Old Jake lived three hours west of Cleveland, having made his living as hunter and mechanic, the meat he hunted supplemented the garden his wife grew. After the fluffies came he hated them at first, they ate everything, his wife’s garden included, and their incessant chatter scared off every deer, elk and turkey he tried to hunt. They were everywhere and for awhile he just shot them out of anger and frustration of another hunt ruined and the possibility of his family starving. Then one day while in a drunken daze and watching his cousin Earl giving some fluffies hell he had an epiphany.
These days he made quite a nice living off these pesky little fluff balls, driving his pick-up truck down the dirt road on his way back from emptying a live trap for fluffies. He pulled behind him a small modified two horse trailer with added floors and ramps to hold up to 80. but today he only had caught about forty in this trap and Jimmie’s Arcade just put in a ASAP order. When smash rooms started offering up fluffies as punching bags they started popping up like crazy and Jimmie’s had a decided he needed an edge so he thought games based around fluffy torment was it. Now Earl was something of a junkyard genius, no formal training but give him welding torch and a pile of scrap and he could give you just about anything. He made every trap/gadget/tool and trick involving a fluffy Jake used. Pulling up to Jimmie’s loading dock the shutters slid up and Jimmie greeted him, a short stocky man dwarfed by Jake a whole head taller than him barrel chested and pot bellied compared to Jimmie’s lean and fit.
“So this new gimmick of yours is complete, eh?” Jake chuckled while shaking Jimmie’s hand
“Almost, just need a few more test subjects for the games and a stockpile for reloads and replacements.”
“Well i got bout forty two in here, hows that do ya?”
“It’s a start. I’ll take 'em all.”
Jimmie shouted into the building while Jake opened the back of the trailer painted across the back was “The SkettiLand trapper elimination and control”. Dropping the ramp and swinging open the doors with a wall a cries and complaints of formerly muffled scared fluffies.
Dawkies scawwy!
Nu smeww pwetty in hewe.
HU HU HUUU Mummuh!
And a wall of stink as well. God damn why do they shit so much? He wondered as about a dozen of Jimmies employees came out holding a short chunk of handled fencing. they lined up side by side in two rows facing each other and knelt down bracing the fence against their knees making an enclosed path from the building to Jake’s ramp. swinging open the cage door on the bottom the cowering little rainbows of fluff refused to come out so Jake used the same trick he used to get them in, out. Opening the passenger side door of his truck he let out Stalker, his well stained, 2 year old German Shepard/husky mix. leading his dog to the back of the trailer near the hitch, opened a grated window on the side and encouraged a full on raging barking fit.
Screee!!! Munsta!
Wun!!!
Bawky Munsta!!!
A stampede of rainbow fluff came waddling out of the gate in a blind panic as Jake picked up Stalker, holding him to another window to frighten more down the internal ramps. Only a few stragglers too paralyzed with fear had to be dragged out by the scruff of their necks through opened grates.
Owwies Bad uppies
Bad fow fwuffy!
They were quickly tossed in with the running panicked ponies into a large enclosed corral meant to hold four or five times as many. Jake fed Stalker a foal leg as a reward then put him back in the truck while Jimmie counted out his pay.
“Sixty, eighty and that two hundred for the lot.” handing over the cash. “Hey, what’s in yer flatbed there?” noticing several large pet carriers.
“Those are far too valuable for your kind of entertainment. They’re reserved for other clients preferred lists.” Throwing a blanket over them to shield them from the morning sun.
“Hey Jake, that you out there?” Called a familiar voice from inside Jimmie’s
A tall, thin, large mustached man in jeans and leather jacket stepped out greeting Jake with a hug.
“Still playing around here huh, Earl?” Jake chuckled patting him on the back.
Now Earl was pretty much the backbone of Jake’s entire operation, designing and building live traps to catch whole herds at a time alive, all while disguised as their fabled paradise on earth. A lot of his friends were tradesmen from everything from computers to motors and they taught him enough to be all kinds of dangerous. So Jake made sure he was well paid and he didn’t mind sharing his genius with clients as it worked like a good investment. And thankfully Early’s tastes were simple and cheap.
“Hey you got to try some of these games I made! They’re fuckin insane mannnnnn!”
“Y’know what? Fuck it, I’m dying to see what you’ve been up too all month. let’s go.” Waving him inside.
Earl handed Jake a small pouch labled XXL Disposable Poncho $0.99 from a shelf and one for himself as they stepped through a plain wooden door into a carnival of fluffy pain and horror. donning their ponchos they stepped up to the first game in it’s final testing phase.
The batting cages. Side by side batting cages. on the far wall a dartboard like target is painted on each wall with nine inch nails sticking point out and spaced evenly at three inch spaces. hanging by their tails on the other side were two screaming, crying fluffies. one for each. A yellow earthy and a pail green Pegasus
Earl handed Jake a large cartoonishly oversized toy bat that had been filled with expanding solid foam.
“Best of three, closest to the bullseye wins.” Earl smiled. “Batter up.” Taking a batters stance.
They both swung, their bats making a sick (Ka-Thungk!) as the fluffies had the air knocked out of them, their tail fluff ripping free as they careened into the wall of nails. Jake’s earthy had survived both impacts and now howled in agony on the 10 pt. line to the left, a nail having pierced both it’s eyes and one of his nuts. Earl’s sat on the 20 pt. mark. In round 2 Earl’s unicorn lived and landed butt first across several nails on the 20 pt mark again, his cousin matching him this time.
Poopie Pwace hab bigges' huwties! Why? Fwuffy sowwy nu mo owwies pwease!
Neither survived in round three and Earl won with a bullseye. Jake called Earl a cheat Earl said for him to fuck himself, they both laughed and moved onto the next game.
Scree-ball. Jake stood before a giant oversized skee-ball table tilted at a slightly steeper angle with each hole big enough to fit the fattest earthy. At his feet a fluffy pen with six nervous whining fluffies.
Jake grabbed one in each hand and gave them a good toss at the 50 pt. hole. each fluffy screeched as a stream of shit flow everywhere as the first one made it in but the second clung on for dear life on the lip. The other tumbled down a harsh slide of sharp jagged bumpers and back into the pen at Jake’s feet.
“you might wanna use pillowed fluffs for this game.”
"Noted."Moving onto the next game.
“And make the fall more painful.”
Nummie Nummie Bebbies. Earl led Jake to what looked like an oversized game of hungry hungry hippos from hell. the cup heads having sharp jagged steel teeth and Jellenheimer red smiles on each of them. The controls a joystick and lever, left, right, back, forward and chomp.
“Release the BEBBEHS!” Jake shouted slamming his fist down on a big red button on the lead control panel.
a door slide open on one side and ten weanlings forcibly rolled out crying then they started screaming at the sight of the faces as two slid out of the side wall. Both raised their heads showing the deadly edges glint in the light as they came down. The first chopped a foal clean in half, chomping down again to collect the other half it left a bloody streak as the head dragged the dying foal back to the wall to fall into a collection bin for that player. The second chopped off another one’s face from the eyes forward, flopping around and twitching before being scooped up.
Nuuu Bebbeh nu nummies
muh muh
screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee huuu huuu huuu
Muh Muh sabe bestes behbeh!
This one ended in a tie with five each and moved onto the next
Run Bebbeh Run. several other employees stood around a small pen with six fluffy weanlings playing in it each a different color as they joined them they were taking bets on which one would get away. They both could smell the distinct stink of artificial fluffy pheromones, the weanlings had been spayed with it by the employee taking the bets as evident by the bottle hanging off his belt. When the final bet was taken five cages were lowered into the pen, each with a pent up, blue balled, pheromone enraged smarty.
Need enfies naow naow naow! -they all shrieked and hollered
when the doors opened the smarties rushed the weanlings who bolted in every direction but with nowhere to go five were quickly pinned, mounted and rode hard to a myriad of pleas and screeches. only the blue one was spared.
“Yes yes yes! Thats three in a row for blue! Big money winna to-DAY!” Shouted an employee as she collected her winnings.
Jake looked around and watched as other employees play tested the other games. some threw fluffies in a giant yard sized game of beer pong as other threw Pegasuses at nailed dartboards. Others played bowling with fluffies as the ball while more gambled on fluffy plinko with each possible goal hole being a new form of pain. Razers, acid, punji stake trap, jehllenheimer, you name it. There even was a shooting gallery with bb guns using the used up and surviving crippled fluffieas as targets. Picking up a quick game of fluffy tether ball they slapped a brown earthy back and forth around a pole when Jake heard his phone go off. Checking the screen he noted the time and excused himself, wished everyone luck and walked out to his truck where Stalker hung out the window all smiles. Feeding him another foal leg for a job well done he checked the carriers, secured the blanket and got in his truck driving off to his next appointment.