I’m a fluffy. A bit of an unusual fluffy.
There are two things that are unusual about me.
The first unusual thing is that I don’t like other fluffies.
At all.
I find other fluffies annoying. I hate everything about other fluffies. I hate how they look, how they sound, and even how they smell.
I look, sound, and smell like that too, but that’s different.
Because I’m so much better than all the other fluffies.
I didn’t even like my daddeh, or my mummah, or my bwuddahs and sissies.
I lived with them, in a boxie, in an awweyway, until the incident.
It was just after me and my bwuddahs and sissies had stopped drinking miwkies.
“Babbeh! Wut am babbeh duin?!?”
“Babbeh am bestest babbeh! Chirp! Babbeh am betta den aww udda fwuffies!”
After I was caught giving one of my sissies forever sleepies, my daddeh and mummah told me to leave.
“Babbeh am munstah babbeh. Nu wook wike munstah, but am munstah.”
“But whewe am babbeh gun gu? Peep.”
“Babbeh shudda fowt abowt dat befowe babbeh gib udda babbeh foweba sweepies. Be gwatefuw dat yu nu am gettin foweba sweepies. Nao gu, befowe daddeh change daddeh mine.”
So I left the awweyway behind. I made the stweets my home.
Since then, I’ve been doing whatever I can to stay alive. I’ve grown up. I’ve grown big and strong, and I didn’t need my stupid fluffy family to do it.
I don’t need anyone.
I’ll show them. I’ll show them all.
The other unusual thing about me is something that has been bugging me for as long as I can remember.
My whole life, I feel like there’s been something wrong.
I don’t know what, though.
And sometimes, I hear a hoomin voice talking to me, even when there aren’t any hoomins around.
It sounds like it’s coming from inside my head, and I don’t really understand the things it says.
You don’t even remember who you are, do you?
What?
As I’m walking down the street, I see two hoomins.
They’re both mistahs, and they seem to be fwends. They’re wearing the same clothies, but in different colors.
One of them has long brown not-fluff, tied in that way some hoomins do it that makes it look like a fluffy’s tailie. He’s wearing black clothies with lines of green, red and yellow on them.
He smells weird, and for some reason the smell makes me angry.
I know who he is, though. He’s the Bestest Hoomin. Pretty much every fluffy knows who he is these bwite times.
I don’t like him. I don’t like how he smells. I don’t like that he likes fluffies, because I hate fluffies.
But then there’s the other mistah. His clothies are grey.
His face makes me even angrier, and I don’t know why.
Yellow not-fluff, black see-better things. He looks a bit like a wady.
They’re talking to each other, and I don’t really know what it all means.
“I’ve gotta say, Jack, your training’s coming along well. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for it, but Lu-Tze’s been keeping me updated.”
“Thanks, Cal. He said we’re almost done with slowing time, and that the next step of my training is gonna be, and I quote, bloody amazing.”
“And hey, we found that hobo who was living with those street fluffies. You know, the one those fluffies call Fuzzy Beard. We got them all off the streets.”
“You mean the hobo who stabbed what’s-his-face? I had a bit of an altercation with that guy right before he got stabbed.”
“Yeah, but Fuzzy Beard didn’t mean to kill him. The asshole was trying to abuse Fuzzy Beard’s fluffies. They were all he had, y’know. But we couldn’t ignore a problem like that.”
“So what happened to them?”
“Fuzzy Beard’s currently staying at the School until we can figure out who he is. Even he’s not sure, and the DNA test didn’t give us anything useful, just like with Reggae and Mortis. But we’ve got food, hot showers, and beds, all things he desperately needed. And the fluffies were relocated to Blueberry’s Forest, they took up one of the abandoned dens, and Fuzzy Beard’s free to visit them whenever he wants, just like Branca and her herd. She’s doing well, too, by the way. She’s going to the same school as Sorcie, Tiff, Harley and Jackie, and she’s part of their clique now. She’s got all the same powers as Danny and Ghost, as it turns out, so now their clique has a kid ghost. Sorta. I mean, she’s still alive, like Danny and Ghost, but they have ghost powers.”
“So the cool clique just got even cooler! Damn.”
“Yeah, I was thinking a while back, if only we could find a kid werewolf. But of course, if we do, I’ll have to go find the bastard who bit a kid and put him down like the savage dog he is.”
“Yikes. Better not let Rex hear you say that.”
“Oh, he agrees with me on this. He never gave in to the urge to find out if fluffies could be turned into werewolves. He hates the idea of kids and fluffies being turned into werewolves. Even if they can just be given a Moon Pearl, that doesn’t make it okay, he says.”
“Did you know that Rex and Victor slept together once? Vic told me during my first katana lesson with him. It was before Rex met his husband, but César still doesn’t trust Victor around Rex.”
“So that’s why César’s always staring daggers at Victor!”
Oh look, the little femboy faggot made some faggot friends.
Wait. What?
Where did that come from?
I know what I just thought, I know what it means, but what I don’t know is how I know all of this.
I don’t know that yellow not-fluff mistah, though. But I feel like I should, and I feel like I should hate him. I feel like I should hate Fuzzy Beard too, whoever he is.
Ha! Looks like you haven’t changed that much after all!
Huh?
Then I run into another fluffy.
He’s looking into one of those things the hoomins call a stowm-dwain, and he’s muttering to himself.
“Ssssshit. Fwuffy nu can fukkin be-weev dat fwuffy dwopped da dam fing down dewe. Nao fwuffy neba gun fine da bas-tuwd who gabe fwuffy an speciaw fwend foweba sweepies…”
He sure says a lot of bad words for a fluffy.
But what is he talking about? Someone gave him forever sleepies?
But when someone goes forever sleepies, they don’t come back, right? How can he still be alive?
Look who’s talking! Dead doesn’t mean gone! You of all people should know that by now! You really don’t remember?
Remember what???
Stop that!!! Shut up!!! Leave me alone!!!
Then, later, as it’s getting dawk, I run into another fluffy.
I’m trying to find a safe place to spend the dawk time, but this one is already occupied.
He’s covered in poopies, and shaking and shivering and sobbing.
“Huu… Yoh-shee nu wan munstah tu find Yoh-shee… huu huu… Yoh-shee miss daddeh… aww Yoh-shee hab weft of daddeh am da wock… huuuuuu…”
What munstah? What rock?
“Huu… Yoh-shee nu fink Yoh-shee am faw away enuff fwom Man-hat-tun… huu huu… Yoh-shee am wucky dat Yoh-shee gut dis faw… Yoh-shee nu knu whewe munstah am… munstah cud stiww fine Yoh-shee… huu… Yoh-shee can neba stawp wunnin…”
What is he talking about? I don’t know where Man-hat-tun is, or how far away it is from here, or how Yoshi got here.
But I don’t care. All that matters is, there’s a stinky fluffy in my safe place.
So there’s no reason to stay.
I leave to find another safe place, because I’m not going to put up with that smell all dawk time.
He doesn’t notice me, but I’m glad he doesn’t, because he does, he’ll probably want me to hug him.
I hate hugging other fluffies, even when they’re not covered in poopies.
Fluffies smell bad enough when they’re clean.
You don’t exactly smell like roses right now, either!
Will you shut up already?
You can’t ignore me forever, you know!
SHUT UP!
You wouldn’t even be in this mess if you had just listened to me before!
SHUT UP!!!
I start aimlessly walking through the stweets, trying to clear my mind.
I’m in your head. You won’t get away from me.
WHY WON’T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY???
Because you won’t listen to me! You’ve never listened to me! Not even when you were–
SHUT!!! UP!!! ALREADY!!! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT!!!
But you need to hear it! You’re sick! You’ve been sick since you were human!
That stops me in my tracks.
What.
That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, stupid! Don’t you get it? You’ve always felt like something was wrong. This is what!
So you’re saying that I was human, but, what, got turned into a fluffy?
Haven’t you noticed the first person perspective of this story? Didn’t that seem unusual for a fluffy POV? Oh yeah. You’re so crazy that you can break the fourth wall, and because I’m a part of your mind, I can do it too.
So what part of my mind are you, then? The annoying part?
Very funny. I’m your subconscious, stupid. I’m your voice of reason. I’m your conscience.
Zip it, Jiminy Cricket! I don’t believe you! I’m a fluffy, not a human!
You just proved it! A fluffy wouldn’t even know who Jiminy Cricket is! A house fluffy, maybe! But you grew up on the streets! When’s the last time you even saw a television? Oh, I know when!
Don’t say it!
It was when you were human! In your past life!
My past what?
You really don’t remember, do you? I do. I don’t know why, but I remember everything you did in your first life.
So who was I in my first life?
A terrible person.
That’s it? You’re not going to tell me more?
I thought you didn’t want to hear it?
I-- you-- stop messing with me!
I start running, as fast as I can. I keep my eyes shut and scream as loud as I can.
Hey, shouldn’t you be looking where you’re going?
SHUT UP!!! I SAID SHUT UP!!!
Then I run into something.
I open my eyes and see a pair of human legs.
I don’t even get a chance to look up and see who they belong to before they pull out a gun.
FWIP
I find myself surrounded by darkness.
Are you happy now, jackass? Now you’ve gotten us killed again.
You said that dead doesn’t mean gone.
But it’s not up to us to decide.
Then who is it up to?
On cue, two individuals appear.
Two skeletal figures, one human, one fluffy, both in black hooded cloaks.
Only then do I realise that I am at eye level with the human one.
And only then do I remember who they are.
Because I’ve only just remembered that I’ve met them before.
Oh God, I remember everything. I really was human.
And I really was a terrible person.
I told you so!
The Death of Humans speaks to me, his eyes burning red.
AZRAEL GAVE YOU A SECOND CHANCE, CHRISTIAN ELLIS. HE DID EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER TO ENSURE THAT YOU WOULD LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO MAKE THE MOST OF IT. AND YOU WASTED IT. YOU HAVE DONE NOTHING TO EARN A THIRD CHANCE.
So does the Death of Fluffies, his eyes burning red too.
YU JUS MADE AWW DA SAME MISTAKES, AWW OBA AGAIN. YU HAF NU WEAWNED A FING.
It’s not my fault! I tried to talk some sense into him!
THAT IS WHY THERE WILL BE SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES FOR YOU.
You can hear me?
YES, I CAN HEAR YOU. ALL YOU HAVE NOW ARE THOUGHTS, MR. ELLIS.
I speak up next.
“What fucking special circumstances can there be for a fucking voice in my head?”
IT IS NO MERE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD, MR. ELLIS. IT IS THE ONE PART OF YOUR SOUL THAT IS UNTAINTED BY THE EVILS YOU HAVE COMMITTED. THE ONE PART OF YOUR SOUL THAT TRULY KNOWS WHAT YOU ARE. THE ONE PART OF YOU THAT CAN STILL BE CALLED INNOCENT. SO THAT PART OF YOUR SOUL WILL BE SEPARATED FROM THE REST OF YOU. AND YES, IT IS POSSIBLE TO SPLIT A SOUL INTO PIECES. YOU CAN’T DESTROY A SOUL, BUT YOU CAN SEPARATE IT.
DAT PAWT OF YU SOUW AM GUIN UP DEWE. GESS WHEWE DA WEST OF YU SOUW AM GUIN.
“I can’t believe this shit. You can’t split a fucking soul! Souls aren’t even real!”
BELIEVE IT, CHRISTIAN ELLIS. SOULS ARE VERY MUCH REAL, AND THEY CAN BE SPLIT. YOU CAN ASK CHRISTOPHER AND JAMES OLDMAN WHEN YOU GET TO WHERE YOU’RE GOING. THEY CAN TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT.
“Who the fuck are Christopher and James Oldman?”
YOU’LL FIND OUT.
Well, shit, guess this is it.
You got anything else to say before you go, asshole?
Yeah. Fuck you, I tried to help you, but you just wouldn’t fucking listen to me. This is all your fault.
INDEED. I DARE SAY THAT CHRISTOPHER OLDMAN WILL FIND A KINDRED SPIRIT IN YOU, MR. ELLIS. YOU’LL HAVE PLENTY OF TIME TO GET ACQUAINTED.
The Death of Humans lifts up his scythe.
He wasn’t holding it before.
CHRISTIAN ELLIS?
“Yes?”
ENJOY THE BARBECUE IN HELL.
He swings his scythe, and then things get even darker.
“Christian Ellis. What a fucking piece of work. Whaddya think, sir? Would THIS American Psycho wannabe asshole make a good demon?”
“FUUUUUCK NO! You heard the Boss, Tu’mf’sn! We’re not turning ANY more abusers into demons! They just come out the other end as stupid little cunts with swollen egos, like those two fucking Oldmans! Those abusers all think they’re hot shit because they killed a bunch of weak, stupid pig-horses! And pride is the Boss’ thing, you know that!”
“So what should we do with him, sir?”
“Throw him into the Pit of Infinite Anthrax-Filled Tarantulas With Big Dicks. The three stooges are already in there, so he’ll have company for the next few million years. They’d have made shitty demons too.”
“We should probably just build a new circle for all of these abusers. R&D’s already been working on a few ironic punishments for them.”
“Like reincarnating this asshole as a fluffy wasn’t ironic enough? That was a pretty clever move on the Big Boss’ part, I’ll admit.”
“The Big Boss knew this guy would just piss his second chance away.”
“Yeah, but he still GAVE Ellis here a chance. Because the Big Boss is FAIR. You hear that? You didn’t HAVE to be here, Ellis. You’re here because you just couldn’t stop being a cunt. Who’s on duty at the Pit today, Tu’mf’sn?”
“I think it’s P’thr, sir. Oh, here he comes now, looks like he already knows the score.”
“Oh yes. Come along, you. Welcome to my parlour, said the spider to the fly!”
“HAAAAAA! Nice one, P’thr!”
“P’thr always crushes it on Comedy Night, sir!”
Like teenagers, demons have rather low standards for comedy.
But not as low as their standards for new demons, after the Oldman breakout.
Though Christian Ellis probably wouldn’t have made the cut before that.
He was never as important or as special as he thought he was.