Isn’t it funny how we often let our lives be defined by the little things? There is a boy named Arlo Tucker who lived down the hall from me who was part of a club (well, really a social service organization) at school that helped walk the faculty dogs. Which was all well and good, had the Reverend not found him behind the church frothing at the mouth and furiously fucking his charge in the bushes. He was quickly apprehended and sent to the Deans office for glaring sexual misconduct. Word regarding the disgusting episode spread very quickly through campus, and he hence became known as “Arlo Tucker the Dog Fucker”. Then we were updated with the news that Arlo was suing the school because he sexually identified as a Labrador Retriever and thus was allowed to fuck whatever (literal) bitch he wanted to. The question of rape was only cursorily touched upon – after all, nothing indicated that his sexual advances were unwanted by Mr. Hargrave’s dog (Arlo adamantly maintained that she was panting in pleasure) nor did the animal have any physical capacity to withhold consent. And does rape even apply between animals and humans? So the school quickly backed away from his lawsuit, and they managed to reach a settlement which included a short probation of three weeks. Years later at commencement, when he was to receive his diploma, the valedictorian took liberties and called him up to the stage with the name “Dog Tucker” (a slip of the tongue, he confessed later). This obviously struck a nerve in Arlo, who ran up to the stage and lunged at our valedictorian in his fury, diploma be damned, and it took a team of 5 teachers to eventually pull him off.