Grape City, Maine. Considered the finest and most safest town in all of America. Maine. Home to zero crime, friendly communites and residents in all counties, and a bunch of overly excited Canadians from New Brunswick; A Canadian Providence that neighbors with the state. While Maine is more of an oceanic state like Rhode Island, it still holds up to its name as the "Lighthouse State" because of all the lighthouses that aline the Atlantic coast. The state also houses the oldest lighthouse called the "Portland Head Lighthouse" that sits upon the same rocky ledge off the coast of Fort Williams Park in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. It's been standing since 1791: Not even 10 years before Maine officially joined the US. Still shining and lighting the ocean at night.
My name is Anthony. Anthony Meeterson. (Last name pronounced Meet-er-son). I am 19-years old.
Grape City is where I live which is about 11 miles from Cape Elizabeth. I was actually born in Newsdale. It's where I grew up and attended kindergarten. Then I was a very social pup who had many friends and was considered the class clown by other students and teachers. Even during silent time; I would joke around and make other students laugh and get us both sent to the office or held inside during recess. Outside, I enjoyed playing tag with my main friends. Tyler Hambell was my best friend. He was a pup with a very energetic and relaxed mind. He acted like any child would on sugar or caffine. Hyped. Bouncing off the walls. His mom was good friends with my mom and we always visited each other's houses to hang out. I compare him nowadays to that cartoon sponge character that appears on Channel 37: Orange-Toons. A children's network that since 1991 has aired animated cartoons that I enjoyed watching as a pup. I would watch that talking sponge character and his adventures, and a few other 90s cartoons my mom used to watch that to this day I still watch from time to time.
But nothing compared to Playhouse. God, how I wish for them (though I'm older) to bring back that network. I would give anything, even if it meant to give up my left kidney to have it back on cable TV. For those who you don't know what the network was. Playhouse was a preschool channel that aired the legendary goat shows every morning. Shows I'm surprised didn't win an Emmy, or were introduced into the genuis world record books of the millennium for most viewed show. Shows that kids now a-days would call "Crap" or "Shit." Nobody but us adults know what was best. Nowadays, cartoons are shit. I would rather kill or blind myself than watch the cartoons these days. The dialogue and plots are thee-absoulte worst. A lot of the time its just the episodes just follow the same plot. That's half the reason why I am the way I am. I'm a nostalgic wolf. And a lot of people can agree with me and go on about their personal reasons.
If I were to have kids one day, I would force them to watch what I grew up with when I was there age. I would make them grow up with what I did before the Internet and Shorts took the stage. Before Trends became instant death on humanity. I could see myself now. "You see kids, this is what I grew up with. Now you are going to sit there, and watch each episode of every TV show on screen. Understood!" And if they didn't like it I'd make them love it. When I turned six, my family moved from Newsdale to Saco. Saco is a small town with a population of just 20,000 people. Founded in 1631 and made officially apart of Winter Harbor and Biddleford. It officially didn't become a city itself until 1653 by the Massachusetts General Court that split Biddleford.
To be honest, I enjoyed living there. It was very quiet and had friendly folks and families. It was there I first learned to ride a bike and went to school from 1st-4th grade. The school I went to was called CK Burns School. A regular 1920s red brick building that sat in walking distance. I would walk there everyday with my buddies and back. My main friends here were Derek Clinton, Gage Shore, Marcus Veild, and sometimes Brent Coolidan (Pronounced Cool-Li-Dawn). But it was mainly us four: Me, Derek, Gage, and Marcus. Together we were inseparable friends who shared a lot of the same interests. During recess, we would play various games based on our favorite movies we watch repetitively before bed time. Our top two were Transformers, and Avengers or Marvel. I'd always play the role as Optimus Prime since he was my favorite Transformer. I was also Captain America whenever we played Avengers. We would face off against our heros enemies and always win.
"I'm Bumble Bee," Gage announced. "I'm always him."
"I'm Megatron," Derek nodded getting into character.
"And I'm Optimus Prime," I said.
We all ran around the blacktop pretending to defeat enemies or sometimes face each other that was like a story that continued the next day.
During lunch time we would still talk and use our hands and wave them in the air while still pretending we were outside. I sat next to a kid every time named Manuel who always tricked me into doing things thay were considered embarrassing. One time, he did the "Open the Gate" trick which had students in stitches everytime.
In 3rd Grade is when I met the love of my life. She was a beautiful fox named Holly Shywolf. I knew her since 2nd grade, but by 3rd grade she really started to show affection towards me. She would stare at me and joke around with me. Her favorite thing to do was make me slam my thigh or knee against the bar under the lunchroom tables. It all started after I did it purposely while mocking something I saw on America's Funniest Home Videos after watching a little girl fail doing a dance to a song and falling. "Hey, be Justin Bieber," Holly said, trying to hold back a giggle. Her face had the widest smile. Everyone turned their faces to me. They had their food sit a ness in front of them, smiles wide and chuckles already lightly coming out. "I'm Justin Bieber, I'm Justin Bieber!" I said doing a little dance then purposely banging my knee or thigh against the metal bar which made the table shake. The kids all around busted out laughing, tears falling down their face. Their feet and fists slamming against the table as they hooted and choked up.
I laughed along with them as I thought it was a riot. "Hey, be Michael Jackson!" Manuel tapped my shoulder. "I'm Michael Jackson! Uh. Hehe. Billie Jean is not my..." *BANG* The students at the table laughed it up as so did I. Holly took a real laughing stock into it. Now while my friends would get me to do stupid things that made me the class clown, it made Holly fall more for me. Now while generally she never admitted to liking me, I could tell she did. Everytime after school she would chase me like a cop until we went parted. When she caught me, she would pin me against a wall on the side of the building and hold me there for before letting me go.
I was a bit of a ladies wolf back then. I had 4 girls who all had their own feelings for me. But only 3 out of the 4 admitted to it-- But Holly.
During summer break, I would ride my bike with the neighbor kids around the court. We would hold bike races in any conditions. Heat, snow, rain, you name it, we rode it. I was very fit back then. My favorite thing to do while biking was putting my feet up on the metal bar in front of me when riding down hill on Ringo Court. Closing my eyes and feeling the breeze brush my face and muzzle. We would also play Cops much like the TV show. We would use toy pistols as our guns, our index and middle fingers as tasers, and a pair of plastic handcuffs. We used our bikes as cars. We would get off and flee to chase each other down and tackle each other. "Don't resist!" I told my friend Nick. I had my knee on the back of his knee and was handcuffing him. He started to put up a fight when I stood him up. "I wanna talk to my lawyer!" He said, trying to sound like a real criminal.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do will be used against you in a court of law!" My friend Brandon said. He held a walkie talkie I gifted him as a birthday present last year. He wore a fake plastic bage that clipped easily to his shirt from a police kit he bought at the dollar store.
Summer break was always the best for us. But not as best than winter when Christmas came. It was around this year where we would all search the house at night for our Christmas gifts and the next day talk about what we got. Of course, I was the one who always got the expensive gifts since my dad was a truck driver and was paid by the mile he ran. 50 to 60 cents per mile and coming home with $12k paycheck a week.
While my dad was out making money to pay for food, cable, and our rent, I was raised by my mom and my grandmother. I was more attached to my grandmother since she was more nice to me. Even before her death. When I struggled through tough or lonely times I could easily reach out to call her so she could tell me things will be alright. She was the only person I know who truly knew what I feel: (Alongside my dad). I'll talk more about my mental health later as it is pretty... unsettling and upsetting. That even still haunts me after talking it out to several therapists.
Continuing with school, I was a straight A student who struggled a bit in Math, but found it to be an easy subject with the help of my teachers who easily explained it better than my High School teachers. They would make learn fun and enjoyable which encouraged kids to want to learn more. In 4th Grade, my teacher Ms. Doyln before every test or exam would put on a meditation video from a website called Pop-See-Ko to calm our minds and get our blood pumping. The characters were always funny and made us all laugh.
I still think that she was a great teacher alongside my 2nd grade teacher Mr. MacNeil. Though, she could've been a little less strict. She sort of acted like a combination between the schools superintendent Ms. Stock and the office manager Ms. Jackie. Ms. Doyln stood about the same height as my dad at 6'1. She had pale white skin that would occasionally tan if she was exposed to the sun for long enough, but would quickly fade when she went back in. She would always wear the school's signature purple uniform with a pair of black jeans and white tennis shoes whenever she came to class.
It was also in 4th Grade where Holly started to "in-secret" admit her feelings about me when I wasn't around. She knew I was a Weeblo scout since she was also friends with one of my scout buddies and told her everything about me and my clown ways. I'll admit I was. But I didn't act alone. Yes. I was a scout in my younger days, and how I wish I could've continued.
4th Grade was also the year where we began to learn about sex. Sex! The school system is talking about penises and pussies, and the ballsack and breasts to 9 year olds. We're not even in Middle School yet and the teachers are already talking about AIDS and STD's, and Intercourse. While all of the students chuckled at the words that the teachers showed on the projector I sat in discomfort and disgustment trying not to puke, holding my fist against my mouth not knowing what to say or do. I barely even took note.
"Never let me learn about that stuff again!" I told my parents when I got home. And do they regret letting me learn that... yes! YES! YES! YOU BET THEY DO!
To conclude my 4th and final year I would be seeing my friends Derek, Gage, Marcus, and my forever love Holly we held a field day where we went around the whole school inside and out doing fun activities the teachers had set out. We got soaked in water and our strength strengthen. And the best part a break against the early hot June sun. We got our taste of Otter Pops that to this day I still enjoy every summer and sit in the shade of my house on an ice chest sucking on the frozen juice pop, reliving the moment while pretending to talk to my friends again.
"I hope to see you again next near," were the final words spoken to me by Holly with the most beautiful smile she could show me. Her face was red as we talked until the bell rang starting our summer vacation.
A few months later, we had moved back to Newsdale from Saco. At the time, it didn't bother me leaving my old friends behind as I had my yearbooks. However, after graduating Elementary School, Middle School, and High School, I moved to Grape City where I attend Grape University. I currently live a lonely life. Why? Well the girls are to blame.
"Hey, Anthony, why the long face?" Heather asked, at first trying to sound caring but would start laughing thinking it was funny that I was hurt by women. I've had women get me in trouble for no reason and start to harass me starting in 6th Grade. It continued up until "The Rock Incident" where a female cat named Katie would try to fight me everyday.
Katie was a feline with white and orange fur. She wore a black shirt with the words "THE ROLLING STONES" printed on it in black letters as well as the bands famous red lipsticked mouth. She wore blue jeans and pink high-top 80s converse.
"Hey, Anthony, wanna fight? I can easily beat you up," she would always say to me whenever she saw me. She would ball her fists up like she was expecting me to throw the first punch. I wasn't just gonna hit her. I know better than to hit a girl. She just wanted to have me arrested. "Fight me you fucking pussy," she tried to sct tough. She just wanted trouble. I ignored her a lot of times. Feeling hurt and sad being harassed for no reason. It all took a fall when I got fed up with Katie's antics and tried ranting her out. I wasn't even aware that she was armed until she bashed a rock on my head. At first my ears rang, I felt dizzy. I started to cry and went home. My parents called the police, and I was checked out by paramedics. The police talked to both of us and explained to me that Katie didn't hit me with the rock; when clearly she did. She just didn't want to admit it and get arrested and charged with battery.
That stupid Feline. I'm glad she moved to Florida. I hope shes living a better life and that managed to get things together.
Its hard to talk about my traumatic life as so many things happened that still haunt me even after talking it out. I want to forget about it all, but it still haunts me like a tumor or a virus that eats away at me. Like worms and bugs eating into ones flesh and brain. Though I admit my fears are long gone and forgotten and I have learned to control myself, their spirits linger on as a reminder of the pain. The constant harassment and ignorance from women make me feel like they know I'm crazy. That I'm a freak. They take a glance at me and immediately realize that something is wrong with me. And out of all the hours day by day I think that I've lost my mind. When the truth is-- I'm not crazy. I'm just upset. Upset by the fact that woman don't want to be around me. That they can't take a look at me without backing up like I'm gonna kill them.
Its happened multiple times...
I was shopping with my grandma, brother, and mom for the holiday season. I was looking around at clothes and shirts that I desperately needed since some of my shirts had a few tears or just didn't fit me anymore. I struggled growing up in my teenage years. Ever since my Dad's trucking accident and him dislocating his shoulder, he was forced to retire. Not only that, but with constant seizures and being in and out of the hospital, the doctors made a statement that he couldn't drive any vehicle anymore. Which bit everyone's asses hard. He was the only one who provided for the family and kept a roof over our head. But that was all gone. Our stuff was storaged, and we could only take what little we had.
I hated the homeless shelter. It was full of nothing but a bunch of dirty scums who would do nothing but beg for money so they can have their beer and drugs. The streets below were covered in zombified shirtless dirty rags with bushy beards. They luckily never said anything to us kids whenever we walked out to wait for the school bus. However, one day while my dad was outside smoking a cigarette he saw a complete naked homeless man doing nothing but shouting and acting like he was high. He told him that the kids were kids going to be waiting for the bus soon.
I hated it there. It was the worst place for a pup like myself to be. But at least it provided food, electricity, showers, and bedding for families. I slept on a bunk bed that was closer to the kitchen and bathroom. My meals mainly consisted of microwaveable broccoli cheddar noodle that my grandma had bought at the store. They were good, but not the best. One night was different, my family and I had eome meatloaf that my grandma had brought over alongside some mashed potatoes and gravy. How it eas the best meatloaf ever. It was better than microwaveable TV dinners.
In the 6th grade is when I started playing the violin. I absolutely sucked at it. The violin I had to use had wood chipping off of it and only had 3 strings. The ross for the bow was as solid as a rock so I couldn't rossen the bow at all. Whenever the music teacher would conduct us to play, I would try my best, but I knew out of all the 20 kids playing the viola and 5 on the cello that I sucked. So I would only try. The errie screeching sound blending in with the perfectly made music from the other students.
Oh, yeah, after I moved out of Saco, I attended a different elementary school called Halts Elementary that was quite far from the homeless shelter that I still lived in for the past few months before eventually finding a place. It was a nice school. It definitely changed since the last time I attended kindergarten. I had an okay teacher named Ms. Gater who was probably in her 50s or 60s. She was nice most of time and allowed us to do whatever as long as we still worked. 6th Grade was also when all the harassments began. Girls constantly making fun of me and even getting me sent to the principals office for no reason. I didn't do anything to them. I'm a chill wolf. All I do during lunch and recess is walk and talk with my friend Lance Bowers. Lance was a fox with white fur and short blue hair. He was like the extreme chill version of me. He never spoke too much during class. I don't know if his parents were hippies or not. But he was a very chill dude.
He was never violent or didn't seem like the type of fur that would commit any act of violence. He looked like he would grow up to be a model on one of those magazines teen girls like to gossip about. I could see him now. His body plastered on the cover of 'Magazine's for the Babes'. His biography printed on every page with a hot picture of him to make every teen girl wet. I know it sounds gay to talk about coming from a male, but its true. I wouldn't be surprised if it did happen to him. Could it? Very unlikely so. He seems to be camera shy. I know just based on how he looked in the school yearbook and class photo we took back in December before Christmas break. He had that blank stare with a slight smile.
I had lost my school yearbooks and am still wondering where they could be. The only thing I have is my class photo which upon looking at everytime brings tears to my brown eyes. I gripped the plastic "Joshua's" print paper tightly. I made sure not to crinkle it up or for my claws to scratch it as I didn't wanna ruin it as it was my only photo of me and my classmates. I was saving it so I could frame it when I had the money to. For now the photo was kept in a folder in my closet.
Now that I've talked about my school years, I can finally talk about my college years. I'm a freshman college student now. After finishing High School I moved from Newsdale to Grape City to attend Grape University. A 4 year public college with multiple buildings all around the campess with classes for all courses. Whatever you wanted to be, they had the class for it! I took history and science, as well as biology since I was tempting about being a paramedic.
I mainly stayed inside my dorm room studying and reading random books and medical textbooks. I had a roommate named Jim Christopherson. He was a male coyote who was like me. A quiet and well reserved fur who kept to themselves. He was studying to be an accountant. He loved to read a lot of math books and every night would ask me to give him multiple math problems.
"Give me a hard math problem. Like a really hard one!" Jim said, pencil in hand. He looked like he eas ready to write down an essay. I sat on my bed criss-crossed reading Hotel Hell by Evan Sting: A horror author who is known for writing horror fiction novels. His top best selling novels are "The Vet", "Smiles the Clown", "Eagles!", and of course "Hotel Hell". Hotel Hell! (The one I'm reading), was published back in '84. Years before I was born. It's a 927 page book that tells the story of a family who become trapped and locked in a haunted hotel in Wyoming. The dad in the book named Max, a rich fox goes insane because of evil entities in the hotel and goes insane. His goal is to kill his family because he is constantly told to. The book is actually pretty good. I'd definitely recommend it.
"Give me a complicated math problem," Jim repated himself, he tapped his mechanical pencil against the hsrd surface of a math textbook he was using as a hard surface. The penicl left tiny micro dot marks on the paper. "I don't know!" I was really engrossed in Hotel Hell as it was getting good. It just started talking about a ghost named William who tells Max that his family is going to betray him.
"Come on!" Jim was starting to get impatient. His voice made me jump since it was quiet. "Fine!" I sighed, rolling my eyes putting a plastic green book marker between pages 78 and 79. I sighed while trying to think of a complicated math problem to give. "Um... How about... 898x35 divided by 5-701-301!" It was the only equation I could think of. Jim brought the paper close to him and he began writing. He seemed really focused and determined to answer it. The room was silent as he worked on finding the answer.
"Uh... 5,284!" said Jim. He put the paper down. I opened my dresser drawer and scavenged around for my calculator. I held it up to me and typed in the exact equation to check if he was right. As soon as the answer popped up, I was stunned. "You're right!" I said. "Wow!" It was impressive. tossed the calculator back in my dresser drawer and slammed it shut. It closed with a soft slam. "Come on, give me another one!" Jim demanded.
"Fine! 99x99!"
"9,801!"
Jim answered it like he already knew the answer from the start. How did he know it off the top of his head? I didn't think nothing of it and finished reading the next few chapters of my book. I glanced at my alarm clock. "10:09pm" was the time shown in big red. I closed my book and put it on the nightstand. Before I got comfy, I told Jim to turn off the light since I always did every night. I got comfy under the sheets and comforter, feeling the soft cotton wool against me.The window was opened slightly letting in a cool breeze which felt nice against my face. The sweet outdoor smell filled the room. I turned over on my right side facing the wall and fell asleep hoping tomorrow wws going to be a good day like today was.
Heather was on vacation and wasn't going to be coming back for a few weeks. Don't even get me started on her. That fox can suck all the dick she wants to. She's the one who really mistreats me. Her alongside her best friend Jeanette Tori and Ashley Clair all do. I've known them since sophomore year. They're the popular chicks who think they call the shots just because their parents are rich and live off of Snow White St. Where all the other riches live. Heather Berrmoon is the most popular out of the three. She's a fox with light orange fur, long autumn pumpkin orange hair, blue eyes. She always wears a purple solid button down front-drop shoulder satin shirt with black jeans. Her breasts are smooth and seem very nice. How I would die to feel them. To have her lying next to me. For us to be naked, making love. To hear her moan loudly in pleasure as I bang away at her. To see her pant and beg as I tease her with my 7 inch long red canine cock. But... That is just a dream.
ALWAYS! NEVER! Heather mistreats me to a point where I can't trust any woman anymore. She's like the devil and her friends are demons that bring more hell on me. On the last day of school senior year, she alongside Jeanette and Ashley stopped me before I could reach the door and picked me up. They tossed me in one of the black cafeteria trash bins and wheeled it outside and shoved it down the concrete stairs. My head slammed against the inside of the plastic bin with each step I came in contact with. After the last step, the bin rolled for a little bit before coming to a rest beside a yellow 1970 Pontiac. I was completely dizzy. My head ached everywhere. I didn't know if I was bleeding anywhere. It felt like I cracked a rib or two. When I climbed out slowly, Heather and her friends were at the top by the school entrance hooting and lost in pure laughter.
"Why... why!" I struggled to speak, tears forming out of the corners of my eyes. I struggled to stand up and limped away slowly back home. I could tell my the shin on the left leg was swollen. It felt like I was bruised everywhere. Upon a quick emergency room visit, the doctors rsn a few X-rays and told me I had a few minor injuries such as a few swollen areas and bruises. Nothing too life threatening. Everything took a few months to heal and I was fine. After that incident, I had concluded and decided that woman didn't want me. They don't like me.
The only women I trust is my mother.
Recalling that traumatic event still brings tears to my eyes.
Why! Just why! Why must women abuse me?!. I'm just an innocent wolf who wants a little love in his life. For a girl to not hate me. But to show love and affection. "Maybe..." I thought to myself trying to go to bed. I could hear Jim already snoring. "Maybe I can show Heather and her friends what happens when someone's trust is broken!"