You snuggle deeper into the soft warmth and listen to your mother’s heartbeat. Warm. Soft. Safe. Loved. You hear your mother’s gentle heartbeat, hear her voice as she sings to you and your siblings, telling you what good babies you are and how much she loves you. Your tummy rumbles and you chirp at the discomfort; your mother knows the source of your distress and nudges you a little. Your move your head side to side blindly, seeking… there. You latch on and begin suckling, and comforting warmth flows into you and fills you inside. Your tummy feels better now. Finished, you turn and crawl back to the softness you were snuggled in and… your face twitches, feels different, and suddenly, bright light turns your world of darkness into blinding light. You blink rapidly and your eyes quickly get used to the light; color floods into your world now.
“Babbeh’s see-pwaces open! Gud babbeh, snuggy wif mummah!”
You crawl forward a little more, snuggle back into the thick, soft fluff on your mother’s belly, and drift into sleep.
You jerk awake as something enormous plucks you away from your mother. You squirm and chirp for your mother to save you, but you’re trapped as you fly higher and higher into the sky, away from your mother.
“Nuuuu! Babbeh tu wittwe! Pwease gif babbeh back!”
“This whole litter is fine, except for this one.”
You struggle and chirp, frightened, as you are turned this way and that, poked and prodded by forces you don’t understand.
“This one’s got bad coloration. We’ll see if it gets any fluffier as it grows, but this color just isn’t- aaaaand the little bastard just shit all over my hand.”
You zoom back down to where your mother is and then the tremendous monster that stole you away lets go. Your tummy lurches sickeningly as you drop the rest of the way, landing on your mother’s back. The fall isn’t enough to hurt, but it’s definitely uncomfortable and you start crying and chirping at how scary it all is. Your mother snuggles you deeper into her fluff and hugs you; it’s a little better, but you’re still scared. You don’t know what’s happening.
“You wanna just get rid of it? No sense keeping it and letting it waste resources we could use on better fluffies.”
“Nah. Its fluff might get poofier like the rest once it gets older, and the colors tend to brighten or deepen when they reach adulthood. It might get better looking later on, and if we can sell it, great.”
All of this is beyond your comprehension. Your mother sings a comforting song to you, and you snuggle into a fluff pile with your brothers and sisters and everything is right again.
You’re just old enough to eat solid nummies now, like mummah taught you. You’ve been drinking less and less of her miwkies and eating more and more solid nummies. You’re growing into a big, strong fluffy! Your mummah says you’re a very pretty fluffy, like your brothers and sisters. You love your mummah. You love your brothers and sisters too, but mummah is the bestest.
The nice hoomins who clean the litter box and put wawa and nummies in your cage come to visit again.
“The pink one, the white one, the grey one, and the blue one are all good. The white one doesn’t have that designer look to it; the legs are too long, and the tail isn’t fluffy enough, but the coloration is good. This green one though… legs are normal length, tail isn’t fluffy enough, and it’s a monochrome. Green is one of the least popular colorations, and being monochrome just makes it worse. There’s nothing interesting about this fluffy.”
“You wanna toss it in the incinerator?”
“Nah, we spent too much feeding and caring for the damn thing, may as well put it on the sales floor. You never know, someone might buy the ugly thing.”
Ugly? Is he talking about you? You look at your fluff. It’s a nice green, you think. You examine your tail; true, it’s much less fluffy than the tails your brothers and sisters have, but what’s wrong with that? You’re about to ask mummah what she thinks (she always knows the right thing to say to make you feel better), but the hoomins grab you and drop you in a box! You’re out of the cage for the first time in your whole life, but… this is scary! Your brothers and sisters are dropped in the box on top of you, and you get a hoof to the face; it hurts! You’re quickly covered in scaredy poopies and peepees as your siblings panic.
“Nuuuuuuu! Nu tahk babbehs! Babbehs nee mummah! Nuu! Pwease gif babbehs! Huuhuuhuu!”
“Breed her with number nine again; other than the green one, they produced a good batch of foals.”
You take another hoof to the nosie and cry about your owies, buried under your siblings uncomfortably. You feel the box moving and your mother’s cries grow fainter.
You never see her again.
You all panic and cry as the hoomins put you in wawa. Don’t they know wawa is bad for fluffies? You’ll drown! You all cry and scream and plead and try to escape, but they’re merciless.
Eventually, they take you out of the bad wawa, and you feel better. At least now you’re not covered in scaredy poopies and peepees anymore.
Then a hoomin in white not-fluff holds up a pointy thing. It looks scary. He holds you still and gives you bad owies with the pointy thing! You cry and tell him you’re a good fluffy and ask him not to give you owies, but he keeps doing it.
“Calm down! You gotta get all your shots before we can sell you. Just calm down, little guy. Only twelve more to go.”
The owies go on forever, but eventually they stop. You’re dropped back in the box and one by one, after they all cry and beg like you did, you’re joined by your brothers and sisters. You all huddle together in a fluff pile, hugging and comforting each other, wishing mummah was there. You have no way of knowing this is the last time you’ll ever touch another fluffy again.
You watch as your brothers and sisters are placed, one by one, into small cages. Another hoomin is dropping toys and nummies into each cage as a fluffy is put inside.
“These are the designer fluffies, so we have to keep them happy and up front. Make sure they all get toys; as long as they look happy, they’ll sell like hotcakes. I still don’t get what’s so special about a fluffy with even stubbier legs and bigger fluff, but hey; they’re the hot thing right now, and we stand to make some good money off of 'em.”
You’re dropped into a cage all by yourself. You’re still scared and unhappy, but at least you’ll get some toys to play with. You haven’t gotten to play since they took you away from mummah.
“I’m out of toys. Let me go get some.”
“Don’t bother; that fluffy’s never gonna sell, so who gives a shit?”
“Won’t it be more likely to get sold if it looks happy like the others?”
“You kidding? Who the hell’s gonna buy an ugly, monochrome green normal fluffy when we’ve got all these designer fluffies right next to it? You wanna hit the bar after we get done?”
“Hell yes, I can’t stand dealing with these whiny shit rats all day.”
The hoomins walk away. Wait- where are your toys? Why don’t you get any toys like your brothers and sisters? You can hear them playing happily nearby.
“Baww!”
“Yay, bwockies!”
You sit on your haunches and have bad owies in your heart. Why do they keep saying meanie things about how you look? Why do you have to be in here all by yourself? Why don’t you get any toys like everyone else?
You paw at the cedar chips covering the floor and note with distress that you don’t even have a litter box. You have to make poopies on the floor, and sit next to it. You squat, make your poopies on the cedar chips, and then curl up in the furthest corner from the poopies. The smell is awful in the confined space.
Your fluff isn’t as poofy as your sibling’s. You huddle in the tightest ball you can, but you still shiver; it’s cold without your brothers and sisters and mummah to make a fluff pile with. You don’t have anyone to talk to or play with either, and the loneliness just makes your heart hurties worse. Tears begin staining your fluff.
Please let things get better. Please?
The bright times are all the same. One by one, your brothers and sisters are taken away by their new hoomin mummahs and daddehs. Other fluffies you never saw before get taken away to new homes too. Every one of them is happy to have a nice, new home and a hoomin mummah or daddeh to love them. You’re always ignored. Each time a hoomin comes to look at you, you smile, reach your hoofsies out for huggies, and ask if they’re your new mummah or daddeh. Some of them talk to you, but most just ignore you. Some call you ugly. None of them take you home.
The dark times are all the same too. Cold. Lonely. You cry from the heart hurties. Why do you have to be by yourself? Why doesn’t anyone love you? Why doesn’t anyone want to play with you or take you home?
Maybe… maybe it’s true? Maybe you really are ugly? You look at your fluff. You always thought it was such a pleasant green; mummah said it was. But maybe mummah was wrong? Maybe green is an ugly color. You look at your tail. You always thought it was fine, but it’s true; it isn’t as poofy-fluffy as your siblings tails; theirs are all much bigger and fluffier.
Maybe… you really are ugly? Maybe you’re a bad, dummy fluffy?
That’s why nobody loves you. You’re ugly.
Your huddle in the corner, as far from the smelly poopies as possible, and cry yourself to sleep. Just like every night.
Two of the hoomins who bring you nummies and wawa come to look at you.
“Man, he’s been at regular price the whole time, and nobody’s bought him. I told you, monochrome green? No market for it. If he had a fluffier tail and stubby legs like the other designer fluffies, he’d have sold already, even if he is the worst possible color. Well, besides shit brown, anyway.”
You curl up in a ball of misery. You already know you’re ugly and nobody loves you; why do they have to keep saying it?
One hoomin taps on the nu-see wall at the front of your cage.
“Hey! You better start sucking up to the customers if you want a new home!”
“Whu… whu ‘sugging up’ mean?”
“It means you better make people like you, so they want to take you home! If nobody takes you home, then we’re gonna have to put you down.”
“Pud down?”
“Forever sleepies.”
You have scaredy poopies.
“Nuuuu! Pwease! Nu gif fowevaw sweepies! Fwuffy am gud fwuffy! Nu wan fowevaw sweepies! Huuhuuhuu!”
“Then you better get people to like you, shit-for-brains! If you don’t get a new mommy or daddy in three days, you get forever sleepies. Got that?”
He slaps something on the outside of your cage.
“Put him on discount. Maybe we’ll get lucky and somebody will take him off our hands.”
The other hoomin pokes at the thing on your cage with a short stick and walks off. The other hoomin taps the nu-see wall and gives you a mean look.
“And stop crying! Or nobody will take you home!”
He walks away.
You were lonely and had bad heart hurties before, but now you’re scared. Forever sleepies? Three bright times to find a new mummah or daddeh, or they give you forever sleepies? It’s impossible! Nobody loves you, because you’re not pretty like your brothers and sisters! You’re a bad, ugly, dummy fluffy. How are you supposed to find someone to love you and give you a home in just three bright times?
Hoomins come in and start looking at all the fluffies. You try to ignore your heart-hurties and smile at them. You hold your hoofsies out for huggies and ask, “Nyu mummah? Nyu daddeh? Gif home, pwease! Fwuffy wuv yoo!”
They all look away and talk to the pretty fluffies. Some of them are poofy like your siblings, others are special in different ways; they have wingies, or pointies, or pretty manes and tails that are a different color than their fluff. They’re all nice, pretty colors, not ugly green like you. You see another hoomin looking at you and put your hoofsies up against the nu-see wall.
“Nyu mummah? Pwease?”
“Three days until euthenasia? Oh, you poor thing!”
“Pwease be fwuffy’s nyu mummah! Fwuffy am gud fwuffy! Fwuffy wuv yoo! Pwease?”
“I’m sorry, sweetie, but I already have a fluffy. I’m just here looking at toys for her.”
Tears start staining your fluff.
“Pwease be nyu mummah. Fwuffy am gud fwuffy. Nu wan fowevaw sweepies. Pwease?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I just don’t have the room.”
She turns and walks away, shaking her head.
“Pwease? Pwease? Pwease be nyu mummah! Fwuffy scawed! Pwease!”
You’re all alone again. The rest of the day, nobody looks at you, no matter how much you try to get their attention or cry.
The hoomin who puts wawa and nummies in your cage comes and pokes the nu-see wall with his little stick again, then looks at you.
“Two days left, little guy. Better do a better job finding a new mommy or daddy, or you get the needle.”
“Pwease! Am gud fwuffy! Nu wan fowevaw sweepies! Nu huwt fwuffy!”
“Tough shit. Maybe if you weren’t so ugly, people would actually want you. Now try harder, or you’re dead.”
He walks away and the dark times come. You sit on your haunches and hold your tail in your hoofsies.
“Pwease fwuff, be pwettiew, wike bwuddas and sistuhs! Pwease be mowe fwuffy, taiw! If nu get biggew, am get fowevah sweepies!”
But your fluff and your tail don’t listen. You’re still ugly. Once again, you cry yourself to sleep, wishing you were prettier.
The next time bright time, you beg every hoomin you see to please take you home so you don’t get forever sleepies. You don’t care if they’re looking at fluffies or not, as soon as one comes into view, you cry and beg them to be your new mommy or daddy. Almost all of them ignore you. Some are sympathetic and say nicey-nicey words to you… but they don’t take you home.
All the new mommies and daddies leave, and the hoomin who gives you nummies and wawas smacks the nu-see wall of your cage hard enough to scare you.
“One day left, shit rat! You better find a new home quick, or you get the forever sleepies shot!”
“Fwuffy twy! Fwuffy am gud fwuffy, ask if nyu mummah or daddeh, but- but nu get nyu home! Fwuffy twy weawwy, weawwy hawd! Pwease, nice mista! Nu gif fwuffy fowevah sweepies!”
“Try HARDER!”
He pokes at the nu-see wall with his little stick and walks away. The dark times come almost immediately and you stay awake the whole time, rocking and shivering, crying and pleading with your tail to be fluffier and your fluff to be prettier. You’re so scared and alone.
The bright times come, and you can’t summon the energy to get up or move. You’re exhausted because you spent the whole dark time crying instead of sleeping. You have bad heart-hurties, and you’re just so scared!
Finally, hoomins start looking at all the fluffies and talking to them and taking them to their new homes. Nobody looks at you or talks to you. You put one hoofsie on the nu-see wall of your cage, craving their love. Won’t somebody love you? Won’t somebody give you huggies? Won’t somebody take you home? You don’t want to stay here any longer. It’s bad here. And if you don’t get a new mummeh or daddeh today, you’ll be given forever sleepies. You don’t want forever sleepies. You wish you weren’t so ugly. It’s not fair.
“Pwease? Pwease? Sumbuddy? Be nyu mummah? Be nyu daddeh? Pwease? Fwuffy am gud fwuffy. Nu wan fowevah sweepies. Pwease? Pwease gif nyu home… Pwease?”
They all ignore you. A few glance at you, but just as soon look away again. You curl up in your cage and cry. Why won’t anyone love you? Why won’t anyone save you? They KNOW you’re going to get forever sleepies, and they still won’t save you!
You cry and cry and cry, until the hoomins all go away and the dark times are almost here. The hoomin who gives you nummies and wawa opens your cage.
“Tough luck, shit rat. Shoulda tried harder.”
“Nu! Pwease! Fwuffy am gud fwuffy! Fwuffy twy! Pwease nu gif fowevah sweepies!”
“Too bad. You had your chance. We’re not wasting anymore food or space on you.”
He picks you up roughly and carries you away. You start crying even harder, screaming at the injustice of it all.
“PWEASE! NU DESEWVE FOWEVAH SWEEPIES! FWUFFY AM GUD FWUFFY! FWUFFY WAN WIVE! PWEASE, NU GIF FOWEVAH SWEEPIES! PWEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAASE!”
He drops you in a box. You jump and climb and struggle to get out, scrabbling your hoofsies against the side desperately. You hurt your weggies trying to get out and scream, tears staining your fluff.
“PWEEEEEEAAAAAAASE! FWUFFY NU WAN DIE! HUUUUUHUUUUUUUHUUUUUUU!”
A hoomin in white not-fluff brings a pointy thing; you remember it as the thing that gave you owies before you went into a cage all by yourself. You back into a corner and inadvertently cover yourself in scaredy poopies, but you barely notice.
“Pwease nu huwt fwuffy! Fwuffy sowwy! Fwuffy am gud fwuffy! Nu wan fowevah sweepies! Pwease? Pwease?”
He gives you owies. Then he walks away.
“Huuuuuu, huuhuuhuu! Why nu wun wuv fwuffy? Why gif fwuffy owies an fowevah sweepies? Fwuffy jus wan home. Fwuffy jus wan wuv. Huuhuuu…”
You feel yourself getting sleepy. You ARE very tired, after all, having had no sleep. Your eyelids get heavier and heavier and it gets harder to move. You’re so tired. You just want to lay down and sleep.
You jerk upright. No! No sleep! Somehow, you know you’ll never wake up! This is the forever sleepies! You have to stay awake! You have to!
“NU! NU! NU WAN FOWEVAH SWEEPIES! NU WAN DIE! HEWP! HEWP! SUM WUN SAFE FWUFFY! PWEASE! PWEEEEEEEEEAAAAAASE! NU WAN DIE!”
You’re too weak. You can’t fight any longer. You slump to the bottom of the box and dimly feel the scaredy poopies and peepees soaking into your fluff. Your eyes slowly sink shut and your head flops to the ground, unable to hold itself up any longer.
“Pwease, safe fwuffy. Pwease. Nu wan die. Fwuffy wan wive. Pwease… pwease…”
One last burst of energy lets you open your eyes and cry out.
“Mummah! Mummah! Mummah! Mu… mu… mum…mm…”
Tears soak your face and your heart hurts at the injustice of it all. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. Your only crime was that nobody loved you. Your entire life, you just wanted someone to love you, and all you got was pain and misery. Your life was pointless; your entire existence was for nothing, because nobody wanted you.
Your heart stops beating and the world goes dark forever.
its sad life of an earthie is so mean added moron staff have to scare him to death…