Douglas Kennedy was lying on his cot, half dozing off after reading another chapter of his book: “The Real Pirates of The Caribbean”. While it wasn’t a riveting read, he didn’t exactly have a lot going on for him, what with being locked up in a cell. Besides, for some reason, the other prisoners had been avoiding him, which suited him just fine, to be fair. He wasn’t like them. He hadn’t killed anyone, or stolen from anyone, after all.
Fluffies were just living toys. Unnatural creatures born in a lab, not unlike puppets made in a toymaker’s workshop. Or like those dumb dolls that drooled and needed to be cleaned up, y’know, those some obscure company used to make. And besides, it was Booger who had come to him, not the other way around. The rest had always been feral shitrats. Still, those bleeding hearts of the jury had seen it fit to condemn him.
“Destruction of property, theft, animal abuse and animal cruelty. Animals my ass. Pricks.”
Angrily muttering to himself about his misfortunes, he heard his cell door open.
Turning his head around, he saw one of the guards who had slammed him face first into a column, alongside a rather large, dark skinned prisoner. His imposing size and burly appeareance mildly upsetted Douglas, though he couldn’t tell why. Maybe it was because of all the prison stereotypes everyone and their mother used. Hopefully there’d be no soap bars being dropped.
“Rogers, you’re getting a cell swap. Fluffykiller, this is your new best friend. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine.”
As soon as his old cellmate had packed up, the large inmate settled in, laying his meager possessions around. On the small shelf above his cot, he put a tiny frame made out of red rubber. In it, rested a photo Douglas couldn’t quite see from his position.
Trying his best to look busy, he picked up his book again, when he saw his new cellmate striding towards him. Instinctively, he rose to his feet to meet the charge head on, only for the big man to stop and offer him his right hand.
“Hey there, I’m Trevor! You must be Douglas, right? Heard a lot about you.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Kennedy thought that he’d been worrying over nothing. Grasping the other man’s hand he noticed the vice-like grip this man could muster.
“Hopefully only good things, Trev. You mind if I call you Trev?”
“Ahaha no, no. It’s not the worst I’ve been called. Most people here just call me Big B or some iterations of it. But let’s cut to the chase Doug. Mind if I call you Doug?”
“Actually, I’d prefer Douglas… wait, what do you mean by that?”
The man’s face lost any form of joviality, shifting instead to a dead serious frown which really ticked Kennedy off.
“That you might have drawn the wrong guy’s attention Douglas. Specifically, Bulldog’s. And that is not something you want to do around here.”
“Wait, I heard two inmates talk about that dude, but who is he? And, more importantly, what does he care about me? I don’t even know him!”
“Well you see, Bulldog’s a dangerous fellow. And word of mouth is, he loathes fluffy abusers. He regards them as basically pedophiles or child abusers. And you…”
Kennedy’s blood froze in his veins. A deranged psycho was out for his head. Wait, why did he give a flying fuck about some damn fuzzballs?
“Wa…wait. Why would this man care about it? What’s it to him? He a fluffy fucker or something? Those things are basically children’s toys, not actual children!”
Trevor looked around nervously, before leaning in to whisper to his cellmate.
“People here say that only him and his victims know his reasons. For obvious reasons, none of them can talk about it.”
“Butbutbutbut… why don’t the guards do something? How does he get away with this?”
“Simply put, even if some inmate knew his real identity, they wouldn’t snitch for fear of repercussions. His method of killing always varies and leaves little to no trace. The guards know, but their hands are tied. And that is why I am here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t like people shanking each other over rumors. As you may have noticed, people don’t bother me much, both guards and inmates. So, if I were to become your ‘friend’, Bulldog might keep his distance. Of course, if I were to need something from you, as a token of our friendship, I could count on your help, right?”
Truth be told, Douglas hadn’t exactly been a social person since his arrival at the prison. But he supposed that the big man couldn’t be that far off his mark, after all. The impression he had gotten early might actually work for others too. But before agreeing to anything, he had to hear what the terms would be.
“And… what would that something be?”
“Well, your stay here is bound to be shorter than mine, so I may ask you to go somewhere, or tell someone something. You dig?.”
“That can be arranged. Why are you in, by the way?”
“Murder.”
Meanwhile, a middle aged woman was leisurely strolling down a certain path in one of the city parks, talking on the phone with a friend.
“No Kate, she works in a fluffy veterinary office, not a fluffy’s veterinary office. There’s no such thing as a fluffy doctor! The poor things can barely hold their babies with their hooves, let alone a scalpel! That would be ridiculous, but I can see it. Like, a fluffy version of Dr. Frankenstein, yeah, the crazy one from the movie. Well, you bring your fluffies to Doctor Crazystein, I’ll stick with Veronica. By the way, they also take in ferals and run a daycare service, if you ever needed it. Where? Well, you know the Tempson Tower? Yeah, the big red building you can basically see from the whole damn city? Literally next to it. You can’t miss the building either, what with their gaudy neon sign of a happy fluffy. Tacky, but effective, yes.”
Unbeknownst to the woman, someone had been overhearing her conversation. Amidst the late autumn vegetation by the side of the pathway, something moved. It was a light brown fluffy mare with dark brown tail and mane, who was leaving the shrub she had hid under upon hearing the loud woman’s voice coming her way. She was sure the human hadn’t seen her, so it wasn’t a trap. Probably. But she knew that the nummies had been growing scarcer by the day. What with her having to eat for her babies aswell, it was but a matter of time until they ran out. They had to leave. Stepping out of the bushes, into the human side of the park, she stared at the big, red housie. This time, she wouldn’t fail her babies.
Yes, that last part included a shameless tribute to @Squeakyfriend’s Doctah Crazystein. Just a token of my appreciation for a hilarious character. And a sneak peek of what the future may or may not hold for the brown nameless mare!
