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AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is Part one of a three part series that shows Buster Baxter and Nigel Ratburn from the famous "Arthur" cartoon series. This series contains extreme content, so before you send me nasty messages about how I've ruined your childhood, just know, you've been warned!

Buster felt like the unluckiest boy in the world right now. It all started two months ago when his best friend, Arthur Reed, and his family moved away. He and the aardvark had been friends since Buster could remember, and the two were inseparable, spending as much time together as possible; so much so, that Arthur's parents often joked they had four kids, not three. Buster's life wasn't perfect, but it was pretty good as far as he was concerned.

Then everything fell apart when Arthur came to school in tears saying that his family was moving out of state; and by out of state, he meant to the other side of the country. Buster felt as though a part of him died the last day Arthur was at school. He tried to be brave and carry on, but thing deteriorated quickly. Buster, who had never been the biggest fan of homework to begin with, started coming to school with his assignments only partially complete, often putting very little effort into the work he actually did. After a few more weeks, he quit doing his assignment altogether, earning him detentions during recess and then after school. Buster friends, Binky, Francine, Molly, The Brain and plenty of others tried having an intervention on his behalf, but it did no good. Not only was Buster unresponsive to his friends' concern, he went so far as to lash out at them, even going so far as to punch Molly in the face, earning him a week's suspension from school.

Mrs. Baxter, a single mother who worked long hours as a photo journalist, was at her wit's end. It had been challenging enough for her when Buster was well-behaved, but he had become unmanageable. What was even worse was that she had to go out of town starting Thursday night, and she couldn't find anyone who was willing to watch her son now. Her salvation came in the form of Buster's teacher, Mr. Nigel Ratburn, volunteering to let Buster stay at his home for the weekend. Bitzi was thrilled, hoping that spending the weekend with his teacher might help Buster catch up on his schoolwork and encourage him to readjust his attitude. Buster chaffed at the idea, thinking it a prison sentence.

"Ah, Mom," whined the rabbit on their drive over to Mr. Ratburn's house. "Why can't I just stay home by myself?"

"Buster," said his mother, trying to be patient. "I wouldn't let you stay home for that many days by yourself even when you were well-behaved. I'm certainly not going to let you stay there now after how you've been acting."

"What a crock," pouted the rabbit, folding his arms in contempt.

"You watch that tongue of yours, Buster," ordered his mother. "I'm telling you right now that when I come back Sunday evening, if Mr. Ratburn informs me you've been acting up, you're going to military school!"

Buster's ears stood straight up at the mention of military school. Though he didn't personally know anyone who had gone to such an institution, he knew enough about them to know they were the places that the really bad kids were sent. There, you had to get up at a certain time, make your bed, do drills, go to school under strict supervision and you had to go to bed early. There was not time for fun.

"Military school?" said the rabbit after gulping nervously.

"That's right," said Bitzi. "I don't want to do that, Buster, but I don't know what else to do with you. You're all I have in the world and I don't want you to grow up to be a drug dealer or a thief. I want you to get an education. I want to be proud of you."

"Okay," he said, still horrified at the thought of military school. He looked out the window on the passenger's side of the car. There was a bolt of lightning, followed by a crack of thunder and the pouring down of rain. Mrs. Baxter sighed.

"Honey, I know you've had a hard time dealing with Arthur and his family moving away, but that sort of thing happens in life. You hope that the people you really care about will always be there, that they'll stay in the same town as you the rest of their lives, but it doesn't always happen. I need you to try to be strong about this, okay?"

"Okay," said the rabbit with a sigh.

It just so happened that Buster's stay at his teacher's house would begin that Thursday evening because there was no school the following day. The school corporation had intended that day to be an extra one in case of school closings because of heavy snow during the winter. Elwood City had seen very light snow that winter, so the kids had the day off, giving them an extended weekend. Normally Buster would jump for joy at an extra day off school, but normally he would not be spending that day with Mr. Ratburn. Inwardly, he groaned, thinking about how he would ever get through the next three days.

Mr. Ratburn's house was on the East side of Elwood City, not to awful far from the central part of town where Buster and his mother lived, but the drive felt like an eternity to the young rabbit, who was trying like crazy to deal with the situation he'd gotten himself into. By the time Buster and his mother arrived at the rat's house, the outside was completely drenched from the heavy rain. Grabbing his duffel and sleeping bag from the backseat, Buster opened the door and ran to the front door of the house, though not before telling his mother bye, and that he loved her. With a note in his paw for his teacher, Buster rang the doorbell, waiting for the inevitable.

"Buster," said Mr. Ratburn. "Come in, won't you?"

"Thanks," said the rabbit, walking inside to the quaint home of Mr. Ratburn.

"Take your shoes off and set them by the door, would you?" asked Mr. Ratburn.

Buster did as he was told. He wasn't about to start things out on the wrong foot. Now walking in his socks, Buster noticed how different Mr. Ratburn looked. Normally a formal, proper teacher in his green jacket, pants, shirt and neck tie, the thirty-something rat was dressed casually in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, something Buster had never seen from him before. The rat took his duffel bag, placing it near the sofa in the living room.

"I suppose I should give you the grand tour, shouldn't I?" asked the rat with a smile.

"If you want," said Buster, shrugging.

"Follow me," said Mr. Ratburn.

The rabbit followed his teacher around his small home. The Ratburn residence included a kitchen, study, bathroom, a garage that also doubled as a workshop and laundry area and Mr. Ratburn's own room. Quaint though it was, it was nonetheless cozy.

"I see you brought a sleeping bag with you," observed Mr. Ratburn. "You can use that in the study or you can sleep on the couch. It folds out into the bed."

"I'll take the couch," said Buster, knowing that had to be more comfortable than sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag.

"Alright," said Mr. Ratburn, concluding the tour as he sat down in his chair in the living room. "So, are you getting hungry yet, Buster?"

"I am," said the rabbit.

"How about I order us a pizza?" suggested the rat.

Buster liked the sound of that. Suddenly the idea of being at his teacher's house was sounding quite so bad. "Yeah," said Buster. "What do you like on your pizza, Mr. Ratburn?"

"Just about anything," said Mr. Ratburn. "And Buster?"

"Yes?"

"Do me a favor," said the rat as he reached for his cell phone. "While it's just you and me here, call me Nigel?"

"What?" said Buster, not believing his ears. He'd been taught from an early age that he was always to address adults by Mr. Ms, or Mrs., not by their first name, and certainly he was never to call a teacher by their first naem.

"You . . . you serious?" he asked the rat.

"I am," said Nigel, smirking. "We don't have to be formal here."

"Okay," said Buster, thinking this might be some weird dream he was trapped in. "Oh . . . and I like supreme pizza, Nigel."

Having heard the rabbit call him by his first name, Nigel grinned. He called up a local pizza place, requesting an extra large supreme pizza with an order of bread sticks. Because it was a Thursday night, the wait for delivery was not as great as it would have been on a Thursday or Friday night, and both teacher and student were at the kitchen table eating their bread sticks and pizza in under half an hour.

"So, Buster," said Mr. Ratburn as he dipped his bread stick in a cup of cheese sauce. "It has to have been hard on you these past couple of months since Arthur moved away, hasn't it?"

Buster swallowed a mouthful of pizza. "Yeah, it has."

"I know how close you two were," said the rat as he grabbed another bread stick. "When I was your age, I had a friend named Angus who was my best friend since the time we were in preschool together. Boy I tell you, we spent all the time we could together. Everybody used to call us "Nangus" because they said we were like one person." Buster laughed at the rat's mention of the combined name of him and his friend. "We thought we would go through school together, graduate and even go to college together . . . we thought that."

Buster could here the sorrow in his teacher's voice. "Did Angus move away, Mr. Ratburn, er, Nigel?"

"He did," sighed the rat. "And guess what grade he was in?"

"Third?" said Buster.

Nigel nodded his head. "Yeah, and I didn't take to it too well either. I started not finishing my homework, causing problems in class, and even got into fights at school. My Dad was not happy when he had to leave work to come get me from school after I was suspended."

"Did you get into trouble?" asked Buster.

"Did I ever!" exclaimed the rat. "My Dad took the paddle to my backside until I couldn't sit down. That was a beating I'll never forget as long as I live."

Buster shuddered at the thought of being struck that hard. He had lucked out in that his mother did not believe in corporal punishment, but listening to his teacher's story, he felt a certain kind of bond with him that he never felt before. He'd always seen the rat as being so proper, so upstanding and disciplined; he'd never considered the possibility that he could ever get into trouble, but indeed he had. It was part of the rat's life Buster had never seen.

"Are . . . are you telling me this because you know how I feel?" asked Buster.

"Uh-huh," said the rat. "You see, Buster, I was never really mad at you when you were acting up, because deep down, I saw myself in you, and I remembered just what it was like to lose your best friend. I just want you to know that I'm here for you and I want to be your friend. Would you like that, Buster?"

The rabbit put down the piece of pizza he'd been working on, thinking over the idea of being a friend to his teacher. It was just so . . . odd, such a surreal thought, calling Mr. Ratburn a friend, but the rat had revealed a part of his life that Buster could relate to.

"Okay, Nigel," said Buster. "I'll be your friend."

"I'm glad to here that," said the rat. "You know, my third grade teacher and I got to become good friends when I was going through a tough time like you are right now. I spent plenty of time over at his house and he always treated me like an adult. Always. He told me that when you're friends with somebody, you should feel free to tell them stuff and do stuff that you wouldn't tell anybody else in the world . . . you understand what I'm saying, Buster?"

"I think so, Nigel," said the rabbit, now completely ignoring his food.

"Glad to hear that," said the rat with a contented smile. "If you're done eating, how about we clean up so you and I can do something that will just be between us, okay?"

"Okay!" said Buster excitedly. He had no idea what his teacher had in store for him, but the idea of doing something secretive was intriguing to the boy. With Mr. Ratburn's help, Buster cleaned up the kitchen; wrapping up the leftover pizza in aluminum foil, wiping off the table and throwing away the used paper plates. In no time, the kitchen looked like if previously had before they'd eaten. Satisfied that the area was up to snuff, Mr. Ratburn went over to the fridge, opening it just slightly.

"So," he said, looking at Buster intently. "You ready for our big secret we're going to keep between us?"

"I sure am," said Buster excitedly.

"Alright," said the rat, opening the door wider. He reached his paws in and pulled out two cans, placing them on the kitchen table. Buster looked at the markings, but didn't recognize the brand as any kind of cola that he'd drank before.

"What kind of cola is this?" asked the curious rabbit.

"It's not cola," said Mr. Ratburn, popping the top on his can. "It's beer."

Beer? Buster wondered if he'd heard that correctly. Did Mr. Ratburn say root beer? No he hadn't. He said beer!

"We're gonna have . . . beer?" asked Buster in disbelief.

"If you want to," said Mr. Ratburn. "I should warn you now that you won't like the taste right away, but you'll get used to it."

"If I won't like the taste," said Buster, trying to figure it all out. "Why would I keep drinking it?"

"You'll see," said Mr. Ratburn. "Just take little sips at first, and as time goes by, you'll like it better."

Buster shrugged his shoulders. If Mr. Ratburn was drinking it, maybe there was some reason why. Buster looked down at his own can and picked it up. Taking his left paw, he opened the can, but before he take a drink, he placed it under his nose, catching it's scent. He curled his nose, thinking that it smelled like it was rotting. Mr. Ratburn assured him that was the way it should smell and told him to pace himself, and he'd soon be enjoying himself. Bracing himself, the rabbit took a small sip, letting it spill onto his tongue. Nigel wasn't joking, it tasted bitter, like it actually was rotting. Buster coughed. He put the can down on the table.

"You alright?" asked Nigel, taking another gulp of his beer.

"Yeah," wheezed Buster, trying to acclimate himself to the taste. "Just gimme a minute."

Buster waited, trying to get used to drinking beer. He couldn't understand why anyone would want to drink such a thing. Why did they only allow adults to drink this stuff? If anything, they should make kids drink it as a punishment. Even with that running through his mind, he didn't want to disappoint Nigel. He wanted to have a good time with his teacher turned friend. Manning up to round two, the rabbit plugged his nose and took a larger quaff of his beverage. It still didn't taste great, but it wasn't as insufferable as before. Before he could take a third draft, he noticed Nigel was already on his second beer, and his behavior had changed.

"Hey, you likin' that, Buster?" asked the rat.

The rabbit took notice of how Nigel's behavior had changed. He seemed looser, his speech was slurring and he was getting a little tipsy, but someone, it looked like he was really enjoying himself. Wanting to experience the same affects as the older male, Buster took a third gulp, his biggest one so far. It was half a minute later that he too was feeling what Mr. Ratburn must have been feeling. He rocked gently back and forth, like he was going back and forth on a swing. His worries ebbed away, and he could feel the pain of Arthur's absence diminish. By the time he'd finished his can, the taste wasn't bothering him at all. Smiling stupidly, he walked over and put his paw on Mr. Ratburn's shoulder.

"Gee," he said, his words slurring. "That was great, Nigel. You got anymore?"

"Sure do," said the rat. He got up and got another can out of the fridge for the young rabbit. "Drink up, pal. I bought a twelve pack after school today just for us."

"Fuckin' sweet," said Buster, not caring that he had just cursed in the presence of an adult. Mr. Ratburn didn't mind, he even laughed at the rabbit's speech. Buster was new to drinking, but he quickly understood the more beer he drank, the more intense the affects of the beer would be. Cracking open the top to his second beer of his life, he lifted his head up and let the entire contents of the beer empty into his mouth; some of which missed the mark and slid down his face and onto his shirt. Mr. Ratburn laughed out loud, almost falling on the floor after watching Buster.

"Damn, Buster, you're getting' used to it. Pretty cool stuff, huh?"

"Yeah," said Buster, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "We gonna do this every night I'm here, Nigel?"

Getting to his feet, Mr. Ratburn put his arm around the young rabbit. "Buster," he said, taking a chug from his beer can. "I got beer and so much more I'm gonna show you this weekend. Trust me, you'll never forget it as long as you live."

"The other stuff better than beer?" asked Buster as he broke free of the rat's arm and went to the fridge for another beer.

"Hehe," said Nigel Ratburn. "Just you wait and see, pal. Just you wait and see."