It's from a Tumblr blog cybercommunism.tumblr.com/post/142482472199/the-time-furries-ruined-my-little-sisters-high
THE TIME FURRIES RUINED MY LITTLE SISTER’S HIGH SCHOOL
I’m breaking with my usual format of, “no caps, no punctuation,” because I bring you a story of horror and ecstasy. This story is relayed to you through the lens of my prose, but the events described come directly from my little sister. Some motivational interpretation is present on my part. This is the tale of Pelzignacht, also known as, “Spastic Furry Shitshow 2k15.”
The first thing you ought to know is that this takes place in a high school, a relatively affluent suburban high school. The second thing you ought to know is that the mascot for this high school is a wolf. Due to a caustic combination of too few responsibilities, too much allowance, and absurd levels of moral depravity, there was little chance that fetishistically niche subcultures wouldn’t form, and form they did. One in particular, however, is central to our story. The Furry clique. There was a tribe of furries in my little sister’s high school. They called themselves the Wolf Pack. And they all wore tails hanging from their belt loops, every day.
Yes. This is a true fact. This is a true fact that happened. I know. Calm down. It gets worse.
The vast majority of the rest of the school was sane, at least, and they tolerated the depraved troupe of degenerates for quite some time with little incident. However, given the opportunity to socially torment a pariah on the basis of shits and giggles, you can be assured a high school boy will eventually take it.
An especially volatile male furry got separated from the pack one day at lunch. Sensing the tangy wafts of basement-dweller sweat and stale semen on the air, a rambunctious herd of sophomore boys descended upon him, a ravening mass of cruelty. Within instants the Furry was divested of the fluffy treasure which dangled faithfully from the back of his mom-jeans, and the ancient secondary educational torture-rite of “keep away” began.
From my understanding this didn’t last all that long. Doubtless this was due to the presence of adults, such as any responsible institution keeps on guard during feeding hours. However, it apparently lasted just too long. Emotions which once had lay dormant in the Furry were awakened, raw rage surged through his veins, he put on his Grumpy Face and began darkly and magnificently to pout. He had tapped into that bottomless well of righteous umbrage accessible only by those who garb themselves with the wild’s veneers, that vast reserve of unceasing murderviolence that comes to the faunically inclined. He had the Furry Fury in his blood, and it wasn’t going to leave without action.
Somehow, by some mechanism which has been left unclear to me, this Furry lad made it perfectly clear to the populace that he was going to bring a gun to school the next day and murder the absolute fucking shit out of just, like, everyone. Yeah, I know. Seems a little extreme. This is why you don’t activate the trap card and unleash the Furry Fury.
Plot Twist: HE ACTUALLY BROUGHT THE FUCKING GUN. HE BROUGHT IT. Administration had been made aware of his impending normalfag Holocaust, of course, and his personal Columbine was cut short literally just past the doors to the school. He was summarily arrested, expelled, and probably told he was kind of an asshole. Not necessarily in that order.
But this wasn’t to be the end of the story. A Furry doesn’t just bring a FUCKING FIREARM to a PUBLIC INSTITUTION OF LEARNING with the intent to ENACT SOME RADICAL BLOODSHED ON YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS without stimulating within you the baleful trumpets of the Bigot’s Irascible Disapprobation of the Bête Noire, thus triggering irrevocably the inception of Societal Cleansing Act 2: Electric Shoah-loo.
