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"Mom, I just don't think I fit in here," exclaimed Fred Fox. They had just moved into Green Meadow from the big city of Metropolis. Fred and his mother had just unpacked the U-Haul, after three tiring hours of driving through the crazed interstate, battling a very hot sun and too many cars and semis. Fred loved to read, but he suffered from a moving sickness, so reading while moving in the car was a bad combination. His mother did not want to see McDonald's cheeseburgers and fries mixed in with Stephen King's Cujo all over the passenger's side front seat.

"Give it a chance, honey. This is a big change for me, too." Both mother vixen and son fox gave each other a short, sad look, knowing the huge mountain of a challenge that awaited them. "School starts tomorrow. . ."

"Oh. . ." sighed Fred. That was the last thing the ten-year-old fox needed to hear. "School? I hate the fifth grade." He started to scratch his fine amber furred arms through his blue Tom Brady jersey, and looked through the kitchen without hope for a stool or chair without a box contained with stuff.

"Fred, I have to start a new job, too. I'm scared. I'm nervous. But this is what's real. Haven't I always told you that?" His mom sounded firm, if not a little upset, at his inability to think past his own black button nose. "You think I love paying bills?" She opened quick the refrigerator door and thrust a gallon of milk that she had purchased on the way to their new house on Treehouse Lane. Being a little careless, her knuckles slammed against the inside shelf.

"Yelp! God---," but she caught herself in time. This time, she sighed, and gave an embarrassed look to her son, Fred. _What a wonderful boy I have. Too bad the father is a piece of shit. Well, what's been done is done. The divorce papers have been finalized. At least now we have a chance of starting over. No more screaming. No more tears. _

"Mom, are you okay?" asked Fred with concern, peering over a few boxes.

"Yeah, just tried to knock out a refrigerator shelf, heh."

Fred's mind turned over to the book he had been reading for the past week. Cujo seemed to sum up a little of his anger within its 304 pages. The part at the end where Donna Trenton found the strength to stagger out of her Pinto Runabout, in 100+ temperatures, seize the baseball bat with the loose piece of friction tape around the handle, and go to town on the two hundred pound St. Bernard which had grown rabid and attempted to destroy all of her regular sanity and life and her boy's had reflected his own feelings now. Desperation and survival, those were on the surface.

"Fred, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout." Denise Porter walked over to her son, and knelt down, her black coated paw patting his left knee. "It's been a long day."

Fred nodded, a small smile creeping upon his face. "Yeah, it sure has. Thanks for McDonald's. Those burgs and fries were all that, and I love chocolate milkshakes."

Mom wrapped both long arms around her son's neck, and hugged tight. "There will be many more chocolate milkshakes, son. I promise. Now why don't you go out and give me the lay of the land, alright? And, here . . .," Denise said, as she reached into the left breast pocket of her chambray shirt. "Here's $10. Buy me and you something nice. Like candy. There must be a fudge shoppe here somewhere, right?"

The eager Fred, now bursting full of cheerful grin, jumped and clenched the bill in his large, thin paw. "Sure!"

"Don't forget your change wallet!"

Fred patted his right jean pocket and found the blue rubber bendable holder. Squeezing, he folded and tucked the $10 inside, then placed it inside again.

"Downtown is . . .?"

". . . Right, then left, then left again. Don't talk to strangers. I hope you find a friend, though."

"Yeah," murmured Fred, as he walked out of their new home at 144 Treehouse Lane, a one-story, red brick little bungalow.

As her little man turned the right corner a few blocks away, Denise Porter sighed, leaning out the front door, with a small tear falling seamless from her oval blue eye, and whispered, "I love you, Fred. More than you'll ever know." And, in this, of course she did.

Meanwhile, in the middle of Green Meadow, in a decent sized clubhouse that could fit quite a few neighborhood kids, Montgomery Moose and Bingo "Bet It All" Beaver were at it again. Ever since Bingo had bet Montgomery's gold plated roller skates to Catchum Crocodile during a game of 21, Montgomery had been on Bingo's case about everything. This time, the clubhouse was filled with dirt and grime and unorganized to the extreme . . . and it was all Bingo's fault.

"MY fault?" echoed Bingo. "How is it MY fault, Montgomery? Didn't you see Dottie and Portia going through here this morning acting all crazy?"

Montgomery huffed and continued to pace around who used to be one of his most favorite friends. Now, Montgomery, ten years of age and starting fifth grade soon at Willow Brook Middle School, was fed up with Bingo's irresponsible behavior patterns.

"NO, I didn't, Bingo. All I am seeing is you making a lot of excuses for a big mess right in front of me."

Bingo looked down at a few sheets of paper, and his paws went straight into his overalls pockets. "Why are you so mad, Montgomery? I thought we were 'The Get Along Gang'. Now all it seems that we do is everything but get along."

Montgomery Moose could not help but feel sympathetic for his friend, despite how upset he felt at the moment with the mountainous mess surrounding them. Bingo, despite his outrageous lack of seeming concern for those around him, did have a soft heart, and always did try to give a little more than take, even if betting was his favorite pastime.

"Come here, Bingo."

At this, the Beaver stood tall and grinned wide. He knew what was up.

"What a turn of attitude, Mr. Moose," giggled Bingo, as he swept through the clubhouse, sweeping the window curtains closed and lighting a stick of peppermint incense in the corner.

"What if Dottie, or Portia, or anyone else steps in?" asked Bingo in mock concern.

"When's the last time you gave a real FUCK, Bingo?" said Montgomery. "Besides, you are the real voyeur. I read about that in your journal, Mr. B. B."

Bingo blushed. "Get over here, you slut."

He hurried over and got on his knees, his hot little mouth watering at the very thought of six inches of taut caramel moose cock melting in his beaver mouth. "I've been waiting for this for a while, man."

"Wait no more."

Montgomery unzipped his khakis and drawers and a sheen wonder popped in front of Bingo, its gleaming head bouncing off his nose. "Enj---ooohh, yeah, Bingo, that's right. . ." crooned the moose, his large eyelids fluttering, as Bingo's mouth had consumed all six gloried inches in a matter of split seconds. His thin, silk pink tongue made so many butterfly laps up and down and across the caramel member, as Montgomery's vibrating moans could be heard by the birds and squirrels outside for sure. "Goddamn, Bingo! Shit, bitch!"

All of a sudden, without a knock of announcement, Dottie Dog stepped into the clubhouse. The sight before her caused her lush eyes to widen and her pert cream, thick-furred cheeks to burn as crimson as her ear bows. "Montgomery! Bingo! Montgomery?!" Behind her, Zipper stepped large, "Woo Hah!! Got You All In Check" blaring out of his extra-large ghetto box, hard bass shattering the new painted gold walls of the clubhouse. "Damn, Montgomery! Put a sign up."

The walking in of two of his friends caused Bingo to double his horn dog efforts, his snake tongue now like an eel laced thick with premium oil, as he continued to eat out his most delicious friend. "OH, BINGO, FUCK YES I'M GOING TO CUM FUUUCCCKKKK!!!!"

Now Dottie and Zipper were both seated at the small blue picnic table in the left hand corner, "Woo Hah!!" now replaced with "Everything Remains Raw". Zipper reached across to Dottie, a zestful lust resting in his eternal eyes.

"Hell, no, Zipper. Just because I'm a cheerleader, you think I'm going to give you some blowjob? I expect a little more respect out of you than that."

Zipper grinned, blushed, and looked down, but looked to his left, as Montgomery's hot load of moose semen became almost ready to christen Bingo's tiny head.

"GODDAM, BINGO, HERE IT IS!!!" screamed Montgomery, as his generous love stick began to shake and jerk in the Beaver's mouth, erupting large, ivory pumps of molten semen deep into his throat. Soon, Bingo could take no more, and let his mouth off. Even larger rivers of cum rested on Bingo's head fur, ears, eyelids, nose, cheeks and overalls. "OOH, BINGO."

"Yes?"

"Goddamn."

At this, all four friends laughed, surrounded by a very large clubhouse mess, semen and kid junk together. It was all good.

Fred Fox had heard the loud thumping beats of Busta Rhymes and oral pleasure pulsing out of the open caboose window not too far off of the main road, as he had been making his way toward main downtown Green Meadow. With an overthrow of hesitance, he slid down the hill towards the clubhouse, and walked with a slow eagerness towards the green door. Walking up the steps, he curled his right paw in a fist. His left paw, slick with sweat from the hot sun above, even at 5 p.m., held Cujo. Fred knocked on the door.

"Hello?" called Fred.

A giggle followed his call, and Fred heard light footsteps reaching the other side of the small wooden door. Upon opening, the sight of a beaver covered in white semen and a moose with a dangling cock behind him was, well, kind of weird.

"Oh, uh, oh, well, uh, I, uh. . ." was all Fred Fox could manage to escape, but Montgomery Moose and Bingo "Bet It All" Beaver attempted to look decent quick before this stranger.

"We're sorry. Eh . . . we was just playing, man," stammered Montgomery, as Bingo pulled off his soaked blue overalls, revealing a loose white tee shirt and gray daisy duke sweats.

"That's cool, I suppose."

"Oh, pardon my lack of manners. My name is Montgomery Moose, and that's Bingo "Bet It All" Beaver. That's Dottie Dog and there's Zipper. We're just known as the Get Along Gang."

"The what?" asked Fred with a small rise of his well-trimmed white eyebrows, a confused look placed over his triangular face, as his whiskers swept around, as if a slight wind had found its way into the little caboose. "I'm not . . . that way."

Dottie and Zipper both looked down at their laps at the picnic table, cheeks blossoming crimson, while Montgomery howled. Beaver, his bare chestnut-brown furred chest and belly now minus tee-shirt, but groin and thighs still shielded with gray Everlast daisies, strutted over to Fred.

"What way?" offered Bingo, as "Everything Remains Raw" made way to "Roses" by Outkast.

"You know . . . that way," squeaked an embarrassed fox, unsure of his next move. Should he leave, or stay? The book in his left paw felt like two hundred pounds all of a sudden, and he wanted to sit for fear of vomiting. This was worse than motion sickness.

"Whoa, bud, are you okay?" asked Bingo, with genuine concern. "C'mere, I didn't mean to scare you. None of us did," as the small, cute beaver shut the caboose door with a firm click and lead him over to the picnic table where Montgomery now was seated as well.

"It's just . . . I, we, my Mom and I, we just moved here, today. I was looking for a fudge shoppe."

"Oh, a candy store! Well, there is Cudshucker's on Main Avenue, right down the road. They offer the best fudge and chocolate milkshakes, and. . . ."

"Did you say 'chocolate milkshakes'!" exclaimed Fred Fox, with his large pink tongue now hanging out like a pendulum swinging left and right, his pupils appearing to be milkshake glasses.

"Yes!" Dottie, Zipper, Montgomery, and Bingo exclaimed in echo, laughing as well.

"Would you like to hang out after dinner, Fred, and then come join us for milkshakes at Cudshucker's? Your Mom can join us. Green Meadow is a real great town. Most of everyone is extra nice . . . except for Catchum and Leland." At this, the four giggled, and Fred grew a strange, but kind of understanding glance at the quadruple crew. Must be bullies, thought Fred.

"Hey, by the way, what school will you be going to?"

"Willow Brook Middle. Fifth grade."

With a pleased gasp, Dottie, Zipper, Montgomery, and Bingo jumped up out of their seats. "Yay," said Bingo. "We are all going into the same grade, same school, too!"

"Cool!" exclaimed Fred. "Listen, I need to go home, but I'll be back in about an hour. Cudshucker's sounds delicious. I believe my Mom will love to tag along. Thanks guys," said Fred, as he made his way to the caboose entrance.

"We'll be expecting you, Fred," responded Montgomery. "And, thanks for stopping in. You're a really nice guy."

"You are, too! See you all later!"

With a skip and a hop, Fred exited the caboose and ran up the hill, darting right towards his home and his mother. Behind him, the sun had started to fall, and warmth and a new feeling of freedom and love pressed down on his shoulders as his new encounter with his four new acquaintances could no more contain him than the thought of a delicious Cudshucker's chocolate milkshake in his new hometown of Green Meadow.