AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just when it looked like things were at last going Ralph's way, all of a sudden, they go awry again. Now it appears he has driven Melissa into the arms of a mysterious person that he knows. Time to find out more in this chapter…

Legal Disclaimer and Crap: For the eleventh time now, I do not own the Raccoons. I believe you get it by now. But perhaps the copyright police don't. So this is going to continue being posted. Rejoice?

Oh yeah, some rather sad news: It's come to my attention that Michael Magee, Cyril Sneer's voice actor (he also voiced Snag, if you consider growling and barking voice acting), passed away a couple of weeks ago at age 82. The original cast of this show is dropping like flies. May he rest in peace.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Takes Two To Know

I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't believe it.

She was talking to him. I knew him all too well. I had gone to high school with him.

I overheard them talking to one another.

"So, babe, how's about you and I head on over to that big dance thing that rich lady's holding for Valentine's Day?"

"Oh, I don't know…"

"C'mon. You'll have a DAMN good time."

"Can you give me some time to decide?"

"Ah, I suppose. But you better make your mind up soon." He smiled that devilish looking grin I had hated seeing so much through all my high school days.

"Okay," Melissa said to him, smiling. "I'll definitely think about it."

"Well, I gotta hit the road," he said, leaning back on his bike. "I'll see ya real soon, doll-face, and when I do, tell me what you've decided."

"See you around," she waved to him as he sped off on his bike. He wasn't even wearing a helmet. What a big show-off. He was never one for safety.

I couldn't bear it. I took the winter rose, and crumpled it up and tore it up into little pieces. I wasn't going to talk to her. She'd already found somebody else-him. And there was no way it would end well.

I ran off without her spotting me. I didn't think she'd ever want anything to do with me again.

Soon, I got back to the Raccoondominium. Bert was in there, practicing his heavy metal numbers again. It's kind of funny that now he performs these songs as straightforward poppy numbers (which I thought they always should have been), when originally he envisioned them as being heavy metal songs meant to tear up stadiums. But that's another story…

Bert put his guitar down and walked up to me.

"So, Ralphie boy," Bert asked, "how'd it go? Did she forgive ya? Are you two on good terms with each other again?"

I sighed. "No, Bert."

Bert looked disappointed. "Gee, I'm sorry, pal. I guess she was more mad than we thought…"

I figured I should just come out and tell Bert the truth.

"Bert, I didn't even talk to her."

"Why not? Were you too scared to talk to Melissa?"

"No, Bert. I really wanted to. It's just, it's just, it's jus-"

Bert interrupted me. "It's just what?" I didn't want to discuss this with him, but I figured I had to.

"I think she's already interested in somebody else." It hurt to say that.

"Woah." Bert said, surprised. "Awful fast, don't you think?"

"Exactly, Bert," I said, feeling pretty depressed. "Even worse is who she's talking to."

"Who is it?" Bert was curious.

I didn't want to say his name.

"You remember him well, Bert. You and I both."

This got Bert wondering. "Is it Lenny Sutton?" I remembered Lenny Sutton all too well, especially from my prom…

"No, Bert. He moved away to Seattle, Washington, remember?" Lenny and Linda McDuffie, my old high school crush, had indeed moved to Seattle shortly after graduating. From what I know, the two of them ended up getting married.

"Oh, oh yeah. That's right. He did move away. Is it the other two guys editing that college newspaper you work for? Steve or what's his name?" It definitely wasn't them.

"Steve and Nestor, you mean," I replied. "And no, Bert it wasn't them. It was a whole lot worse than them."

"You don't mean-?"

"Yes, I do mean that. She's speaking to Arnold Layne!"

Bert gasped. The name was all too familiar to us.

"Oh no, not Arnold Layne!"

Arnold Layne was a raccoon who had been in the same grade with us. He'd moved to the Forest when I was in my tenth grade year, and became one of the people I dreaded being around the most. Arnold was a loner who happened to ride motorcycles as a hobby. He was also quite a bully and a jerk. He once dunked my head in the bathroom toilet because Bert had made fun of his name. Why was his name funny? He just so happened to share his name with the titular character of a very old song by Pig Floyd that I had found the vinyl of at the old record store when I was younger. The character of that song was a criminal who stole ladies' undergarments and dressed up in them, and ended up getting caught and locked up in jail. Bert had listened to this song with me, and instantly started teasing Arnold because of the fact that he did share his name with such a disgraceful…character. Bert could get away with that because he was pretty popular, but as a result, Arnold took out his anger on me very often. In some ways, Arnold was similar to Melissa's old high school boyfriend, Troy Malone, except he was twice as bad as Troy could ever be. Troy, to his credit, was highly conceited and cocky, but at least he let you know that was who he was. He didn't try to pretend to be something he wasn't. Arnold was cocky and conceited too, but the difference between him and Troy was that Arnold was completely two-faced. He often acted like a friendly guy and tried to smooth over women with his "charm" and "wit", but in reality, he was a complete asshole who threw a fit whenever things didn't go his way and had little to no respect for women at all. When the date of our senior prom came, he didn't take his girlfriend to the prom with him. He took the girl he was seeing on the side (he was definitely not faithful) with him. After prom, while Bert was busy comforting me for having such a miserable time, Arnold was trying to get a little…touchy, if you know what I mean, with his date. She didn't appreciate it and told him to stop. He got mad and promptly struck her in the face and beat her quite badly. We heard all about it at school the day we got back. Arnold was briefly investigated by the police and was expelled from our school-and as such, didn't graduate. Somehow, the police ended up not charging him. We hadn't seen much of him since then. All we knew about him was that he was continuing to participate in motorcycle competitions around the forest at the fairly new motorcycle arena Milton Midas had built. (I'd been opposed to the construction of it, as I didn't see what good it could do for the Forest, but alas, one raccoon's opinion was not enough to make a difference...) Not to mention, he didn't go to college (obviously since he didn't have a high-school diploma). Could his run-in with the law have changed him since then? I couldn't say, but it was possible. But highly improbable.

"Bert, I'm scared for her…"

"I don't blame you. I have a feeling Arnold might do something to her if they go to that dance together."

"Perhaps, Bert. But maybe he's changed?"

"Oh no," Bert said, shaking his head vehemently. "There's no changing somebody like him."

"I guess we'll see." But then I just felt worse than I had before. "I can't believe it. I lost her to Arnold Layne."

"That really has to hurt," Bert said, sympathizing with me.

"You really have no idea."

"Can't say that I do," Bert said. He'd never really been truly in love.

"What am I going to do now, Bert?"

"What can you do, Ralph? Fight Arnold for her? You would lose in a heartbeat."

"You're right…" I sighed. "I guess there's nothing I can do."

Then I thought to myself. There was one thing I could do…

"Yesterday, my life was in ruin

Now today, God knows what I'm doing

Anyways, I should be doing all right

Doing all right…."

I hummed along to the song playing on the jukebox. I wish I could say I was "doing all right". I most certainly wasn't, though. If anything, my life was in ruin.

I was sitting here at Greg Knapp's bar, "The House Of Beer". Greg was Mike Mulligan's bartending rival in town. I chose to go to his bar, as if I went to Mike's, he would most likely kill me for rejecting Melissa's offer to go to the dance with her. I imagined if I went there, I'd probably leave with a couple of stab wounds through my chest. (Looking back, I doubt he would have gone to that extreme, since his threats were pretty much empty ones, but I didn't really know at the time...) I didn't really want that to happen. Mike personally hated Greg-from what I'd remembered him telling me, Greg sold his beer for much higher prices and was more popular among the social elite. Though really, the only big difference between the two bars was that Greg had a jukebox.

Greg came up to me and spoke.

"Hey, kid. Haven't seen you here before."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," I sighed.

"What's the matter?" He looked a little concerned.

"Nothing, really," I sighed heavily. "What exactly can cure a broken heart, Greg?" I sure felt broken-hearted right now seeing that I was sure I'd lost Melissa forever.

"Ah. You have love problems, kid?"

"Yes, Greg."

"Well, I know what will cure that. A massive dose of alcohol. Here ya go," he said, handing me some vodka. "That'll be eight dollars for each bottle."

I had about fifty dollars on me. "Here you go, Greg." I said, in a very melancholy tone.

"Alright, enjoy your drinking binge."

I really and truthfully did not enjoy drinking alcohol at all-but right now, I figured I'd lost my chance with Melissa forever. Drinking was the only thing I could think of to do other than sitting around and moping to Bert, and I'm sure he didn't need to hear it. (He'd already heard my moping enough.) I figured it would take my mind off of her.

Soon, I had drank most of the bottle and was already beginning to feel rather tipsy. Much to my surprise, I suddenly heard a familiar voice not too far from me.

"Hey there, Art. See you're here again."

"Yeah, Mike won't let me in at his bar for some reason, so I decided I'd just drop on by here instead."

"What'll it be, Art?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. A few quick ones, some of those pickled egg dealies, and a couple hunks of good old beef jerky."

I looked over. It was none other than…my own father.

As my father got his beer and stuffed the pickled eggs into his waiting mouth, he recognized me.

"Hey, sonny boy! Fancy seeing you here. What are you doing here?"

I didn't want to talk to my dad right now. "Oh, hi dad," I said glumly.

"So son, you started drinking too? Hey, everyone's gotta start someday!" He laughed to himself.

I wasn't in the mood for this at all. "No, dad. I'm just here to get away from some problems I'm having."

"Ah, well, boy, that's the main reason why a lot of people drink. To get away from their problems. Ya know?"

Of course I knew that.

"I think so."

"Of course ya do. I'm here because I got passed over for employee of the month again!" My father worked for the J. Marvin Mills Upholstery Company. J. Marvin Mills was an owl, and something of a mysterious figure. He rarely showed his face and as thus I knew very little about him (I didn't even know what the J. stood for). The only times I'd personally met him were at the company picnics and the time my dad tried to get him to come to our house for dinner to smooth things over with him in hopes of getting a big raise. (Needless to say, it didn't go well...) All I really seemed to know was that he really seemed to have it out for my dad and was constantly trying to get him fired. There were about seven other workers there besides my Dad.

"So who did get employee of the month?"

"As if you had to ask? That damned Taliesyn again! I can't stand Taliesyn, he's such a suck-up! Always saying "as you wish, boss" and other such garbage. Just once, I'd like to win..." Gabriel Taliesyn was a hawk who was a co-worker of my dad's. He was a much harder worker, a very religious man, and always did as J. Marvin Mills told him, and even though he'd only been there for about two years, he'd won employee of the month every time since he'd been hired. My dad really resented him; I would go so far as to say he hated his guts.

"Should have figured it would be him again, right?"

"Yeah, but dammit! Why can't I win once? Just once I'd like for something to hang up on my wall that I can actually be proud of. Stupid Taliesyn."

"I guess you can't win them all," I sighed.

"Ah, so, anyways, what's your problem, kiddo? What made ya come here? Did you get beat up at college or something?"

I didn't want to discuss this with my father at all, but I figured it would probably make me feel better. Even though my dad would chide me about it for sure.

"No, dad. Nobody beat me up. It's a…a…a matter of the heart." I said, as I finished up my bottle of vodka. It tasted awful as can be, but I didn't really care.

"A matter of the heart? This have something to do with that little lady of yours?" I knew he was referring to Melissa.

"Yes, it does." I was hoping he wouldn't laugh at me or berate me.

"Did you two have an argument or something?"

"You could say that."

"Okay, tell me son. What happened between the two of you?" I couldn't believe it. We'd rarely had a serious father to son discussion before, and now, here we were having one. In a bar, of all places.

I told him all about what happened.

My dad looked like he was going to yell at me, but to my surprise, he didn't. "Ah, son," he said, shaking his head. "That wasn't a very smart thing to do, was it now?"

"No, dad. But it all happened because I was so caught up in my school work that I didn't even listen to her."

"There's your problem, boy," my dad said. "You put work ahead of everything else. I put work as the lowest priority on my list. Sure, I might be...mad that I didn't get employee of the month, but a few Stoup's and I'll forget all about it. Given the choice, I'd happily quit work and spend the rest of my life growing old with your mother and drinking beer whenever I got the opportunity. But of course, I can't: I had to work, to be able to support your mother and you. And George too, before he grew up." My dad smiled. "Seriously though, you shouldn't be that caught up in your work."

"I understand," I said to my dad.

"It's no problem though, Ralph." I was surprised. He actually said my name. That rarely ever happened. "Ralph, my boy, I'm sure you can make it up with….with…uh, what was her name again?"

"Melissa," I said.

"Oh yeah, Mike's daughter. As I was saying, I'm sure you can make it up with Melissa. Your mom and me have had our fair share of misunderstandings and arguments over the years, but we've always been able to make it up. You just gotta talk to her and apologize to her for upsetting her."

"Dad, it's not that simple." I was dreading telling him about Arnold Layne.

"Of course it's not really easy to do, Ralph, but you gotta do it. Just say what's inside your little heart, I'm sure she will understand."

"No, dad, I don't think you understand. I think she's already interested in somebody else."

"Oh. Now that's a monkey wrench right there." My father rubbed his chin, thinking.

"Yes. Do you want to know who?"

"I'll bite. Who is it?"

"Arnold Layne," I said, dejectedly.

"Arnold Layne, eh? Hmm…thinking, thinking, thinking…Isn't he that one kid who used to put your head in the toilet?"

I didn't like to be reminded of that.

"One and the same." I said.

"Isn't he the same guy who beat up his prom date?" my father asked.

"I believe so."

"Uh oh, that's no good at all, Ralph," my dad said. "So how do you know she's interested in him? Did you talk to Melissa?"

"I was going to go apologize to her and I saw the two of them talking to each other. He asked her to go to the dance with him."

"And she said yes to him?"

"I think so," I replied. I couldn't honestly remember.

"Wait a minute," I said aloud. I suddenly did remember. She'd only said she would think about it.

"She didn't say yes, she told him she'd think about it."

"Ah, see?" My dad said, optimistically. "I'm sure once she knows how much of a piece of absolute scum Arnie is, she'll forget about him in no time."

"You think so, Dad?" I said, not entirely sure.

"Sure as rain, my boy." My father grinned. It wasn't a handsome sight-he didn't take care of his teeth very well, as some of them had already rotted out.

"If you say so, Dad…"

"All you gotta do is go talk to her if you get the chance. Tell her you're really sorry about saying no straight to her face. Make sure you sound believable too, women can tell when you're really sorry or not. You also ought to tell her about that Arnie loser or whatever. Once she sees the choice between you, a fine upstanding young kid, and Arnold, the no good pathetic piece of garbage, she'll probably fall for you all over again. Hopefully."

"Are you sure?" I still wasn't sure.

"Damn sure, son," my dad said, slapping me on the back.

"Well, if you believe in me, Dad…" I said, aloud. "I think I can do it."

"That's my boy." He took a sip of his beer again. "Mmm…beer…"

"I'm going to do it," I said, feeling confident of myself. "I'm going to talk to her first thing tomorrow morning." I took a piece of paper and wrote it down.

"Good on you son. Wish ya luck."

"Dad, thanks. It's been such a long time since we had a good father and son talk like this." It really had.

"Yeah, I would more often, but I'm not really good with words, you know." My dad belched.

"Excuse you," I chuckled. "I know. Remember when you thought Melissa was an exotic dancer when she came over for my birthday?"

"Hah, yeah, I do!" We both had a good laugh. I didn't honestly think it was funny, it was probably the alcohol flowing through my system.

We talked for about another hour or so and really started to connect with one another.

"It's no wonder Mike wouldn't let me in his bar," my dad said, chuckling. "He's angry at you for rejecting Melissa and is taking it out on me! You really do got to patch this up like I said, I want my beer for three bucks instead of seven! But he let Henry and Pete in..." Henry Rogers, a beaver, and Peter Fagan, a rabbit, were my dad's two closest friends who he often went drinking with and did various other activities with. They also worked for J. Marvin Mills and the three of them had worked there for about the same amount of time. I knew the both of them pretty well; both of them were also married with children as well. Peter had a grown son named Derrick who was close to George's age and a grandson about Bentley's age named Danny (whom Cyril Sneer apparently befriended during a stay in hospital), while Henry had a son my age named Clancy who had gone to high school with me.

"I guess you're disappointed you didn't get to go drink with them," I said.

"Yeah, a little. No worries, though, I'll make it up by having wonderful dreams tonight of killing my boss! Heehee..." he chuckled.

Suddenly, a question came to my slightly addled mind.

"So, Dad. What am I going to do if she chooses Arnold over me?" That was a question I felt needed an answer. What if that DID happen?

"Well, then, Ralph. There's only one thing you can do. You get your ass out there and challenge him to something he's really, really good at. And you go out there and beat his ass at it. That'll definitely impress Melissa, no doubt. I had to do...something like that to win your mother over. Don't regret it, either!" My father chuckled.

"I know the story, dad…" He already told me this story many times, as I said.

Soon, I decided to go home. I felt a little bit tipsy, but I wasn't heavily drunk. My dad was much worse for wear and needed some help getting back home.

The next morning, I woke up in a good mood. Bert soon took notice when he woke up.

"Gee, Ralph. You seem to be in a pretty good mood. What's got into you? You were so depressed you went drinking last night. Something good happen?"

I smiled. "Oh, I had a conversation with my father there."

Bert laughed. "Really, now. That must have been awkward!" He laughed harder.

"No, Bert, we had a good conversation. Now I know what I need to do." I felt pretty confident in myself now.

"What's that?" Bert was curious.

"I need to talk things over with Melissa. I think we need to sort this whole awful mess out."

Bert raised his eyebrow. "But, Ralph, you said she was seeing Arnold Layne…"

I scoffed. "Maybe not. We'll see how this all turns out."

Bert shrugged. "Okay then, pal, good luck with that," he said, as he flipped on the TV and watched another early morning game show.

I headed over to the Mulligan house. I just really hoped that Mike wasn't home at the time, because I knew he would probably be very furious at what I said to Melissa and would probably want my blood.

It wasn't long before I reached the Mulligan household. Just my luck! Mike Mulligan wasn't home for once. I felt pretty confident in myself.

I knocked on the door.

I heard Melissa coming to the door. "Just a minute, I'm coming!"

She answered the door. Her face immediately turned glum. "Oh, hello. Ralph," she said, scowling.

"Hello, Melissa." I said, a bit nervously.

She responded flatly. "What do you want Ralph? You haven't come to upset me even more, have you?"

I replied sincerely: "No, Melissa. Actually, I came here to talk to you about that…"

Melissa sighed. "Oh. Well, come on, I suppose."

We sat down at her kitchen table.

"Alright, Ralph." Melissa said. "Now what is it you want to talk to me about?"

"Melissa," I said, sighing, "look."

"Yes?"

"I'm really sorry about what I said the other day. I was just so busy with my work-you caught me at a terrible time."

Melissa sighed. "No, Ralph, it's my fault. I shouldn't have asked you; if I'd have known you weren't interested, I would have never asked in the first place. This wouldn't have happened."

But I did want to go. I was most definitely interested now. But it was probably better not to discuss that.

"Look, Melissa, I'm really sorry, can you ever forgive me?"

Melissa smiled again. "Of course, Ralph. I can forgive you, I just got mad, is all. I'm not one to hold a grudge."

"So we're still friends?"

"Yes, we're still friends, Ralph."

"Well, that's good." I felt quite relieved.

Melissa laughed. "You thought I was going to be mad at you forever, didn't I?"

I chuckled too. "Maybe," I admitted, "it's just good we made up with each other, I guess."

A voice was gnawing at the back of my mind. But that's all you'll ever be to her now. A friend. Because you refused to go to that dance with her. You're just going to have to accept this. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn't.

I sighed.

"I should warn you," Melissa said, not taking notice. "You're lucky you caught me when you did. My father's out shopping for groceries. You might want to get out of here before he comes back."

"I understand," I laughed, a bit uneasily. "He probably wants to drink my blood out with a straw or something."

"Oh yes," Melissa said. "He said if he saw you around anywhere he'd…well…He said he'd do something…not very nice or polite."

"He's always threatening Bert whenever he prank calls him," I mused.

"My father's always had a bit of a bad temper. You definitely don't want to get on his bad side."

"I know that well. Remember when he said he'd rip my intestines out?" That was a good laugh.

"Our fathers, sometimes," Melissa chuckled.

I was about to warn her about Arnold, when presently there came a knock on the door.

"Uh oh…" I said, my tail firmly between my legs. I was sure Mike had come home and he was probably going to tear me a new one.

"I'll see who it is," Melissa said emphatically, as she rushed to the door.

I crossed my fingers. "Please, don't let this be Mike…" I said to myself. If it was Mike, I probably was in for some serious pain.

It wasn't Mike, but it still wasn't someone I wanted to see.

"Hey-a there, doll-face!" Oh God no. Not Arnold Layne again. Honestly, I think I would have preferred it being Mike.

Melissa smiled. "Oh, hello there, Arnold. Good to see you again."

"Mind if I come sit in and chat?" Arnold said in a friendly voice, though to me it sounded very forced.

"Sure thing, it's no problem."

Arnold immediately took notice of me. I wanted to hide right now. I really did not want to have to deal with him.

He exclaimed cheerfully (again, sounding rather forced), "Well, well, well. If it isn't my good ol' buddy Ralphie Raccoon!" He grabbed me, put me in a headlock, and promptly rubbed his knuckle atop my head several times. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't.

"Hey, knock it off!" I said.

"Heh, heh. Sorry, ol' buddy."

Melissa looked a little surprised. "Ralph, you know Arnold personally?"

Arnold chuckled. "Heh-heh, of course I do. Me and Ralphie here went to high school together. Isn't that right, Ralphie?" He put his paw on my shoulder.

I spoke in a grouchy tone. "Yes, yes. We went to high school together, yes."

Arnold laughed heartily. "Hah hah, we had some really good times back then, didn't we Ralphie?"

"Oh yes," I said in a sarcastic tone. "Where have those days gone?" All I was thinking about right now was that day he stuffed my head into the toilet. Let me just say, if you've never had your head in a toilet while it was flushing, much less never had your head put in a toilet, be glad you haven't. It's not an experience you'll enjoy at all. You'll never be able to forget it.

"Indeed, where have those days gone?" Arnold laughed. I didn't laugh, I was wringing my paws together. I wanted him to go away and never come back. He'd already made my life miserable enough in high school. Now he had to try to take my dream girl away from me. How much more pain did he want me to go through?

Melissa smiled. "Well, it's nice to see the two of you are old friends."

"You could say that." It was obvious my anger and jealousy were growing.

"Ralph, what's the matter?" Melissa said-she could obviously tell I was unhappy about something.

"Ah, don't mind him, angel eyes," Arnold said (I cringed hearing him say that), "Ralphie always had anger issues when he was in high school. I had to, heh-heh, keep him in line a lot along the way."

"Is that true, Ralph?"

I growled. "Yeah, yeah, it is true. Sort of."

Melissa smiled lightly. "See Ralph? Arnold's a good friend to you. I think…What are you so upset about?"

"Nothing, nothing at all." I lied. I didn't want to tell her that I was angry that Arnold was here.

Arnold spoke to Melissa. "So, baby, have you made up your mind yet? Are you coming to that dance dealio or not?"

Melissa chuckled. "Ah, Arnold, I haven't made up my mind yet. I don't know if I even want to go, honestly. It's very nice of you to offer to take me, but I just don't know if I want to go-the person I wanted to go with turned me down." I still couldn't believe I'd done that.

Arnold grinned a sly (and rather suspicious) grin. "Well, if ya don't mind, tell me when you do make up your mind. It'll be something you'll never forget…" What did he have planned for her? Those words scared me.

Melissa nodded. "Of course, Arnold. I'll be sure to let you know when I do."

Arnold continued grinning as he spoke to himself. "Good, good…"

I said lightly, "If you two do go together, please, Arnold, be careful with her. Don't let anything happen to her." I just knew she would go with him. I just felt it in my bones.

Melissa laughed a bit, "Haha, worried, Ralph?"

"A little, yes."

"Don't be. Arnold seems to be a pretty nice guy. I'm sure everything would go fine if I went with him. I'm just not sure I want to go."

Arnold piped up, "Yeah, c'mon Ralph. What do you take me for, anything but a gentleman? She'll be perfectly fine, no problem."

I whispered to myself, "For your sake, I sure hope so…" He didn't hear it.

Arnold then gestured to Melissa. "Melissa, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak with Ralph in person. Outside."

Melissa agreed. "Sure thing, Arnold."

Arnold went to the door and motioned for me to follow him.

I nervously followed him out. What could he possibly want?

Arnold led me outside in front of a tree.

I growled. "Alright. What do you want, Arnold?" I was a bit worried what he might do.

Much to my surprise, Arnold grabbed me by the scarf and threw me into the tree. It hurt quite a bit. Then he punched me straight in the eye, which hurt, a lot.

He then grabbed me by the scarf again and hollered right at me.

"Listen, you big baby. That girl in there? She's my chick. MINE. All mine. You stay the hell away from her or else!"

I gulped. "Who says? You don't own her, Arnold. It's up to her to choose! She has thoughts too, you know!"

Big mistake. Arnold back-pawed me across the face, drawing blood.

"I says, you little no-good snot-brain! She is going to the dance with me and there is nothing you can do about it. If I even see you trying to do anything with her, I am going to beat you so badly. I won't kill you, but you WILL wish you were dead, that's for sure! I don't even want to see you LOOKING at her, much less talking to her!"

I gulped. I was now afraid for Melissa. What would Arnold try to do to her if they went to that dance together?

I knew this would be a bad question to ask in this situation, but I felt it needed to be asked.

"What are you going to do to her, Arnold?" A sense of worry was in my voice.

Arnold sneered. "Me and her? We are going to go all the way, baby."

I gulped again. He'd tried this before with his prom date. Now he was going to try it again on Melissa. What would happen to her? Would he beat the living daylights out of her? Would he…rape her? Or worse still? I wanted to do something to help her from this impending danger. But what could I do? I was no match for him. He was about five times stronger than I was and almost twice as tall. If I tried to fight him to save her from this monster, he would surely kill me. He would eat me for breakfast. Plus, I could never fight him. I didn't believe in physical confrontation-I believed in the power of nonviolent resistance. It sure wouldn't serve me well here, however.

Arnold laughed at me some more, and punched me again, right in the chest. "Hehheh. You LOVE her, don't you, little Ralphie!"

I said weakly, "I…I…I do, Arnold…"

Arnold punched me once more. I was in so much pain right now, it wasn't even funny.

"Well, that's GOOD, you little runt! Because I WANT you to see what happens! I want you to watch the whole thing! I think it'll be damned hilarious to see how much it hurts you! You have no idea how much fun it is seeing little weaklings like you crying like little babies when you get your wittle 'feelings' hurt." He was utterly mocking me right now. "You're not a man, Ralph, you know that?"

I replied faintly, "How am I not…?"

"Because every time you get upset you cry like the spoiled rotten little baby you are! REAL men don't cry, you wuss! You're pretty much nothing but a girl yourself!"

Today was not my day.

"And another thing, what a pansy ass job you're trying to get in. Puh! Newspaper writer? What a pansy ass job! Just perfect for a wussy little raccoon such as yourself. You're never going to amount to anything more than a wuss. You're going to always be pathetic, and you're always going to be alone! Guys like you don't get girls. Never have, never will. I don't know why you ever thought you had a shot with Melissa-she would NEVER want to go out with a little baby like you! You will die alone, Ralph, and that's exactly what you deserve. Which is a GOOD thing. The world needs less cowardly little babies like you and more strong men like me!"

Those words hurt even more than him punching me. Considerably more. Today had gone from being a day I felt cheerfully optimistic about, thanks to my father's words last night, to another miserably depressing day. Why did my life have to be such a depressing one?

Arnold finally let go of me. "Now get your ass out of here, you little piece of shit. You disgust me. And don't come near that babe again, you little freak, or I will pulverize the daylight out of you!"

"S-s-say no more." I slunk back home, feeling miserable, depressed, hopeless, and in a lot of pain.

I made my way slowly back to the Raccoondominium.

Bert was practicing some of his numbers he was asked to play at the dance. I was surprised…he was playing his acoustic. He rarely ever played his acoustic. I recognized he was playing an old song by the Beetles from way back when I was a little kit.

He stopped playing shortly after I came in.

He gasped when he saw my blackened eye, bruises, and the dried blood on my fur.

"Oh my god, Ralph!" Bert said alarmed. "What the hell happened to you? Did Melissa beat you up? My God, how bad did you hurt her?"

"No, Bert…" I sighed, sadly. "Melissa didn't beat me up. I don't think she would ever do that. She wasn't mad at me at all."

"So you two made up?"

"Sort of, I suppose…" I really didn't want to talk now. I just wanted to go curl up in my bed and die right now.

"If you two made up, what the hell happened to you?"

I sighed. "Arnold Layne happened, Bert."

Bert gasped.

"Arnold Layne? What the hell was he doing over there?"

"He came over to see if she would go to the dance with him. She's undecided." I really just felt like crawling into bed right now.

"That's good, so do you still have a chance with her?" Bert sounded pretty hopeful.

"No, definitely not." I shook my head.

"Well, why not?"

"Arnold dragged me outside and beat me up for talking to her. He called me a baby and told me I would always be alone." I didn't want to cry, but tears were flowing out of my eyes anyways. I couldn't help it. This was too much for one raccoon to bear.

"Why don't you file a police report against him for assaulting you, Ralphie? You know, you can do that."

That would not be a good idea.

"Bert, do you know what he would probably try to do to me then?"

"He'd be locked up in jail, wouldn't he?" Bert thought this would be an easy solution to this.

"Of course he would, Bert, but think of what he might do when they let him out."

Bert thought about it and instantly cringed. Whatever he thought would happen in that situation must have been very similar to what I thought would happen.

"I see."

"Bert, that's not all. Remember what he did to his prom date?" That was a pretty stupid question, most everyone who was here remembered that very well. Melissa didn't know about it because she hadn't been in high school with us and it had presumably never reached her.

Bert grimaced. "Ugh, how can I ever forget? What he did to Susan or whatever her name was? Beat her up because she wouldn't sleep with him afterwards. What a scum bag."

"Bert, he's going to try that again."

Bert looked shocked.

"My goodness. Ralph, there's gotta be something you can do to help Melissa. You don't want her ending up like Susan do you?"

"I most definitely do not. It would….really hurt to see that happen to her."

"So c'mon, Ralphie boy, you gotta figure out how to stop him! Win her over so she'll go with you and you won't have to deal with Arnie." Bert was certainly thinking big. It was easy for him to say. It was a LOT easier said than done.

"Bert….there's nothing I can do. Arnold said he would pulverize me if he even saw me looking at her. He's dead-set on doing this. But there is nothing I can do. She's doomed to get hurt. I failed her. How can I ever help her? I've never been a fighter. I could never take him on in a fight. He would destroy me," I snapped my fingers, "like that."

Bert frowned. "Well, this isn't right. She doesn't deserve that and neither do you. There has to be something you can do."

I wished there was.

"Bert, I already told you, there's nothing I can do for her that I can think of. I'm not going near that dance, if I go, I'll see Melissa get hurt and I really don't want to see that. I failed her, Bert, I failed her. I really wasn't good enough for her."

Bert shouted, "Don't tell yourself that, Ralph. You are good enough for her! You'll get her back, you'll see! I'm sure you'll figure out a way to save her from that monster."

Bert believed in me a hell of a lot more than I did in myself. I sighed. "Bert, I don't think so…"

"I believe in you Ralph, you should believe in yourself too!"

I wished I could believe in myself. But I couldn't. I just couldn't.

"Bert...I give up on her...Arnold's won. There's nothing I can do. I've lost her forever and it's all my fault. She's going to get hurt big time by Arnold and there is absolutely nothing I can do. It's a hopeless situation..." I was almost as depressed as that night of my prom.

Bert tried to reassure me. "No, Ralph, don't give up on her! If you do, you're just letting Arnold win! You can't let him win, you gotta do something! You gotta stand up for your girl! I'm sure you'll think of something, you always do!"

I doubted that very much.

I sighed. "Bert, I'm just going to go to bed now…."

Bert was surprised. "But it's only five o'clock. Isn't that a little, ah, too early to go to bed?"

"I'll just go lie down for a while…"

A day had gone by. I was coming home from another day at college. I still sported a nice black eye and still had some neat bruises from Arnold beating me up.

I was walking past the Evergreen Lake. It was frozen ice solid and people were out on the ice playing ice hockey and ice skating. Some couples were skating together; seeing them together made me feel pretty sad inside. I felt lonely.

I saw Melissa was out skating on the ice too. I hoped she wouldn't notice me-who knew if Arnold was around the corner somewhere, waiting to pummel me some more. I didn't want to see her again, but here she was.

Then I saw her wave to me and I heard her call to me. "Hello, Ralph!" she said cheerfully. "Come on down here and skate with me! You're missing out on the fun!"

My first instinct was to run away and hide (I was sure Arnold was hiding around here somewhere waiting to give me another black eye so I could have a matching pair), but I figured that would only make her more suspicious, so I figured I'd go down and talk to her. If I saw Arnold, I would high-tail it out of there-pronto.

"Hello, Melissa," I said, very unenthusiastically.

"What's the matter, Ralph? You don't sound so happy. Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing," I said, hoping to make our conversation a short one.

"Ralph," she said, warily, "I can tell when something's wrong. No need to hide it from me." I guess I wasn't that convincing.

"Really, Melissa, it's nothing. I'm fine." I sat down underneath a snow-covered pine tree.

Melissa came up to me and sat down beside me. "You don't have to be afraid to tell me."

"I don't want to talk about it." I was scared that Arnold might be hiding in the tree and would jump down and pummel the daylights out of me.

Melissa noticed something and gasped. "Ralph! You've got a black eye. And all these bruises…" She looked concerned. "What happened to you?"

"It's really nothing. Nothing at all." I was trying to end this conversation quickly. The sooner I could get away from there without Arnold getting wind of me, the better.

Melissa shook her head. "No, there has to be an explanation to this. Please, if you don't mind, tell me what happened?" She was determined to get to the bottom of this.

"Uh, I tripped on the stairs in the Raccoondominium and hit my head." I just made that up really quickly, hoping she'd buy it.

She shot a funny look towards me. "Are you sure, Ralph?" I could tell she had her doubts.

"Sure as sure can be." I said flatly.

"Oh. Say, Ralph," she asked me, "why did you leave right after Arnold came over? You could have stayed, my dad didn't get home for another hour."

I was not going to truthfully answer that. If she found out that Arnold had beaten me up, she would probably refuse to go to the dance with him, and he would probably snap and kill the both of us.

"Oh, I had some…personal business to attend with," I fibbed.

"What kind of business?"

"I had to help Bert work on another assignment. You know how he is," I chuckled, very uneasily. "Always procrastinating with his work." I was completely lying. Bert didn't have that big assignment I did, as he didn't even have the same class.

Melissa looked at me suspiciously. "You don't sound so sure of that."

"Really? Well, that's what happened."

"Ralph…" she asked. "Did Arnold…do something to you?"

"Arnold? Heh-heh, no, he's an old friend. Never would do anything to me at all."

"Ralph, please, I want to help you."

"You don't have to, I'm just fine." I thought I saw Arnold out of the corner of my eye (it was my mind playing tricks on me, but it was enough to scare me), and suddenly found myself in a hurry to leave. "Uh, look, Melissa. I need to get going. Bert needs me to help him with that assignment, it's a really big one. Don't want him to fail it now." I dashed out of there.

I heard her calling after me, "Ralph! Come back! I think you need help!"

It was too late, I was already gone.

That night, I was lying in bed staring up at the ceiling.

I was thinking about what Arnold had said. How he said he would hurt me if he caught me talking to Melissa again. How he said he was going to try to "score" after the dance. What he would probably do to her if she refused his advances.

Oh, how I wished I had just said "Yes" to her. None of this dreadful mess would be happening.

"It looks like she'll be going with him to that dance…oh man. I don't want to think about what's going to happen to her… but there's nothing I can do to stop him…what am I going to do?"

I thought really hard. Suddenly, it hit me. I remembered my father's words he'd told me at Greg's House of Beer.

"There's only one thing you can do. You get your ass out there and challenge him to something he's really, really good at. And you go out there and beat his ass at it."

"That's it!" I exclaimed to myself. "I've got it!"

Thinking back, it was the dumbest thing I'd ever thought up. But it made complete sense to me at the time. It really was true-love would make you do the craziest things.

END CHAPTER ELEVEN

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ralph has now been presented with a challenger (and NOT a pleasant one at all) in the form of his old high school nemesis, Arnold Layne. What will he challenge Arnold to? Find out in the next chapter and see how it all turns out. (This'll be fun).

For those wondering, yes, "Arnold Layne" really is the name of a song by Pink Floyd (listed here as a Raccoons version of them, Pig Floyd). As a matter of fact it was actually the very first single the group ever put out in early 1967. This was when they still had their founder and original leader, Syd Barrett, with them. (Shine on, you crazy diamond!) What Ralph mentions the song being about is true-it is indeed about a crossdresser who stole women's clothing and dressed up in it, and got himself put away on the chain gang for theft. Needless to say, the song was banned by the BBC (gee, I wonder why...) The character was based on a real person who stole Syd Barrett's and Roger Waters' mothers' clothes from their clothes lines during their youths. He was never caught. The song goes like this, "Oh, Arnold Layne, it's not the same. Takes two to know, two to know, two to know, two to know...Why can't you see?" Good luck trying to find this song on Youtube...hell, good luck trying to find Pink Floyd anything on Youtube right now. The copyright police are REALLY cracking down on Pink Floyd. Damn EMI. There goes that tribute to Cyril I wanted to make using "Money"...

The song on the jukebox at the bar is "Doing All Right" by Queen. It's from their first album and is one of my favorite songs by the band. (It's an odd song, going back and forth from being a piano-driven ballad to a heavy metallic monster, but the lyrics are pretty uplifting). They are written by Brian May and Timothy Staffell (the lead singer/bass player in an early lineup of Queen-Freddie Mercury replaced him) and are copyright of their respective owners. You probably wouldn't find this song on a jukebox in real life, but what the hell. I wanted to use it, so on the jukebox it is.

And I thought it would be a nice touch for Ralph to have a genuine bonding moment with his father, even if it was in a sleazy bar. I almost made that its own chapter.

Just a little warning-the chapters will get even longer from here on out. If you thought chapter 5 was long, wait until you see Chapter 12...

Nothing left for you to do this time but read and review (as always).