Holly woke up with a beaming smile on her face, she knew today was the day she and her children would find a forever home. After all, as the loud voice kept reminding her and everyone else in the store, it was only five days until Christmas.
Holly raised herself up and shook off her sleep, her festive red Fluff and jolly green mane made her the perfect seasonal mare, and all of her chirpy foals – given to her by a kind stallion during unsupervised playtime a few weeks back – were just like her, four of them sharing her festive colours of red and green, with some silver and black mixed in from the children’s father.
But she still hadn’t found a home yet, and she knew it was because of her fifth child, the ugly dummy poopie babbeh. His brown coat looked like her litterbox, and his black mane was dull and lifeless, not at all like the glossy black mane of his father. She knew it was because of him they hadn’t found a home yet, but every time she hid him from a sight while potential new owner came to admire her pretty red Fluff, the poopie idiot would start peeping up a storm and the humans would walk away disgusted.
Holly quickly nursed her children, even reluctantly giving her poopie babbeh some since she knew the ‘caretakers’ as they were called didn’t like it when mummahs didn’t feed their ugly babies. Holly didn’t know why but she had learnt to just do as she was told.
“Mummah gib dummeh poopie babbeh miwkies nyo, bu babbeh betta be qwiet su mummah and pwetty babbehs can git gud homesie.”
The brown foal peeped blindly, scared by the anger in his mother’s voice. All too soon he was ripped from the sweet taste of milk and buried under the course straw of his habitat, softly crying to himself as he wondered why his mother hated him so much when all he wanted to do was love her.
Unperturbed by her son’s distress, Holly sat herself up front and centre of her pen and gathered her children around her, making sure all the lovely humans could see her as she hugged, sang and loved all of her babbehs.
Well almost all of them, but they didn’t need to know that.
“Mummah wub babbehs, babbehs wub mummah, gib babbehs huggies, bestesh huggies.”
As Holly sang she noticed someone moving closer to her pen, a man, he had yellow Not-Fluff on his head and on his face and a smile in his eyes. He slowly approached the pen, jumping back slightly when Holly waved at him.
“Hewwo nice mistah.”
“Jesus… still can’t get use to that. Um… hello… How are you, I guess?”
“Hehehe, Howwy am gud, am bestesh mummah wiv pwettish babbehs.”
The man looked down at her four visible children. “Yes, they are quite nice aren’t they? Sorry, did you say your name was ‘Howwy’?”
“Nu, nu. Howwy.”
“Howwy?”
“Nu, Howwy, wike da pwant.”
“Howwy? OH, HOLLY, right, right, I got you now sorry.”
“It ok, hab nice mistah met Fwuffy befowe?”
“Some, but not for very long. Never talked with one of you like this before.”
“Howwy hope nice mistah can be gud fwiend tu Howwy an babbehs. Du nice mistah hab namesie?”
“Namesie? Oh, you mean my name. Uh, yeah I’m Jonathan, but most folks call me John.”
“Du Mistah Jon wan be nyu daddeh fow Howwy an babbehs?”
“Whoa, that’s a little forward don’t you think?”
Holy shook her head. “Aww Fwuffies wan nyu mummah ow daddeh, gib wawm homesie, soft bedsie and sketti nummies, an in wetuwn, Fwuffies gib mummah ow daddeh aww the huggies an wub an pwettiesh babbehs tu AWSU gib huggies an wub.”
Jonathan eyed the mare, Holly felt her heart start to panic as she saw the unconvinced look on his face.
“I don’t know, I’ll need to talk to…”
Peep peep
Holly froze, her eyes darting to the shuffling lump behind her, Jonathan caught her worried smile and pointed to the lump.
“What’s that?”
“Wha wha? Fwuffy nu knyo wha nice mistah mean?”
“I can see it moving, what have you got there?”
“Nuffin. Am jus poopie babbeh?”
“Sorry what?”
“Nice mistah Jon nu need wowwy, poopie babbeh am jus ugwy dummeh, Howwy an bestesh babbehs am much pwettia.”
Jonathan’s look of disgust turned to anger when he saw the shivering brown head of a forgotton colt poke its way through the straw, trying to find the love he so desperately wanted.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Holly jumped at the curse word. “Eeek, pwease nu saw bad wowdsie in fwont of babbehs.”
“You’re neglecting your own child because of the colour of their fur? Something they have no control over? Why the hell would I ever want to take home a monster like you, you fucking…”
“John-Boy.”
Holly watched in awe as a strange woman came from seemingly out of nowhere and placed her hand on the monstrous Jonathan’s heart, immediately taming the wildness inside him. Holly stared at the woman utterly gobsmacked, she had never seen anyone like her. Unlike the peachy colour of Mister Jon, the woman’s skin was a deep, rich brown, like the espresso’s she had seen some of the caretakers drink on late nights, her hair was a massive sphere of thick curls, as a whole it looked chaotic but Holly could see the detail and effort put into every single curl.
More importantly, while one hand was on Jonathan’s chest, Hilly saw the woman’s other hand cupping her extended stomach.
“Wady am soon-mummah?”
The woman turned to Holly and smiled. “Why yes hun, I sure am.”
Jonathan sneered at Holly. “Don’t engage her Martha, she’s just like dad, she…”
“I can see what’s going on John-Boy, but I got this ok.”
Once again, with just a look the woman calmed down the raging fire inside of Mister Jon, allowing her to approach Holly’s pen and talk to her directly.
“I’m sorry bout that hun, my Jonathan’s awfully protective of me and little Ralph here.”
“Dat ok, he a wittew scawy, bu nice wady make him nu as scawy.”
The woman chuckled. “Yep, I sure have that effect on him. Anyway, where are my manners, the name’s Martha, Martha Mongola, you got a name Sugar?”
“Howwy’s namesie am Howwy, wike da pwant.”
Martha smiled and nodded. “Like the plant huh, well I guess you’re just in perfect time for Christmas.”
Holly excitedly nodded. “Dat wight, Howwy am Chwistmus Fwuffy, nu find gud homesie soon.”
“Oh I’m sure you will but…” Martha’s face suddenly got very sad and very serious. “…I bet you’ve been here a while, haven’t you?”
Holly’s posture slumped and a tear trickled down her face. “Yeh, Howwy been hewe since was soon-mummah, nu-wun gib Howwy homesie. An it aww poopie babbeh’s fauwt, he ugwy babbeh, nu-wun eba wan ugwy babbeh in homesie.”
Jonathan’s fist started to clench, but Martha raised a hand to keep him calm, her expression unchanged by the aggression in Holly’s voice.
“Y’know, I could tell you the secret to finding a new home. But I don’t think you’d like what I tell ya.”
“Pwease, Miss Mah-tha, Howwy wan babbehs hab bestesh homesie, nu wan dem gwow big an stwong in hewe an neba hab wawm bedsies ow eben sketti.”
“Well alright then, since you asked. The secret to finding a good home is to be nice to your brown baby.”
“WHA? Bu poopie babbeh am…”
“Do I look like poopies?”
Holly took a second to process what Martha had asked her, of course she didn’t look like poopies, she was a beautiful Midnight Goddess.
“Nu, Mah-tha am vewy pwetty wady.”
“Why thanks hun, but there are people out there who don’t think that, there are people out there who hate me because of my skin colour, nothing else, not who I am as a person, not what I did or didn’t do to them, just because I look different. Why Jonathan’s daddy is one of the worst type of these people, just the biggest load of…
“Meanies.” Holly piped up, angered by the injustice Martha was facing.
“That’s right, meanies, the lot of ‘em.”
“Dat am howwibew, how can hoomins nu wike udda hoomins becos dey wook diffawent.”
“It’s an odd one Holly dear. Now tell me again why you don’t like your brown baby?”
“Because he wook wike…”
Martha could hear the penny drop in Holly’s head as everything clicked into place.
“You see Holly, when folks see you treating your baby badly because of the colour of its fur, it reminds them of the meanies that treat people like me badly because of the colour of my skin. It makes people think YOU are a meanie.”
“Bu… bu babbeh wook wike poopies.”
“Maybe to you, maybe there are people who like the colour brown, maybe they’ll see you being mean to him and they’ll take HIM to a good home instead of you. And let me tell you Holly, once Christmas is over, everyone’s going to think that you look like poopies.”
“Dat nu twue.” Holly cried out, tears streaming down her face in tears. “Howwy am pwetty Fwuffy.”
“For now you are. Because you’re what’s knowing as a ‘seasonal’ Fluffy, you’re only pretty during Christmas, but if you haven’t found a home before then, nobody’s going to want you, and you’ll feel as rotten then as your brown baby feels now.”
Holly looked over at her brown foal, his little head still shivering as his tiny legs reached blindly for hugs that weren’t coming.
“Howwy… am bad mummah?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Depends if you can change. It’s never too late to be a better person, and who knows, maybe you’ll get your own Christmas miracle.”
“Du nice wady wan…”
“No Holly, I won’t be your new mummy. But I wish you the best, and have a Merry Christmas.”
Martha gave a final wave and left the store with Jonathan, pulling her coat tighter around her as the winter winds started to nip at her.
“Shame about her, I think Josef would’ve enjoyed her as a present.”
“I think he would’ve torn her to pieces.” Jonathan muttered.
“Possibly, but it was your idea to check out the Fluffy stock, I told you Josef would’ve been happy with some bourbon and the Star Wars Blu-Ray set.”
“I was just looking for something different, I didn’t realise she’d be a racist piece of shit… I’m sorry, it’s just talking to her reminded me of dad and…”
Martha leaned in and cut Jonathan off with a kiss. “It’s alright John-Boy, I gotcha. We don’t need to worry about Fluffies ever again, save for if one decides to break into our lawn again. Ooh, which remind me, mum and dad asked if we were free about March time to help them with the move.”
“March? Won’t you be pretty close to popping by then?”
“That’s what I said, if YOU were free to help them with the move.”
Jonathan glared but quickly softened and kissed his wife. “We should be free, but it is gonna be a lot of hard work, it’s not a short journey to Ohio.”
Martha shrugged her shoulders. “It’s only Cleveland John-Boy, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Inside the store, having not moved her eyes from where she watched Jonathan and Martha leave, Holly was finally broken out of her trance by the movement of her brown son, slowly and painfully wiggling his body out of the straw in search of warmth.
Try as she might to tell herself Martha was wrong, Holly couldn’t help but feel awful, and looking at her frightened son just made her feel even worse. Knowing that she was keeping her children from a good home because everyone thought she was a meanie, knowing that she WAS a meanie.
And so, for the first time in her life, Holly reached over and picked up her brown son, taking him into her chest and holding him in a hug.
“Howwy am sowwy babbeh, nu mean be meanie.”
Holly couldn’t tell because of his tiny legs, but she was sure he was hugging her back.
“Oh look Mikey, this one’s hugging her brown baby.”
Holly looked up, seeing young man and woman approaching her pen, the woman awing over the sight of her and her brown foal.
The man laughed. “Well I’ll be, ain’t that a rare sight. Why you must be the best mummah in this place to love you’re brown kid like that.”
Holly shook her head. “Nu, Howwy am bad mummah, nu wub babbeh, caww him ugwy an poopie. Howwy wong tu du dat, undastan dat dat am meanie fing tu du, Howwy nu wet babbehs hab gud homesie cos am biggesh meanie an wowstesh mummah.”
The man and the woman stood in silence for a few moments, not expecting that honest of an answer from a Fluffy. After a beat, the woman leaned in closer to Holly’s cage.
“Have you learnt your lesson? Do you love your brown baby now?”
Holly nodded. “Howwy wub aww babbehs nyo, neba caww anee poopie ow dummeh gain.”
“Then… maybe you deserve a second chance to be a good mummah. If we took you, all of you, would you promise to be good and teach your children how to be nice and friendly to everyone?”
“Nice wady, be nyu mummah?”
“Only if you’re good.”
“YEH, Howwy pwomise be bestesh mummah, teech babbehs be nicest, fwiendwiesh babbehs eba.”
“Then I think we can work something out, Mike help me find one of the workers.”
As Holly’s new owners set off the find someone to finalise her adoption, Holly gathered all of her children, all five of them, and gave them a big hug. “Mummah du it babbehs, find gud homesie, babbehs gun hab wawm bedsie an gud nummies and wots of huggies an wub.”
Holly looked down at her brown foal, a genuine smile on her face. “An it aww becos of yu babbeh, mummah pwomise neba caww yu poopie gain, yu am gud babbeh, an mummah wub yu.”
The chirping foal wasn’t sure what was going on, but hearing the kindness and the joy in his mother’s heart filled him with glee and he knew from then on, everything was going to be alright.
