My daddy the bear

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Fox got quite in shock for such a statement; of course, for a second there he thought it was totally normal for the damage caused, but his senses told him that this meant no good.

   "Say what? Are you serious?"

   Fox put hastily back down the shot he was having on the bar. Frederick turned a little to the barman so he could avoid Fox's glance.

   "You don't get what it's like having him at home and then remember Mallory all the time. I can't stand him—"

   "Well, yeah, I get that, Fredo, but for me it doesn't sound like that should make you do such thing to that Bonnie little guy."

   Here it came again, the same speech some people that heard about Frederick's case repeated all the time. Yes, it was fair enough, but for him it was now getting on his nerves. He lowered his head and gritted his teeth as Fox went on with his statement.

   When his lunch hour was over, Fox and Frederick got up and started heading toward the avenue Frederick had to walk along by to get home.

   "You're gonna be late. You shouldn't have walked me this far."

   Fox laughed, almost choked.

   "You thought I was gonna let you go all the way down to your house in that state? Forget it, man! I still worry about you, dumbass. In fact, I can go get a wheel barrow so I can take you home; that's how people's used to transport bags full of food."

   Frederick chuckled quietly; at least this chubby one gave up on rejecting teasing. Let's see if he could bear it until he was at home. What was the worst thing that could happen? Well, like it was expected from any television series, that question unleashed Jesus' weeping.

   "Now I'd better get going, Fredo. I can be late, but not smelling like a wet dog. At least jog all the way there," he turned around and started jogging back down the way they had taken. "Good luck, Fredo, and think about what I told ya, ok?"

   Frederick saw him disappear into the fog that started blurring the houses and their lawns from his sight. He did not mind the rain, because he was already used to be wet with sweat and smelling like disappointment all the time. So he just kept walking and walking, more like a hobble but still constant. He walked, and walked, and walked.

   These raindrops were not even cold; they seemed to evaporate as soon as they fell onto Frederick's fur. Why? Anyone would think that he was now pretty cold, pretty, pretty cold like a popsicle. It was never like this when he was a cub: that lousy girl that always hugged him at elementary school, she always ran up to him, wrapped her arms around him and told right into his ear:

   "You're very warm."

   Which was something Frederick never took as a compliment: it sounded to him like she was calling him fat, and that that was why he was warm. Bah! Stupid childhood memories. Although... now it was more common for him to long for those days to ever come back.

   No! What in tarnation was he thinking!?  Those days were such garbage too! Maybe he felt with plenty of room among his friends and teachers, because he had the opportunity to play around tag and eat just a single taco with rice and sausages, or maybe a hard-boiled egg, or a shaved ice treat, or some popcorn, or any other sweet muck that came across. But at home... who was stoically strong enough to shield his mother from Dad? Clearly, it was not about Chyna or Frederick. Then who? Who!?

   Frederick shook off those memories as soon as he heard some giggling brewing as he headed forward. He was already home. Out there, he found Bonnie under the rain with a gray raincoat and rain boots. His giggling was unstoppable, as though the raindrops and the puddles above and beneath ticked him uncontrollably. If Frederick was still up on his luck, Bonnie's paper boat would rush through the floodwaters onto some storm drain. Bonnie stomped a puddle after another one, and another, and another, and another, and...