Chomper and the Mystic Powers

I ran my paws through my fur as I stared at the book on the table. I'd found it yesterday in a pile of garbage on the side of the road. The cover was faded and creased and the binding had come loose in several places, but it was still intact enough for me to read.

"The Tale of Chomper, A Gay Anthropomorphic Prehistoric Fox From The Urgellian Mountains."

I sighed, rubbing my temples. What the hell am I supposed to do with this? It's just a stupid book. Why can't I just be happy with what I have?

My eyes welled up with tears again as I glanced around my little den. It was so dark and damp and cold. My father had carved out this space under our house when he built it, but now that he had passed away I was stuck here alone. He had taught me everything I knew about hunting and surviving the harsh climate of our mountain home. He had been kind to me, even though everyone else shunned me for being different. Everyone except him. But now he was gone, and all I had was a tiny space underneath his home where no one wanted to venture for fear of what might be living beneath their feet.

A tear splashed down onto the book as I stared down at it once more. How could anyone possibly want to read about someone like me? There is nothing special about me, nothing praiseworthy or even worth telling about my life. Yet here I sat, staring at a book written by someone who felt that somehow my life deserved to be immortalized in ink and paper for anyone to see and know about.

How did they even learn about me? Did they follow me around and spy on me until they knew all my secrets? Did they sit silently in their homes while they listened to conversations around town waiting for someone who knew my name to say something that would warrant them writing down a single sentence of information somewhere in their house? Did they go searching through old documents stored away deep in dark closets looking for anything that might be related to who I am today? Or did they simply make up all that stuff in their own mind?

It didn't matter anymore though did it? What mattered most was whether or not this person cared enough about me to write an entire book about how much they admired me or how much they despised what I stood for. How many times had people told me how wonderful it would be if only we were able to work together to bring peace among our people as one unified group instead of segregating ourselves into groups based on who we love? And yet every time someone said something like that God forbid anyone ever listen because everyone knew what would happen if you were caught associating yourself with us! You would be shamed, humiliated, tortured, and finally killed! And yet here sat this book titled "The Tale Of Chomper". Someone wrote an entire novel about someone like me without ever fearing any backlash from others! Someone cared enough not to care what others thought! Someone saw past all the hate and discrimination! Someone looked at a gay fox and saw someone worth writing a book about!

"Someone cares...."

I reached down and picked up the book again staring at the title printed across its front cover in bold letters as tears continued streaming down my face. "The Tale Of Chomper: A Gay Anthropomorphic Prehistoric Fox From The Urgellian Mountains." My heart skipped a beat as I looked up towards my father's house wondering if somehow he could see me sitting here holding this book in my hands right now thinking about his kindness towards his only son who happened to be gay. A tear rolled down my cheek as I closed my eyes remembering back to when he first told me what it meant to be gay back when I was just a cub living on his mother's farm by myself after she died giving birth to him; alone except for her loyal dog Stu whom took care of me while she was buried six feet under...

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