If you expect an action story, well, tough luck. I wrote this in a very short time. I guess it's to explain what's going on in almost everybody's life and how dumb and blind we can be sometimes. If you think it's corny, well, it probably will seem to be to you. Well, enjoy.

I sit here at the bar table of our quaint little tavern. My paws hurt so badly it’s hard to explain. My head is pounding and my tail feels like a steamroller ran over it. I groan and raise my muzzle up just a bit. I look across the area behind the bar and to a mirror with the word ‘Winchester’ written across it.
My red and white face looks back at me. My long hair covers a lot of my fur, but, I can easily see my hazel eyes looking back at me. My fur is dirty and matted from working and then the little ‘incident’ at home. Suddenly I cannot look at my face anymore and a pain raises up inside my stomach.
The pains in the rest of my body quadruple in intensity as I feel a bit of emotional stress and pain rage from my mind down through my body. My toes cringe up and my jaw bites down hard, making me focus on the muscles pulling my teeth together for just a second. When the pain goes away, I let out a groan of both relief and release of how I feel inside.
The lights shine down brightly from above, but, they always seem so dull when I see them. Why that is I’ll never know. The sounds of the bar come and go to my ears as my thoughts go from what’s around me to the screaming voice in me, the voice of my father, telling me of what a fucking screw up I am. I try to push the voice away, but, it only comes back and usually comes back angrier than before.
I lean forward and put my elbows onto the countertop. I then turn my muzzle down and push my head forward, putting my finger pads onto my temples, pushing my black hair aside as my fingers touch my matted fur. I groan and shut my eyes as a screaming pain goes through my head. Moments later I feel like I’m going to puke and my insides clench up.
My paws thrash around below the stool and my tail bangs against the wooden legs again and again. The voice screams out at me again and again, thrashing about like a caged tiger against the deepest recesses of my mind. My eyelids clench up and my face dances about, pain shooting throughout my body. The feeling of nausea rises into my mouth and pushes down into my bowels and at one point I feel I’ll simply throw up all over the countertop.
I push the voice away and the feelings of nausea go down to a manageable level. I take a sigh of relief as the muscles in my face unclench and relax. My eyes open up as I hear footsteps coming towards me. A drink is placed down in front of me, but, I don’t even move. My eyes glance up to the bartender from under my long hair. The bear stands before me for but a second, but that second allows him enough time to smile gently and nod his head before he turns away and walks up the counter.
I look to the drink and feel sick once more. The pain in my legs and paws rages up to a new level and I close my eyes. I can’t even drink. I feel so sick, and I know that the feelings are coming from within my head and nowhere else. Why can’t I keep it under control? My eyes open up and I look down to my jacket. The old jacket from M&M Mars, with my father’s name stitched onto it, covers my dirty Led Zeppelin t-shirt I’ve had for nearly twelve years.
Then my eyes go down to my ratty jeans. They’re covered with wet grass and soot and mud from working in the yard after coming home from the shop. My brown shoes are black from the wet grass and soot. And to think my shoes are only about two years old and they looks like they’ve trotted around the globe and back again. My eyes close and I can only focus on my aches and pains.
Especially the one that seems to come from nowhere but seems to be everywhere. The one that slowly presses down onto my stomach and heart like a vice grip. It’s always loose at first. But, as everything else, only gets worse once it’s begun. Why the fuck didn’t you do more extra curricular activities in school? Tighten. Why the fuck didn’t you try harder? Tighten. Why the fuck did you get a C on that project? Tighten. Why the fuck didn’t you get that done earlier? Tighten. What the fuck is wrong with you, you little shit? Flat line.
I rub my temples a little more, but, that only seems to make me more sick. My stomach churns around like the mixer in at work. That piece of shit keeps breaking down and I have to fix it every other day. And that’s only work. Then I’ve got college and home life to deal with as well. I can’t take it anymore. First it’s work.
In, punch card, dress in sterilized clothing and hard helmet, deal with Paul, that fuck head, have to get called up and down the four floors in that goddamn factory, deal with Paul again, that fuck head, deal with Stacy, lunch, laugh with friends for twenty minutes, deal with Paul again, that fuck head, deal with Stacy, deal with the wrapper, deal with the mixer, help the dumb temps deal with the wrapper again, clean something or another out of the ventilation system, help Sharkey deal with Paul, that fuck head, deal with the wrapper again, deal with the potheads smoking pot in the back room, listen to John Myers and John Gates bitch about something or another, punch out, return clothes, go out to my ’86 Bronco II to go home.
At home, because I’m still in college and it’s cheaper to stay at home and commute, I have to deal with my mom. I do most of the things around there. Dishes, laundry, yard work, wash this, wash that. I do it without much of a word. Because if I say something, that’s just ammunition for my mom to use against me. And she wonders why I loved my dad more than I do her.
I thought college would be a bit different from high school. Guess again. I hate George Bush. Fuck him and fuck his fucking No Child Left Behind. I sit in classes with twenty-two-year-old retards who still think fart jokes are funny. Now I understand why people go postal in schools these days. Trust me, I’ve never considered it, but, I just understand it.
I keep hearing voices in my head. And it’s not a voice that tells me to go kill people, no, I’m not crazy. It’s always the voice of my mom telling me I’m a deadbeat or telling me I’m a lazy shithead. Or it’s the voice of my tenth grade math teacher telling me I’ll never get anywhere if I don’t work harder. Or it’s my high school councilor telling me to talk and talk about things I don’t want to talk about. Or it’s my manager telling me how much of a douche bag I am. Or it’s the clusterfuck of all the voices screaming at me at once.
I groan a little bit, out of pain, maybe, and close my eyes tight. I look down to the countertop and focus on the noise rolling around within my skull. I try to push it away with all my mental strength, but, the voices just come back. I grit my teeth and push harder at the voices and thoughts.
I don’t know why I hear these voices, why I’m so sad and angry all the time. I never know who is to blame for all of this. I want to blame somebody, but there’s never anybody around. Nobody to even talk to. I feel so damned alone. All the time. I could walk up the street and see a hundred people, but, none that I would even remotely want to talk to. None that would understand. None that would use what I tell them as ammunition against me. Why am I so alone?
The sound of a bass line rumbles through the room. Suddenly, the voices, the pain, the anger flickers away. My eyes open gently and I look down to the countertop. I lift my head up and look into the mirror. I look to my face and no longer have the feeling that I need to avert my eyes as if they would burn out if I didn’t. I lower my hands to the countertop and look into the mirror.
Seconds later I suddenly hear the soft sound of a guitar playing. I turn my head and look up the bar, to a raccoon trucker who sits there, enjoying his beer. He doesn’t seem to notice anything. I look up to the bear bartender and he looks down into the glass he’s wiping as if nothing is going on.
The guitar slowly taps on and then silences. Moments later a clear bass line rumbles through the room. I twist my head around and look over my shoulder, towards the back of the room, where a stage once stood, now it is simply an empty corner. A band stands there, though nobody seems to even notice that they’re even there.
In the very back, in the corner, is a large, blue drum set. Sitting behind it is a horse. To his left, leaning up against a wall, is a dog with a big, black bass guitar, his left paw up against the wall. In front of the drum set are two guitarists, both sitting down on small chairs, facing each other just slightly, and looking down to their guitars, both are cats. Finally, in front is a slightly heavy tiger who holds onto the metal pole whilst looking to the ground. All the wires from the instruments go into the wall. They each wear a black suit with a black tie. A black fedora covers their faces and I can never see their face exactly, even though a bright light hangs directly above them.
Music begins to gently play from their way. As the bass rumbles throughout the room and the guitarist begins, I look around the room. Nobody seems to even notice that there’s anybody even there. They all continue with whatever it is they are doing. Be it drinking, talking or playing pool. They act as if nothing has changed. I gently spin around on the stool and look towards the band.
“Day after day, I’m more confused.”
My eyes look directly to the singer. He doesn’t seem to look to anybody, rather than around the room. Somehow, even when his eyes pass mine almost directly, I never see his eyes. It seems that hat does a very good job of hiding his face.
“So I look for the light through the pouring rain.”
The singer’s eyes turn to my right, towards the front of the room. I follow his eyes and look towards who sits at a seat near the door. There are two cats, two that I know. It’s Cameron and his older brother Caleb. Two heavy-set cats who enjoy music, games and fun. They talk and laugh and hit at each other like brothers. I feel a small smile flicker onto my face.
“You know that’s a game I hate to lose.”
Suddenly the singer’s eyes swing around to the other side of the room. Near the back is a golden retriever named Josh. He sits with his left paw up on the table before him. He holds an acoustic guitar before him and gently plucks at it while smiling. I look to him and lean back against the counter behind me. The pains in my legs no longer bother me.
“I’m feeling the strain, ain’t it a shame?”
I feel my eyes turn to my left. Two people play pool at an old table in the corner, in the corner behind where Josh is sitting, while one stands by and waits. I know them well as well. A heavy-set mutt named Aaron and a tall bull named Zach play pool, while laughing at each other and some other shit like idiots. The squirrel standing by is named Sam and he laughs and plays along, even when the jokes are aimed at him. I smile a little more and my tail begins to wag slowly, the pain in it vanquished.
“Aw, gimmie the beat boys, and free my soul,
I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away.”
Suddenly I hear the door crack open. A wolf steps in slowly, a girl named Tiff that I know from school. She looks around the room slowly, trying to spot out the people she knows, at least, the ones having fun. I look to her and see her eyes come towards me. Suddenly she smiles and her tail begins to wag back and forth. She begins in my way and smiles, her ears perking up.
“Aw, gimmie the beat boys, and free my soul
I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift . . . away.”
“Hey, Tiff, how’s it goin’?” I ask.
“Fine, I can’t believe I’d see you here.” Tiffany replies happily.
“I’d say the same about you. What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Just looking for a bit of fun. I can’t stand work and school anymore. If I don’t stop focusing on it, it’s going to kill me.” She responds.
“Wow, that’s . . .” I slowly say.
Suddenly my eyes turn towards the corner where the band is playing. But, they aren’t there. The light above them is smashed and hanging to it’s side. A few broken beer bottles cover the floor and in the corner a few broken boards from the stage stand guard up against two crates stacked on top of each other, hiding where the plugs for the house system was on the wall. It’s like they were never even there.
“That’s what?” Tiff replies.
My ears perk up and I turn back towards her. I reach up and rub the back of my neck as I glance back and forth to the corner where the band was. No sounds come from there anymore, and it seems as if nobody ever even stood there. Had I imagined the whole thing? I don’t know. Nobody else seemed to notice. Maybe they were just my imagination. I smile and wag my tail happily back and forth.
“Nothing, nothing. Let’s get something to eat. Some friends are here today. We’re surrounded by friends today.” I say and turn towards the bar.
Tiffany joins me and I turn back towards the counter. As I sit down, I think of what has happened lately. I no longer think about the hell I’ve weathered. I can only think of friends. All the friends in at work, the people I get to see at school and the fact I have family still. The party at Zach’s place the other week and the one coming up at Kris and Kyle’s, hosted by Aaron. I can only think of the small gig Josh and I played a few weeks ago and the possibilities in the future.
I don’t know exactly what happened, but, I don’t really care. I’ve stopped feeling the pain and turned my attention somewhere else. I don’t feel alone. My friends are here, they’ve always been here, even if I was too blind to see it. Finally, my heart no longer hurts. It’s almost as if my fears and pain have just drifted away.