Our awesome friend talutie drew this for Hannah and I after a conversation about how different our high school experiences were. Hannah grew up in rough areas and was a delinquent and I was a skinny, nerdy kid in the suburbs. It's funny because neither of us are like that in any way now! I loved the picture so much that I decided to write a background story about how Molly and Brutus got together (they've been sweethearts for a long time). Some of it is loosely based on a couple actual experiences in high school, with quite a bit of embellishment. I hope you enjoy it!

“Hey, wanna drag?” Molly asked, holding out the smoldering cigarette to Brutus, the young stallion looking perplexed.

It was sophomore year, and the cow and horse were not yet officially together. Unofficially, sure, but Molly made it a point that she didn’t want people to think she was so bourgeoise and mainstream that she’d have a traditional relationship. With a boy, even! What was this, the fifties?

In actuality, it was the nineties, and they were both fifteen and in love. They met often after school behind the bleachers to chill, listen to Molly’s favorite punk bands on her Walkman, and make out. Brutus thought she tasted like cigarettes, but in that exciting, scandalous way that skipping classes felt exhilarating. He rarely skipped, though, because he was too afraid of being kicked from the football team.

The young draft horse loved football, and in his freshman year he begged his mother to let him join the school’s team. There was only one problem, though: he wasn’t very big. Unlike the usual stock of his breed, he was rather short and skinny; barely five feet tall and 110 pounds. Since the beginning of middle school, his mother bought all his clothes one size too large in hopes that he would have a growth spurt, and they all hung on his wiry frame like tents before the slack is pulled out. Needless to say, he was not a prime specimen for the football team; in fact, the team consisted mostly of bulls, bears, and other horses who had at least one foot and 100 pounds on him. Yet he pleaded to his mother, and likewise to the coach, and they both finally came to a concession: he could try out for a position.

Obviously, he wasn’t big and bulky enough to be a lineman, tight end, or running back. He was too short to be quarterback or wide receiver, and he’d be killed in any of the defensive positions. But when Brutus kicked the ball easily between the uprights from 30 yards back, the coach smiled and put him on the team as the place kicker, number eight. The bigger players teased him about his smallness and played their usual tricks on him, but eventually his unrepentant positivity and excitement for the game of football won them over. They accepted him as part of the fold, celebrating every field goal he scored, welcoming him into their clique during lunch hour, bringing him to the gym to work out, and high fiving him in the hallways after winning game days.

Molly hated game days. She hated most, if not all, of the jocks, the preps, and especially the popular girls. They were all zombies, in lock-step with the garbage that the media fed them, and she didn’t want to be anywhere near them. The school principal characterized her as a delinquent, and she took that to heart. Skipping class and hanging out in abandoned buildings with her friends, breaking windows and spray painting murals on the walls was her favorite pastime. The young cow went to all the underground punk concerts, used her fake ID to get cigarettes, and even kissed a girl once. Her parents were nice enough people, but both worked long hours and so she was often alone at home. When she was at home, that is.

School was okay, she guessed, but she hated the structure and she refused to let the teachers and administration boss her around. She did her homework, though…sometimes. When she felt like it. Just enough to maintain a C average. She knew she was smart, but she didn’t want The Man to know that. Besides, there were only two teachers who hadn’t kicked her out of class at least once. Mr. Ripley, her math teacher, let her slack off in the back of the class as long as she did her work. For her English homework, Mrs. Figueroa didn’t care what books Molly read, only that she proved she read them; naturally, the cow gravitated towards dystopian cyber punk novels.

In fact, the first time Molly and Brutus met was over books. Molly had a favorite bookstore in town, run by an enthusiastic elderly couple who encouraged her reading habit. She always bought her books from them. The local Barnes and Noble, however, that was fair game. One teenage cow stealing their products wasn’t going to rustle any feathers within that soulless corporation. At least, that’s what she had thought.

The employees had been watching her for some time, and when she made for the door, the store manager, a large elk with a potbelly, stood in her way, distrust clear on his face. Embarrassed, not so much because she knew she had been caught but because the books in her inner coat pocket were romance novels (her guilty pleasure), she turned around to go put the books back, but was blocked that way as well by another employee.

“Open your jacket, miss.” The manager said, sternly.

“Hey, you can’t tell me what to do! I know my rights!”

The big elk sighed. “Just open it, we know you stole some books.”

Molly’s eyes felt wet, but she stubbornly held back the tears. “I…I…”

“Look, I’m going to take you back to my office and we’re going to call your parents. And the police.”

Ice ran down her back. The police?! For three lousy smut books?!

Brutus, standing in line with an armload of books, watched as the cow was herded towards the back of the store. He had noticed her in the store several times before, as well as at school. Since the first time he had passed her in the school hallways, he was smitten with the cute punk cow with the dyed hair. Her devil-may-care attitude both scared and thrilled him, and he never could get up the courage to approach her. But he couldn’t just stand there and let this girl get arrested! He set his books down and walked purposefully over to the manager. “Hey, wait!”

The manager stopped and turned, obviously annoyed. “What do you want?”

Brutus’s legs felt like they had instantly turned to goo as the elk looked down upon him. “I…uh…she-she” he stammered.

The manager grunted and began to turn back to his task.

Brutus balled his hands up into shaky fists at his sides, stiffening his back. “She- she hasn’t left the store yet!”

The elk’s ears perked. “She stole books, kid. She’s going to be prosecuted.”

“But she hasn’t left the store yet...so, they’re not stolen yet. The books are still in the store.”

“So what?”

“So…so if you…what if I bought them?”

The manager grunted, folding his arms.

“What if I bought them, and…and she promised never to come back to your store?”

The elk’s eyebrow raised, and he looked back to Molly, who smiled up at him demurely. “Fine,” he said. “If we see you back here we’re calling the cops. Your boyfriend here just saved your butt.”

Molly scoffed. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Once clear of the store and down the street, Molly grabbed the horse by the front of his jersey with both hands and pushed him against the chain link fence that ran along the sidewalk, the books in his arms tumbling to the ground. He gasped. “H-hey!”

“If you ever tell anyone about this, or about my smut books, I’ll beat the shit out of you. Got it?”

Brutus nodded, stuttering an affirmative.

“Also, don’t buy shit from those corporate assholes any more. I got a much better bookstore to go to. I’ll…take you there sometime.”

Brutus blushed at the prospect. Molly let go of his jersey.

She sighed. “Thank you, though…my name’s Molly.”

“I’m Brutus…”

She didn’t expect to fall in love with the doofus horse. He was a jock, after all. But he didn’t fit with the other jocks at all. He was awkward, quiet, and shy, but also endearingly sweet and thoughtful. The next time they met, he slipped her a present wrapped in brown paper. The telltale pink bindings of romance novels peeked out of the package when she opened it, and she squeaked, blushing. In fact, almost every time they met from then onward, he would gift her more, and the space under her bed was diminishing rather quickly as it filled with books. Soon, they began to hang out, at the bookstore, in each other’s rooms, and behind the bleachers.

Molly waggled the cigarette at the horse. Brutus took it uncertainly and took a short, experimental drag. Immediately, he began coughing as the smoke burned his throat. Molly giggled and took the cigarette away from the horse as he hacked and sputtered. “Dork…”

“Ack…how can you smoke those things? cough Don’t- don’t offer that to me again.”

“Hey, you chose to try it, buddy.” She leaned over and ruffled his mane.

“Well, not again. You know those aren’t good for y-“ Molly shut him up by planting a kiss right on his muzzle. She pushed him on his back and while he was still bewildered, kissed him more. The cigarette lay on the ground, paper and tobacco turning to ash as the two young lovers embraced.

Not even close to The End.