Abandoned Angel
Part 23: The Sorriest of Sorry Boxes
Robert spent the evening playing with Bright, Brave and Robin. Bright, the yellow and blue earth deaf earth type, rolled the ball to Robin. Robin, the red and pink mute Pegasus rolled the ball to Robert. In his lap sat Brave, the monochrome red blind unicorn. It was too much trouble for Brave to join in the fluffy games, so he contented himself to cuddling.
The fluffies were kept occupied all night, Robert wanted to keep them distracted from the incident with Angel. Angel, his blue and green Pegasus that was currently locked in her sorry box. âOkay, boys, itâs bedtime. Put the toys away and get into bed.â Robert picked up Brave and carried the foal to the bed. Was âfoalâ the correct term anymore? They were about two weeks old, and getting close to full size, or so Robert assumed.
Robin trotted happily over to the ball, pushing it to the box. Bright following suit with a block. Bright never took initiate unless it involved instigating play time. Bright always took his cues from Robin, Robert noticed. Robert was pleased that Bright and Robin managed to put all the toys away, especially doing so without any fuss. He gave each a hug and set them next to Brave making a warm fluff pile on the bed.
Brave lifted his head, âNu Angel?â
âNot tonight. Angel was a bad fluffy. Bad fluffies get tummy owies. Lots of owies. Bad fluffies sleep in the sorry box. Now, go to sleep. Angel will be back tomorrow.â Robert turned off the light, maybe a bit of fear will keep them in line too. So far they had been well mannered for fluffies, more so than Angel.
Robert opened the door to the garage. It had been several hours since Angel was put in the sorry box. He hated using the box but sometimes his fluffy just didnât learn. He did not turn the light on, the only illumination from the doorway. Angelâs eyes were held tightly shut. Her voice softly crying, âhuuu owies⌠weggie owies⌠huuu⌠tummy owies⌠su cowd!â Her crying got louder when she opened her eyes. âDaddeh! Wub daddeh! Wet outta sowwy bawks! Cowd! Owies!â
âWhy are you in the sorry box?â Robert had no intention of letting her out of the box, not yet at least.
âAngel bad fwuffy! Su cowd! Tummy haf owies, nu smeww pwetty⌠Weggies owies. Daddeh? Pwease? Pwease wet out! PWEASE! DADDEH!â Angel begged and pleaded for her daddy, but he did not save her.
âWhy are you in the sorry box?â
âAngel nu know!â Her voice cracked. âSu hungwyâŚâ
âWhy didnât you get dinner? I made so much food. The foals ate it all. They were so full of nummies.â Maybe this is why Mary would torture her fluffies, he could only surmise that it got quicker results that his methods of trying to train and correct Angelâs poor behavior.
âAngel wan nummies, buh daddeh nu wub Angel!â
âAnd thatâs why youâre staying in the sorry box. See you in the morning.â Robert closed the door, leaving Angel shrouded in darkness once again.
Angel cried. Angel begged. Angel pleaded. âDaddeh! PWEASE! WUB DADDEH! HuuuuâŚ.! Weggies owies⌠tummy owies⌠nee huggies! Nu smeww pwetty! Daddeh! Daddeh? Pwease? Wobin? Bwave? Bwight? Pwease?â Silence. Alone, Angel shivered in the cramped sorry box.
No one answered her cries, her voice strained, he throat dry and aching. Time passed, but she couldnât tell. She wanted to lay down, her legs hurt her so, but couldnât. She wanted to sleep but the cold kept her awake. Everything was uncomfortable. Her backside itched from the shit drying and sticking to her skin and fur. Her stomach rumbled with a sharp pang.
Angel would have done anything, said anything to get out. If only she knew what to say to get her daddeh to let her out. If her daddeh told her to tell him she was a bad fluffy, sheâd say it. If her daddeh told her to tell him she only wanted to eat poopies, sheâd say it. Anything. She wanted the owies to go away. She wanted her daddeh to swoop down and save her, shower her with hugs and love and nummies. She just wanted him to love her.
Robert waited, hearing Angel cry on the other side of the door. He hated punishing her, truly hated it. Yet, as was necessary with fluffies, they need to be disciplined with the stick or the box. Sometimes both. It hurt him hearing her call for the other fluffies for help, especially for Bright. He looked at his phone, time for another emotionally draining task to fight through.
Grabbing a beer he started re-reading the text messages Mary sent. 47. 47 text messages since he last saw her. It had been a long time since he was in a relationship, maybe this was normal. She didnât try to call him, but the messages were staring at him, with their electronic unblinking overly attached eyes. Each message a variation of the last, âHow are you doing? Miss you!â âHow is your weekend? Love you!â âHow is our fluffy family?â âWe should spend time with them!â âMiss you!â â<3â
Robert had known Mary for a long, long time. They had mutual friends and had been drinking buddies on bar nights for many years. They had even been friends with benefits on occasion. He had never talked with their group about her, about her relationships, about her personal life, so all of this had come as a bit of a surprise. Biting the bullet, he responded:
-Hey! Been really busy, these little guys you gave me are wonderful! But QUITE the handful. Work, sleep, fluffies.-
Her response was quick, too quick, which made him wonder if she had been holding her phone, willing him to text. âThatâs great! I miss you! How about I come over tomorrow?-
-Sorry, I am stuck at the office late, big big meeting. May get fired.-
-Stop slacking off, you gotta make me into a house wife. Iâm a good cook.-
House wife? Holy fuck this woman is crazy! -I bet you are, Iâll drop you a line tomorrow after work.-
-Who were those two women that left your hose on Satruday?-
Robert stared at the screen. No matter how many times, the text didnât change. How the hell did she know he has Erin and Susan over? Mentally he adds âstalkerâ to her list of issues. âTheyâre coworkers. They wanted to see the fluffies. Itâs cool, theyâre lesbian.- Lie. Lie as fast and as hard as his fingers could type!
-Okay! Would hate to be you if you were cheating on me. Good night, honey sweetie pie! Love you! <3!-
What had he gotten into? Good thing he really had a meeting at work, Robert thought, otherwise what would she do if she found him lying to her? And for Mary to be professing her love after her gift of three crippled fluffies? Wow. Robert needed out. And badly.
Robert peeked into the safe room, his fluffy family fast asleep. He didnât bother checking on Angel again, he would deal with her in the morning. Climbing into bed he shot off an email to Dave, his boss, saying he was going to come in an hour late. Sleep soon came, filled with dreams of screaming fluffies being driven before a laughing Mary.