Edge Walking. Chap 1: Exodus
#2 of Edge Walking
"Edge Walking"
By: Cauldron O Boyfur
About: "Edge Walking" is a series centered around a 16 year old bunny named Jamie. A dancer/prostitute, Jamie's stories are documented in "Edge Walking" with an emphasis being placed on family, friends, sexual experiences and escapades, drug abuse, eating disorders, faith, the seedier side of city life, and the hopeful side of city life. Some important information about the series:
Notes and Warnings:
-"Edge Walking" takes place in the city of Phurrydelphia. The layout of roadways, buildings, and physical landscape in Phurrydelphia is nearly an exact replica of the real city Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA. However, there are some fiction aspects, which makes Phurrydelphia different than it's real life counterpart. When such differences occur, I will make note of it before each chapter.
-I'm from Philadelphia, so I have an intricate knowledge of the city, and feel confident in my portraying of it.
-In this furry world, only bunnies, wolves, foxes, bears, otters, and cats exist. I am very sorry to readers who favor other anthromorphic animals which aren't included, but I can't bog myself down with too many different animal species. I urge you to please not let this frustrate you into not reading the work.
-It is crucial to note that NO species of animal is meant to portray ANY ethnicity in real life. For example, wolves are not supposed to be equated with caucasians, or hispanics, or native Americans, etc... I must stress this point, because "Edge Walking" does contain a lot of ideas about prejudices between species, and typical behaviors of different species, so again, this must not be compared with different human cultures and ethnicities.
-While species aren't meant to be compared with human ethnicity, religion is used in this story, because this series does delve into issues of faith. Religion has no attachment to species. Two foxes can be of different religions, while a fox and a cat may pray side by side in church every Sunday.
-Jamie is Jewish, and so am I for that matter. I can't see why anyone would be offended by that fact, but if so, then don't read my works.
-Don't bother reading my works if you find male/male homosexuality offensive. "Edge Walking" is saturated in it.
-There are political parties mentioned in "Edge Walking", however I do not want them compared with political parties we have in humanity. This is especially because certain parties in this series have documented prejudices, and I don't want readers to think I'm trying to claim that a specific political party in our system is fueled on intolerance as well.
-The "Cha-Ching" Gentleman's Club and Cocktail Lounge is purely fictional, and is not meant to parallel or hint at any club or business establishment which exists in reality.
-None of the characters in "Edge Walking" are based on real people.
Chapter 1: Exodus
The pitter-patter of midnight's rain was steadily on the increase. It was on pace of becoming a liquid gatling gun.
Second night on the city street, Jamie couldn't help but think that if God did exist, It must've been a cruel jokester, happy with either spitting or pissing on his head. It was to be expected though. Jamie's love for God was not returned back. Of course God had no love for him, no sympathy, no shred of compassion. God created the boy to be spat and pissed upon the moment his fetal body sprouted long ears, while his tail failed to grow longer than a fist.
Wolves, bears, foxes, felines, and otters were all blessed from birth in the fact that they weren't bunnies. Because they were easy to subjugate, being benign and naturally gentle creatures, they were easy prey for vicious prejudices, as well as violent crimes. Timid, softspoken, and physically weak, bunnies were denied judicial rights and freedoms which other species were guaranteed.
It was far more than mere coincidence and genetic predisposition which made bunnies the species most prone to mental illness, drug abuse, eating disorders, poverty, and even suicide. Jamie himself, was afflicted with all the above, the only exception obviously being suicide. Yet even immunity from that wasn't set it stone either. What did seem to be in bunny genetics was the proneness to sexually prefer members of the same sex. Again, Jamie himself was afflicted with homosexuality (something he was greatly ashamed of, and viewed as a disease)
There were a few who fought for equal right on the behalf of bunnies. The Alliance Of Equality For All, aka TAOEFA (pronounced Dow-Ef-Fa) was a non-profit organization which held public demonstrations on the behalf of long-ears. The also held fundraisers, with profits relayed to the Horizon Party. Yet such goodwill efforts were sadly confounded, as most political offices were held by the Deeproot Party, which opposed changes made in the favor of those currently being mistreated. The black wolf, John Bickers, mayor of Phurrydelphia, was a member of the Deeproot Party (though mounting evidence pretty much affirmed that the election was fixed in this city where the Horizon Party had many members).
Wolves. In general, they were the most outspoken of all creatures, allowing their tempers to run without hindrance. Jamie was firsthand witness (or, more accurately, victim) to just how violent wolves could be.
Jamie never knew the identity of his father (courtesy of his mom's zealous promiscuity) yet throughout childhood, a plethora of men had made themselves Jamie's stand-in father. His mother was a bedouin bachelorette, moving from boyfriend, to boyfriend, to boyfriend, in search of money, and crack, and money for crack. Lust for crack was another curse which she handed down to her only child.
The escapade ended four years ago, when she and Jamie moved into a dilapidated house in the city's Germantown section. It's owner was a white wolf named Mitchell Miller. Within a week of moving in, the two married. Jamie's new stepfather seemed to take the vows of marriage as a validation to impose bellicose authority over his wife, and occasionally, his stepson. Jamie was verbally pummeled by his aggressive stepfather, constantly being reminded that he was a worthless stump-rump (a very degrading term for bunnies), just as worthless as his crackhead mother.
"You don't amount to jack-shit, and all your mama's worth is a good fock." A redundant message which Mitchell used to remind Jamie what the family was essentially built upon. To Jamie, however, this was a only a partial truth. Not only did his stepfather enjoy sex with his bunny bride, but he seemed to take delight in beating her as well.
Whether dinner wasn't cooked well enough, or his clothes weren't folded correctly, or the toilet had a stain on it, Mitch would look for minute reasons to slap, push, and/or punch Mrs. Miller. Memories of a drunken stepfather dragging his mom by her ears across the kitchen floor while screaming at and booting her had made indelible residence in Jamie's mind. These moments often sent the teenager running into the sanctuary of his tiny, bedless bedroom, where he'd lay down, cry, and pray. He didn't know why he prayed, his brain convinced that God hated him, but his heart told him to pray anyway. So he would.
"It should be me... it should be me... not mom."
While being at the receiving end of his stepfather's verbal whippings on numerous occasions, Jamie had never felt the topography of Mitch's knuckles. Never had the boy been hit, but while watching his mother being used like a karate board, he would often wish that it was him taking the blows. "It should be me..." The thought was always swirling in his troubled teenage head, but no actions were taken. His brain would tell him to just run up to the rancorous monster while his back was turned and take a kitchen knife to his neck like a metal vampire. Never happened. He never had the guts to stand up, instead running way and swimming in his own tears. He felt like a coward, like he'd been castrated, like a bad son.
It all changed a week prior, when Jamie molded his wishes into a stinging reality. After heating up water to make a cup of alfalfa tea, he turned the stove off and reached for the kettle's handle. His hand never took hold of it. Instead, Mitch ran into the kitchen, with a scowl and eyes ablaze with anger. It was he who snatched the boiling metal pot, popping it's lid off, before storming back out into the living room. Jamie wouldn't put any cruelty past his stepfather, but this, this couldn't be what he thought it was gonna turn into. It just couldn't.
It was. Jamie heard the growl, "Stupid crackhead whore. I told you not to leave your shit out on the table!" Stepping out into the living room, Jamie was just in time to see his mother pinned down with one hand, the kettle in the other. With her free leg, she was able to kick the liquid inferno out of his grasp, yet her luck wasn't of the highest caliber. Instead of spilling in a neutral area, the kettle decided to empty most of it's steaming content on her leg. It was scalded, and badly.
Without the slightest morsel of sympathy, Mitch took hold of paraphernalia on the table (cigarette cellophane, and charred aluminum foil base and tooter), crumbled them in an aggressive fist, and started shoving them in Jamie's mother's face, screaming, "Put it away! Put it the fock away! Now! You focking put it away!" He left the baking soda and coke tipped exacto knife on the table.
Perhaps Jamie shouldn't have screamed, "Get off my mom!," before making his attack, but screaming tends to be a symptom for most when they finally reach the breaking point. He was able to get to the weapon first, in that he was quite lucky. But even with a blade in his hand, a bunny stands no chance in a fight against others, let alone a wolf.
All throughout the fight (or beatdown), Jamie's mom didn't even watch to see what was going on. She just cried, her head stuffed deep in the dark crevice of the tattered sofa.
Chipped right tooth, bloody nose, and bruising on the right arm and kidney area. It could've been worse. Cataclysmically worse. Maybe God did have love for him after all.
He'd reached another breakdown. He couldn't take his life any longer. It was time to start anew. A week later, he made his move.
"Sorry mom," he said in a whisper. She wasn't even in the room, but it needed to be said as he reached his ashamed hand into the depths of her panty drawer, pulling out her stash of $300. It was probably the most money she'd ever saved up at one point, before she blew it all on crack (which she and Jamie shared together). Three hundred bucks. Astronomically more than he'd expected. Maybe God did have love for him after all. He also took one of her crackpipes. Though he preferred freebasing on foil, the cigarette sized pipe was less inconspicuous when in an alleyway, or anywhere else where cops could be.
T-shirt, ripped jeans, an extra pair of blue bikini briefs, three extra pairs of socks for his big bunny feet, a few pens, a notebook, two bottles of water, a box of apple and cranberry granola bars, two plastic wrapped blueberry hamantashen, pouch of handrolling tobacco, a book of the famous fox poet Anne Sexton's poetry, and The King James Bible (though he didn't believe in Jesus as the messiah, he still loved the warmth and life lessons found in the New Testament). They all went into his red-bookbag, which he was reluctant to bring along (it would make him an ever bigger candidate for mugging).
Lastly, Jamie put on his silver Star of David necklace. It was the one piece of jewelry his mother hadn't pawned for drug money. It was the only gift she ever gave to her son, on his thirteenth birthday. He never wore it outside of his shirt, but always tucked under. This wasn't done in fear of others robbing him for silver, but for a more personal reason: he needed it to be against his heart.
Jamie wanted to write some kind of goodbye letter, but decided against it. Such a move ran the risk of him changing his mind, as it could overpower his emotions. And he was hellbent on not changing his mind about this one.
Stepping out of his house, the weather was cloudy, but not dreary. He could feel a hint of tears brewing behind eyes of brown, but he didn't cry this time. He just walked.