Raging Ray: A Short Story

Raging Ray

Little happened in the small town of Wag, Eastridge. Neighbors kept to themselves, and puppies played hopscotch and stickball in the middle of the cul-de-sacs. Dogs commuted to work or worked from the comfort of their homes. Pups of all ages went too their usual school lessons. There were hardly any bad eggs among the young ones.
Except for one.
"Give it to him!"
"Right in the face!"
"You call that a punch?"
Wag High School was infamous for its physical quarrels and one bad egg in particular. His name was Raymond Hillderson, a pit bull terrier of 15, and he had been at war with a Labrador named Bentley. Bentley had been poking him like a tiger since the start of the school year and he'd had enough with it. It was either let Bentley have it or do something about it. In this case, Ray was no pushover.
The teen pups surrounded Ray and Bentley, hooting and howling for whoever they wanted to win the fight. The commotion attracted dogs from neighboring homes and eventually a cop car drove up to the scene.
When the pups saw this, they all scattered like ants after their farm had toppled over and fell to the ground. Only Ray and Bentley remained, and they were both greeted with cuffs on their paws and access to the backseat of the cop car.
The clock ticked and ticked. Ray sat miserably in that police station until he was ready to be retrieved. That is, to be retrieved, barked at, taken a wooden spoon to the ass, and sent on his way to his room. For Ray, this was a routine. He'd grown numb to the barking and the pain of the wooden spoon on his fur. Still, he would do it all again. Why? That was beyond everyone who knew him.
It was a cool Sunday evening in Wag. Ray, his mom Sunshine, and her boyfriend Koda, were helping themselves to some chicken and kibble for dinner. It had only been two days since Ray's arrest, and he dared not to speak of it, especially in front of Koda.
But, of course, Koda was a stern, hard Siberian husky, who didn't shy away from addressing the issue at hand.
"Pretty soon," he told Ray, "you're gonna end up sharing the same shower with pups you don't know."
Ray put his head down and pinched the bridge of his snout. "Not this again."
"Well, you're gonna hear it," Koda boomed. "None of this fighting bullshit is gonna get you anywhere. I'm tired of your mother and me picking you up at the station ever I've you start something. You think that's fair to us, Raymond? Huh?"
Ray growled. This conversation was had every time he was arrested for fighting in school. He torn between whether to tell Koda that it was self defense or a way to release his years-old anger towards life in general.
"Bentley kept looking for it," Ray finally came up with.
Koda slammed his paw on the table and Sunshine jumped with a start. "You couldn't talk to someone, could you? You just had to be a dickhead and use your paws to try and solve the situation."
"Instead of yelling at him, Koda," Sunshine chimed in, "why don't you two sit together and discuss better ways to handle the bullying problem?"
Koda looked over at Sunshine and scoffed. "Me? talk to him?"
"It doesn't hurt to have a little heart-to-heart, hun," Sunshine suggested.
"Oh, please," Koda said, "I talk to him and my words bounce right off him like pellets out of a BB gun."
Ray rose from his seat. "Can I be excused?"
Koda glared at him. "And do what? Sulk? Like you always do? Feel sorry for yourself?"
"Koda, that's enough." Sunshine laid a paw on his shoulder. "Show some empathy."
"You don't have to defend me, Mom!" Ray bolted straight upstairs.
Koda rose to his feet, but Sunshine was quick enough to hold him back from going after him.
The following Monday, Wag High School was running like normal. All the pups were on their way to class before the first period bell. Ray was among them, and during the traffic, he bumped into another pup with his shoulder.
Growling, he was snout to snout with the poor pup. "Watch it, assmunch!"
"Sorry, my fault," said the Boston terrier. "Just tryin' to beat the bell."
"Not before I beat you first," Ray thundered, and everyone stopped in their tracks to watch.
The Boston took a few steps back. Ray did the opposite. The first period bell had rung. Everyone cleared the hallway with no hesitation. The Boston tried to go around Ray, but with one forceful push from the pit, he landed on floor ass-first.
"What's going on out here?"
Both pups turned to find a teacher, a middle-aged schnauzer, holding the classroom door open and staring the two of them down.
The Boston quickly got to his feet and took off. Ray was down to have a staring contest with this frosted-faced dog. Whoever he encountered, it was fight or flight, and the outcome was always the first option. All the pent-up anger Ray had in him was bound to be unleashed in some way, whether it be an outburst, or a punch, or throwing whatever was accessible to him at this teacher.
But the schnauzer somehow knew what he was signing up for.
"Come with me," he said to Ray.
They got to a door with the words "Guidance Counselor" pasted on the window. With just two knocks, they were greeted with a snow-white, well-groomed, smiling poodle.
"Tell her everything," the schnauzer advised Ray before walking off and disappearing down the hallway.
When the counselor invited him to have a seat in front of her desk, at first, Ray was unwilling to milk out any details about anything to someone he was unfamiliar with. He just sat there, arms crossed, leg bouncing up and down. With the patience of a therapist, the counselor started off by asking him simple questions. How was he doing in his classes? Was he being bullied? Was everything OK at home?
"What the fuck does that have to do with school?" Ray barked at her, lifting himself from the chair. "My home is my business!"
The counselor just nodded. "You're angry. You like to pick fights with your peers. And for no good reason. What is troubling you, Raymond?"
Maybe the fact that his mother's boyfriend was always being dickish towards him, hurling a wooden spoon to his furry butt whenever he did something wrong? Maybe he felt that his own mother didn't defend him enough against his future stepfather? Maybe the fact that Koda wanted so badly for him to be a big dog and not cry like a little puppy over spilled milk?
Overwhelmed by these thoughts, tear streamed down Ray's face. And in no time, he told the counselor everything. Everything that was bothering him. Everything that made him want to punch people in the face. Everything about the bullying, at school and at home. It was like releasing the longest, loudest howl into the moon of his life, and it felt heavenly.
Weeks later, Ray felt like a new pup. His anger and negative attitude had been put away for good. He had flushed down the turd that was clogging his heart for a long time. He and Koda finally had their heart-to-heart; Koda only wanted for his future stepson to be strong and confident in himself. He never intended to make him feel small. This was the first time ever that Koda the Husky actually apologized for being an asshole.
And Ray Hillderson couldn't ask for anything more than that.