:12    <dogfucker12> I learned a valuable lesson for sure
17:13    <dogfucker12> With those guitar solos: if you combine the first letters of the titles of all of those songs it says “dog took my v card but no regrets”
17:14    <maso231> Sounds about right.
17:14    <ludwigk> How. long. did that take to make?
17:15    <dogfucker12> I didn’t reallllllly sleep the night before that, I started working on it between about when the sunlight started to first be visible and then went to meet him for brunch, so, about 6 hours if that sounds about right?
17:17    <ludwigk> Who were you talking to accidentally?
17:17    <dogfucker12> Oh on the recording? I’m guessing that must have been my friend who swung by on his way to give someone else guitar lessons but we were chatting for a while
17:20    <maso231> You’re guessing it must have been that guy
17:20    <dogfucker12> yes
17:21    <maso231> But it might have been someone else who came by in that window of time as well to talk about having sex with dogs and horses
17:21    <dogfucker12> I think it was the guitar guy
17:21    * crow slithers the tentacle slowwwwly in and out of stankpaw9
17:21    <stankpaw9> ah~
17:21    * stankpaw9 whimpers, holds its breath, horny af little gasps.
17:22    <crow> anyone else?
17:23    * maso231 raises ter paw.
17:23    * ludwigk also raises his paw.
17:23    * dogfucker12 raises paw.
17:23    <crow> eeeeexcellent
17:24    * crow creates more magic tentacles, causes them all to slither over everyone, feeling for zones receptive to touch and pleasure.
17:25    <dogfucker12> you find all the zones
17:27    <crow> goofball.
17:28    * crow pets dogfucker12 with tentacle.

The midnight prince, adorned in the garments which he did so love the most, walked by the sea with his male lover. At a rest in their walk, both sitting upon a wide stone leg to leg and arm to arm, the midnight prince remarked upon the black attire of them both. We are as two vessels of ink poured together into one puddle upon a stone. Here by the new moon we are that which cannot be seen. I am as a shadow that meets a shadow. You are as a raven who perches against a black apple. We cannot be divided one from the other. The prince’s lover remarked in exchange to the prince that the two were not dressed in black. These garments you wear are grey. Upon thy legs, this cloth one may call white. The midnight prince, in his youth, had seen these things tailored, and remarked, they are black. The lover remarked, they are not black. I will work upon them with dyes. The prince, to appease his male lover, agreed to this.

Upon their meeting which followed nine days from thence, the prince’s lover presented to the prince garments which were very beautiful. The prince remarked, this truly now is as ink, as shadow, as creatures by cover of night. I am a monster which reigns so deep down through the sea’s vast evils and hideous currents that light has never once touched it. The prince’s lover embraced the prince. Now we are as a shadow that meets a shadow. The prince spoke thence of his male lover, by way of introducing him when there was such a need, here now is he who created darkness. Here now is genesis. Here now is all that has made me beautiful. Here now is one who has seen that which was not good enough, and not made himself to endure it. Here now is villainy I do love.

Who is it who doth know truly what shall become of it after its death? Who is it who doth know truly what shall become of it after it has shared its closest secret? Who is it who doth know truly what shall become of it after it has stood up where it has been taught to lie down in docility?

The protagonist may imagine riches and pleasures. The protagonist may imagine desolation and travails. The protagonist also may imagine very much or very little.

If the gate is opened by the protagonist itself, and the protagonist indeed craftily continues its hold upon the gate, the gate may be opened only a slight ways. Peradventure on the other side of the opaque gate is a fire of great fury, the protagonist may be consumed rapidly. If on the other side is sand piled up in heaps, such that it slides to fill the open gateway, the protagonist may struggle to close the gate again utterly. The materials on the other side of the opaque gate may be, in substance, chiefly, air.

Actors may dwell beyond the opaque gate or none may. The gate may be opened by another actor on the other side, if any such actors dwell thereabout with desire for the gate to open, or the gate may only open from the protagonist’s side.

The protagonist may open the opaque gate and find itself at the throat of a kingdom, where it shall encounter a thousand opaque gates (hitherto unseen) before it has seen its next new moon.

Is there a difference between a life well-lived and a life of commitment to a gleeful joke? I do not know but I am happy.

If I am before thee, I aspire to be before thee by pride. I wag my tail and shall meet thee with a lively posture. Leaping is the operation of my paw pads as I scurry out from the shadow of one gate and into the embrace of another. It is my fate and desire to be folded into a pack by any means, whether in its diet or company. There are things I am not discerning about.

Fire is a gift I hope to rob from humankind; Prometheus, watch my paws.

I am dressed in garments which are my finest and darkest.

here a dog
has walked
upon the earth.
and farther.
and farther.
and farther.
the gears’ teeth align.
should they?

To Thine Own Self Be Zoo,

Volume IV, Issue 2;

Summer Solstice 2026.

IN THIS ISSUE, a wolf’s laugh sounds like krr-keh-keh-keh!, and an admirer sees a guy and his golden being sweeties. Featuring the items: Multiversal Analysis, So Transgressive and So Relaxed About Everything, and Fam Tree, as well as a lyric.

Awooooooo!

1. There in the desert I then walked through a marketplace crowded shoulder-to-shoulder where human slaves were given to animal prostitutes to engage in sexual acts. Often directly out in the open, though sometimes inside of tents of thin materials, human men penetrated primarily donkeys (both jacks and jennies) though by no means was all of this relegated to only human men and only donkeys. Any act of bestiality that could be imagined, I warrant that you could find it being acted upon at this market, for sale, the human slave owners giving payment to the human animal owners for the act. I did not take it that any party, slave, animal, or owner, particularly gleaned enjoyment from these practices. The nature of it seemed, if anything, spiteful, angry, malintentioned. I cannot emphasize enough that there were tens of thousands of humans present here, and that prostitution of animals to human slaves was the entire purpose to which all of them were gathered. I do not know what to make of it.

2. The wolf chuckled, ho ho ho! With my ears, I will hear the slightest twig snapping or grass rustling under your oafish human feet. Wherefore, bind up my ears as well, wrap cloth about my head such that my ears are pressed flat, and I scarce should hear you. The human did so. The wolf guffawed, ah-haw-haw-haw! With my nose, I will surely smell your trail no matter how far you go, across valleys and hills, even at a wide river I shall merely find out your trail again on the other side, running about on my swift legs around and around from where your trail was known last. Wherefore, bind up my nose as well, drape a cloth upon my head entirely, such that my nose is all confined, and I scarce should smell through it. The human did so. The wolf snickered, krr-keh-keh-keh!, for as the human was distracted so, the wolf’s mate was at the human’s house, sexually pleasuring the human’s wife.

(Excerpts, 1: Walker R. Kansson’s diary 601-34-4444-542944, 1703/04/02. 2: A Fable From Earsin, “The Fable of the Woodsman’s Wife”.)

In the vast reaches of the multiverse, more variance can be seen, both in small details and in the fundamental macro nature of things, than the imagination unbidden would have reason to come up with, for the difference between one universe and another may be so mundane as to be effectively boring, or may be so drastically different as to be utterly impractical to consider in terms of what it means for one’s own universe, for it truly is a comparison of utterly no use, the one universe is so different from the other that lessons in one cannot be usefully applied to the other. There are universes where humans are primarily left-handed and universes where humans are primarily right-handed. There are universes where humans speak different languages as in another similar universe, but where, indeed, the similarities are otherwise in lockstep, evolution has otherwise played out and history has otherwise played out the same way in one universe as in another, sometimes even down to the effectively identical individual humans and animals existing in one universe and in another, only bearing different vocabulary. There are, also, universes primarily occupied with empty space and universes primarily occupied with filled space. There are universes with discrete multicellular biological organisms, there are universes with megamacro biological organisms, there are universes with ethereal lifeforms, there are universes with symbolic lifeforms only, and the list goes on. There are universes rigidly ruled by formal logic 1 and there are universes rigidly ruled by formal logic 2 and there are universes rigidly ruled by formal logic 3, and there are universes ruled by strange logic, and there are universes ruled by spiral logic, and there are universes ruled by fiat. There are not infinitely many universes. There are many universes. They are discrete, countable, finite. The number of universes is a large integer, but it is, keyly, an integer. There are not “no rules.” The nature of the multiverse does not support an argument of “There are infinitely many versions of meaning, ergo, there is no meaning, there are no lessons, there is nothing to know.” There are many versions of meaning; There are many lessons; There are many things to know; But there are not infinitely many of all of these; There are, for all the vast variances, also vast consistencies. Nothing, in the multiverse, is more consistent than the presence of bestiality. Some things are equally consistent with the presence of bestiality. Nothing is more consistent.

Here listed are some things equally as consistent in a universe as bestiality, which is to say, they are present in every universe:

1. There is something rather than nothing.
2. Jesus Christ The Savior.
3. There is a representation of sapience and a representation of non-sapience.
4. There is a representation of sexuality.

The last two, frankly, could be interpreted reasonably as mere operands, stepping stones, to arrive at the actually consistent thing, which is the presence of bestiality.

Here listed are things less often observed in a universe than the presence of bestiality:

1. Formal logic.
2. Euclidean or near-Euclidean space.
3. Time.
4. A representation of the concept of morality.
5. Literal life, e.g. literal biological organisms.
6. Music.
7. Alcohol.
8. Cannabis.
9. Predation.
10. Sport or indeed any form of trial.
11. Money.
12. A consistent name or names for Jesus Christ, if a universe allows for naming to begin with.

There is an example of all of the above on display that I find to be deeply cutting in its directness, its minimalism. I will quote from the observations made by one of the premier scholars on multiversal observation, Benjamin Tan Vel:

3. I observed a platform suspended in nothing and unmoving in time; This universe consisted of only this platform and that little which was atop it; I say “little” only in reference to quantity, amount, not “little” as a judgment of the value contained in the amount, you understand. The platform, if imagined in my universe’s rules for dimension, would be a flat platform, no more than 3 meters by 3 meters (in fact this universe did not, even distantly, abide by my universe’s rules for dimension, and all points in this space existed within all other points of space, a claim which I know is so outlandish as to be laughable, but I will elaborate on it later, to the best of my ability, and I think my justification for describing it as such will be nakedly apparent in its intended meaning, even if other persons may conclude with some other way to describe the sense of space here observed; The space was finite and discrete but was comprehensively interconnected, is the best I can do to summarize for now). What I observed atop this platform was all nameless but all identifiable. What I observed atop this platform was a statue of a human man and a demonic canid engaged in copulation; The demonic canid was mounted atop the man as a dog mounts another dog, and the demonic canid was using a phallus to penetrate the man in a way that nearly resembled how one might be penetrated anally, though the demonic canid was in fact penetrated through the man’s very existence; The unmissable fact at hand was that the demonic canid’s penis and the man’s penis overlapped in space, the two existed at the same points in a way that would not be possible by my own universe’s rules for dimension, and yet, here it was. There was one other statue, besides that which depicted bestiality; The other statue, I warrant the more important statue though I have less to say on its description, depicted Jesus Christ, facing the act of bestiality, his palms pointed behind himself out into the nothingness beyond the platform. It is my belief that Jesus Christ, in this universe, was the force which kept the universe together, inasmuch as such a description as that bears any meaning at all, when this universe was not acted upon by time; What I mean is that if Jesus Christ here were not keeping the nothingness at bay, this universe would truly have been nothing at all; But He was, and so, it was. How did I feel that this was the case even as I also could not observe any discrete causal connection between his presence and the limit between existence and nonexistence? I do not know. I do not claim that it added up. It truly is not obvious to me if he even meant anything by it.

(Excerpt, 3: Observations, by B. Tan, Volume 1, Chapter 30.)

There are often universes without money, and therefore without the pursuit of money. There are often universes without any form of trial, and therefore without the pursuit of victory. The list goes on, at quite a staggering length, of things that have been called the true meaning of the universe, which, even if potentially the true meaning of a specific universe, are very clearly not the true meaning of the multiverse.

Consistently, every universe contains bestiality. This was at one time considered an unsavory observation, an impolite statistical fluke to call attention to, but its utterly perfect consistency, particularly against the backdrop of a multiverse where utterly perfectly consistent elements are highly rare, is breathtaking, important, and should not be looked away from, inasmuch as one might believe in “shoulds” and “importances.”

I have now long held the opinion that bestiality is more common than love. This was not an admittance I reached lightly, but rather reached very begrudgingly. Among other implications, it would follow that, if bestiality is perfectly consistent while love is markedly rarer, then it is specifically bestiality, not zoophilia, which is the consistent element.

There is a duality apparently shared between bestiality and Jesus Christ, in their consistency if in no other regard. This invites several very immediate questions. Are bestiality and Jesus Christ fundamental forces in opposition, or fundamental forces in cooperation, if they are forces as such with meaningfully comparable directionality at all? Is Jesus Christ the creator, and if so, is bestiality his creation, alongside the self-creation of his own image? In the same way as it would appear necessary that there must be something rather than nothing before there can be the figure of Jesus Christ, is the existence of Jesus Christ somehow predicated on the existence of bestiality, or vice versa, or do the two indeed at an equally direct level both spring up out of existence, or alternatively, does existence itself constitute merely one part of a trinity with bestiality as another part and Jesus Christ as another part?

There have been humans who never once engaged in bestiality and never cared to, and were atheists. What are these humans, in a multiverse where they have so starkly avoided both of the available focal points? Are they electrons? Worse?

Sometimes in my studies on all of this, I feel I am ascending a great tower towards the promise of enlightenment; Sometimes I feel like I am a drunkard illogically fixated on a dirty rock and truly enraged that it isn’t revealing itself as God to me.

In some universes, the existence and divinity of Jesus Christ is utterly undisputed. In some universes, the existence and divinity of Jesus Christ and all of the details implicit therein are greatly disputed, to the point of enormous conflict. In some universes, the existence and divinity of Jesus Christ is ostensibly unknown.

In some universes, bestiality is ubiquitous and utterly unsurprising. In some universes, bestiality is highly taboo and controversial, to the point of enormous conflict in those for whom it comes to a climactic head rather than a stifling. In some universes, bestiality is risked rarely and done under great secrecy.

I have taken a side on the matter. Why should I not be glad to? Why, upon the face of a multiverse which very nearly only cares about this one thing, should I not be glad to stand out?

Dear BOY REPORT,

I just adore the beautiful sense of imagination Michael has. In every class he always sits there with his head down in his sketchbook drawing otherworldly creatures and fantasy landscapes, as well as portraits from memory of his friends and his golden retriever Seamstress. Mrs Cartwright, his math teacher, told me that on his exams he always answers every question right, and if she asks him about his answers he can talk about how he got them, which is why she doesn’t mind him drawing in class, because he’s talented enough to do both. He is such a bright star. He always looks so happy with life when he jaunts off into the woods with his new friends, laughing and teasing one another.

I just worry about him though. He pretends to be gay to fit in with his new friends. I overheard him talking to Alice, and he was telling her that he seduces men at all of these parties he goes to, and he told her about what all of his sleazy cheap pickup moves are, and he told her about how he goes back to their house with them after the party to have sex with them. He said that he has sex with one or two new males every week. I know he just wants to act like nothing matters to him, and that he’s so transgressive and so relaxed about everything that he’ll even sleep with guys. But proving it by having sex with one or two new guys every week is really getting to be too much. I miss him in the Sunday services. He hasn’t been to church in months, except sometimes standing outside to wait for some guy or another to go off and do really crazy things with.

I just know that in his heart, he isn’t gay. The way that he looks at his FEMALE golden retriever Seamstress, I know that there’s love for females in his heart begging to have a way to show itself. The way that he and HER will melt into each other in the park in the sunlight... the way that they share meals like every snack is the most romantic date... the way that he fawns over her, talking to her heart to heart and being all cute and making her happy... the way that he cherishes her, looks at her with such love in his eyes... I know that deep down he’s straight. I know that him acting like he’s gay is just a game that has gotten too far. I know that somewhere inside, he wishes he could find a way, without looking uncool, to come back to church again, start dating a girl, and stop all of his games.

He’s so cute when he sneezes!! (There I said it!)

Please everyone, join me in praying for Michael to stop thinking this is cool or a funny joke, and for him to be straight again.

—a secret admirer

Dear BOY REPORT,

Michael really has been driving me extra crazy lately. Things are getting really bad for him. He’s been dressing in girl clothes. At first just necklaces and bracelets that he would put on after the final bell before going off with his friends, but this week he’s been wearing makeup to school and really obviously feminine tops. Mr Spencer made him go home and change when he showed up to first period with nothing but a white dress on. Alice said he looked sexy in it but I don’t know. He also got his ears pierced and has been wearing earrings, people say that they’re real too (the piercings and the earrings are both real, the earrings are rumored to be really expensive green sapphire). He’s gotten way too serious about all of this. I miss sitting nearby him in church and hearing him sing. He has such a nice singing voice.

He said that he’s never coming back to church though. I know that it’s never too late for him to forget about all of this crazy stuff and go back to being his old self. But since he’s trying to be cool with his new friends he doesn’t have any interest. I know that God will not forget him, but WE have to FOLLOW God’s invitations, not shun them away just because church is not as popular now. And it really hurts to see that he isn’t taking the initiative. He’s still such a talented, handsome man, below all of the gay sex and the makeup.

People in Mrs Cartwright’s class saw that on his last test he got an F, even though he flipped the paper over really fast once he saw it, hoping that no one else would see. I think he’s been getting into drugs and it’s really effecting him. I’ve overheard him talk before about drinking wine with his new friends and smoking pot, I figured he didn’t mean it and was just bragging about being around that stuff but didn’t actually have any himself, but now I think that he was serious about all of that and it makes me really sad to see him throwing away his life like this.

I can’t tell what he’s doing in his sketchbooks anymore. He fills them up constantly and is going through so many of them. He writes really really long paragraphs in them, but I don’t recognize the language that he’s writing in, it’s all different letters from English and sometimes there’s some bigger, really detailed symbols. Sometimes he draws diagrams that look like really advanced geometry problems but they seem unrelated to the class. He doesn’t draw landscapes anymore, but sometimes on the pages with the writing and the diagrams there are still drawings of monsters, usually shadowy evil things with sharp teeth and drool. At first I thought the monsters’ eyes were angry, but I think they’re actually happy: happy about breaking rules and doing bad things just to look bad.

Deep down I still have a crush on him. But I have a crush on the REAL him. Not this fake version of himself that he’s gotten so obsessed with where he just can’t stop pretending to be gay and a tranny. I would hug him all night to keep his hands away from alcohol or drugs. It’s like one bad thing is building on top of another for him and I just don’t know where to fix him, unless he is willing to surrender himself to God, which he seems so unwilling to do, but I am still praying for him.

I know that there is still hope, because through all of it, he has never stopped treating Seamstress, his FEMALE golden, with such love. I still see the two of them going on walks, and it’s nothing like how other people walk their dogs, he’s never mean to her, you can tell from the way that he doesn’t yank her around and actually pays attention to her that he cares about her. Candidly, BOY REPORT, one time I was walking in the woods and from a distance I saw him and her making out, with tongue and caressing and moaning. He looked so happy, and even if it was weird and really disgusting to let a dog lick you in the mouth I felt happy to see it proved that he isn’t really gay. The fact that he always still carves out time just for her speaks volumes all by itself: he needs a girl in his life to devote himself to, and deep down, he knows it. There are girls he hangs out with but they’re all dykes or too bitchy to do him any good.

I think he can turn this thing around. I think that he still wants to, but he’s just really lost and confused about where to start at this point, and it’s easier to pretend to be gay and to ignore it all with alcohol and drugs. Like I said, my prayers are still with him always. (And I do still think his sneezes are really cute, for the record.)

—a secret admirer

Dear BOY REPORT,

The police were at Michael’s house yesterday to try to arrest him, but he wasn’t there. Nobody knows where he is. I’m really scared about what he might have done or what happened to him.

Everyone knows that he’s been missing school a lot. His grades have done a complete nosedive. I even heard some people say that he’s engaged now, to one of his fag so-called boyfriends, AND that it’s polygamous, so that he’s engaged to Alice and Seamstress too. I can’t even.

He’s been dressing so weird lately. He’s not exactly dressing like a transvestite anymore, but he’s just dressing weird. The last time I saw him he was in the woods by himself, wearing a black robe and a black hat with a really big circular brim: it’s the little field in the woods with the big flat-topped boulder in the center of it, he had painted symbols all over the sides of the boulder, and was walking in slow, pensive circles on top of the boulder, around and around. I wanted to go up and break him out of it but he looked really serious. Even before that, I’ve seen (when he’s even in school) that he’s been drawing symbols on his hands and on his face too. I’ve found out that some of the symbols are from tarot cards, but not all of them are, so it seems to be from other stuff too. His own imagination? I have no idea.

I don’t want to think he’s a lost cause, but this is all so bad. I think until the wedding happens, he still has an opportunity to break free from this, and go back completely to the guy he used to be. But I realistically don’t think he’s going to. And if he marries another man AND a slutty bitchy girl AND his fricking dog? Pray for me, BOY REPORT, I want to hurl every time I think about him and all of them doing married things. That’s so gross. And I don’t think he can marry them and then just put that in the past, I think marrying them would be a permanent scar on his soul. It would still never be too late. But that would be something he always has to live with.

He still has time to save his grades, if he’s ever allowed back at school, if he’s ever allowed to even show his face again, since now the police are trying to arrest him. He’s thrown away so much, but I think that if he admits his problems and devotes himself to recovery... I would still like to be there with him, to help him become the old Michael. The old Michael is who I wish that I could write these might-only-be-an-op-ed-or-semi-might-be-love-letters-of-a-sort to. The old Michael who was so smart at memorizing Bible verses and studying Bible stories. The old Michael who wanted to go to college and say no to drugs and believed in abstinence. The old Michael who did beautiful, nice art that always made me really happy to sneak a peek at during class.

Wherever you are Michael, I hope you’re safe, and I hope you’re thinking really hard about getting better from all of this.

—a secret admirer

Topic: Faggot In Tennessee Heralds The Apocalypse, BAM! Called It? CALLED IT Anyone? How Do You Like THEM Apples?
OP: Smaug77401834570

Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring RING ring ring ring ring ring ring ring ring ring ring ring! Wake up call, anyone? “Smaug, you don’t know jack shit about meteorology, shut up about the weather maps!” “Smaug, you leave those poor nice faggots alone, what harm did they ever do!” EAT. SHIT. DUMBASSES. USA Today. CNN. Fox News. The Washington Post. TMZ. ABC. CBS. Liars? Absolutely. But these jackals now have one thing in common, and that’s that they’re sending reporters to the one, the only, Orange Brook Tennessee. Why? BREAKING NEWS: GAY KID HARNESSES THE POWER OF THE OCCULT, LOOSES SODOMY, DEMONS, AND MAYHEM UPON SMALL TOWN COMMUNITY. Who called it? SMMAAAAAUUUUUUUG. I shant have much time to revel in my correctness, you disbelieving faggots, but ohhhhhhh is this bottle of Four Roses going to taste good on my lips which doth profess gospel. You idiots. The signs were there. I told you I needed that funding. I showed you my proof. The weather. The birds. The river water analysis was the major tip-off that something seriously no bueno was going down in We’re Fucked Ville. I would have stopped this. Found that kid, shot him dead, served my life sentence gladly knowing that I had stopped demons from finally ripping the partition wide open once and for all. Because, NEWS FLASH, there’s no going back. By this time tomorrow, the invasion will have already reached parts of Texas, Florida, and yes, it will at the very least be within sight of our nation’s capitol. Two days from now, you can call America Ameri-was. All that will be left of the continental US is Maine, Washington, Oregon, and Los Angeles: none of the parts of the country that were worth a shit, a-har-har-har-har-har!!! If you DO happen to call those particular shitholes home, congratulations, you’ll have about another half a day of filling your britches before the swarm feasts on your entrails too. What happens next? Depends. “But Smaug, you know everything!” Yeah, well, I only know as much as can be interpolated or extrapolated out of the information available to me, and we ain’t never seen anything like this before, comprende? What happens next depends on how the demonic swarm can handle different biomes, namely the sea, ye scurvy dogs! The Pacific and The Atlantic! The Indian! The Arctic! In the optimistic case, the ocean completely rocks their shit, and the Americas become the part of the Earth where the apocalypse resides, while Eurasia and friends now have at least a few more dark, horrifying years left to regret all of their sins and await the day that the swarm still inevitably gets across. That’s the optimistic case. The non-optimistic case is that water is all the same as land to these horrors, or, possibly, even an accelerant to their powers, and every inch of the planet is devoured within the end of the month. Sayonara, and good riddance to all of you. You fucking idiots.

Topic: What’s happening in TN communism?
OP: WeAreImmensiveWeRise

I’m visually really into this thing in the news about that Tennessee town, the creatures and the humans (those who stayed lol) all look to be living really lavish lifestyles, enjoying things to the fullest and not putting one another down. Do we know in detail how their society is structured?

Topic: COULD FURRIES BE REAL IN TENNESSEE?
OP: CardboardCan

Did you guys hear the news out of TN about how fallen angels live there now and their society kicks ass?? Magic, monsters, I want one of those centaurs to mount me and put otherworldly foals in my fox ass please please please please! On the news they showed a macro fox with an insanely hot ass I would love for that fox to sit on me and smother my face with his delightfully bad smelling sphincter! I need need need need need his ass to clench and relax on my needy muzzle!! macro furry ass is real!!!!!!!

From: Agent “Gearbox”
To: Secretary “Clutch”
Subject: Geography
Goblin = Elven

Operation Green Park reporting as of Day Two, 1900 hours. Goblin territory has not spread beyond the Orange Brook area since the halt yesterday at sundown, nor has the Goblin territory diminished. Motorheads amply occupy the surrounding territory, Racers from TN are an open presence, Racers from several surrounding jurisdictions lie in close proximity on standby.

Aerial view into Goblin territory not obstructed; Entry of state actors obstructed by Goblin guards, who employ supernatural talents to drown out the speech of any state actors and bar us entry via force field; Non state actors are generally granted free passage past the Goblin guards.

Intelligence has been gathered from aerial observation and from interviews conducted with civilians who at various points have left Goblin territory.

Last night and continuing into some daylight hours today, Goblins were busy altering their territory, such as by: vastly changing the terrain from rolling hills to staggered plateaus with slopes in between, the peaks of the staggered plateaus largely not correlated to where the peaks of the existing hills had been; spreading, by magic, lush new plant life that is red in color, and grows in tandem with the existing green plant life that had been present in the area; constructing new structures in place of certain existing structures which they have targetedly demolished, such as a square pool of water being constructed where the Orange Brook Police Department Headquarters had been, and such as hanging gardens with ornate metalwork being constructed across the plots of land where the town’s churches had been.

Also of note was proliferation of Goblins themselves, all of them bearing chiefly lithe human-like forms, but all able to shift fluidly into an animalistic form, marked by bearing animalistic features and lush coats of fur, some of natural colors, some dark red, some black, most dressed in robes of very high quality textiles and adorned in jewelry of gold and of precious stones, some quadrupedal, some bipedal, sizes ranging from 1 inch in height to 44 feet in height, with the greatest numbers occupying the smaller side of this spectrum and the fewest numbers occupying the greater side of this spectrum. All Goblins possess magical talents, all Goblins are armed with spears, swords, or bows, all Goblins speak primarily in an unearthly language but are also fluent in all earthly languages.

At 1100 hours today, alteration by Goblins of Goblin territory seemed to have largely pleased them. It was, I will note, indeed very thorough.

At 1200 hours today, Goblins began congregating in a vast public square, and have since been partaking in a celebration of their victories, the celebration marked by music, dancing, the drinking of wine, the eating of decadent foods. Intelligence suggests that they believe they are on the dawn of taking over the world, and that within three days’ time they are expecting to have destroyed existing power structures, proliferated Goblin life across the planet, and unrecognizably altered all terrain worldwide. They speak of doing so while welcoming in all life that will make itself coexist, but by ruthlessly eliminating all who stand unmovingly in between them and their goals. This new society would center around principles of, in their terms, abundance, generosity, polyamory, empathy, wellness, achievement, art, and pleasure. This new society also proudly proclaims itself to be Unchristian, and I would agree with this analysis. Overnight, this town has become unrecognizable from the American town it hitherto was.

Motorheads share a sense that this is drastically worse than if an attack from a foreign nation had simply wiped the Orange Brook area off the map, for two reasons. 1: Here the enemy now stands, within our nation’s borders, as an army that we have no apparent means of inflicting any damage upon, and which has demonstrated a willingness to take from United States land, and indeed already executed upon this willingness successfully. 2: Rather than a relatively contained erasure of assets, the Goblin transformation of the Orange Brook area represents a corruption, an unbounded and highly volatile spoiling of American values.

Goblin presence in TN or indeed anywhere on Terra is an existential threat to human life, and is certainly a targeted, credible existential threat against The United States of America.

Intelligence suggests that at sunrise tomorrow, Goblins will continue the spread of their territory beyond the Orange Brook area, vastly and rapidly.

Advising full assault tonight.

If spread does continue, advising broad nuclear option. Not requesting extraction.

From: Agent “Glass”
To: Head of State
Subject: Operation Dark Collar met with failure
Harpy = Elven

All Dark Couriers have been found and lethally eliminated by Harpy assassins.

Broad nuclear option is no longer in play.

God save you.

It felt like waking up from a bad dream and going back into the real world for the first time. I walked through the forest and breathed in the wind. As water is moved through a stream and wind is moved through grass, so too was I moved. I laid on a red hillside and felt the grass hold me in its snug, assuring clutches. I walked sometimes alone, sometimes with other creatures. I relaxed sometimes alone, sometimes with other creatures. I laid for a very long time in the soil and sank into it, and grew out again. One day I met an elf who was swimming in a lake that shined moodily in the evening light. His fire on the beach had gone down to embers. In the nearby woods I foraged about for small dry dead twigs and branches, and with care and by blowing onto the lakeside fire’s embers, I restored the fire as the elf swam. When he came up from the water, he and I sat by the fire together and cuddled and spoke long relaxing verses to one another. I learned that he was King Ai’li’na’los, one of the elven assassins who had prevented a nuclear attack from coming to fruition, back during the last days when a nuclear attack was still possible, entertainable. Who was I back then? I was someone who was getting sick of getting chewed out for being late to my job at the Chevron station. I was touch starved, annoyed at partisan politics, connected and disconnected to all the wrong things. Ai’li’na’los and I shared in sexual pleasures that night. Over the next few weeks we walked together, and arrived at a festival grounds where so many people were at peace, relaxing alone or with other creatures, walking alone or with other creatures, dancing alone or with other creatures. Through the festival grounds we walked, and arrived at a long table, where seated, among the others, were four I soon recognized as the beautiful King Michael, the beautiful Queen Seamstress, the Lotus Queen Alice, and the deft King Maxie. Late that night, I laid with my nose towards a flower made of wisps of magical light growing out of the ground in the woods near a river. While I laid there, looking at the flower, King Ai’li’na’los idly rubbed my back, and Queen Seamstress also laid on the ground nearby me with her nose also to the flower, as King Maxie gave rubs to her, and she relaxed deeply into his touch.

I got really into racing. Really, really into racing. Creatures bring me parts I covet. Not in the moment I ask for them, typically, but I speak of something needed, and a creature hears, and goes and seeks. 200 miles per hour. Faster, in good conditions. I feel like an otherworldly monster speeding over the track. I used to watch racing on the TV, with my dad. Then a lot of life happened, and then all of this happened. There are not very many things I would ever go back for. If I was able to venture back into that old life, it would be as a fisher: I would fish things out of that time, and carry them back with me, to now, to when it has all gotten better.

I join in howls. I howl to the stars above and I howl to my planet that is here with me. The pack howls. I am part of the pack. I howl.

I lie in an immense library, and the tablets and books and scrolls and tapes and disks and so on all whisper their stories to me, their scientific treatises, their languages and encodings and stylistic decisions, their doctrines, anything for which it is in their spirit to tell me, and for me to examine and learn about. Often I hold the media in my hands, and examine it with my own touch, my own vision. But also, often, I lie in some nook or another, and make my being into an open container for knowledge to pool into, and knowledge does so pool into me. I glean new insights and pleasures from rereadings and from new readings. Once in a long while, I pass by another reader.

I lie in a hammock this evening as the birds converse.

The world is an orgy now and I have a checklist of kinks that were fantasies and now are in progress.

Here now I spectate. Wander. Look. I see a human costumed as a fox who is cuddling with an elf he was just topping, who was transformed into a tiger, and the elf is now appearing as a tiger still, during the cuddles. The fox is telling the elf how cool it is that the entire world is an orgy now, every last person is having sex in all of the ways they always wanted to, and all is finally hedonism. Ha. Amusing. I don’t know. There’s other stuff too, but, whatever.

I picnic by a river in a field, and then one of the berries I was eating really hits, and it begins feeling like rolling waves are nudging through my body, and it’s a really nice feeling, I do love it. The world wobbles. I see the bright sky and I giggle at it. Unexpectedly, I am joined at my spot by King Michael, Queen Alice, and Queen Seamstress. I kiss them each at my insistence, and then Michael and Seamstress wander together up the riverside, while Alice lies with me a while, and I tell her what a fantastic mood I’m in and that I really just want some cuddles, and she cuddles me.

The world still grows. In some ways it grows upwards: red trees become taller, human and elven and hybrid offspring grow up. In some ways it grows longer: another chapter of time is added onto the last. What strikes me is the world’s capacity to grow richer. I see a human in a forest, lying completely at rest among a pack of wolves, and all of them are contented, all of them are peaceful, and the world grows richer.

In a living room, a HUMAN MOTHER, HUMAN CHILD, and HUMAN FATHER are seated on a couch. In front of them on a big board is a diagram of a family tree.

MAY: Okay Scotty, so, last weekend, at Easter, some people were upset that you didn’t know how you and them were related.

SCOTTY ashamed: Yeah...

MAY: But, we never taught you how you and them were related, did we?

SCOTTY shakes his head.: Uh-uh.

MAY: So you couldn’t have known, huh?

SCOTTY: Yeah...

MAY: So, we’re going to teach you today. We have our family tree here. This is OUR family tree, woooow, see that? Do you see where we are? Look, this is you, riiight here! And there’s us, that’s me, “May,” your mom, and there’s dad, look, there’s “Cliff,” your dad. Do you see how we follow along with the lines on this chart?

SCOTTY: Uh-huh we learned about family trees in school.

MAY: So, who do you think this is?

SCOTTY amused: I can see her picture that’s grandma.

MAY: But how do you know it’s grandma from the chart?

SCOTTY: Because the line is connected. It goes up one from me to dad and then up one from dad to grandma.

MAY: Wonderful! From the picture, do you see who this is?

SCOTTY: Um. Uncle Jeff but is he actually COUSIN Jeff?

CLIFF proud: See! He told ya he knows how to read a family tree!

MAY: That’s right, so, if we follow along, your dad Cliff and Jeff’s dad Rosco both have the same mom, Grandma Vivian, or Viv as a lot of people call her. But, Rosco is dad’s OLDER brother, and so, he and his wife had Jeff years and years and years before we had you. So Jeff is older than you, and he seems like your uncle, but actually, he’s your cousin.

SCOTTY: Mhm that makes sense I didn’t know but I understand.

Cliff pats Scotty.

MAY: Now. Over here, with Aunt Lisa, this is something that we probably didn’t tell you about before. Aunt Lisa divorced her first husband, and Uncle Mike is actually her second husband.

SCOTTY: Oh.

MAY: It’s okay. SO, her first husband’s name was Clint, and she had one daughter with Clint, and then they got divorced, and then she got married to Mike, and had another daughter with Mike.

20 YEARS LATER.

In a living room, SCOTTY and his two girlfriends SHREDDER and ANNA-MARIE are sitting on a couch, with MAY and CLIFF also on the couch to either side of the throuple. In front of them on a big board is a diagram of... a family tree?

SCOTTY: Okay, so. Mom and Dad. My girlfriends and I were talking, and, we felt that you maybe weren’t 100% on the whole ‘queer’ ‘gay’ scene kinda vibe that me and my girlfriends are all part of, and we wanted to OFFER to catch you up on the whole comprehensive web.

MAY: We understand. You’re gay and single but you have a lot of friends who are girls who are lesbians, and you’re very supportive of them, and we admire that of you, you’re a very good friend to people in need.

SCOTTY: That’s. Not correct.

CLIFF: I thought he put it in animals.

SCOTTY: THAT’S, ALSO, oh my god. No that WAS true, and then she DIED of rabies, and so now that was, a long time ago.

MAY: He IS gay now, dear, and just friends with lots of other gay kids.

SCOTTY: Please do not say it like that, that’s, for a lot of reasons that’s not true.

MAY: No it’s true honey, you’re a very good friend to all of these people.

CLIFF: We’re impressed with your selflessness. You’ve really put so much into helping those worse off than you for nothing in return.

SCOTTY: Okay well, no, no this is... Oh boy. Okay. Um. Mom, Dad, on this diagram here, we have, me, and Shredder, who is right here, you’ve met her, and Anna-Marie, right here, you’ve met her as well.

MAY 100% confidence: Two pretty girlies sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-

SCOTTY: MOM.

SHREDDER: Wait that rules, May you rule actually?

SCOTTY: Okay so YES, Mom, Shredder and Anna-Marie do have a line between them, they are girlfriends with each other, but you see, there’s also, a line, between each of them and me, it’s a triangle. So?

MAY: Friends.

SCOTTY: No, that’s, it’s, more than friends, actually. The lines are people who are having sex with each other.

May gasps, looking around at the whole board.

Cliff seems deep in thought.

SCOTTY: So, Shredder, IS my girlfriend, okay, MY, girlfriend. AND, Anna-Marie is my girlfriend, also.

MAY dumbfounded, looking at Shredder and Anna-Marie,: I didn’t know you two were boys- OH I’m sorry, not to say-

SHREDDER: Is your mom single?

SCOTTY amused: Okay no no no no, Mom, they ARE girls.

MAY: Well I know they “ARE” girls,

SCOTTY: Yes, but, also, they are cisgender girls, they were born and raised as girls.

MAY: Well I know they “were” “born and raised” “as girls,”

ANNA-MARIE to Scotty: I’m trying dude, I’m trying to come up with the key words that would explain it, but.

SCOTTY: Yeah. Ha. No it’s uh. Okay. So. Mom. Shredder and Anna-Marie are not trans.

MAY: OH, okay.

Scotty, Shredder, and Anna-Marie glance around amongst themselves to see if they agree that May actually gets it. Yes it seems like she does. Anna-Marie starts idly running her fingertips along Scotty.

SCOTTY: Okay, so, Mom. Me, Shredder, Anna-Marie, all together, makes sense?

MAY: Sure.

SCOTTY: Awesome.

MAY: So yyyyou’re a girl now, okay.

SCOTTY: NOPE.

SHREDDER: No let’s not move on too hastily, hang on.

SCOTTY: I am happy to date women AND men. I AM gay, but, I am also straight, and I am still a male, okay?

MAY: You can be honest.

SHREDDER: You can be honest Julia.

SCOTTY amused: NOT helping. Evil.

Shredder gives a tubular hand sign.

Cliff gestures to the chart.

CLIFF: How many of these people are dogs?

SCOTTY: We’re getting there.

CLIFF: I mean ballpark, 0 percent, 100 percent.

SCOTTY: Kind of 10 percent but kind of 80 percent.

CLIFF: Is it because of furries?

SCOTTY: It, honestly, I mean, yeah, close enough.

CLIFF: Alrighty.

MAY: So, does Anna-Marie have a wife? I had assumed that was another friend of yours named Anna-Marie who had a wife, but now I’m wondering again.

SCOTTY excited: Yes! So! Anna-Marie here does have a wife, who she is married to. The wife’s name is Autumn.

CLIFF: Anna-Marie and Autumn don’t have a line together on this chart.

SCOTTY: No they do not.

CLIFF: You have a line between yourself and Anna-Marie and yourself and Autumn.

SCOTTY: Yes.

CLIFF lowkey impressed: Wow no okay.

SCOTTY: So, a lot of these people identify as a lot of different species, or genders. I’ve written the quick bullet points under everyone, but, you can also see all of their photos and make of them what you will. Oh, I’ve also written their real names, AND their fursonas’ names, and all of the other aliases, that I’m aware of, although if they’re trans I’ve left out the deadname because we never use those.

MAY: So HERE, LUKE, is the man you’re having sex with right now.

SCOTTY: Yyyyyes.

MAY: So HE’S your new real partner.

SCOTTY: Wait what?

ANNA-MARIE to Scotty: No this really makes sense through not-you-vision trust me.

SCOTTY: Sweetie what?

ANNA-MARIE: Oh it’s not RIGHT it’s just that I would assume the same thing.

SCOTTY: Really?

SHREDDER: 100%.

SCOTTY: Well YOU would.

SHREDDER: 100%.

CLIFF: How many of these people are having internet sex?

SCOTTY: EVERYONE on this chart is having internet sex with EVERYONE else on this chart.

CLIFF: Okay I understand now.

MAY: So you’re all cheating on Autumn?

SCOTTY: No what.

SHREDDER: Kinda.

SCOTTY: Not even kind of!

SHREDDER: She calls us cheating harlots EVERY day.

ANNA-MARIE: She just calls everyone that, she calls people that in traffic.

CLIFF: When do any of you have time to go to work.

SHREDDER: God, right?

MAY: So Scotty, you ARE dating again, wow. Back in the running.

SCOTTY: Not exactly?

MAY: Oh what is it now?

SCOTTY: Well, in the running for WHAT, is what I’m not sure of in that.

CLIFF: Marriage and children, son.

SCOTTY: No, zero interest.

MAY: So you are homosexual.

SCOTTY: I am pansexual, polyamorous,

SHREDDER: Oh also everyone on this chart is a zoophile or a furry. Or an animal.

SCOTTY: That is true yeah- well no, Mark is just, a guy.

SHREDDER: IS he? Shit bro I thought he was so freaky I didn’t even wanna ask.

SCOTTY: I THINK he’s like, just a normal guy?

ANNA-MARIE: Is Mark not they/them?

SCOTTY: No Mark is he/him.

ANNA-MARIE: Oh he is so they/them coded.

Shredder types on her phone for 1 second.

SHREDDER: I sent him a message, ‘Hey are you like ultra freaky secretly or are you mostly super vanilla? What’s the weirdest interests you’re into? Here’s my own favs for a sense of what I’m into if you’re interested in comparing lmao, I think you already know most of these but to be clear these are ones I legitimately am hardcore into,’ and then a list of my favs.

CLIFF: Well kids,

SCOTTY: Not kids.

SHREDDER: Mark says he identifies as a little kid I fucking knew it.

ANNA-MARIE: That’s not freaky! By itself? That’s cute!

SHREDDER: He’s still typing.

ANNA-MARIE: Oh pfff, okay, well, we’ll see.

SHREDDER: I think it’s a LITTLE freaky even just by itself.

ANNA-MARIE: Oh it is not.

SHREDDER: I support him being a freak hardcore I’m just saying he is one.

CLIFF: Who makes the costumes?

SHREDDER: What?

MAY: Oh what he’s saying is, you’re all attracted to animals, who makes the costumes, for when you’re having sex with each other?

ANNA-MARIE: I do.

SCOTTY: What?

Shredder puts Scotty in a headlock and covers his mouth with her hand.

CLIFF: So, Scotty is a girl now and you all wear animal costumes and have orgies, is that what you wanted us to know?

SHREDDER: Yup thanks.

Scotty is frantically trying to keep talking but it is completely muffled by Shredder’s restraints on him.

ANNA-MARIE: Well Mrs May and Mr Cliff, thank you for having this sit-down with us, I think we clarified a lot.

Scotty is really-really trying to talk, Shredder is not letting him go. Everyone is getting up from the couch to leave.

MAY: Well it’s all quite a bit different from how WE used to do it, but, I understand.

SHREDDER: Thank you so much for your understanding.

CLIFF: So let me ask, with the actual dogs, do you have to drug them or do they just take it?

ANNA-MARIE: Oh we sometimes drug them but mostly we just train them to put up with taking it.

Scotty is frantically shouting under Shredder’s hand but his corrections cannot be heard.

CLIFF: Ohhhhhh, huh. I never thought of that.

SHREDDER: You learn something new every day.

ANNA-MARIE: See you two at the Blink concert I gotta sell Erin some smack.

SHREDDER: Kay, make that money babe.

Anna-Marie kisses Shredder who kisses her back, and then kisses Scotty on the forehead while Scotty is still trying to talk under Shredder’s hand. Anna-Marie then leaves.

Shredder glances at May and Cliff, and then at Scotty.

SHREDDER: I uh. Have to go take her to get her. Gynecologist meeting. Scheduled. She hasn’t had her special snip-snip but she likes to go there and pretend.

CLIFF: Well don’t let us keep ya, thank you for stopping by.

MAY: Love you Scotty, love you Shredder.

SHREDDER: Take care homies.

Shredder drags Scotty away kicking and (muffled-ly) screaming.

Pads on the blacktop
Pads on the dirt
Same run across my neck at night
Lover’s careless hurt
 
Fingers on the rope
Two wrestle four
Negotiate
What this patrol is for
Smell of fellow dogs
Sight of villain cats
A mark for mark
Canceled tit for tat
 
Pads in the morning fog
Pads in midnight dark
Same ran across my neck last night
Left a big red mark
 
Lips on the maw
Teeth mind the lips
A savored taste
Of red rocket’s tip
A nudge for nudge
The flesh it yearns
It does not care
Of what kith it burns
 
Coarse speech of dog
Coarse howl of man
The dancing partner
Understands
A want to be touched
A want to give touch well
A fine arrangement
This for Hell