Polly and Graham are five-year-old twin hedgehoglets. They, therefore, go to the same school: Five Pillars Grade & Nursery School. They had a natural hankering for making friends (and lots of them), and their parents had signed them up for day care for that exact purpose: to make friends. When they started school in the second week of September, they just could not wait to see what kinds of interesting friends they would make. They got an answer just after recess started; while they were cuddling on the buddy bench in the playground, a tall sixth-grade otter marched into their radius. "New vermin, I expect," he said, looking down at them from his great height. He was eating a double-wide Fudgsicle (in big bites nonetheless), and melted chocolate was dribbling down the otter's lips. "Welcome to borstal," he added, spraying melted Fudgsicle onto the hedgehogs' faces like raindrops. "My name's Oliver."

The little bite-size hedgehoglets introduced themselves to the gargantuan otter.

"I hope you little squirts make it all the way through your first year," Oliver continued. "If you do, it means you're ready for the remainder of your tenure here." Into his mouth went another bite of Fudgsicle and out went droplets of it when he spoke again. "I almost didn't. Most kindergarten and Pre-K cubs don't even survive the first quarter. They usually run bawling loudly to their parents' cars. This is clear evidence that they're too afraid to move on. I've seen it happen a lot." The otter paused for a moment to observe the effect his anecdote had on the hedgehoglets. Not a whole lot, apparently. They seemed pretty cool. So Oliver sat on the bench, next to Polly and Graham, and filled them in with more information.

"Do you know why these cubs quit so early?"

The twins nodded and kept gazing at the friendly giant in front of them. Being so small, they were inclined to mistrust anyfurry that stood taller than they did.

"Well," Oliver went on, "there's an entire gang of bullies from the upper level infesting the lower level. So far, I've seen four of them, but there could be more."

Just then, something peculiar happened. The playground, which was filled with the kind of sounds playful cubs make, had suddenly fallen dead silent. Polly, Graham, and Oliver hid behind the buddy bench, peered through it, and observed the entrance of a bull terrier, one of the twelfth-graders. You could tell that he had an A+ in physical education because of his clearly visible muscles in his bull-neck, big shoulders, thick arms, sinewy wrists, and powerful legs. You would immediately get the impression, just by looking at him, that this was someone that could bend lead pipes, tear old phone books in half, and lift a trunk of gold bricks without any assistance. His face was somewhat of an eyesore; small arrogant eyes, a merciless muzzle, and needle-like ears. He was rarely seen in anything other than a mint green dress shirt over maroon slacks. His shoes were black leather with twine laces and they held feet wrapped in hunter green kneesocks. On the whole, he looks like he wants to be a boot camp drill seargent when he graduates. 

"Is that one of the bullies?" asked Graham.

"You bet it is," whispered Oliver. "In fact, he's the gang's leader. His name's George. He hates small cubs, and therefore loathes all kindergarten and Pre-K students. You won't believe what he does to them and all students below his grade level." It was at that point that George slowly marched -- he never walked or skipped, always marching like a regal soldier -- he slowly marched towards Bernard Fulton, a chinchilla aged seven years, give or take a few days, with pitch-black braids all over his crown.

"What's the deal with him?" Polly asked.

"That idiot Bernard," Oliver replied, "has let his hair grow long over summer break and his aunt had braided it. If anything can drive George crazy, it's cubs that have braids, pigtails, or ponytails."

When George stopped marching, he towered over tiny Bernard, who had an overall frightened look on his face. "You!" George barked. "Those braids better be off your head the next time we make eye contact. Got it, pipsqueak?"

"W-What if they're still there?" muttered Bernard, shaking like a plate of Jell-O.

"'What if'?" snorted George. "'WHAT IF'?!"

"Shades of his Dad," Oliver murmured, "a master of discipline. Ten to one he's gonna flog him."

"I'll show you 'what if'!" George growled, and in one motion, pantsed the chinchilla and bumped him onto the ground, back facing up, and his tailcrack exposed. George then leaped onto Bernard's back, undid his belt, and flogged Bernard's butt with it. The chinchilla was wailing and begging for it all to stop, but the terrier did not listen. Instead, he kept flogging Bernard until his rear was more red than gray. "Job well done," George quietly told himself before pulling Bernard's khakis back up and shoving him out of his path. "Now get out of my sight before I do it again!" he barked, and with that he marched back inside.

"I told you you wouldn't believe what he does to other students," Oliver said. "This is why he gets away with everything he does: he makes sure it's too absurd for any adult to believe. Even the school faculty wouldn't believe it."

"In that case," Graham spoke, "Bernard's not gonna even bother telling this braid story to her aunt."

"No, he won't," said Oliver. "$40 says he's gonna cut those braids off himself and come to school tomorrow with a shaved head."

"You said George's father is a master of discipline," said Polly. "Does that mean George does more than flog other cubs' butts?"

"Oh, his bullying skills go far beyond that," Oliver said. "Listen to this. George once caught another student, a weasel named Alouysis Winkdale, in the halls for no apparent reason. He grabbed Alouysis by the maw, held it open, and blew into it."

"It must've been pure torture," said Graham.

"That's the idea," said Oliver. "He knows every method in common use; soaping, beating, enemas, shock, chastity, humility, everything. He doesn't discriminate, either. Boy or girl, canine or feline, autistic or neurotypical, every student below his grade level is a pest to him."

"Then it's a war."

"It sure as heck is a war, and the casualties are terrific. We are the Rebellion with no weapons except the claws on our fingers and toes, whilst George and the other bullies are the Empire, with every weapon at their disposal. Life is tough, but we all help one another out as much as possible."

"You can count on us to do our part," Graham said, trying to sound hopeful.

"You've just started life here," Oliver said. "Then again, who knows? We could find a use for you in an undercover job. Anyway, I'll see you two later." Then he strolled off.

Now would be a good time to focus on George for a while. Now, as I have said, George had an A+ in physical education. In fact, George was very proud of his body and worked hard to keep it in check. During the school day, whenever he was not pushing smaller students around, he struck nude poses in the gym locker room. The rest of George's gang were Tom, a Komodo dragon, Hector, a maribou stork, and the sole female, Bianca, an Irish wolfhound and George's girlfriend. Bianca loved posing nude as much as she loved George. If she or Tom or Hector got to a younger cub first, they would always wait for George to approach and make the first move. It was kind of like a pride of lions, the female members of which did all the killing but let the males take the first bite.

Meanwhile, back to the playground. Bernard, who was up on his feet seconds after the braid fiasco, had joined Polly and Graham at the buddy bench. "That George character is a mad dog!" exclaimed Bernard, who had to hold his khakis up because he did not know how to put his belt back on. Graham put it back on for him.

"I wouldn't exactly call him mad," said Graham, "but for a cub our age to be around him is very dangerous."

"Think of him as a living volcano," Polly chimed in. "You only know when he is about to erupt when you feel the ground shake, then it's time to flee." 

They got another example of how dangerous one bully, let alone a whole gang of them, could be a week later. Tuesday that week, George and his gang stayed in the cafeteria after everyone else in the upper level (6th to 12th grades) went to fourth period. They waited patiently for the lower level (Pre-K to 5th grade) cubs to go to lunch. When they did, Tom went out and came back dragging a Border Leicester lamb by his ear. The lamb was a third-grader, and his face registered lack of awareness as well as disliking of pressure.

"Observe the boy beside me," George addressed the students. "Frank Longwood is his name, inappropriateness is his game."

Frank had a confused look on his face. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You know what I'm talking about," growled George. "Yesterday afternoon, whilst everyone else was in the pickup zone, you snuck into the janitor's closet and started playing with yourself. Now, I don't mind if you do something like that in your room at your house...but this is a public place! There are closed-circuit cameras everywhere, even in that closet!" He paused for a second to collect himself, then he spoke again, this time, as if he were Frank's father. "How did you enjoy it, little Frankie?"

"A lot," mumbled Frank. The words spilled from his mouth before he could stop himself.

"'A lot,' huh? Well, if you enjoyed it that much, why don't you do it again?" George grabbed the lamb's clothes, taking them off one by one and tossing them onto the cafeteria floor. "Let's start by getting rid of these ridiculous clothes..." Within only a few seconds, Frank found himself stark naked in front of the entire lower level. You could tell he began to assume that something did not seem right.

"Now," George said, "let's see what you can do." George looked down at Frank, expecting some action, but the lamb just stared at his soft penis. The other students watched in suspicion. For sure there was a catch to all this. Perhaps Frank was fitted with a chastity device that would electrocute him if any sexual stimulaion was applied or if he was aroused in any way. No one put it past George to do something like that.

Then, Frank made a move and retracted his foreskin and revealed to everyone a fleshy-pink tip. Everyone was astonished to see a stroke of bravery in an otherwise sheepish being. But George was slightly displussed. "That's it?!" he said. "Come on, you've got more guts than that."

Frank proceeded to squeeze his tip like it was a very small fruit. It felt good, but was nothing compared to how good it felt when he rubbed the corona and all those papules on it. This is what got his weewee stiff. At first, the other lowers had sensed the worst; they seemed to be ready for a disturbing scene during which a crying Frank screamed bloody murder as a victorious George and his cohorts forced as much from the lamb as possible.

Not the least. In fact, he was actually enjoying it, better so than in the closet. Red was starting to build in his face, which bore a thin smile, as Frank shifted to stroking his six-inch boyhood, base to tip. George's face was also turning red...with anger. He could not believe that a small cub would actually masturbate on command, bar in public. As a matter of fact, Frank did wail...in pleasure. It was getting louder as Frank drew closer to climax. It left the others on the edge of their seats.

At last, he could not hold it in a further second and strong shots of white spewed from his penis onto the cafeteria floor. Frank gasped, but did not stop stroking. The other students cheered and applauded his victory over the big bully George, who stood motionless. His mad-dog face now the color of a chili pepper, he made a fist, locked his elbow in position, and POW! struck Frank with a big blow. 

Frank, overwhelmed by what he just did, fell to the floor largely unaffected. He felt like a really tough steak that suddenly went tender; he was breathing heavily, his heartbeat was rapid, he still had that "oohh, that felt good" look on his face, and his penis was still squirting!

"Go to blazes!" shouted George, and hastily marched out of the cafeteria, with the other bullies following. It was then that Frank's peepee had finally calmed down and went soft again. Polly and Graham helped Frank back up and his clothes back on. It was a good thing he brown-bagged it that day (or tin-boxed it as the case may be).

By Fursonian law, seventeen is the last year somefurry could be classified as a cub. Alas, George, Tom, Hector, and Bianca all made use of it in the way they did. Even adults, whom the bullies treated like their fellow students, were incredibly scared of them. The school's faculty was beside itself most of the time.

"How did they end up being this mean?" You would probably ask. Well, George's dad, as Oliver said, was a master of discipline. Lt. Hanworth and his wife (George's mom) found their son to be a big troublemaker during puberty and would spend a big chunk of their time disciplining him. Not only did he get used to the pain of getting spanked or beaten, as well as that funny taste of soap in his maw, but he also found it just as fun to receive pain as it was to give it. This ultimately led to his parents' punishing him backfiring and his obsession with bullying. Bianca had a cubhood that was filled to discipline of similar levels resulting in her resorting to bullying.

Tom and Hector, on the other hand, got into bullying a different way. They were best friends that had moved into the Tri-City Area during the tenth grade and were not used at all to Five Pillars' "happy students mean happy faculty means a successful school" policies. It was Bohemia for the lower students, but not for long. The four started as two rivalling pairs, but they soon put their differences aside and merged their gangs.

Close to the start of October, the twins were sprinting out of the library when they bumped into George, who just snarled at the twins when they did. Mrs. Amanda Ericho, Polly and Graham's mother, is the school's librarian. The twins show up at least once every day just to see their mommy. When George finally got to Mrs. Ericho's desk, he got a piece of scrap paper fom his pocket and wrote on it, "I am used to paying late fees but do not read for AR points."

"You don't have to pass notes here," Mrs. Ericho responded. "If there are no reading students, you can talk."

"Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting." George was in a slight hurry because it was dismissal time and he did not want to miss his bus. He simply placed his book, /The Grapes of Wrath/ by John Steinbeck, and a 10¢ late fee on her desk, but Mrs. Ericho interrupted as he made his way to the door. 

"Aren't you that George character my husband described to me?" she asked.

George was stunned. "Wait. You're married to Coach Nicholas." he replied, coming back to her desk.

"Sure. Our kids, Polly and Graham, are in kindergarten here." 

George looked back and remembered two hedgehoglets that ran into him from the library just moments before. "You mean the sharply dressed needlemice you saw sprint out?" he said.

"Yes, that's them."

"Well, I doubt they'd keep school life and home life private if their parents work at school." George and Mrs. Ericho giggled. "How are you keeping them at bay?"

Mrs. Ericho seemed confused. "W-What are you talking about?"

"Discipline, femme. What do you do to them to discourage bad behavior? Spank 'em? Sissify 'em? Spray into their mouths? Have 'em write the same thing ten, twenty, fifty, maybe even a hundred times nonstop? Perhaps you two use every method one after the other like my parents have."

"Oh, my. That's shocking!"

"Shock! Another good example."

"No, I mean, it must've been horrible for you to go through all that."

"Not really. I've actually grown to enjoy it. I suggest it because I even employ it unto my fellow schoolmates." These words really startled Mrs. Ericho. He must be a bully, she thought, for beating, soaping, or doing God-knows-what to other students and passing it as discipline.

"Anyway," continued George, "what do you use?"

"Me?" Amanda asked. "Well, the twins seldom misbehave, but if they do, we order them to go to their room." 

"Send them to their room? That's weak!"

"To you, maybe, but it gives them time to think about whatever they've done and spares Nicholas and myself the emotional distress of harming our own children. Go think about that one yourself. Then again, it looks like we're not going to agree. You'd better get to your bus. I-I apologize for holding you back." 

George looked at the clock above the door. Only three minutes had passed. "You didn't," he said calmly, and away he went, bumping into Polly and Graham once more, before joining Tom, Bianca and Hector at the bus stop. It is here that George and the others unequipped the bully attitude they bore for most of the day, every day, and started a slow transformation into completely different creatures. It stopped at the block that all four live on. None of their parents minded if one went to another's house, resulting in Bianca, Tom, and Hector all visiting George's place regularly. There, they all became the exact kind of juveniles they would push around at school: playful, clever, with lots of energy, and to whom "boredom" is not a real word. All rather contrary to their in-school behavior.

Meanwhile, the Erichos -- Mr., Mrs., and the sharply dressed twins -- went home the exact same way they got to school: in a bluer-than-the-sky 1981 Citroën. Amanda had bought it just three months before having the twins. It was in near-unused condition with only one thousand miles on it. 

They all lived in a finely-built bungalow just four blocks away from the school. It was the only house on its street, and it could not have been a cheap sell. Naturally for a nuclear family, the Erichos would spend as much time together as possible. That night, with every member of the family aware of George, they planned a revenge strategy, with each member suggesting an element. Graham's suggestion was that one of his cousin Malcolm's confetti shooters be used. Malcolm lived a block from his cousins and was incredibly cheeky. He was more than delighted to spend the night over.

He had brought one of those six-shot confetti shooters, which were plastic miniature half-handguns with confetti for ammunition.
Mr. and Mrs. Ericho drove all three of them -- nine-year-old Malcolm and the tiny twins -- to school the next morning. Malcolm brought his shooter. Nicholas brought a hot water bottle. Amanda brought a mini-package of diapers. All was about to go well for the hedgehogs.

Malcolm kept his confetti shooter well-hidden in his pocket. Nicholas placed the hot water bottle in the locker room George would go to the first thing at school. Amanda placed the diapers in the nurse's office before dashing to the library.

It did not take long for George to learn the Ericho twins' classroom. Having obtained it from the school records, he thundered to room 114, where the twins were. Their teacher, Mrs. Topaz, was every inch as charming as their parents. Mr. Topaz had a room of his own, next room over in 116. When George opened Mrs. Topaz's door, he had the usual chip on his shoulder. It was late in the afternoon. Bianca followed, as a witness.

"You tiny monsters," George snarled, "are very lucky that you only have to put up with me for a year, because you won't like it!" He proceeded to give an ice-cold stare at Mrs. Topaz. He despised lower-level teachers as much so as the cubs they tutored. "Seriously," he said quietly to himself, "there are at least ten thousand upper-level schools in this country, and I am stuck in an all-through with a menagerie of lower-level maggots. It makes me puke." On Bianca's belt was the hot water bottle Mr. Ericho brought and placed in the gym. She had filled it with very hot water.

George called his attention to a hippopotamus girl that sat in the back. "Eloise Pratt," he barked. "Come over here." She got up from her desk and walked towards the dangerous beast. "How far can you count?" he asked her.

"Mrs. Topaz taught us to count really high," Eloise said. "We can count to a thousand." 

"You really think you can count that high?" 

Eloise nodded. 

"Prove it then."

She began chanting with the other students chiming in, "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90, 100, 200, 300, 400, 500, 600, 700, 800, 900, 1,000." George stomped his foot. He thought Eloise was bluffing when she said she and the others could count to a thousand, and was rather peeved by their remarkable intelligence.

"What was that sorcery?!" he exclaimed.

"That was them counting to a thousand, George," Mrs. Topaz said. "They simply added a zero as they went along."

"That's not the way to do it! You're supposed to count one number at a time! Cut it out in the future, Mrs. Topaz."

"But counting by twos or beyond is very useful. It teaches them the multiplication tables."

"Oh, it does, huh?" George retorted. The sarcastic tone in his voice was prevalent. "Minerva Wells." A pretty pampered duckling in a beautiful tartan dress presented herself forward. 

"Tell me what four eights are." he commanded, but Minerva did not speak. She was too intimidated by his large, unfriendly appearance. It was like an enormous tiger and a diminuitive shrew face-to-face with each other. "Maybe she doesn't know."

"She does, George."

"I'm sure she does, Mrs. Topaz. I just have to find a way to make her talk." George snapped her fingers and Bianca handed to him the hot water bottle. The water inside was still very hot. He unscrewed the cap and poured the water onto the top of the duckling's head. The water splashed all over her crown, some dribbled down her face, but since it was so hot, it hurt. She even cried a little. When the bottle had emptied out, George spoke again. "Tell me!"

"Four eights are thirty-two," Minerva whimpered. She, still crying, carefully walked very quickly to her desk. George still looked very smug.

"This was how I learned, Mrs. Topaz," he said, "and it's how your bunch should, too. It's no good telling them. You have to wedge the information into their brains."

"But that water was red-hot. You could've scalded her."

"Balderdash. My old man did all sorts of stuff to me." Then, George looked down and found, to his surprise, that some of the water splashed off Minerva's head and onto the fly of his pants, making it look like he wet himself. The other students laughed, despite protests from George, who did not appreciate being intimidated in any way whatsoever.

Furthermore, neither George nor Bianca noticed that Mr. Topaz's door had opened slightly, and from it stuck Malcolm's arm equipped with a confetti shooter. The trigger was pulled, and silver confetti sprinkled onto George, who was caught off guard and shook himself to try and get it all off. The students laughed even harder, as he looked like a total idiot. He stepped into a small patch of water, possibly from the bottle, slipped on it, and fell butt-first on the floor.

George, at that point, became infuriated beyond recognition. "Fine! I don't have to put up with you twerps anyway!" he shouted, and he and Bianca left in haste, and without the water bottle.

Polly and Graham smirked in triumph. Mrs. Topaz walked over to see whether Minerva sustained any major injury. She did not. Then, Malcolm presented himself, with the confetti shooter. "Remember me, Mrs. Topaz?" he said.

Mrs. Topaz was very surprised. "Oh, I most certainly do, Malcolm," she replied, "and, wow, did you grow!"

"It looks like my cousins are in your class this year."

"I didn't know you had cousins."

"Well, Polly and Graham are mine."

"Polly and Graham? Oh, yes." Mrs. Topaz directed Malcolm to the front row where Polly and Graham sat. They waved hello. Malcolm then explained that the whole deal with George was a plan to get even with him and his colleagues. Mrs. Topaz became interested. 

George, meanwhile, had been dragged to lost and found by Mrs. Ericho and had been fitted with one of the diapers she brought. For good measure, she made Bianca wear one as well. George and Bianca both found it quite humiliating, but it was nothing compared to part two of Malcolm's plan to drive out the bullies, which was finding out whether or not his invisible pills worked. 

These "invisible pills" were fruit-flavored rock candy pellets that claimed to make whoever takes them invisible for a short period of time. His mother thought the manufacturer was "quacking up," so to speak, but Malcolm was convinced. He bought a bottle himself for just fifteen cents. After school that day, he went into his room, shed his clothes, and took a pill. Almost immediately, he felt a tingly sensation in his torso. He looked into the mirror on his bedroom door and saw that he was disappearing! Wow, he thought, these actually work! Even if they did not make him invisible and was just rock candy, he would have taken one anyways because it was candy, and you know how much little cubs like that.

Now that he could not be noticed, he decided to make use of it. He walked out of his room, took a washcloth from the bathroom, and put it over his head. Because he was invisible, the washcloth looked like it was floating. He paced through the house, passing his mother in the kitchen. She was talking with a friend on the phone but her conversation was interrupted when she caught her eye on the floating washcloth that was actually her invisible son. At first, she thought she was seeing things, but when she saw an empty water bottle place itself in the recycle bin, she became especially curious. She followed the floating washcloth through the house, stopping at Malcolm's room, and there he was, fully visible again, and completely naked, save for a washcloth on his head.

"Oops!" the hedgehoglet yelped, having not realized that the pill's effect had worn off after a minute. "I can explain," he continued, but his mother had walked out of view. He could only imagine for how long he was to be punished, or how. However, his fears had been dumbfounded; she came back a few seconds later with the exact same appearance: completely unclothed, and with a washcloth over her head. Malcolm and his mother spent the rest of the day looking like this. They engaged in all sorts of naughtiness, with some nursing, and mostly cuddling. The two even slept the night away together in her room, and deep down inside, Malcolm had a feeling that all was going to go well.

Morning came. It was Friday, just before weekend, so the likelihood of surprise was very high. Malcolm had brought some invisible pills and took them with his lunch. When he was finished, he snuck into the boys' room and disrobed, putting his clothes in his backpack. He dashed into Mr. Topaz's room and watched as George, who had finished his lunch, approach Mrs. Topaz's class and bellowed, "Polly and Graham. I want you." It was then that Minerva, having gotten over what happened the day before, shrieked, "Look at the whiteboard! A marker's moving on its own!" Sure enough, a black whiteboard marker with the cap removed was pointing its felt end at the board and wrtitng:

"ARE YOU THERE, GEORGE?"

George suddenly entered a state of shock. "Who's doing this?" he yelled. The marker kept writing.

"IT'S US, YOUR PARENTS."

George's face suddenly turned from mean and bossy to a face a toddler makes when he has scraped his knee badly.

"GEORGE. YOU MUST APOLOGIZE TO EVERYONE YOU'VE BULLIED. THE CUBS AND THE ADULTS. GO HOME WHEN YOU'RE DONE. IF YOU DON'T, WE WILL FIND YOU, AND WE WILL DO TO YOU WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO THEM. YOU CANNOT ESCAPE FROM US, GEORGE."

The marker stopped writing. The cap was replaced, and the marker hovered for a few seconds before it fell to the ground, TAP! However, the marker was not the only thing that fell. Just a moment later, Mrs. Topaz and her class heard a thud. She looked down and there was George, who had been overwhelmed by the whiteboard message and struck out. "Goodness," she said.

"He's fainted!" Minerva yelped.

Eloise, always quick to respond to any emergency, grabbed a sand scoop, filled it with cold water, and splashed it onto the bully's face. Nothing. He remained motionless and silent. At that point, Malcolm's invisibility died down and he reappeared in the room, stark naked, with his thingy in full view. Everyone laughed at him, but he found the funny side and burst laughing, too. Then, the half-day bell rang. Mrs. Topaz's class ran out towards the cafeteria, while Malcolm went back in Mr. Topaz's room to re-enrobe.

Just a few minutes later, Bianca, Tom, and Hector found George, the once-mighty brute that immediately lost his enthusiasm once he was floored and was now in fetal position in the doorway, with a crybaby voice. "We need to get out of here," he sobbed. "We need to get away while we can." The other three carried George as they made their way out.

The Erichos celebrated their victory with an early dismissal and a night at Jay's Place, which was a domed drive-in theater, the first of its kind. Afterwards, they spent the weekend at their grandparents' house, which was not too similar to their own. It was a blast.

The following Monday, None of George's gang showed up for class. The principal, Mr. R. R. Alderson, did not notice at first, but that Friday, he decided to go over to George's house to check on him. 

He rang the bell. No response.

He knocked at the door. No response.

He shouted "Anyone home?" No response. 

He tried to open the door and, surprisingly, it was unlocked. He went in and saw that all the furniture was there. It all seemed normal. 

George's room in the house was the one that had a skull and crossbones drawn on the door. Mr. Alderson walked in and, inside, it looked like an ordinary bedroom. He went in the closet to find no sign whatsoever of any clothes George might have worn. 

He's knocked himself a whole deal, he thought, as he made his way out the door. However, because he was always presumptious when it comes to bullies, he checked on Bianca, Tom, and Hector as well. No sign of any of them, either. He pressed on back to school to tell everyone that the meanest bully gang in Fursonia had vanished without a trace. 

On his way, he ran into retired US Army Lt. Robert Hanworth and his wife, Nellie, neither of whom had been seen for the past five years. Walking beside Nellie was a bull terrier pup, who could not be older than two, wearing green overalls, a red polo shirt, and blue sneakers.

"His name's George," Nellie said.

Mr. Alderson scratched his head. Was this the exact same kid that terrorized my school? he thought. Maybe, maybe not. He decided to give it ten years before coming to a conclusion.

KONETS