FSE

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My friend has had a rough life. He is just a beggar, and has been so for as long as myself. We started at around the same time, that is how we got to know each other. I have to admit that this is not the life either of us sought, had we had any other choice, anything - we would have taken it. Apparently choices are scarce without an education, who would have thought? Claiming we are not hardworking though, that would be a lie. Neither of use are of the type to just sit around. How much money would we get then? Not much, I tell you. We play instruments, perform tricks and tell stories. Some might call us 'street artists', that would be a lie as well. Generally we get enough coins scrambled up for a meal. Being in the scorching heat of the desert all day... It's not worth it. We do what we must.

We are both wolves and pride ourselves in that. Most of the population here are. The ones who aren't wolves..? Needless to say, we don't really like them all that much. The government has spread propaganda regarding it for a long time. Often in the form of always including the others in commercials, to make us used to them. Me and my friend aren't buying it. Perhaps because we have been treated unfairly by the government, we can't really trust them. Other people seem to accept it though.

The guards here. They aren't very likeable either. To be fair, they never do anything to hurt me. But my friend is always targeted by them. You see - public begging is not really allowed. As I said already, we pose as street artists. Sometimes, though, you just have to sit down to rest. It is not like we remove our collectibles when we do rest - we'll still get coin from the occasional passer-by. Not much, but it is something. It's not the safest thing to do, and perhaps we should stop it, for the sake of my friend... But-

Oh fuck it. The guards have that look in their eyes again. What is it this time? Will they just beat 'im up this time, or will they take his money? Hopefully they will just tell him to move - to stop beggin'. Perhaps just rough him up a little. Not likely, with those sinister smiles. Bastards. There's a fox even, how'd he become a guard? Filthy fucking fox. The fox guard seems to be in charge as he walks up to my friend. He says something, I can't hear what's being said over the sound of the square. Asking him to move, maybe? My friend snapped. Now they'll for sure at least take his money. Luckily it's still early and we haven't gathered much - the guards would just be doing it in spite.

When I was a lil' cub, Mom told me

of God and Respect.

My friend, he is a rather small wolf, living in poverty for as long as we have hasn't really proven helpful to his growth. A few years younger than me, he was thrown out to the streets as he entered the pubescent years. The poverty hasn't proven helpful for his fur either, dirty as it is. He shakes his head in despair, pleading, as he realizes the effect him snapping would have on the guard. A pitiful sight. Of course, the fox ignores the pleas for mercy - and decided not to only take his coin, but to also beat him - evident by the blow he strikes on the wolf's muzzle. My friend's muzzle. He's a shitty fox, that guard. How humiliating to be hit by him, by a bloody fox, it must be. Not that my friend could prevent it. Still standing up though, that is good, seemingly ignoring the dripping blood and the pain which must be abundant after that fierce blow. His pride is still intact, kind of. He continues to plead, though it seems to be egging the fox on as he strikes another blow which puts my friend down to his knees. What did my friend say? The guard seems to be toying with him. Fucking guard. The everlasting yammer of the square dies down as the beating goes on. After another blow, the fox's guard companions join in. Though all muzzles of the square are turned toward my friend, no one makes a move to help or to intervene. Typical. At least they aren't cheering, in fact, they seem taken aback by the guards' behaviors. What could they even do to help? I should not blame them. The fox takes my friend's coin jar and throws it into the crowd. Small hungry cubs quickly run to gather the scarce scattered coins, hoping perhaps that they will be able to afford a fruit at one of the stalls. And then the fox spat on my friend as if he was a bloody mutt. He walks away, smirking, apparently satisfied. Finally I can hear protests coming from the crowd - even if they still don't make a move for justice.

That instead of standing static, hearing our hearts bang.

We should fight for our causes and hoist the flag

As people return to whatever they were doing before the unjust beating, I move to help my friend. "How are you? I would have intervened, it's just..." He moves his finger in front of his mouth, motioning me to be quiet, clearly not caring of what I have to say. I help him get up to lead him away from the heat and into the shadows. That is the least I can do. How can the guards keep doing this? Does this ever happen in other nations? I've never been in another nation before, but I'm sure they have it better. The guards, they are corrupt. The government, it is corrupt. They can keep doing it because everyone's fucking corrupt - what kind of a nation is this?! As I carry my friend, I note that his wounds are worse than last time this happened - and they were bad then. It took him weeks to fully heal.

Finally hitting the shadows, a quasi-fascinatingly dreadful stench of blood and sweat mingled together strikes my nose. It stinks. Fucking government, fucking fox. There's no use talking. My friend is looking straight forward, gazing at nothing - his eyes lacking life-luster similar to those of a gelded horse. How'll it go next time? Will he be able to continue to bear the burden of life then? At least he is still alive, for now.

So with a paw on the line, I shall hoist this flag

and my Respect will forever be kept

After a couple of minutes idle in thought, I stood up and told my friend that I would be right back. That I would buy him some water with the little money I had amassed today. That he should wait there. As I was paying for the water in a nearby stall, not the best water but it would do for purpose, I noticed him standing up to walk away - ignoring his pains. I hurriedly paid for myself and muttered a barely audible "thank you" as I hurried to get my friend. "Where are you going?" He muttered something even less audible than my thank you for answer. Shitty answer, I'd say. He's not going towards his home - or well, where we normally rest - where is he going then? He stops to look at me, shaking his head in a "please, I need to be alone"-fashion. I realize that I would need to get back to performing, to make up for his lost coins - so I can get us both a meal tonight. At least the poor cubs probably managed to get something to eat.

The guards are getting out of hand, and the government is doing nothing to prevent it. We need to protest - make them change. What's the president doing? It is not only my friend who is treated this way. Almost everyone are - and the only ones who seem happy about it are the upper-bloody-class - even if other wolves aren't treated as bad, most of the time. They claim that we are a democracy. Sure, we do elect our fucking president - every five or so years. If others had been allowed to enter the election without having his supporters hunted down though, that would have been something. I've heard that, that is how it works in every other bloody nation of the world. That they can elect whoever they want - even foxes can run. Or hell, cats. Horrible, but it is democracy. It'd be nice. "Here you go, 20 dinars for a hot meal. You and your friend." Did I just hear that? I looked up from the spot I had been staring at while resting and before me stood a little smiling fox, almost still a cub. I smiled back. "Thank you." I followed her with my eyes while she skipped away from my view, happy as ever. And then I saw someone standing in front of the guard barracks. My friend.

Seeking justice:

Will earn my Respect

I quickly make my way over there, to ask him what he is doing. Though I don't get the chance as he opens the door and steps inside. What is he going to do, file a complaint? Crazy wolf. If he was filing a complaint, it can't have gone well for already I hear faint yelling. I am able to make out some of the reoccurring words: Barracks, burning, oil. The yelling goes on for a couple of minutes until it comes to an abrupt stop. My friend storms out with a flustered look on his muzzle and walks past me without acknowledging my presence. My mind wanders as he walks with steady legs eastwards. What did he yell? Burning... oil... barracks? The closest place to buy oil is to the direction he is going. I scream at him to stop, but to no avail. Instead, I follow. I try to get him to tell me what he is going to: "What did you say about 'burning' and 'oil'?" and "What are you going to do?!" I repeat over and over again. Sometimes I recieve silence for answer, sometimes inaudible mutter. Never anything understandable. Hell, as I thought, we soon arrived at the store. He can't afford any oil, why am I so worried? He's got no money, the bloody fox threw it all away and not even that amount would get him enough to burn the barracks.

Though he still went inside, bought a large jar of lamp oil and payed for it along with a box of matches without hesitation. For the first time since that filthy, shitty, fucking guard decided to give him a beating, I heard him utter words in a normal tone, to the cashier: "Thank you." How did he afford it? That would have lasted us almost two weeks! There is no way that he could have gathered that amount of coin today. And it would still not be enough to properly set fire to the barracks. It would be in vain. "Where'd you get money?" I demanded, but he just looked at me for a few seconds and pushed past. Was that remorse I saw in his eyes?

Change,

Death

He is really going to do it, isn't he? He is going to try to burn the barracks, the fool. He will be sentenced to death, or worse, they will torture him for the rest of his life - making sure that he stays on the brink of existence. What is it that he seeks to accomplish? Justice? He is throwing his life away! "Fucking wolf, listen to me! It's what they want!" I yell at him. He turns around and looks at me cooly for a few seconds. And then he smiles, showing me his canine teeth ruined by many years in poverty. He continues walking, relaxed, to his doom. I follow him in silence.

That fox must really have gotten to him. Barely two hours has gone since the abusive treatment. Soon we will be there, at the barracks. Fucking fox. Why always my friend? Why not me? Why not anyone but him?! He suddenly stops, indicating that we are where we are supposed to be. He opens the large jar of lamp oil. Now, given the fact that there's only so much oil in that jar I should have seen what was coming next. "What are you do..." I'm interrupted by him screaming something indiscernible and covering his body in oil, carefully making sure that every part is covered. The stench makes me giddy. The beggar turns to me and voices his last words: "Good bye."

"Don't do it. Please." I plead at him as he lights a match and drops it into the pool of oil formed below his body. I hear screaming, from him, from the crowd that I had not noticed until now. Not all of the crowd gave us money, but everyone had always pitied us and liked us. I hear a lot of screaming. Yelling, words from the people. Hear: "Down with the corruption!" and "Revolution!" Had my friend succeeded with what had been his dream? Had he got his revenge now? Had that poor, fantastic wolf got rid of the corruption? Only time is to tell. I will miss him truly. He dared to stand up for himself, though he never hit back. A true wolf. Just a beggar, soon to be a great hero. "Revenge and revolution!" I shout and join the mob assaulting the barracks as my friend's last scream of pain fades away.