If you know me, you know there was this one dude I always hung out with named Patrick. Patrick was gay, so a lot of people (namely my family and other friends) didn't approve of me hanging out with him, thinking by doing so I'll catch the homosexuality disease (not going there, so anyway). Patrick's boyfriend doesn't like me (long story, don't ask) and thus it creates the rift. I'm friends with Patrick. Patrick likes me and loves boyfriend. Boyfriend hates me. That's the problem, but they learned to live with it. In fact, Patrick (and this is what he said) had bitched his boyfriend out a couple of times for whining about him and me being friends.

Before I continue, I must address this fact: Patrick and his boyfriend are furries. This can only possibly get worse. If this had been any normal pair of people (Carl and Jessi, for example) the shit would not hit the fan quite as bad. You see, I used to be in the furry fandom. Yes yes, I know, people say you can't really ever leave (this is almost true) but you can hate it, and hate it I do, and a lot of people in furry hate me. It's a hate hate relationship I 100% approve of. Back when I was a little less mature than I am today, I was even what was known as a furry troll, so many furries (example would be boyfriend) hate me not just for personal reasons, but because I insulted their precious. Most furries have an issue with not being able to rationalize. This leads to what is called the "fursecution complex": say anything even mildly against a furries point of few and all hell will break loose. Not to mention the fact OTHER furries will come to his rescue. And lord help you if you're NOT a furry, because then such words like "nazi" get thrown around like so much pocket lint. Okay, it's not as bad as you think, but if you happen to be friends with these people it's pretty horrible.

Now to continue.

Around... Novemember, Patrick and I were hanging out every other day of the week. We'd even considered getting totally wasted one night (I declined, because I wanted to go home). Hell, we even decided to get Christmas presents for each other. I whipped out the heat press and Photoshop and made him a tshirt for one of his favorite musical artists (Warren Zevon, if you must know). In return, he tried to get me the Devo action figures (his idea, not mine. I would much rather have had something cheaper, so I told him to buy me the Mortal Kombat movie instead). Well, that didn't work out, but whatever. Christmas came and gone and we both were seeing family so no biggie. I figured... January! Roll in January... he won't answer his phone.

This doesn't concern me, he never answers his phone!

But he does usually return calls. And return he didn't. For two months I called him, worried sick out of my mind something happened cause that's what you do when you're friends with someone (I do, anyway). That is until I see his car parked at his house and call him. Does he answer? Of course not. I get pissed but then I figure he must have lost his cell phone like I did! Rational, yes. And a perfectly explains his strange acts recently. But knowing Patrick, he would have already had the phone turned off and purchased a new one. They don't have a home phone. There goes that theory.

So Lance and I am trying to get to the concert at Ziggy's last night and I'm selling shit I own (I've been doing this to get gas monies and such lately because my mother hates when I ask for money) so I can get it. I go to McKay's to sell books (Not from Chattanooga peoples: McKay's is a used bookstore. Context clues should have told you that much.) and I'm standing in line waiting to get my two dollars and fifty five cents when I see... Patrick.

I have what is called anger management issues.

I started yelling in the middle of the store "You've been avoiding me!" I was about to scream. I just got out of line and walked over to him. Lance could see trouble brewing, so he went on. I'd find him later. I didn't care. "Why have you been avoiding me, Patrick?!"

He looked around all cautious like. Like he was looking for someone. Like that someone being you-know-who. "I can't tell you, because you'll freak out." I'm already freaking out, so I calm myself (visibly) and say "You have my word I won't freak out." I already know the answer; I wanna hear it from HIS lips.

"He doesn't want me talking to you anymore." There went that one nerve I had left.

I snapped emotionally. All I could do was have this shit eating Freddy Krueger grin when I walked away to find Lance. I decided before I went any where, I needed to calm down and Lance needed a background of events. (Mainly why I was screaming in the middle of McKay's)

I'm walking thru the rows of books at McKay's. I'm uberpissed and I look down one the walkway and who do I see?

Boyfriend.

The rest of this story is pretty much me being two steps shy from becoming a full blow sociopath at this point. I wanted to beat the living daylights out of that punkass. I wanted to stab him in places he didn't know he could feel pain in. I wanted to set him on fire and breathe in the smoke. I wanted him to piss blood. I was mad.

Lance meanwhile was checking out girls. So I went to get my money and leave.

In the parking lot I had a lot clearer head. I was even laughing (in that evil Pinhead kind of way) about the whole ordeal. I just wanted to get in the car and smoke a cigarette. Then Lance turns to me.

"Wait, was that Patrick?"

In the end, I suppose this is the end of a friendship that really shouldn't have began in the first place, and one that really... in my eyes... ruined a part of me. I'd tell you why, but I really don't feel like it.

But hey, ya know... shit happens, right? Yeah. Shit does happen. Especially so when another one of my friends (who happens to be a furry) stops talking to me also! Care to explain that one, Katherine? It's like getting raped in the ass and mouth at the same time.

And to think: this all happened right around the time I got a new job! Well, that's karma I guess.