FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 1 - Pilot

From the busy mains treat of US90, Clyde passed through a rural plaza of preserved stores reminiscent of the 1950's, and the historic Colonial Post office located at the intersection of US90, Fayette Road, and Jewel Road. Clyde had woken up as early as Six o'clock to get him-self and his brother ready, fed, and bid parting to the family as he descended and ascended various hills on his way to school.

"Alvin," Clyde began with a smirk, turning his snout to him, "You're such a fatty, my arm is about to fall off!"

Alvin frowned, furrowing his scaly brown and butt his head, and little horns against Clyde's chest. "Nu uh! You fat, Clyde! Mommy says!"

"Are you kidding? I'm nearly dead, because you eat all my food!" Clyde laughed and grinned widely, his smile awkward by the exposed fangs and grizzly snout. Alvin pouted and slapped his tail at Clyde's side a little, and Clyde brushed it away once more, as they were now walking along the sidewalk of shaded street.

In the shade, their golden scales were less rutilant and resplendent, though amongst the desaturated palette of the shaded street, the two received glances of curiosity by various passersby in their vehicles.

"Cwyde, how much longer?" Alvin asked cutely, flicking his tongue.

Alvin's tail curled up and flicked at Clyde's thick stomach, and the older brother brushed it away frequently, shifting Alvin into his other arm every few minutes. Alvin nuzzled against him a little bit, his bright eyes looking all around the massive oak trees, and stone houses that looked like his grandparent's house.

"Cwyyyyyyde!" Alvin whined against him, tugging on his brother's collar, "You walk slow!"

"We'll get there faster if you want me to throw ya!" Clyde teased, and when Alvin whined at him, puffing out his snout and nipped him, Clyde could only chuckle.

He turned from Fayette Road to Noland Street, which led to Alvin's school. His sibling barraged him with questions and observations about the street, most notably was the number of hills, and Alvin thought they lived on a mountain. Alvin gave a quiet mew, with a soft chirp as they neared the preschool at the base of the hill, and he nervously tucked his little yellow snout under Clyde's bigger snout, grabbing him tightly.

"Cwyde, I want home." Alvin puled softly, turning his eyes up to Clyde's, "Pweeease?"

"No Alvin, mom said you have to go. Do you REALLY want to be with dad all day? You know how she is if there is no junk food at home!" Clyde cast him a playful flick of his tongue.

He took Alvin to the playground, setting him down on the dampened grass and exchanged hellos with his teacher, Mrs. Peng. He embraced his little brother good-bye, and then waved as he stepped from the gated grounds and back onto the road; the sun was beginning to crown from behind the Pine Trees near the top of the many hills. Clyde walked briskly down Decatuar, past Noland, crossed back onto US90, and then finally reached Davis Road, all of which was a ten-minute hike for him. When he emerged onto another cloaked sidewalk, this time he fell behind a few casually attired denizens as they too made their way to the Sophomore Building.

The immaculacy of the sophomore building ahead stood out against the more bucolic across the street freshmen's building; enviously the windows seemed to gaze at the crisp, white building. Massive oaks with hanging moss shaded the sidewalk, and the brick wall and gate that protected the yard held an insignia behind blooming Dogwoods of mid-summer. He looked up at the glossy white wall where the hand-painted mural of an exotic bird gazes outwardly; Clyde examined it for a minute, reading underneath where a plaque of marble read, "Founded in 1828."

The sun was beginning to rise from behind grey clouds, and he dragon sat down at a stone table and reviewed his schedule for the fifteenth time that morning while a custodian pushed their cart down the incline. He grumbled a bit as his stomach felt tight with regret for not eating earlier; he turned his attention up to the air, flicking his tongue for a few seconds, and then headed towards the cafeteria briskly. . .

Down a long dirt road in the suburb hinterlands; a large silver Toyota glided over the dew-damped stretch leaving behind little dust. Addison sat behind the steering wheel with one hand resting on it, the other hand brushing his black mane out of his eyes, slowing down at a stop sign, and then pulled on a main road that led onto the main highway. His eyes scanned every single, familiar inch of the scene; passing by the old truck yard by the rundown gas station, and the familiar Storage Units to his left, across from a Salon. He had not had the time to survey what had changed in the quaint town in the two decades he lived in South Florida.

It was a new feeling, very new, almost like he had not even been to school before: after twenty or so years, he felt nostalgia pulsing through his brain. Addison's sudden shift into teaching was like a tidal wave to his associates in the larger city Miami, and he was not surprised when they took his new passion with less fervor than he had. Why would they? They were fitness instructors like him, but Addison always had a softer spot for helping others: with the opportunity to become the new P.E teacher at his old high school, he would not miss it for the world! He admittedly would miss being able to have the leisure of the Gym, and handling teenagers at his age did leave him on tenterhooks.

He leaned on his elbow out of the window letting the still wet mane dry off in the window. He ascended from Jewel Road, and then onto US90 where, the main street, and pulled behind a line of cars that were caught at the intersection, waiting for just a few moments before taking a sharp right ahead, past the historic Baldwin Graveyard. The shaded road led him past a massive stone church, fire department and an ostensibly renovated library. He slowed down now as he entered the Bus Zone, slowing at each Stop Sign, and navigated him-self to Davis Road from McKennitt Drive, where the old Funeral Home was held by the Church's; it always made him chuckle, the idea of it.

He glanced out his window as he caught sight of a few students heading across the sidewalk in front of the familiar stone gate and smiled with thrill as a new rush of excitement swept over him.

"Hopefully Mrs. Goodson hasn't softened on her students," Addison remarked when he pulled his face away from window with a lingering aroma of honeysuckle in his nostrils.

Addison parked his truck in the designated space, stepping out of it onto the cold ground with a thick folder under his arm, a thick duffle bag hung under his shoulder, and breathed in cool air, sweetened by the Morning Glories growing in the distance. He smiled widely with pride and excitement, stepping lively from his truck by the science building, which also served for literary arts, he recalled.

The students were just beginning to arrive, though it was still remotely empty, he caught sight of an older Mrs. Shields emerging from her coffee-shaded Lincoln; he recognized her vehicle with its dinged up truck a mile away, though now it had substantially oxidized by the bumper. He quickly skipped over the white dirt towards her, standing a few feet from her door and elatedly called out, "Good Morning, Mrs. Shields!"

The woman jumped with a gasp, nearly hitting her heard and spinning around and her ears straight up. She stared at the pyknic, ebony coated stallion with bewilderment and tilted her head at this smiling horse, "I-I'm sorry sir, can I help you?"

Addison grinned widely at the feline and chuckled, "After all those failed English tests I thought you might recognize me, Mrs. Shields!" He exclaimed with a grin, "Remember that time we discussed--"

"ADDIS!" The feline interrupted, clasping her hands together and nearly jumped in place, "Oh god Addis' you've grown up so much! What on EARTH are you doing here, on campus? Last time I heard from your mom was you had moved down south!"

"Well I did but now I am the new coach, haven't you heard?" He said proudly, crossing his large arms, "I've resigned from being a Fitness Instructor. When I heard Coach Williams had passed I had contacted Mrs. Goodson about it, and we began discussing the replacement! I decided since I knew this school so well, and love teaching fitness, it would be a good arrangement!"

"Aw--" Mrs. Shields smiled and pat his strong shoulder gently with her paw, "That's so sweet, I'm sure the students will be delighted by you! Heaven knows these students need to sweat off more than just their weight; have you heard what their vernacular has turned into?!"

Addison laughed, speaking with her a few minutes more than departed, waving to her and passing a growing bunch of senior students from the Student Parking lot behind the school. Addis moved to the front of the building, where to his right was the court and picnic tables for students, and then a few yards ahead was the Choral and Gym building. When Addis entered, he looked at the polished floors, large row of stacked bleachers and to his right an elevated section that served as the gym room.

Coach Williams had always been on time, and never was short to make sure his students would do the same thing: there was a bittersweet feeling, going into his empty office and seeing it vacant. He opened the blinds looking out into the gym and into the field; warm sunlight swam in and warmed up the cool, white paint that covered the walls, and polished tiled floor. Addis dropped his duffle bag, taking off his jeans into his exercise gear, and folded the denim neatly into his bag, taking off his shirt and replacing it with a tight, compressing fitness Tank, his standard gloves and usual black shorts. He stood up in the room, looking around it slowly, even detecting that familiar scent of cologne the coach used to wear; but it lingered, for just a moment, before it disappeared.

"Damn--what a strange feeling," he remarked under his breath. First period would be empty which Addis felt thankful as it gave him time to organize the supplies he had brought in the weekend before; and this included his very personal, much cherished bamboo mat on the ground by his chair. He organized his room to his liking, bearing resemblance to his parent's home outside of town; it felt almost impolite to rearrange it as he had done so, but he shook it away and lit an incense stick and cracked the window as he sat down and reviewed his planner.

? ? ?

"Attention Students! This is your Announcer Ashley Monroe, and welcome to Sophomore Year! We are happy to be giving welcome to over twenty new students, including the newest addition to our faculty and Senior Graduate, Coach Addison Moore! Be sure to give him a warm welcome! Now, onto business, please be sure to check in with your--"

The announcer elucidated about the 'fresh opportunity' to join various sports clubs, stressing the importance with a bright, chipper voice. Clyde liked them, though he never had been in a school group like Chess, he considered the idea auspicious.

He listened, leaning back in his desk, his eyes focused at the brown box over the door and his hands crossed, on the table. The room smelt cold, which was hard for him to deduce what exactly made it smell cold: it was perhaps the freshly polished floor, coupled with low AC, which created an odd scent.

"And that is it for the morning announcements, thank you for listening, and welcome back to school!"

Mr. Hand, who would be their homeroom and Algebra 2 teacher emerged from behind his desk and stood with a stern stare that penetrated past the student's façade of calmness. His posture was stiff, his deep brown suit perfectly ironed without the slightest crease as the elderly man stood up right, speaking in a baritone, commanding intonation.

"I would firstly like to establish the pre-requisites of being in my class to ensure a low level of acrimony from my-self in particular. There will be no gum chewing during tests or lectures, or any kind of consumables unless I firstly give you permission! No IPods, phones, or any devices that will cause a disruption during your work are permitted! No drumming on the desk, EVER!"

Mr. Hand rolled his eyes with a groan, rested his hands on his hips and frowned. "You cannot begin to understand how much I hate students who cannot keep a rhythm; listen to Neil Pert for a semester, then I might give you permission." The class gave off a quiet laugh, though the teacher knew that half of them likely did not know who the famous drummer was, and he lamented how music had become garbage.

"I encourage you all to work as efficiently as you can and if need, call upon me. The more discipline I see, the more privileges you will receive, agreed? So if we can keep this up, I guarantee you all that we're going to have a fantastic year!"

The class resounded quietly and he smiled, relaxing his arms from behind him. Clyde looked at him carefully, unsure if at first the stance was similar to his brother's, and when Mr. Hand turned on his heel to face his desk the dragon recognized the mannerism all too quickly. Mr. Hand turned back around with a stack of papers in his arms, administering stacks to the first row of seats, turning his attention to his student's once more.

"I'd also like to remind my students that if there is a problem with your work then I implore you to ask for help: it's very upsetting when I see students fail because they cannot ask for assistance! Are there any other questions-- Ah, yes, your name?"

"John. Is texting allowed when we finish our work?" The bear lowered his hand and Mr. Hand thought for a moment.

"Well, normally no, since it's a very annoying sound when forty thumbs are running at one time. I will take it into consideration." The teacher turned his gaze to young woman in a graffiti printed jacket.

"Marie. Can we put on make-up, you know, small touch-ups?" The young girl smiled brightly and giggled, her friends doing the same. The teacher rolled his eyes and waved his hand off, turning his attention to a rather large reptile in a jersey in the second row to his right.

"Let's get a more intelligent question from you, son."

"Oh--uh, Clyde, sir." The dragon lowered his hand, receiving a few curious stares from other classmates as he intonated with a peculiarly guttural, but soft-spoken voice. "And-- this may seem odd but I was wondering if you were in the military? My brother always stands like you in my house, and turns sharply on his heel, and so on."

Mr. Hand cocked an eyebrow, squinting behind the glasses as he eyed Clyde with an almost annoyed stare. Clyde wrapped with his tail at his ankle and diverted his eyes with hot embarrassment in his snout. The teacher then began smiling, dissolving all the building alarm as he stepped from the desk.

"Quite an eye you have there! To all my students who do not know, I was once addressed as Rear Admiral Hand, and I served the United States for thirty years! I retired to become a teacher, and I regret it every year."

A slew of snickers ensued and Mr. Hand rolled his eyes, his yellowish teeth showing in his wide smile. Clyde him-self relaxed with a sigh of catharsis from the crippling anxiety that had built up, roughly in the span of 30 seconds.

"Oh yes, here comes the neighing of immaturity! You trying being on a boat full of seamen: the jokes had more brash connotations than your young minds can imagine! Now, since this is the first day I will give an assessment test. It will not be graded, I only want to gauge your capabilities. Settle down, and prepare your-selves, I do not test lightly."

Clyde had never enjoyed math entirely, but he at least remembered a lot from last year: hard to forget something drilled into your head religiously. Taking up his pencil, he turned his focus to the first question, scanning, and marking his answer promptly: following suit with the other twenty students, Clyde worked silently. His brain had been unprepared for the heaviness that the calculus provided, though he resolved to recount his teachings, and vigorously erased over his answers, until he found the correct one.

"I hear a cell phone, put it away." Mr. Hand said abruptly with a sternness that almost seemed unnatural to his calm tone earlier.

The clicking stopped, and the class remained silent, minus the grazing of graphite along paper. Clyde glanced around from time to time, looking at the backs of many others, realizing he was the only reptile and felt suddenly a little incongruous. He had not seen any others while wondering the halls, he saw a hulking rhino in a plaid shirt, the person was frightening, but he assumed now he was the only reptilian there.

Well--great, I will stick out, like last time, he thought sorely in the back of his mind with a frown at his snout. Beh-- maybe I will see a reptile or someone in homeroom.

When the tests were finished Mr. Hand collected them, politely thanking the class and then sat down and began to grade them. Clyde relaxed in his chair and put his earplugs in, playing the same mix from earlier. He bobbed his head, looking up at the polished cover of the fluorescent lights, and then turned his eyes to his right where a mounted TV and foreign tree stood by the open windows.

The clock above the window said 7:43, nearing second period now and Clyde felt a little more relaxed and leaned his hulking back against the plastic chair with a slight creak.

"Hey, watcha listening to?" A Black shepherd asked quietly from behind with a tap to Clyde's shoulder, "Sounds familiar."

Clyde blinked and looked back at the canine with a little hesitation and then brought up his Ipod and whispered, "Antoine Dufour, an alternate picking genius."

"I've never actually listened to that stuff, is it any good?" The shepherd perked up his ears, "It sounds pretty choice, with no beat."

"Dude you have no fucking idea, here, give this a listen. You don't need a beat to sound fucking majestic." Clyde whispered and quickly took his iPod and handed it behind him to the Shepherd, and continued to

Marius's ears perked up as he listened, receiving an unsure glance from a friend who had watched him, but Marius waved him off as he listened. He had never heard a guitar played that way before, country artists usually did chords, but he could hear the guy playing techniques all over the place, and cool percussion sounds. He was nodding his head to it before realizing he needed to give it back, and handed it back to the dragon, "Oh this is pretty cool shit." He began, "Where did you hear about this?"

"Shhhh!" Mr. Hand warned, his eyes glancing from his desk for a moment. The class went silent, and Marius recoiled for a second before leaning his nose over Clyde. He handed the device back and Clyde turned his snout slightly to look at him.

"Reddit." He smiled a bit, "It's pretty kick ass, huh?"

The dog gave a hushed laugh and smirked, "Haha, yeah. Hey, dude, you listen to any metal: like Tool, or maybe Gojira or something?"

"I have everything by Maynard on my Ipod!"

"Final warning!" Mr. Hand growled from behind a magazine, "Some students are still testing! God help me if I hear it again!"

"Damn, you'll need to share your music with me." Marius whispered and reclined back to his desk. "I'm Marius, by the way. You're Clyde, right?"

"Yes." Clyde nodded slightly and tried to smile, but it came out with a grimace as his prominent canines were exposed. The dog seemed unfazed, and Clyde quickly lowered his lips as Marius continued.

"I think you're the first dragon to move into our school in a long time." He began, giving the reptile a look over, "Where are you from?"

"Out of state." Clyde answered stiltedly, "We moved here during the summer."

"Oh, I see. Well dude, me and my friends are going to hang out at lunch, want to join us?"

"Uh--yeah, that would be cool." Clyde huffed a little bit, "I suppose I stand out, right?"

Marius gave a soft laugh and nodded, "Well, yeah, you do, but it's not like anyone cares, they'll get used to you. Hell, we had a whole family of Kangaroos here and Jen went on to be Prom Queen last year."

Marius pointed out a few of his other friends to him, telling Clyde about them individually. There was his half-brother Alex, the golden Sheppard who was a science major and game addict: Randal the bulldog and seasoned football player, and Travis the stoner. He told Clyde all the other reptiles were in lower grades, which left him feeling a little out of place again, but he did not think it would really matter.

Mr. Hand had graded all the assignments before the period was over, leaving Clyde both impressed, and apprehensive about his grade. Mr. Hand set the papers down with a hard slam, the class immediately shushed into silence, and as he stood in front of the desk with a grimace, fearful eyes locked onto his.

"I've graded the tests, and determined you're all a bunch of idiots!" He frowned deeply, "Your grades were sub-par in my opinion, but otherwise-- acceptable. We will fix that by the end of this semester however-- thank you for your time, you are free to talk amongst your-selves for now. Your homework assignment is on my desk, collect them as you leave. If any are left behind, you will face the Rancor."

The class's silence solidified into idle chatter, groups of students forming around desks and a clique took to the back wall besides a bookshelf. Marius spoke to his friends in a hushed voice, glancing at the dragon, and then to Travis who was not as open to the idea of a dragon being in their group. Clyde tried paying little attention to it, glancing through his math book and swayed his tail slowly under the desk behind him.

"So where ya headed next" Marius asked as he kneeled down beside him. "I've got gym at first period, you?"

Clyde turned sideways and pulled up his book bag to his shoulder "Yeah, I'm heading to the gym also, third period is study hall."

"You know--you're a big guy, Clyde." Marius flipped out his cell phone and quickly texted then slipped it back into his pocket and then crossed his arms. "My buds and I are on the Weightlifting team and I think you should join, bro! You've got some thick ass arms!"

The dragon laughed warily, casting his eyes to the floor and shrugged with uncertainty. "I am not sure if that'd be something for me; I'm not exactly competitive."

"Nah, you'll have fun, trust me! We got a new coach this year, some fitness guru or something." Marius laughed a little and then patted the large scaly shoulder, "Come on, we need a big guy like you in the gym this year! Last year the team--well, let's say they did not do so well. We could really use the help!"

"I'll--give it a shot. I guess it'd be good to have something else to do after school." Clyde scratched the back of his head, not enjoying his decision, "Eh, I'll just need help, you know, picking out supplements and so on."

"Sweet, that's good! You ever hit the benches before, like, ever?" Marius grinned wide and stood up, sitting across from Clyde as his tail wagged a little bit faster.

"Eh--no, not really." Clyde answered slowly, "But I did do some interval training; it was pretty damn intense! I had to learn it with my brother when he came back from overseas; he said it's hard, but fun to do with someone else"

"Yeah, I know man!" The dog leaned back and stretched his arms. He was physically fit and Clyde felt some heat of envy in his face: maybe joining weightlifting would be a good idea for him.

The class was dismissed after another twenty minutes of idle chatter and headed towards their next class. Clyde stuffed the homework assignment into his book bag as he walked from two double doors, down a short staircase, and then straight ahead towards the gym. A group of students entered into the large, empty room while two coaches stood in front of the bleachers and greeted the students. Clyde sat down beside Marius and Travis with an immediate snort of disgruntlement at the familiar smell of fried chicken coming off Travis's fur.