a week later
You are zhāng. You are trying to enjoy your breakfast, and somewhat failing. You keep it in both hands and leave the morning paper flat on the table. Every two seconds your place on the paragraph is a blur of blue and orange. Just past your peripheral vision there’s a small cacophony of inane babble. Circling around you a playful jeer of “Fwuffy gon’ get chu’!” Is met with “Nebah gon’ catch fwuffy! Fwuffy fas’!”
Off at a distance you’re trying to ignore, a blue-green fluff ball prods at a squeaky toy and says “mousie fwiend wan pway?” He presses hard enough for it to chirp in distress and falls back with a small “wah!” He immediately starts to sob and whimper. His brighter green sister drops the feather on a string she was dancing with and wraps him in a hug. He mutters apologies of “fwuffy nu mean tuhuuhuu” as she pets him. The red one puffs out his cheeks and stomps over to the toy. He roughly shoves it to its side and stares down at it. He releases his cheek puff to scream in impotent rage “you make bwudda’ cwy! Fwuffy gib big stompies!” He steps on it harder letting out a louder squeek. The blue-green one cries harder. This isn’t even all of them. You can hear the other three down the hall.
The speed at which these things grow up is astounding. In the course of one week you’ve seen them go from blind and feeble, to seeing and feeble, to walking and talking, to becoming a pain in the ass. They’re still young but Lèsè has stopped calling them babies so they must be growing up. Had to look up what she meant by colt and filly.
She’s been good about raising them. Even told you before you realized when they were close to weaning. Insatiable pests. There’s still time before they’re fully grown but you often wonder how many you really need.
You sigh as the orange one attempts to suddenly stop in front of you, and drags your poor paper and the other fluffy off the table. You glance at them and see the two fluffies tangled together in the paper. They seem more interested in hugging away the bumps and bruises than getting out. Off in the corner the bright green one walks up to them and hugs them both. The other green one wipes away his tears while the red one is bouncing on the toy rising higher with each stomp. “Why. Yu. Nu. 'Powagize!” He screams at the helpless rubber rat.
Lèsè walks up to you with her yellow child trailing close behind. He keeps his mother between you and only pokes his head around the side to peek at you. She places a hoof on your shin and says “Mistew? Can yu hewp fwuffy?” She’s been good about not bothering you so it must be important.
You stand up and she turns towards the hall her baby sprinting to stay ahead. When you flick on the hall light you hear a scream of “EEEE! Tu bwight! Tu hawt! Buwnies! Daddeh hewp!” Without a word you reach into the open topped diffuser bulb on the wall sconce. You pluck out the pink one and tap her towards the living room telling her “go play.” She takes the first few steps gingerly but just as quickly the pain disappears and she rushes off to join her siblings.
You’ve learned not to question how these things get themselves into such situations. The other day one of them asked to play hide and seek and you took it as an excuse to enjoy some peace and quiet. You found it accidentally when grabbing a knife from the drawer to make dinner. It doesn’t make sense how it could get so far off the ground, open the drawer, or close it again. It’s like it was simply magnetically pulled to the spot with the most sharp objects.
When you check on the spare room you’ve been keeping them the situation is obvious. There’s a tiny pile of shit on the floor next to their ‘child friendly’ book and some blocks. The purple one is mounted on the edge of the litterbox, her hooves just curled over the lip. She calls out to you when you enter.
“Daddeh hewp! Mummah put fwuffy in wittabox an’ nu wet out! Pwease wet fwuffy out of wittabox!” You kneel down to be closer to her level.
“Maybe you should stay in the box. It seems you do not know how to use it correctly.” She gets a sad look and her whining raises in pitch.
“Bu’ fwuffy nu make bad poopies! Nu du anyfing wong! Was jus’ weadin’ in da sunwight.” So a careless shitter and a liar. The book and the shit are nowhere near the sunbeam.
“Are you sure? The book seems rather close to it.” Better to let her think she can trick you. Let her have plenty of leash to hang herself.
“Dats cuz mummah moved it! Nu was fwuffy!” Blaming each other is a new trick. Let’s see if she can handle a push.
“And why would she do that?” Her face screws up in confused panic. Seems she didn’t think this far ahead.
“Fwuffy nu kno’! Mummah jus’ did!” Wrong answer. It’s a shame really. Why bother telling a lie if you’re not going to try to make it believable? You take her out of the litterbox and set her on the floor. She tries to thank you but get cut off by you shoving her face in the shit pile. She struggles for a second and comes up sputtering and coughing. Despite her efforts her muzzle is still tinged brown.
“Ewww, nu smeww pwetty.” She cries trying not to breathe through her nose.
“Good” you reply simply “think about this smell and try to do better. Tonight you will get a bath. It may not be comfortable but then you will smell pretty again.” Hard to believe you’re talking like these things now. You pull a scrap of old newspaper out of your pocket and clean up the shit. Seems you’re carrying more and more things like this wherever you go. With amusement you find the book is upside down the shit near its top. You thought big pictures, small words, and thick cardboard pages were enough to get them to read but it seems they’re utterly hopeless.
You feel Lèsè tapping on you again.“Fank you fow cweanies mistah’. Can fwuffy ask wun mowe fing?” Seems she’s intent to ask. May as well hear her request.
“What is it Lèsè?” She shifts from hoof to hoof already nervous.
“Can babbehs hab namesies?” A frivolous and easily granted request. It couldn’t be easier to make her day.
“No.” You reply, not really caring to come up with eight names on the spot. And with that you leave to finish your paper.
much closer to the ground
You are Lèsè and you are so frustrated you could cry. You just can’t understand why the monster daddy would be so mean. You spent days trying to find a way to get you and your babies out. Other than the meanie too high balcony every door just lead to a room. No way outside at all. Now your babies are too big to carry. There are too many to watch over them all. If your babies ever want out they need to run away on their own. It’s just not fair. He gave you a name so why wouldn’t he give names to your babies? Doesn’t he know babies need names? Everyone knows that, even fluffies!
Your purple pointy baby is crying. She’s trying turn the pages of her book but her hooves can’t move them well. She usually just used her mouth to grab them but she can’t bring herself to let the icky poopies touch it. Her pretty brother is crying with her. He looks at you hurt and confused.
“Why teww daddeh sissy made bad poopies when she nu did it?” You’re not sure he would understand if you told him. How do you tell someone you chose them to live instead of someone else. You’d rather he never learn just how bad a monster daddy really is.
“Nebah tawk abou’ dis again. Daddeh can nebah kno’ it was yu. And yu need tu weawn not tu do dat. Yu nee’ tu be gud fwuffy if yu wan’ gud daddeh.” You can already tell he forgot everything as you said it. You really wish he could be smart as his sister.
“Buh’ wut’s wong wit dis daddeh? Daddeh’s a gud daddeh!” He was too young. He doesn’t remember the others. Even when daddy held your purple baby down you weren’t sure he would let her up to breathe. If he finds out he was tricked he might come back and do just that, and he only knows which of you would be punished.
“Jus’ wememba’! Nu can teww daddeh, an’ nee’ tu find gud daddeh. It’s a secwet.” He sniffles at you. He’s shivering and he looks worried.
“Fwuffy nu wike secwet game.” If he tells daddy it could be trouble for all of you. Your mind races to find some way to help him stick to it.
“Nu be siwwy, babbeh. Secwets am funsies! Yu want one yu wiww weawwy wike?” He nods unsure how adding more secrets and heart hurties will make things better You lean in with a conspirational hush. “Yu am my bestest babbeh.” He gasps as his eyes widen.
“Weawwy mummah?” He asks having never experienced such gravitas in anything he’s heard before.
“Yes, but wememba, nu can teww anybody! Das a big secwet.” He nods dumbly, and wanders away still in shock. You might have to tell the other babies the same, but for him it’s true. You’ve only seen a foal that pretty once before and it was taken by a nice human the same bright time it was born. That was the only time you saw a nice human actually come back for a fluffy. She sat and read a story about three bears to all of you while they slowly came out of hiding. You clapped and giggled all the way through and afterwards she named her pretty baby on the spot and left with him in hand. The pretty baby was amazing then and it’s even more unbelievable you could have one just as pretty now.
Even that nice human gave her fluffy a name. A name is one of the best things a human can give a fluffy. You’ve seen fluffies missing see places hear places leggies teeth or even fluff but nothing can take away a name.
Collar friends valued their names the most. Even when the collar friends get dirty and sickly, when their stories of owners lost details as they forgot their old life they would remember the name they were given. They could forget the color of the safe room, what toys they had, the taste of skettis, even whether they had a mommy or a daddy, but never their name. When their pretty collar got thin and fell off they would sit with it and cry and cry. Some would get so many heart hurties they would die right there. Others would just repeat their name over and over trying to hang onto the last part of home they had left. You can’t say you blame them.
Human names are the best names! There was a fluffy as pretty as your pretty fluffy but only in the mane; The rest of her was still a very pretty white. She had the name sky ball. Lots of humans liked her and talked about adopting her, but they always laughed and left when they heard her name.
A nice human gave her a human name, monroe, even though he couldn’t take her in. You didn’t understand why he called her that but humans loved her even more after that. She had a new owner the next bright time. Smarty was so mad when she left. She had been left behind at the last second so many times she dared not risk them leaving by asking about babies. Those were bad times. Lots of stomping and screaming to get mummahs to care for extra babies. Lots of babies didn’t make it and not all of them sky ball’s. And the ones that did survive…
Your babies need names and NOW. Fluffy names may not be good as daddy names but they’re far better than no name. The only fluffies that don’t have names are fluffies that never had a mommy or daddy. Fluffies that noone will miss. Fluffies that noone loves. The kind of fluffy monster daddies prefer the most.
“Babbeh!” You call to him. He snaps out of his daze and looks at you.
“Yes mummah?” You hear your purple baby chime back. You stifle a groan. This would be easier one at a time, but that’s just one more reason to name them properly.
“Come hewe. Babbehs am gettin’ namesies!” She quirks her head when she approaches.
“Buh daddeh say nu am gibben namesies.” She’s nice and obedient. Not sure if that’s good or bad with monster daddy around.
“Daddeh nu am. Buh mummah wiww!” She lights up with a smile to melt your heart.
“Yay! Fank yu mummah! Fwuffy wub name!” She prances and rears in joy. You can’t imagine how she’ll react when you actually give it to her.
“Das wight! Yu get namesie jus’ aftew bwudda.” She stops and pouts with the slightest cheek puff.
“Aww why does he get namesie fiwst?” You give a gentle boop to pop that puffed cheek and she laughs it away.
“Jus’ does. Wait youw tuwn ow yu get youws wast.” You turn your head so she can’t see you wink to your pretty baby. He giggles understanding. He’s safe. She’s still sad but doesn’t say anything.
You stare into his hopeful, expectant eyes as you try to remember a name. You really wish you knew as much as a daddy. You once saw a big window filled with lots of fluffies. They were stacked as tall as a daddy and stacks were stretched out next to each other as far as you could see until they formed walls of fluffies. There were multiple walls each a different color but the daddies and mommies inside moved about naming each of them, and each was unique.
There was a red one called cinnabar! You still don’t know what it means but it sounded delicious. With a pang of sorrow you remember the other litters. The ones you never got to meet. Red fits, better to not remind daddies of food when looking for a home. You didn’t get to see any of the blue ones they were too far and they wouldn’t let you in. The one looks a lot like his daddy jade. He always hated that name though, said it made other stallions think he was a mare. He always wished he was named, oh what was it… teal! That’s the name he wanted! There were those three right next to the window the citrus triplets. Lime could fit the one and maybe tangerine for another, but Lemon doesn’t seem good enough for your pretty baby.
You try to remember what the nice lady named that pretty baby but you weren’t listening hard enough. You just remember her soft voice and the story about the bears and the porridge and… “gowdie” you say at last. A wide grin spreads accross his face as joy seems to swell up to his ears then spill out filling the room
“Fank yu mummah! Gowdie wub nyu namesie!”
in the kitchen
You are zhāng. Your kitchen is being swarmed by excited fluffies. It seems the mother decided to name them herself. You were curious if she would show some creativity but she seems lacking. Most of them are just whatever color they are. You’re hardly surprised. Still it’s more useful than you thought being able to call for them individually. They actually listen when you tell them not to do something and you can keep looking the same way. Small progress but still more than you had hoped for these things.
It’s been a good day and you’ve been looking for a reason to celebrate anyway. You reach into the sack you hadn’t bothered to sort through and pull out a green can. You’re met with the smiling face of a fluffy eating its way down a river of noodles and sauce that stretches all the way around the can to the other side. “Happy fluff sketti!” It proudly declares over the logo.
It was pure luck that you found an unopened can on the feeding conveyor for the recycling macerator. You asked the guy at the power control box about it and he told you about it. Not right away of course he was a chatty work visa type. Kept asking stupid questions about “Who puts a safety cover on an emergency stop button?” and “Can I have the keys so I can push it if needed?” If his wages weren’t subsidized for finding work for a visa holder, you’d fire him for even suggesting that. Your entire job is making sure the line doesn’t stop and he wants to stop it without your input. Fucking westerners.
Eventually he did explain the can. Some cheap italian american hybrid food to satisfy the poor. This was some cheaper form for fluffy pets. Luckily you didn’t need to pay import cost it was canned locally and exported to them. Only a sucker would pay full retail so you found the factory, followed some of the workers out at closing, and for the price of a few rounds of beer you were getting “marked for destruction” cans on the cheap.
You grab the pull tab minding the red pock marks on the lid and pull it off. You overturn the can over the wok and the contents fall out with a sickening heavy thud. You can still see the ridges of the can in the congealed red-yellow cylinder.
These cans were too ugly for export with dents dings rust spots or buckling out bloated ends. Still the minscule cost of one yuan a can made you concerned over just how much foodstuff was in these cans.
As you crush the contents of a few more cans into the melting mass you catch a splattering drop near the bottom and give it a taste. The cloying tomato paste made you cringe in disgust. You feel a consoling hoof on your shin.
“Wha’s wong? Daddeh no wike nummies?” Lime is staring up at you. Her head is tilted in curiosity but she doesn’t seem concerned.
“It’s sweeter than american breakfast” you explain. She just giggles at you.
“Just wike fwuffy!” She exclaims. She has a point. If these things are for american children they probably eat the same too. You just sigh and fill the biggest bowl you have. You can’t fix it but at least its warm.
“Who wants skettis?” You call as you walk into the living room. Seven fluffy heads shoot up clamoring for the treat. Strangely you don’t see the yellow one usually attached at the hip to Lèsè, and Ròu lèsè herself is firmly sat right where she was.
“D-das otay mistew! Fwuffy wike wice nummies! Nu nee’ skettis!” She says apparently struggling to lay there without moving. Red is the first to complain. He runs up and props himself against her as he speaks.
“Quiet mummah! Daddeh gon’ gib skettis!” The stare she directs at him is cold enough to kill. She only lets it last long enough to hush him before returning her perfectly earnest smile to you. At least her tells are consistent.
“Lèsè where is goldie?” Her eyes betray her immediately. She twists to rest on one hip. Her flat legs still jerk about as though struck with a twitch.
“Mummah nu knu. Wiww find fow nummies watew.” She’s still moving in ways you’ve never seen her try. The others are all trying to see if they can see him.
“We can’t have skettis without him. You should know what he’s gotten into.” The others are growing desperate. A few are even walking to check the other rooms for him. She suddenly untwists to get her hooves under her. Her hind quarters raise a little as though suddenly uncomfortable.
“Come on mummah! Nee’ bwudda fow skettis!” The red one is pleading again. Lèsè has dropped any fascade of joy and is mumbling protests while shaking her head in small tight movements. Her hind leg shifts to the side as though kicked out from under her. A shiny fluffy head appears in the gap in front of the leg.
“Gowdie hewe daddeh! Am sketti time? Nee’ gowdie hewp?” No sooner had he gotten free when Lèsè pulled him close, her front hoof wrapped around his chest. You frown at her behavior but there’s no point throwing away a meal already made up.
“No need. Just making sure all of you share.” You set the bowl on the ground and barely have time to let go before their inquisitive noses push you out of the way.
“Oh poopies.” Lèsè says and sighs a deep breath you hadn’t known she was holding. She drops her hoof back to the ground and goldie rushes out to join his siblings.
“Aren’t you going to join them?” You ask plainly. She seems to be panting and looks unsteady on her hooves.
“Wiww soon. Jus’ need cawm down.” You shrug and leave them to it. It’s her own fault if she manages to go hungry while you’re feeding her all the time.
One empty bowl of spaghetti later
You are goldie. Today has been the best day ever! You found out you’re mamas bestest, you got named, and daddy gave you skettis! You can still savor the taste and the smell after it’s gone. You and your brothers and sissies are currently busy cleaning sauce off of each others fluff. It tickles but you need it to look pretty. Your mama is trying to clean herself too but it takes forever without help. She keeps licking her hoof and rubbing her nose with it but it only smudges the red stains a bit, and she can’t see where she’s already clean. You can’t help but smile and wag your tail as you canter up to her.
“Mummah nee’ hewp?” You ask cheerfully. She looks at you with a silly expression. Her cheeks are puffed out and its almost like her eyebrows and her mouth are trying to cross each other. Actually she looks… mad. Big and mad. But why would she be mad? Everyone else is so happy! You feel her hoof as it presses into your nose. She pushes so hard you tumble backwards. “Owwies! Mummah why!?” You cry out in shock. She booped you! That wasn’t a friendly boop either! Your nose still has that stinging numb feeling.
“Bad fwuffy.” She growls the words in a voice so dark they hurt worse than the boop. The others have stopped cleaning themselves. They look at you concerned. You can’t believe she would say something like that. Are you not her bestest anymore?
“Wha’? Wha’ fwuffy du?” You try not to let the tears in your eyes show. It isn’t going well.
“Fwuffy nee’ wisten tu mummah. When mummah say hidies yu hidies!” That doesn’t make any sense. Mummah just sat down on you and told you not to move because daddy was coming. Daddy is a good thing!
“Buh’ daddeh bwing skettis!” You try to protest. She wrinkles her nose in disgust. Her scoff cuts deeper. Your nose feels warm and wet. Something runs to your lips. It tastes metallic.
“Yu otay ‘dis time. Yu may nu be otay nex’ time. Yu nu can twust daddeh tu hab gud pwan eben if sound gud.” You have no idea how skettis could possibly be bad. It seems like mummah is just being a meanie. Why can’t she understand skettis are good for fluffies?
“Daddeh am gud daddeh! Nu wouwd be meanie wike… wike yu!” You hear your siblings gasp. She spins around to face you angrier than ever. She pokes you in the chest, not hard but enough to put you on your back. You stare up as she walks over you and lifts one hoof high in the air. Your eats flatten as you’re suddenly very afraid. She holds there a moment her face screwing up tighter. She looks away and stomps heavily next to your head before walking off.
Some of your siblings help you back up and start cleaning your nose. The sauce looks brighter and thinner than before. You know you went too far with that. You don’t want mama to be a meanie, and a meanie mama wouldn’t want you as her bestest. Mama is just… silly. She’s a dummy because she gets too scared about daddy, that’s all. She’ll learn to trust again. After all daddy would have to be a real monster to justify her fears.
two weeks later
You are blue. You’re stacking blockies with your brother tangerine. You always liked playing with tangerine even before he was named that. He lifts the wooden box up so delicately. His fore limbs so gentle, his hind limbs rippling with strain to compensate. “Cawefuw.” You try to warn.
You’re close to building the best tower ever. It wasn’t so tall but it was hard work to nudge them together until the inside gaps dissappeared. The two of you had knocked over the top blocks many times trying to make it nice and even.
“Awmos’ dewe bwue.” He says too focused to look. For a moment his belly flexes. You gasp in subconscious horror. He’s so close to falling backwards, but so close to getting the seventh block on top. The block slips from his hooves and you’re about to cry, when you see he meant to let it slip. It fell just onto the top but it shifted over just a bit.
“No wowwy sissie. Tangewine fix.” You bite your lip in concern. You had been the fixer for the four before. Your nose was more careful and he wouldn’t have the lines to help him get it right in the middle. It was too tall for you to reach now, but you know he could.
He had been bragging about his long legs for several bright times. He loved moving so close you had no choice but to look up to talk to him. He even pushed his head down onto yours telling you you were the perfect height for a pillow standing up. You tried to tell him you weren’t that short or to do the same to him so he saw how mean it was but you couldn’t reach. He just laughed and called you cute. That just made you madder but he insisted it made you cuter.
You watch as he presses gentle as he can. The blockie shifts bit by bit always threatening to tip up and off. He pushes with his tongue just managing to keep it balanced. You watch from below as the side sticking out gets smaller and smaller… and dissappears! You rush to the other side bit it isn’t sticking out there either! “We did it!” You cry and pounce into him. He rolls with the impact but the two of you land softly on your shared bed and you’re both laughing in excitement.
You hug him tight as you can and press yourself as deep into him. He has such a wonderful scent. You try to find the words for it but it’s beyond anything you’ve felt in your short life. It’s a smell of wholesome dirt and fresh grass. The smell or evening mist showers and morning dew. It’s a warm smell that comes in to the heart and spreads through you from there. You nuzzle in tighter and sigh happily.
You hear a snort nearby and see your brother red looking down on you. “What yu doin’ dummy?” He asks accusingly.
“Jus’ stackin’ bwockies wif tangewine.” Your sigh turns to exasperation.
“Wed gud at stackin’. why not pway wif wed?” He moreso tries to command than question you.
“Nu wan’ pway wif wed, onwy tangewine!” You state annoyed. His eyes flash with anger.
“Fine den.” He says calmly and walks over to your tower.
“Nu!” You cry sitting up but it’s too late. He’s already kicked it down. He makes a point of sitting down and stacking some of them forcefully. You really don’t like him sometimes.
You wouldn’t call any of your siblings a meanie but if any of them were it would be red. He was just so angry, so demanding, and he smelled too. He smelled kind of like tangerine really but on him it was different. It was stronger and left you with that feeling daddy’s curry nummies had. It hurt your eyes and burned your nose. You tried to explain it to mama once and she told you that’s how all stallions are, it only smelled bad because he was her brother. You tried explaining that tangerine didn’t smell like that but she just looked at you funny and said “he should.”
You snort at him and try to ignore him. “Is okay.” Tagerine tells you trying to calm you down. “Can aways buiwd again.” He’s right of course. Somehow it doesn’t make it better.
“Jus’ wish it wasn’ so hawd.” You whine to noone in particular.
“If tu hawd can stack fwuffies instead.” he says grinning at you. You match his grin wondering at his plan.
“What yu mean by dat?” You ask trying to be coy. It sounds plain enough but you doubt it. He rolls you onto your back and lays on top of you his legs locked over yours.
“Dewe’s two” he says with a laugh. His lips are practically pressed you yours and you can feel his every breath on your face. Your heart flutters faster and faster and you wonder if he can feel it as you feel his. There’s a tingling sensation an anticipation running like lightning accross your skin. You barely want to speak lest it escape in shrill shrieks and giggles. You wait seemingly forever wondering which of you will move. Move towards, what exactly you don’t know, but the idea gives you more energy than a sugar rush. Finally you break the silence daring him to act when you can’t bring yourself to.
“Wha’ are we goin’ tu do on da bed, bwudda?” His eyes light up. A moment of panic, or maybe that same anticipation, pushing him to act. He softens again determined. Even though you’re already touching he feels somehow closer. It’s hard to keep your eyes open at the feeling of him. You stop fighting it and close them focusing on the feel of him. He’s so warm, and soft, and cold? Very cold! Very wet and cold!
at the other end of the spray bottle
You are zhāng and you are getting sick of fluffies. “Stop fucking you sister! Have enough mouths to feed without you two making more!” You scream at him continuing to douse the now shrieking fluffies.
“Wychi teww yu dey hab speciaw time soon. Wiww wan’ speciaw huggies.” You grit your teeth at her know it all attitude.
“Shut up.” You snap at her. She did actually tell you that. Pretty much word for word. What she didn’t tell you is what the hell that was supposed to mean. A million words to describe it and she chooses “special huggies.” You’ve known kids that said fuck before they could say mama. You didn’t think you’d have to teach these things to curse. You try to rub your eyes awake.
It’s been difficult getting to sleep recently. With so many adolescent fluffies around the little moans and grunts never fully stopped. They were even happening now while you were still in the room! You just needed some quiet. They just needed to shut up!
Zhāng yanked the two sopping wet fluffies away from each other. “No fucking!” He screamed with an accusing finger. He turned to the quiet enf sounds in the corner. Goldie was too busy with a soft pillow to fully listen. He stomped once close enough to draw every eye in the room. “No humping!” Another judicial point knocked him sideways as he tried not to be seen. Zhāng turned back to a stifled moan at the door. Lime was gently moving up and down enjoying the subtle ridges of the meshed door hinge. “No scratching!” She ran to get away from the fingers ire. To his disgust he saw the hinge was starting to be discolored from its uneven attention. Another squeal drove his hackles up again and he turned on teal. He was going wild sucking and gnawing on a hoof. He sniffed loudly clearly enjoying the action. “No… that.” Zhābg said not sure of what he was looking at but not liking it all the same.
“Daddeh dey nu can hewp-” Lèsè began defending her kids.
“No food.” He snapped pointing at her suddenly. There was a confused murmur as everyone questioned this new rule. He left without responding to any of them directly. “You grounded. Stay in room.” He shut the door behind him locking them in. The latch was weak so they could let themselves out but it would take persistence.
He grabbed a box of takeout from the fridge and dumped it into a pot to reheat. ‘There are just too many of them.’ He thought. ‘Maybe if I got rid of the colts the rest would be manageable.’ He took out a scrap he’d ripped from a public phonebook and dialed the number.
“Hello, Beijing fluffmart, how can I help you!” A chipper voice answered. ‘Western. Figures.’
“You take drop off?” He asked briskly.
“Ooh sorry, fluffmart is not a shelter. We can’t take in outside fluffies so we can guarantee our high quality selection! Is there any other way I can help you?” The way she spoke was irritating but her voice was pretty. Worth it for short company.
“Just annoyed with fluffies. Can’t get to sleep with all these noises.”
“Well for particularly cuddly fluffs you might try a weighted blanket. We have a selection to ensure they’re feeling safe and won’t go calling for you. As for crying we have a number of night lights to scare off darkness and make sure your fluffy pal sleeps soundly.”
“No nothing like that. They know better than to bother me. They’re just up all night with the enf enf enf it drives me crazy.”
“Ah.” She remarked audibly embarassed. “Well if you want to cut down that behavior you could try extra walks.” He hadn’t expected that response.
“And this works?” He could hear the slap of the cord as she nodded in response. ‘An idiot but a cute one.’
“Of course! It won’t remove that desire altogether but a lack of proper exercise can and does drive up their likelihood to misbehave. We have a number of leads to take them yourselves or traction wheels to let them hit a full sprint without moving an inch! If you want to fully remove that possibility though I’d recommend you spay and nueter them. The procedure we offer is very afforda-”
The phone clicked as he hung up on her. He wasn’t looking to spend even more on these worthless creatures. Still he might have to make time for walks. He went out often enough, why not take them with him.
He dumped a pack of noodles into the pot and flipped it to a plate. It wasn’t a great meal but it would do. He opened up the brown paper bag and shook out a few medicinals. They weren’t as big as proper unicorn horns or dicks and they would add a nice crunch. He’d hardly sat down when he was inturrupted.
“Daddeh, Mummah nee’s hewp!” red called to him. He sighed. Clearly they had wasted no time in opening up the door after he closed it on them.
“What is it red?” He stood tapping his hooves on the ground. Oddly they seemed more coordinated than the usual nervous tapping.
“Wed nu kno’! Mummah say big huwties! Nee’ daddeh hewp!” It wasn’t very descript but it was urgent. He dropped his fork and walked past red to the room. The door was only slightly ajar. Inside Lèsè was mumbling to one of her foals. ‘Some attempt at a last will and testament? Dramatic bitch.’ He opened the door and stepped in.
“What is it Lèsè” She looked up at him confused.
“Wha daddeh mean?” she asked.
“Don’t lie to me you sent for help. Said you hurt.” Her brow furrowed further and she kept a firm stare as she puzzled through it. She really wasn’t lying.
“Wychi nu sen’ fo’ nuffin. Am fine.” She craned her head as far as it would go but still couldn’t think of what he meant.
“One of you is lying. Red!” At this she bolted up with some sudden understanding.
“Mummah kno’! Oh, am hab bad huwties in hoofsie! Pwease hewp daddeh!” She tried to grab his attention but he was already looking for red. She sprinted ahead of him on four working legs to complain.
“Hoofsie suuu huwties! Nu can eben use!” It did nothing to dissuade him as she suddenly began to limp alternating between hooves as she forgot which had the fake injury in her panic. As he neared the end of the short hall she grabbed the only thought her mind could grasp in its endless fear.
“Wook at da dancin’ babbeh! Dancin babbeh fow yu! Pwease wook daddeh! Daddeh wook!” but he wasn’t looking. He stood at the end of the hall staring out. She approached and saw what he was staring at. There on the table was Red gleefully tucking into HIS food. She gasped softly suddenly heartbroken.
“Daddeh nuu.” She softly crooned not knowing what to expect but knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it. She had raised a bad babbeh and now that babbeh was going to suffer because she wasn’t a good enough mummah.
He stared disbeleiving. He told them no food and minutes later red tried to find food for himself. What’s more he had tricked him into leaving so he could steal it from him. He had even come up with a ploy without his mothers help. He stepped forward and did the only thing he could with this situation. He laughed. It was a brassy belly laugh that caused both fluffies in the room to jump in fear. He sat down at the table and started stroking red’s mane.
“A good trick little one. Very well done.” Red was a little embarassed and worried about being caught sauce smeared.
“F-fank yu daddeh.” He said his tail cautiously wiggling behind him.
“You should have taken this elsewhere. It is better to not be around when your mark finds they are ripped off.” both red and his mother were confused. It sounded like their daddeh was somehow… proud of what he had done.
“O-otay daddeh. N-nu gon’ do nuffin fow fwuffy steawin’ nummies?” He asked hopefully.
“Oh no we definitely need to do something about that.” He said. Red winced waiting to find out what terrible punishment awaited him. “Red is such a dull name. There must be a thousand red fluffies. Why don’t we call you Měng lóng instead?” Měng lóng blinked before realizing what he meant. A human name! mummah said human names were the best!
“Fank yu daddeh!” He screamed as he launched himself into a flying hug. Ròu lèsè was stunned. She had expected to lose a babbeh from what she’d seen and instead her daddy was even happier than he usually was. She couldn’t understand it but she couldn’t afford not to try and use it.
“Um, daddeh?” She asked meekly half expecting this all to be a trick.
“Yes Lèsè?” He asked friendly as ever.
“Can oda babbehs hab namesies tuu?” He looked at her perplexed.
“Why? what wrong with names they have?”
