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“I…just…don't…understand it, how can anyone be this stupid, huh? Answer me that?” The man wiped an exasperated palm over his sweat riddled face. His features fizzled as he strained to understand how another creature could offend him so harshly to the point of this mental calamity. While Ren fried his own brain, searching for something, anything he could say to defuse this bomb.
But his every comeback, defense, or clever insult retreated once those cold eyes pricked at his skin - ready to twist anything and everything that could possibly escape his trembling lips. Survival instinct took over and Ren snapped his mouth shut.
“That's what I thought,” George laughed like a drunk pleased with his own power play. “Clean up your waste of space and get outta my sight! I don’t wanna see you or your little friend for the rest of the night, you understand me?”
Ren nodded hard enough for him to get the memo, biting back his own tears.
“Good,” the man grumbled before storming off while a dark cloud of misery trailed behind him.
Reluctantly Ren gazed down to see himself covered in bruises, scrapes, and even a couple glass shards from the broken bottles George had used to decorate the floor.
His little body felt like it had been ripped apart by a higher mammal. This place looked like a home but it was as unforgiving as the wild. A place with fragmented rules, where small animals such as himself never stood a chance.
He sat there, shaking like an idiot, too weak to feel anything. Normally his emotions came out with his breath, unable to stay settled in his restless mind. His highs and lows would dance him throughout the day. The only time they ever sank into deafening weakness was when his owner entered the room with more than a few beers to join him.
Time passed, although he was unsure exactly how much. He watched the injuries change from a reddest hue to a purple then back again as an excuse for entertainment. For a moment he questioned how he was even alive. Before realizing George had a very keen sense of knowing when enough was enough. In other words, he put his prey on edge till they were weak enough to crumble, but alive enough to heal, then he would get the jolly doing it all over again.
It was discipline, or so he called it.
Something he’d dish out to those who didn't fall in line.
Deep down Ren knew this was wrong - it was a twisted sense of dominance that masqueraded as love. An excuse for the monster to keep pounding him day after day, preaching this unconditional love.
Every scar and sprain would toughen him up, turn him into someone who could take the pain. As he was told: “It's gonna be way worse for ya out there! I'm going easy on ya!”
Better to feel like a wimp now then to look like a fool in the “real world.”
Ren hated being like this, feeling so pathetic he could barely lift a finger. Having his guts rearranged by someone stronger than him. Didn't they know he was the one to be feared? The one to please? The one who carries power wherever he goes? Everyone else got that, yielded to it, everyone but this man.
Ren hated him for it. Hated him so much he spent many a night fantasizing about giving him such a satisfying demise. In his dreams, he worked every tool from a blender to a chainsaw, each conjuring up a fabulous image of George’s remains.
Some nights it seemed so easy, the idea taunted him, leaving him to ruminate on why he could never just make the move. Then he would be the top dog - just as nature intended.
He’d make him plealed, and suffer, and curse the day he ever thought to mess with Ren Hoek. It would be glorious, it would be freeing, it would be-.
“Ren?”
He twisted his neck around to see his best friend staring at him with those wide eyes, bulging blue nose, and dripping tongue.
“What happened?” Stimpy asked, sounding confused.
“Don’t look at me! I'm…repulsive.”
“Oh come on now, let me see,” Stimpy turned him around to reveal a canvas of dark bruises, nasty gashes, and disjointed limbs; all complimenting the pained expression upon the Chihuahua’s face.
“Gosh…Ren, you don't look so good, are you okay?” Stimpy's pitiful gaze was like a knife winding up his back.
“I told you!! Don’t look at me!” Ren spat back, “you never listen to me, do you?” Hated bubbled beneath his flesh - a feeling that he was no stranger too. The emotions festered like sewage, ready to claw out of his skin. Ready to infect everyone within a ten mile radius. He had to let it out, it couldn't stay here.
Ren threw himself forward grabbing Stimpy by the jowls, yanking him closer till their eyes were locked. The dog’s breath was quick and raspy as his mind swam with ideas on what to do with this stupid creature. Maybe he could tear his eyes out and play a round of miniature golf? Or maybe he could fish his brain out of his skull, just to see how small the darn thing is. Yeah, that was it.
What a dumb question: are you okay? Did the moron not have eyes? Ren readied himself to rip out that pea brain while Stimpy shut his eyes, bracing for impact.
Ren froze - something didn’t feel right and it wasn’t just the throbbing pain of his tiny body. Something grabbed at his emotions, making him second guess this assault before crumbling him back to the floor.
“Ren?? You're not gonna hit me?” He asked with fascinated surprise.
Ren shook on the floor, watching the blood drain from his wounds, too weak to move without the aid of anger.
“You poor thing!”
Before he could protest, he felt himself being scooped from the floor and into the arms of his best friend.
“Hey! Put me down, man!” Ren was powerless against the bind of blubber.
“Come on now, you know we gotta get you cleaned up.” Stimpy said with loving banter. He knew Stimpy enjoyed caring for him. Why? He had no clue and if he could rip that smirk off his face he would.
Ren felt the crunch of sand below his rear and jolted at the realization he had been placed in the cat's litter box. Sure, it was clean, but for how long? It was a disturbing question.
“You just relax now, I'll be right back!”
Ren hugged himself, watching Stimpy dash away at the speed of light. He returned milliseconds later with a first-aid kit, giving Ren unpleasant flashbacks to a certain illness.
His instinct was to run, not give Stimpy any satisfaction of being his helpless little patient, but he knew he didn’t have much of a choice. The wounds needed attention before they morphed into something worse.
He took out some gloves, comically sliding them over the pair he already wore, then he applied some specialized liquid to some gauze.
“Okay, now I'm gonna clean the wound, it may sting a bit.”
“Yeah, yeah, Imma man, you really think I’ll be fazed by a little-”
A rush of hot stabbing pain ran through his body and out this throat as he yelped with agony.
“Gha, Stimpy, you're hurting me!”
“Now, now, I know it hurts, but we gotta do this so the blood doesn't dry.”
“And…..what happens if it does?”
“Then we’ll have to saw your arms off. But don’t worry, they’ll be hard and crusty anyways, you won't want them.”
Ren shuddered at the thought of living like some blob of meat only able to sit around, never getting to smack the daylights out of anyone ever again. Another jolt of pain made him twitch - he dug his nails into the ground supporting the litter box till they were cracked enough to peel off. He lay on his stomach while Stimpy applied pressure to his back, which didn't have nearly as much ooze and pus as this morning.
“There, there, that's not so bad is it?”
Ren eyes catapulted out of their sockets followed by a tsunami of tears.
“Oh dear, that's no good,” Stimpy gasped, racing over to retrieve Ren’s eyeballs - cradling them gently with his gloved hands. He then twisted them back in their sockets with the care and position of a surgeon, standing back to admire the handiwork.
“There you go, Ren. Good as new!”
“You stupid cow can't you see your murdering me?”
“Now Ren, don't you go hurting yourself even more. You'll just be making more work for him.”
Stimpy pet his head as gently as if he were an innocent baby cranky from lost nap time. It reminded him of the way someone had pet him as a puppy, but he didn't know who. Still - it was kind of nice, he knew he didn't deserve it, why would he? The cat always pranced around him wearing rose colored glasses, too in awe to see the real vile that lay before him. That's why he was so dense.
A bandage wrapped around his tummy before Stimpy moved to his arms, cleaning them while simultaneously soothing him with his kind, yet teasing tone.
“You're doing so good, Reeeeen.”
“Mmmm.”
“Oh my! We seem to be outta cleaner,” Stimpy noticed searching high and low.
“Just leave it, you’ve been too kind to me anyways. I-I don't deserve you.” Ren whimpered, overcome with more emotions than he knew what to do with.
“Hey now, I told you I don’t like it when you talk like that.”
Before he could say another word, Stimpy was already trailing his tongue along Ren's leg, cleaning it like a dog. Chills scurried down his spine, the urge to punch was slowly growing.
Stimpy was truly the definition of idiotic. Not even a dog would do something so gross. Still, it was surprisingly comforting.
“There - all done! That wasn't so bad, was it?”
“Hee, I guess not.”
Ren looked at himself, the injuries did look better. So maybe the idiot was good at something.
Tears swelled up again, he covered his stinging eyes, knowing this was weak but unable to hold it in. Bubbles of snot took on a life of their own, swelling up and hovering out of his nostrils as if he were celebrating a warm summer day. It was an ugly mess of fluid, one that would make anyone wanna discard him immediately. But instead of a shovel, Ren felt a gentle touch stroking his head.
“There, there, it'll be okay.” Stimpy promised, brushing Ren's hands away from his face and flicking the snot away. “I still like you. And see, we put you back together!” The dunce’s optimism was starting to get tenuous.
“Can't you see? I don't deserve your charity!!” He sobbed into Stimpy's chest feeling his heart beat through that tub of lard.
Stimpy returned the hug before putting his own rear in the sand, placing Ren on his lap for safekeeping.
“You just relax now, no big mean man's gonna hurt you.” Ren didn't even care if Stimpy wanted to tease him, he felt safe, like a wimpy loser…but a safe wimpy loser, in the arms of his best friend. “Shhh, deep breath, Ren, deep breath.”
The dog sucked in a deep gulp of air before slowly exhaling it out his nostrils, his body melting with satisfaction. The shaking slowed to a stop as Stimpy held him close.
Everything still hurt, his face, his torso, his limbs all acted as reminders of what happened. What wouldn't stop happening. But right now - he was safe.
“Eeeeha, how's about something to eat?”
Before Ren could answer, he was placed back in the sand while his bestie darted off to the other room. He returned mere seconds later with a tray containing a single pancake.
“I made it myself!” He proudly announced, sliding it into Ren's hands. It was a bit old and crusty looking, like it had been stuffed in a fridge then reanimated with a microwave in hopes it would bounce back. It was also heart shaped…because of course it was.
“Eee, thanks pal.”
“WAIT, you forgot the syrup. Stimpy poured a mess onto Ren's hands - enough to spoil the sand beneath him but not enough to disrupt his injuries.
Ren hesitated - holding a pile of mush.
“Go on, try it out.”
The dog licked the center, swirling his tongue around, judging where to puke afterwards. Stimpy watched him like an animal at the zoo, eyes getting wider whenever he thought he would do something interesting with it.
“Hey, Stimpy, what's that over there?"
“Where?” He spun around, Ren tossed the food onto the ceiling, the moist syrup making a substitute for glue.
“Ah, guess it was nothing, just an airplane or something.”
Stimpy wore a dopey look as if he'd forgotten what he was doing.
“Mmm, great treat. Do be a pal and make it again sometime.”
“Willlll do just that, captain.” Stimpy saluted.
Another wave of pain rushed over Ren, sucking the charm out of this moment. He held himself, face drooping with strain.
“Hey now, it's okay, there'll be more pancakes in your future.”
“It's not that, you fool! Can't you see I'm suffering here? Huh?”
Stimpy darted out again, this time wheeling over the television. He made several grunts and groans before collapsing in a heap of sweat.
Ren's face twisted in confusion.
“What the heck is that thing doing here?”
Stimpy stood and turned it to the news station in the midst of a car chase.
“I know how much you love mayhem and bloodshed.” Stimpy cooed lovingly.
“Aw, c’mere you old softie.”
The kitty placed his butt in the sand next to Ren's, settling in with his arms wrapped around his buddy.
It was nice to share a quiet moment together. It was moments like this that reminded Ren just how special he was.
Life wasn't all bad, Stimpy’s hug was proof of that.