“Okay,” said Frank, “So here’s what we know so far. The kids found the baby, in the alleyway, with a pair of feral fluffies. For some reason, the kids assumed the fluffies stole or kidnapped the baby, and now we’ve got a mob of people outside the police department, howling for their blood.”
“Its a fucked up world Frank,” replied Joe, Frank’s new partner.
“What those neckbreathers outside don’t realise,” said Frank, reaching for another donut, “Is that an adult fluffy is barely strong enough to drag an eight pound baby, let alone steal one from its crib.”
“So where’d the baby come from Frank? They musta found it somewhere?”
“That,” admitted Frank, chewing on his donut, “is what we need to find out.”
“Okay, but Imma be bad cop this time. I ain’t huggin no fluffy. They stink like shit man.”
“That they do,” Frank admitted, “That they do.”
“So fluffy,” Joe said, staring down the green and brown fluffy with the meanest look he could muster. It was spread eagle handcuffed to the chair and soaking wet from its encounter with a high pressure fire hose. It still stank though “Are you gonna talk? Or do you want to talk to Mr Fire Hose again?”
“Y-yes,” Piglet whimpered, “Pigwet wiww talk. Nu wan meet Mista Fiwe Hose again.”
“Good. So why’d you steal the baby shit-rat? Were you gonna eat it?”
“Nu num babbeh!” Piglet squealed, “Babbehs awe fow huggies an wuv an…”
“Yeah yeah,” Joe interrupted, getting out of his chair and pacing up and down in the interrogation room. “Huggies and love and all that shit. You told me that already. But I don’t wanna hear any more of your lies fluffy. I want the truth this time.”
“Fwuffy nu wie,” protested Piglet, “Fwuffy found da ugwee bawd babbeh… OWWIEE!”
Joe slapped the fluffy in the face, making it cry again. It was hilarious when these things became so afraid they forgot their own name. Piglet was a stupid name anyway.
“Huu huu huu… no wike scawy woom,” the fluffy cried, “Nu wike hoof-cuffs… nu wike huwties…”
“So tell me the truth you stinking piece of shit-fluff, where did you find the baby?”
“Fwuf-fwuffy hab found da babbeh in da twashies, by da Wooweegee Westauwant…” cried Piglet, as his lip started to swell.
Joe sneered, “Do you expect me to believe this shit you fucking fluff-stain? Tell me the TRUTH.”
“Huu huu… it am da twuuf… fwuffy nu wie… OWWIEE!”
“Come on Shit-rat,” Joe laughed at the crying stinky fluffy, “At least think up a better lie. Tell me you found her in a pizza box or something.”
“Fwuf-fwuffy hab found babbeh in pizza bawks? Bu-bu-babbeh am too big fow pizza bawks… OWIES!”
“Okay fluffy, I’ve tried being kind, but now its time for the sorry stick,” Joe threatened, pulling out his nightstick menacingly.
“Nuuu! Nu wan sowwy stick!”
“Then TALK!” Yelled Joe, “Where’d you find the baby fluffy?” Joe screamed in the fluffies face, hurling the interogation table to one side, presenting the fluffie’s spread eagled body for a sorry sticking it would never forget.
“Pigwet hab found babbeh in twashies!” Piglet insisted.
“Wrong answer fluffy!” Joe said, bringing his nightstick down hard on the fluffy’s testicles.
“Are you going to talk now fluffy?” Joe demanded.
“Yes! Fwuffy wiww tawk! Nu huwt speciaw wumps!”
Frank carefully put the pregnant fluffy down in the old police dog bed he had found in the store room. Scratching her behind the ears, and stroking her fluff, even though it smelled of baby poop and alley trash. Breaking off another piece of donut, he let her sniff it, and was pleased when she started to wolf it down hungrily.
“Fwuffy wike nice mistah, Fwuffy wike donuts!” the dirty yellow fluffy exclaimed, beaming up at him.
“That’s good fluffy,” Frank told her, “I’ve got a whole box of donuts here.”
“Can fwuffy hav aww da donuts? Weawy?” the fluffy said, looking as if she might just start to cry.
“You can have them if you help me out,” Frank replied, “For a start, do you have a name?”
“Fwuffy wiww hewp! Fwuffy am name Wewwow. Am gud fwuffy. Need donuts fow make miwkies fow tummeh-babbehs. Wewwow am soon-mummah, an da hoomin babbeh dwank aww da miwkies.”
Frank listened as the fluffy sang like a canary, telling him all about the baby, how they found it, how they tried to look after it, fed it, and kept it warm. She only paused to eat chunks of donut, which she thanked Frank for profusely, even asking him if he wanted to “be nyu daddah?” Frank said he couldn’t do that, but fed her more, while he thought up more questions.
“What happened to the baby’s real mummah?” Frank asked, intentionally talking like a fluffy, to build rapport, “Her hoomin mummah?”
“Wewwow nu know,” the fluffy replied, eating her donut chunks, “Wewwow and Pigwet heawd hoomin wady having wowstest owwies, and cwing, den heawd babbeh cwying.”
Frank thought about things for a while, then asked some more. Yellow told him that they had found and eaten “belly sketties” that night, and that the baby had needed “wickie-cweanies.” It slowly dawned on Frank that the baby’s mother had given birth in the alleyway, and abandoned the baby, which had been found by the fluffies. Given how cold and rainy it had been the last few days, it was a good thing too. A new-born would surely die of hypothermia pretty damn quickly in the autumn cold.
“You know what Yellow?” Frank asked the fluffy.
“Wat? Wewwow nu know?”
“You’re a good fluffy. I think you saved that baby.”
“Wewwow wuv hoomin babbeh… whewe am babbeh naow? Whewe am Pigwet?”
Just then, there was a loud knocking on the door of interogation room two. Frank got up, and opened the door, revealing his partner Joe, holding a crying green and brown fluffy by the scruff of its neck. The fluffy had a split lip and was clutching its legs together and rubbing its balls with its front hooves. Judging from the smell, it had shat itself with fear on at least one occasion.
“What the Fuck Joe?” Frank gasped in surprise.
“Tell him what you told me shit-rat!” Joe demanded of the weeping fluffy, “Tell him!”
“Huuu huu huuu… Fwuffy am sowwee… Fwuffy found da babbeh in a buggy. Fwuffy stowe da babbeh. Fwuffy wanted to num da babbeh. Fwuffy was hungwy… Pwease nu huwt speciaw wumps again… Huuu huu huu… huu huu huu…”
“Joe!” Frank yelled at his partner, “You are a FUCKING MORON!”
“Pigwet!” Squealed Yellow at the pitiful sight of her special friend.
“Wewwow!” cried the green and brown fluffy.
“Pigwet!” Yellow squealed again, “Tummeh-babbehs awe tummin!”
“Oh fuck,” said Frank, looking at the pile of poop and fluids the pregnant fluffy had just spilled on to the dog bed as her waters broke.
Mayor Quimby sighed. Just for once he wanted to have a week where nothing shitty happened.
“Mayor Quimby, can you give us a comment about the baby that was kidnapped by fluffies?” the reporter asked him.
“I have no comment to make at this time,” he told them, dazzled by the flash of the cameras, as he ducked down to get into his car. Outside, the cameras carried on flashing, and the questions kept on coming. Mayor Quimby looked at his staff through his tired eyes, and told his driver to pull away. He sighed again.
“What, in the name of Sweet Baby Jesus is going on in this city?” he asked his staff.
“Its probably a homeless girl, or a drug addict,” one of his staff said.
“Or a runaway teen, a girl abandoned her baby at the hospital last year,” added another.
“None of this helps though,” Quimby told them, scowling at them, “The press are going to have a fucking FIELD DAY with this shit. Can you imagine the headlines? Fluffies steal baby. Baby kidnapped by feral fluffies. City over-run. Quimby fails to deal with Ferals. I’m up for re-election in the spring. I can’t deal with this shit right now.” Quimby felt the pain in his chest again. All of this crap was playing hell with his angina.
“There is another option Mr Mayor,” said one of his newer staff members. Quimby looked up again. He liked the kid; the kid was smart, and ambitious. Quimby liked that in a person.
“Go on,” he told him.
“How about this for a story, Fluffies SAVE baby.”
The rest of Quimby’s staff immediately started guffawing. One sharp look from Quimby told them to cut it out."
“Go on,” he said again.
“So an emotionally distressed mother give’s birth in an alleyway,” the kid began, “That part is important, it makes the public empathise with her plight…”
“We don’t even know who she is yet!” another staffer said.
“Shut up!” Quimby yelled at him. The staffer shrank down into his seat.
“So a distressed young mother, gives birth in an alleyway, and is so upset that we’ve not been able to locate her yet. The baby is crying, and its found by two escaped domestic fluffies…”
“We don’t KNOW that!” the staffer interjected again.
“Jones! For fuck’s sake shut UP!” Quimby silenced him.
“…as I was saying,” the kid continued, flashing a dagger-like look at his shamed colleague, “The fluffies find the baby, take care of it, and keep it warm.”
Quimby sat back in his seat and stared out of the window for a little while.
“I like that story… Fluffies save baby. Its good. It might even be true.”
“Who cares if its true Mr Mayor,” the kid replied, “It makes a good story.”
“It does, it does,” Quimby agreed, getting his cell-phone out of his jacket pocket and calling his PA.
“Janice?” he asked, when the girl answered, “get me the chief of police.”
“Yes. Yes I will do Mr Mayor. Right away Mr Mayor.”
The chief hung up the phone.
“FUCK!” he said.
The chief was having a bad day. It had all started the night before, when an abandoned baby had been found in an alleyway. It wouldn’t have been a problem but for the growing crowd outside the police department, calling for the fluffies to be… punished? put on trial? Hung? It was all ridiculous of course, but the growing feral population in the city was causing all kinds of problems. The traffic accidents were the worst. People swerving to avoid hitting fluffies and causing serious or fatal accidents. The Chief and the Mayor were both under pressure to fix things. Now the mayor wanted him to find out what the hell was going on, then invent some cock and bull story about the fluffies “saving” the baby. Worse still, he had to do all this by midday, when they would be giving a joint press conference. The irony was that the story was actually true, but Frank didn’t fancy his chances of convincing the crowd of that.
Frank gave Piglet another piece of donut and looked at the babies. There were four of them, and they were yellow, brown, green and black. Piglet and Yellow were proud parents, and were beaming with joy at their little brood of flufflings. Even Frank thought they were kind of cute, although the whole family needed a bath.
Yellow was laying on one side of the dog bed, letting her foals take it in turns to nurse at her breasts. Piglet was lying on the other side, nursing his swollen testicles. Now that Frank was feeding him pizza and donuts, he had cheered up considerably, but he had cried for a long time about his “special lumps” and only stopped crying when his babies appeared.
“Fank you fow donuts, an Pizza!” said Yellow, “Wewwow WUV Fwank. Fwank am bestest Po-Weece Officew.”
“That’s OK Yellow, thanks for saving that baby. She would have died without you, but now the folks at the hospital say she’s gonna be just fine.”
“Wewwow am gwad fow dat. Wiww da po-weece find da babbeh-mummah?”
“We’re looking for her,” Frank admitted, but knew that if she didn’t come forward, she probably wouldn’t be found.
“Dat am gud. Wewwow WUV fwuffy babbehs. Wud hav wowstest heawt huwties if fwuffy wost dem.”
“Nu wan wose babbehs!” squeaked Piglet though his swollen split-lip.
“Fwuffies nu gonna wose babbehs siwwy Pigwet,” Yellow told him, calming down her mate, who seemed not to be the smartest of fluffies, to say the least.
“Hey Frank!” Frank looked up to see who had called his name. It was the desk sergeant, with a worried looking man stood behind him. As soon as the fluffies saw the man, their faces lit up with joy.
“WOOWEEGEE!!!” the both squealed excitedly.
“WOOWEEGEE!” Yellow gasped in astonishment, “Wooweegee am back fwom da hewd! Wook, Wewwow am mummah naow!”
Yellow proudly showed Luigi her sleeping babies.
“Do you know these fluffies?” Frank asked the man, as the fluffies gibbered and shouted.
“Yeah, deese my fluffies. Dey live outsida my restaurant. I been outta town for my mamma’s funeral.”
“Oh,” said Frank, his face dropping, “I’m sorry to hear about your ma. You say these fluffies are yours?”
“Yeah, well, I feed them.”
The next day, the fluffies were allowed to go home with Luigi. He took them back to the restaurant, and for the first time ever, he let them inside. He had a room they were allowed to stay in, called a “Broom closet” and he made a really nice nesty for them and the babies inside it. The broom closet was really nice and warm, with no sky water, and no stinky trash. Best of all, Luigi gave them both sketties!
“Sketties! Sketties!” Piglet shrieked excitedly.
“Fank yu fow sketties Wooweegee,” Yellow beamed, “Wewwow wuv Wooweegee, Sketties am gud fow mummahs, fow make bestest miwkies fow babbehs!”
“Dats good Yellow, I glad.” Luigi said, stroking the babies.
“Wooweegee?” Yellow asked, “Why wet fwuffies inside naow? Wooweegee neva wet fwuffies inside befowe?”
“Itsa ok now,” Luigi explained, “Youse my fluffies now. I get license and everything. Luigi is new papa for fluffies.”
“Nyu papa! Fow fwuffies? Weawy?”
“Yeah, an you can both live in the backroom and the broom closet, with your babies. I feed you lotsa sketties.”
“Oh Wooweegee! Yewwow WUV Wooweegee!”
Piglet ran up and started hugging Luigi’s leg, weeping tears of joy.
“Wooweegee am da bestest dadda! Pigwet WUV Wooweegee!” he declared.
“Itsa OK fluffies. You are heroes. You saved a baby.”
Later that day, Luigi gave the fluffies a bath. Yellow had never had a bath before, and really liked it. Piglet was scared at first, and started crying about “nu wan meet Mista Fiwe Hose!” but once he realised it was nice warm water, he actually quite liked it. After they were finished, Luigi dried them with a towel, and warm air from a hand-dryer in the rest-room. Yellow’s fluff was clean and bright, and fluffier than it had ever been before. Piglet was a much nicer shade of green than the drab dirty color she was used to seeing. They both smelled pretty too. Luigi carefully bathed the babies, one by one, before giving them back to Yellow to give them cuddles and love and milk. After their bath, they were so soft!
Then, the hoomins came to visit them. There was the police man Frank, some other police, and the chief of police. Then there was an important hoomin called “The Mayor”. Then more hoomins came. There were doctaws and nuwses from the “Hospital” and they brought the hoomin baby with them! The baby had a name now. They had called her Alice, which was a really nice name.
Then, there were lots of flashes. Luigi and the fluffies had to pose for “photographs”, but Piglet thought the flashes were “sky munstas” and accidentally pooped himself, all over “The Mayor”. At first, Yellow was worried that “The Mayor” would hurt Piglet, but he laughed it off, and went into the rest room to wash his hands. Yellow heard lots of shouting and bad words being said inside there, but a short while later, “The Mayor” came back and there were more “photographs”.
Lots and lots of hoomins wanted to meet the fluffies, and shake their hooves. Everyone said they were heroes.
Luigi kept a copy of the newspaper article. FLUFFIES SAVE BABY ALICE, he told them it said. On the front was a picture of “The Mayor” holding the baby and Luigi, holding the fluffies and their babies, with everyone smiling. Luigi put it in a glass picture frame, and hung it on the wall near the bar in his restaurant. Luigi said he was “proud” of the fluffies, although Piglet did not know what that meant.
Ever since that day, Luigi’s restaurant had been busier than ever. Luigi had to take on new staff, and was constantly making pizzas, pasta and sketties for all the people who came to visit. Even Yellow and Piglet were given jobs. Yellow took menus to people, which was a list of nummies for them to choose. Yellow could even remember drinkies that the people wanted, and could order them from the bar.
Piglet tried to do that job too, but normally mixed up the drinkies. Luigi said that was OK, and gave him an even more important job, bringing people napkins, breadsticks and hot towels. Piglet would secretly eat the breadsticks sometimes.
Luigi trained the fluffies to make “gud poopies” in a “litterbox”. Piglet had accidents sometimes, especially if he saw “meanie po-weece” as it made him feel scaredy. Luigi said that was ok though, as “environmental health ain’t gonna say shit to my hero fluffies, especially now Ima friend of the Mayor.”
Yellow and Piglets foals grew up to be fine young fluffies. Luigi helped them find names for their babies, and they called one of them Alice, after the hoomin baby. When the foals were fully grown, Luigi had to find new mummahs and daddahs for them, as waitresses kept tripping over them and dropping plates on the floor. Piglet always helped when food was dropped on the floor by quickly eating it all and licking the floor clean, but six fluffies was just too many. Fortunately, Luigi found new mummahs and daddah’s from his customers, which meant that the babies could come and visit Yellow and Piglet for sketties once a week.
Many years later, Yellow was an old fluffy. So old that her bones ached, and her fluff was starting to turn grey. A few months earlier, Piglet had died, choking as he tried to swallow a whole salami. Yellow had had a good life, but now she was very tired. She was too old now to give out menus and get drinks orders, so mainly she sat in a nesty on the bar, watching the customers and sleeping. From time to time, people still wanted to meet the famous hero fluffy. Luigi still had the newspaper story in its glass frame, but now the paper had turned old and yellow.
Then, one day, Luigi said he had someone that wanted to meet Yellow. He gently picked her up, and carried her to a small booth. Sitting in the booth was a young girl, with her hoomin mummah and daddah.
“Is this her? Really?” the girl asked.
“Yes, this is Yellow,” said Luigi softly.
“Yellow, I’m Alice,” the little girl said.
Yellow blinked. The name Alice meant something, but she couldn’t remember what it was.
“Wewwow had babbeh-fwuffy called Awice one tiem… a wong tiem ago…” Yellow said, remembering.
“And…” the little girl started, “Did you ever look after a human baby? For a little while?”
“Yes,” said Yellow, “Wewwow and speciaw fwiend Pigwet did save a hoomin babbeh, have pictew wiv da Mayow.”
“Yellow,” the girl said to her, stroking her fluff, “I was the baby, I’m Alice.”
“Babbeh? But yu am so big?”
“Yes, I’m lots older now. Yellow, you saved me, you saved my life after I was born.”
“Awice… was babbeh? Wittew bawd ugwee babbeh?” Yellow said, opening her eyes wider to look at the girl.
“Yes!” said the little girl, starting to cry, “I was the baby!”
“Wittew babbeh?” said Yellow, remembering, then looking up into the little girl’s see-places. She remembered the first time the baby had opened them.
“Wewwow wuv Awice.”