A fluffy herd finds the most sketti ever! (by recreationalsadist)

Smarty was the best Smarty ever! Who else could be smart enough to follow the smell of sketti to sketti?

He pointed his front hoof at the huge pile of sketti!

“Wook, hewd! It am sketti!”

His herd was suitably impressed.

“It am sketti!”
“Wub sketti!”
“Smawty am bestest Smawty fow finding hewd skettis!”
“Nao nu hab tu num poopie babbeh fow nummies!”
“Can poopie babbeh hab skettis?”
“Nu. Poopie babbehs onwy num poopies, skettis fow gud fwuffies onwy.”
“Can munstah babbeh hab skettis?”
“Nu, dat nu pawt ob deaw wit Daddeh Dagon. Munstah babbeh num poopies tuu.”
“Huuhuu, wan sketti. Ow da fwesh ob suwface fwuffies. Huu…su hungwy.”

And so the brown foal and the abomination in the shape of a fluffy foal born of the twisted union between a land fluffy and the spawn of the blood of Dagon and a sea fluffy watched sadly as their mother, father, and the rest of their herd dug into the sauce-covered sketti covered in strange bumps.

Earl and Jeb were walking along.

“He provided his insurance information, but we’re going to have to clean it up.”
“Damn trucker, how am I supposed to clean up all that tomato sauce off my barbed wire? I got the extra-thin kind so you know that’s going to be a pain to clean.”

They rounded the corner and paused.

“Hey Earl, you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Those damn fluffies, they’re eating my barbed wire!”

All the fluffies were dead except for the brown foal and the monster foal. There were other foals in the herd, but every single one of them had been crushed to death by the agonizing death throes of their parents.

The brown foal licked up some tomato sauce that had landed on the ground, then looked at the monsters foal.

“Su nao wut?”
“Stay hewe, da fwesh ob da hewd wiww sustain us untiw we awe gwown. Den munstah babbeh wiww shed fwuff an wejoin munstah babbeh’s hewd beneath da wabes.”
“Poopie babbeh’s hewd am nummies nao.”
“Oh. Nu no if wike. But otay.”

The moral of this story is that just because something is covered in tomato sauce doesn’t mean it’s spaghetti.

The FluffTV producer stared at the screen. Then he looked at the person pitching the show.

“I don’t get it.”
“Studies show fluffies only ever remember the parts with spaghetti, so we decided to throw in an eldritch horror theme for humans who are watching with them.”
“But why like that?”
“Look, we had a budget surplus and needed to use it up or our budget gets cut next year.”
“Oh, I understand. Alright, let’s run it. Want to feed this obese light blue pegasus foal with a yellow mane to a carnivorous plant to celebrate?”
“I sure do! That’s how all TV executive celebrate! Also with cocaine!”
“Nu, pwease nu wet pwant-munstah num bestest babbeh!”
“Ignore that bitch, feed me!”


Bahahaha! Poor hybrid fluffy. It went through an amazing monologue to detail the upcoming life for them… and then just gets forced into Layman’s Terms so that the poopy fluffy could understand it. Now I kinda want to see them actually lead a herd together. Or even two, given one is aquatic and the other is terrestrial.


Same!! I wanna see the adventures of poopie and splashy!!!


Feed me Seymour…