Sunny With A Chance Of Furries

Stephen Pawlich is not your typical student at Todos Los Santos Middle School. He is a furry. What’s a furry, you ask.

          A furry is someone with an interest in anthropomorphic animal characters. There is a whole subculture of kids who roleplay these characters. Many of the kids identifying as furries are LGBTQ+.

          My name is Mr. Bill and I’m a campus monitor at Todos Los Santos.

          We have a lot of thugs at our school. And some of the thugs like to bully and torment the furries.

          Anthropomorphism is kind of a big concept for an ignorant person such as myself to explain, but I’ll do my best. It’s the practice of giving human traits and feelings to non-human beings such as animals. At least that’s how Google explains it.

The furries at my school don’t come to campus in full costume. A boy might attach a tail to the back of his pants. A girl might draw whiskers on her face. They are not allowed under school rules to cover their face with a mask so they do other things to create a “fursona.”

          Davonte is a straight up thug. He sits down next to Stephen Pawlich at the cafeteria table during B lunch. Stephen is with Brian Bunny and Susan Fox. They all identify as furries.

          “You going to eat that,” Davonte asks.

          “Yeah,” says Stephen.

          Davonte hocks a huge gob of spit on Stephen’s bean and cheese burrito, then bolts out the cafeteria doors. Stephen is dressed as a friendly cat called Savage. He’s wearing these fuzzy slippers that look like a cat’s paws.

          Stephen fills out a statement in the dean’s office about what happened.

          Joel Gunsmith, is the behavior specialist in the dean’s office, handling the complaint.

          He picks up a stack of complaints written on yellow paper and shows them to me.

          “We’re getting more and more of these. The furries are being targeted. I have to do something about it. They’re bullying these kids.”

          When Stephen gets home that night, he tells his mom what happened.

          “Oh my sweet boy. I am so sorry. What’s the school doing about it,” she asks.

          “They’re investigating mom. I listed Brian and Susan as witnesses. I’m hoping the school does something.”

“But mom I have right to express myself. And nothing I’m doing violates the school dress code. It just isn’t fair.”

          Stephen’s father, Harvey Pawlich, works security at the Amazon warehouse. He’s on his feet all day. Being on your feet all day has a way of making anybody irritable. He had it hard growing up and he doesn’t have much sympathy for Stephen’s plight.

          “What are you all talking about,” Harvey says as he sits down to join them at the dinner table.

          “Some asshole kid spit in my bean and cheese burrito at lunch today dad.”

          “Well, you should have punched his lights out,” Harvey tells his son. “Do that a couple of times and these thugs will leave you alone. That’s what I did when Paul Glazer stuck a safety pin in my ass in 9th grade. I whirled around and smashed his face into a locker in the hall. His face was beet-red the rest of the day. Never messed with me again.”

          “Dad, things are different now. If I hit this kid, then I get in trouble. Besides he’s bigger and stronger than me. He’ll beat the shit out of me.”

          “Maybe if you didn’t wear makeup all over your face and puff up your hair every day and didn’t wear those fuzzy slippers on your feet, and stopped acting like a poof, kids would leave you alone.”

          “But Dad…”

          Stephen’s mom asks Harvey to calm down. But Harvey’s not having it.

          “No honey, the boy has to learn to stand up for himself. And it starts by not dressing up like some gay, fuzzy, cartoon character.

          “That’s it I’ve had enough,” Stephen says.

          Stephen stands up and runs from the kitchen table. He slams his bedroom door closed and locks it.

          Two hours later, Harvey still fuming over what transpired at the dinner table, sneaks into Stephen’s bedroom.

          Stephen screams.

          “Dad leave me alone. Get the hell out of my bedroom. What are you doing.”

          “Get the hell out of your bedroom. I wear the pants around here. I pay the rent for this shithole. You don’t tell your father what to do. I tell you how it is.”

          Stephen’s mother comes running into the room.

          “Shirley, look what I found under his bed,” Harvey shouts.

          “What’s that Harvey,” Shirley asks. “What’s that you’re holding in your hands.”

          “What does it look like. It’s a litter box.”

          “But we don’t have a cat.” Shirley says as a look of consternation crosses her face.

          “No shit,” Harvey says.

          He directs the animus on his face toward Stephen.

“Why are there wet clumps in this litter box,” Harvey shouts. “We don’t have a cat in this apartment. We don’t have any pets. Stephen you’re taking this whole cat thing a little too far. You’re using this litter box, instead of the toilet.”

          “You don’t understand dad. You never will.”

          Vitriol spews from Harvey’s lips.

          “You’re right I never will. That’s it. I’m calling the police now. I want a Legal 2000 placed on him. I want him placed under observation.”

          “You can’t Harvey,” Shirley pleads. “He’s not a danger to himself or others.”

          “Great,” Harvey says. He throws his arms up in the air. “I hope that kid at school beats the shit out of you. Furry my ass. That’ll teach ya.”

          Harvey storms back to his bedroom and slams the door shut. Shirley gently touches Stephen’s arm.

          “I’ll talk to your father,” Shirley tells her son. “He’ll calm down. Just give him time.”

          “Okay mom.”

          Two weeks later. Harvey manages to get his son in to see an LMFT, a licensed marriage and family therapist.

          “Hi Stephen. My name is Joyce. I’m a therapist and anything we discuss in this room is confidential. Your parents tell me you’re having some trouble with bullying at school and might benefit from talking to someone about it.”

          Stephen goes on to tell Joyce about the incident at school with the boy who spit in his bean and cheese burrito because he identifies as a furry. He also tells her about his argument with his dad. And his dad taking away the litter box he found under his bed.

          “My dad thinks I’m crazy. I hate him. He’s always doing too much. Always saying things about me.”

          “How would you describe your relationship with your mother,” Joyce asks.

          “My mom loves me. She listens to me. She gets me when I talk. Dad doesn’t even want to get me.”

          “Stephen I can honestly say your dad loves you. He was the one who set up this appointment for you.”

          “He’s an asshole.”

“Well, I see we have some work to do in repairing your relationship with your father. I’m willing to help you do that, if you’re willing to work with me.”

“Okay.”

“And Stephen you’re not alone. There are many of us in this world. We are everywhere.”

“What do you mean.” Stephen asks.

Joyce reaches down beneath her desk. She momentarily ducks out of sight. She is reaching for something. Stephen can’t see what it is. He has no idea what is going on. Joyce turns away from Stephen. All Stephen sees is her back. She slowly turns to face Stephen.

Joyce is wearing a deep gray fox head with turquoise ears. Stephen’s jaw drops.

“Want to see the rest of my fursona,” Joyce asks him.

Stephen nods yes. Joyce pulls out the rest of her costume from under her desk and puts it on.

“Why a fox,” Stephen asks.

“Ever heard the saying someone is crazy as a fox,”

“No.”

“Well, it refers to someone who looks strange or foolish but is actually quite clever and cunning.”

“I get it now,” Stephen says.

“That’s enough for today. This was a get-to-know-you session. We’ll go into more detail next week. Will I see you then.”

“ Yes. For sure Ms. Joyce.”

“And Stephen, let’s keep this our little secret,” Joyce says as she gestures with her furry hands to her costume.”

“Yes Ms. Joyce. See you next week.”

As Stephen exits to the waiting room, the door to Joyce’s office closes. Harvey and Shirley Pawlich get up from their chairs.

“How’d it go,” Harvey asks his son.

“Oh I liked Ms. Joyce,” Stephen says. “She’s someone I can talk to. She gets me.”

“ Good,” Harvey says.

Shirley nods in agreement.

“Can we stop at McDonald’s on the way home,” Stephen asks.

“Why not,” Harvey answers. “It’s good to know she can help you with all this furry cat business going through your head son.”

“She can dad. She can.”

“ See Harvey. All Stephen needed was someone professional to talk to,” Shirley says.

The Pawlichs climb into the back of the family Chevrolet Trailblazer.

Harvey looks at his son in the backseat through the rearview mirror. Stephen is smiling like a fox.