Dire Dachshund

she had inclination

and then she learned skill

but she never had a spark of creative will

Abe Huntington and Ezra Winters sat on the same side of a conference table in the back room of Jimson’s Bar and Grill. In the Sepsis Pond chapter of the Klu Klux Klan, they were the Grand Klan Koordinator and High Managerial Dragoon, respectfully, and they both took their positions quite seriously. They were making idle chit-chat while they waited for their next appointment to arrive.

“So… Have you been paying attention to this year’s Nachtoberfest?” Asked Ezra.

“Well, I must admit, I’ve been rather lacking in hometown spirit as of late.” Replied Abe.

“Have you at least heard about the big controversy surrounding the results of the big pig-off?”

Abe paused. “I… seem to recall something about that, yes. Performance enhancing drugs, was it?”

“Kind of. I guess Kevin Knight - that kid who lives at the old Holkens farm?”

Abe nodded in recognition.

“Well, it seems he got the bright idea to get his pig all doped up on the cocaine before the competition. Of course, the beast won by a landslide, even after headbutting one of the judges - old Missus Wormbridge (poor dear had to go to the hospital with a concussion, she’ll be a punchline for the rest of her years,) - but they only suspected something was wrong once the thing refused to gorge itself on the ceremonial victory slop.”

Abe shook his head softly. “Shameful. Where has the honor in pigging gone to?”

“Lord only knows, Abraham.”

“In my youth, pigging was an activity reserved for gentlemen!”

“Heard and concurred, brother.”

“Back then, of course, the sport had dignity. Not like today - it’s become so commercial, so crass.”

“So crass.” Echoed Ezra.

“And I’ll tell you where it all started-” began Abe, but Ezra never found out where it started, because at that moment Johnny Oats walked in, knocking gently on the already open door.

I should pause for a moment, to describe in at least some manner of detail the unusual appearance of Johnny Oats. He was a tall, lanky fellow, with abnormally (especially for his proportions in all other regards) stubby fingers and a scent about him like an unwashed athletic cup soaked in Aqua Velva. None of this, however, was as as unusual as his manner of dress, which consisted of a black vest, a light blue ascot, and a full-body bunny costume.

Johnny Oats wore this because he was not only a card-carrying member of the KKK, an assistant groundskeeper at the local cemetery, and a loyal fan of the local basketball team (”Go Fightin’ Lampreys!”), he was also a proud “furry” - a member of the anthropomorphic animal fandom. The costume itself most closely resembled the type worn by sports mascots, and was constructed of a fur-coated jumpsuit and a large hollow head. His was a cartoonish sort of bunny, with large, soulless eyes and white, darted gloves on both hands.

I feel the need to clarify for the sake of fairness to the furry community at large (lest they try to yiff me in retribution) - Johnny Oats was, in respect to his “fursuit”, part of a small minority of particularly enthusiastic furries who felt that their love of humanoid animals transcended mere fandom and was, instead, a spiritual connection that precluded their apparent humanity. In Johnny’s case, this meant that he thought that he was, in many respects, more rabbit than man.

He also liked the television show 24.

“You wanted to see me, honored brothers?” Asked Johnny, his voice muffled under his bunny head.

“Yes, hrm,” Ezra cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Yes, Jonathan, please, sit.” He indicated the chair on the other side of the table. Johnny sat down and folded his paws in his lap. There was an awkward silence.

“So, Jonathan… How have you been?” Asked Ezra.

“Same old, same old, can’t complain.” Johnny Oats replied.

Ezra coughed. Abe absentmindedly shuffled some papers around with the tips of his fingers.

“So, have you been following this whole ‘Oinkersgate’ mess?” Asked Johnny.

“Oh yes, yes - funny you should mention it - me and Grand Wizard Abraham here were talking about it just before you came in.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is.”

Johnny Oats squirmed in his seat. Ezra coughed again.

“Ayy-knee-way,” started Ezra, pronouncing the word like it was his first time attempting it, “we’ve called you in here because we felt it necessary to discuss your… hrm, conduct, and how it plays into your future role in the Klan.”

Johnny rubbed his paws together nervously. “H-how so?”

“You’re being dismissed, Mr. Oats.” Replied Abe simply, speaking for the first time since Johnny had entered the room. Johnny Oats was shocked! Of course, you wouldn’t have known it, looking at him. His rabbit face was remarkably well-composed.

“I’m sorry, Jonathan,” replied Ezra, screwing his face up in a clumsy imitation of compassion, “but it’s true. We’re going to have to to let you go.”

“But why?”

“Well…”

“Is it because of my jewish aunt? Because I told you, she was my aunt by marriage only - I wasn’t even that close to her!”

“No, no, Jonathan, I assure you that that isn’t the case. If we kicked out everyone with a distant relative of questionable purity, why, we would probably have all of two members. Myself, for example, I have a gay cousin - Job.” This wasn’t actually true, but Ezra didn’t know that. Job only walked funny because he’d been kicked by a horse in his youth.

“Then what is it? Am I not hating enough people?”

“Well, ah…”

“I can hate more, really I can! How about, ah… Astronauts? Yeah, astronauts. Fuck those guys, thinkin’ they’re better than us, all floating about in space… Unnatural, is what it is! Why if there was an astronaut here right now, I’d-”

Ezra interrupted him. “Jonathan, please. Your level of hatred is well above Klan minimum standards. That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

Before Ezra could answer, Abe leaned forward, teeth gritted. “The problem is, Mr. Oats, that you are possessed by a bizarre and grotesque fetish, and that you further refuse to extricate yourself from it, or even acknowledge that any such problem even exists!”

Johnny Oats just cocked his head - an exaggerated gesture of incomprehension.

“It’s because of this!” Abe shouted, grabbing and shaking Johnny by his furry foreleg. “Whatever sickness compels you to dress like a department store Easter Bunny three hundred and sixty five days out of the year!”

Ezra shook his head softly at Abe’s emotional outburst.

“You’re kicking me out because I’m a furry?” Asked Johnny, incredulous.

“You are embarrassing this fine organization with your very existence.” Spat Abe.

Ezra took a softer approach. “It’s just that, well, Jonathan, it’s kind of confusing, especially when we go to rallies and you show up, dressed in your, hrm, costume-”

“Fursuit.”

“-fursuit. Alright, well, when you show up dressed like that to one of our rallies, it sends a mixed message. Everyone else is dressed up in the vestments of our brotherhood, and you…”

“I wear the robes!”

“Yes, but you also wear a giant bunny head. And the thing is, that sends a mixed message. People don’t take us seriously because we’ve got this giant rabbit dancing around while we’re trying to make a serious point about the merits of segregation.”

“Well then I suppose… I suppose I could just leave the fursuit at home during rallies.”

“Well you see, ah… You wanna take this one, Abraham?”

“Gladly, Ezra.” Abe cleared his throat. “You see, Mr. Oats, the problem goes beyond a simple matter of public dignity. The fact is, you’re making the other Klansmen extremely uncomfortable.”

“How so!?”

“How so? How so!? How about the bestiality jokes? The horrible, horrible hand-drawn pornography? The 400 page manifesto about the sexual overtures of ‘Watership Down’? Not to mention the dozen or so complaints we’ve gotten from the WKKK regarding your inappropriate behavior towards the Klan women-”

“-oh, those girls are just too uptight, is all.”

“I don’t want to interrupt,” Ezra interrupted, “but I would just like to reiterate for the record that we take allegations of sexual misconduct very seriously in this organization.”

“Ezra is correct. The KKK does not, and will not tolerate this kind of backwards, Neanderthal behavior.”

“Okay!” Johnny Oats snapped. He slouched back in his chair. “Okay. I-I’m sorry.”

Ezra sighed. “Sorry really isn’t good enough at this point, Jonathan.”

“I can change! Whatever you want - just, please, please, don’t kick me out!” Falling to his knees, begging for forgiveness, Johnny Oats may have regretted the loss of his last shred of pride. Thankfully, wearing a bunny costume all the time had prepared him for this moment quite well, and he felt almost nothing as his dignity finally left him.

“Stand up.”Abe said, severe yet quietly.

Johnny Oats slowly got to his feet. “This is… This is… Fursecution! You can’t do this to me!”

Ezra and Abe just looked at one another. Ezra nodded.

“I’m sorry, Jonathan, but there’s nothing more to be done.” Said Ezra.

Abe pulled from his pocket a small book and, placing his left hand upon it, he began to speak solemnly. “Jonathan Fenster Oats, you are hereby stripped of your rank and distinction as a Klansman. You are no longer a member of our brotherhood. You may leave your robes, assorted formal dressings, and official discount Klan Kard with Secretary Winslow at a time of your discretion.”

The rabbit head clattered to the floor, a mindless smile still plastered across its face. Ezra and Abraham looked away, embarrassed, as Johnny Oats began to weep.