Legal stuff: I do not own any of the JTHM characters, terms, names, etc. All are property of their mad genius creator, Jhonen Vasquez and of the Slave Labor Graphics company. I do not intend to profit from this in any way. Thank you.
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause, But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs…-Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice
Ch. 1, A Buddy
Crash! With a grunting laugh, Bradley threw the much smaller and thinner Johnny into a locker. The growing crowd was divided between laughing at the victim's misfortune and gasping as his head cracked audibly off the floor.
"C'mon Stickie! Get your ass up and fight me!" Bradley cackled.
In agony, Johnny reached up and grasped a locker handle to pull himself up. Managing to get to his feet, he locked eyes with Bradley and murmured "One of these days you filthy excuse for a human being...one of these days, I swear I'll-"
He was cut off as Bradley's foot connected with his kneecap.
"Arrrgh!" Johnny cried, falling back down. He would have gotten wounded more, had a teacher not suddenly appeared.
"BRADLEY SHRIKE!" he bellowed. The crowd instantly began to disperse, muttering things like "I tried to stop him…" or "I didn't do it…" As for Bradley, he whirled and put on his infamous 'innocent mask.'
"Mr. Huxley! Good morning! This looks bad doesn't it? But I swear it's-"
"Save it Shrike. You, come with me. In fact, both of you, now!"
Johnny continued to slump against a locker and bite his lip to hold back a scream.
Bradley said "He was making fun of my hair, and I had to-"
"I told you to save it. And honestly, I'm not sure I blame him,"
Bradley looked indignant.
"C'mon Jonathon," Mr. Huxley sighed, "Get up. Oh, I see….Here, I'll help you."
He slipped his hands under Johnny's arms and hauled him to his feet. Still holding him up, Mr. Huxley turned on Bradley,
"This time Shrike, you're going to get it. Follow me, now!"
They traveled down the green-tiled corridor, passing many classrooms, some of which had curious eyes and noses peeking through the glass 'window' on the door. Eventually (it took a bit longer with Mr. Huxley having to half drag a semi-conscious Johnny), they reached the office of the head honcho of Greensboro Middle School, Mr. Germano. Johnny only began to recover once they were inside and he was thrust into a large cushioned chair. Kids that were frequent patrons of these chairs hated them. They were deceivingly comfy; taunting you and the fact that sitting in them usually meant you were in deep shit.
Mr. Huxley sighed and stepped in to a small adjoining room to speak to Mr. Germano's secretary. Except for their muffled exchange, all was momentarily silent. Bradley sneered at Johnny,
"Skinny little freak…Geronimo's gonna kick you out for a week for this!"
"And wouldn't that be a torture?" Johnny said coolly after a moment.
"…Dork." grumbled Bradley, unable to think of a better comeback.
Mr. Huxley stepped back into the room, "All right gentlemen; Mr. Germano will speak to you in a minute. I expect the conflict between you to be resolved today!"
With that he stalked out the door, letting it shut rather loudly behind him.