tick tock tick tock
Staring at the clock on the classroom wall Josh swore the hands were moving slower and slower the more he looked. He was so bored he started to understand the theory of relativity when comparing how slow time moves in class as opposed to how quick the day passes when messing with the local fluffies.
He couldn’t wait to get out of school as his step father Ron had gifted him his old slingshot set the night before. It wasn’t even a special occasion, but Ron had rediscovered it in his closet and Josh had reminded Ron of his youth. Plus he knew what Josh would do with that slingshot. Like most, Ron was not a fan of those little fluffy bastards.
“don’t tell your mother”
Josh did not need to be told that. He had no intention of letting his mother find out. After all she was a bit of a hug boxer. He was unsure which deity had blessed him to live in an apartment with a “no fluffy” clause on the lease, but he was very thankful. His mother was prime material for becoming a crazy fluffy lady…
BBRRRRRRRRRRIINNNNGNGGGGGGGGGGG
The bell snapped him out of his thoughts. His gaze had before shifted on the girl in front of him, Amy. Specifically her shapely behind as she bent over to grab her backpack. Time really did move a lot faster when you aren’t looking at a clock.
Josh grabbed his backpack too and nearly skipped his way out the school doors. He knew exactly where he was going to try out his slingshot. In his suburban neighborhood there weren’t many good places a teen could make trouble without some angry Karen getting on their tail.
A few blocks away there was a break in the suburban houses for a fenced area that said “Do not enter, City Sump”. Inside was mostly undeveloped land except in the center of the acre large land was an indent where excess water would be diverted during rainstorms or flooding from a large pipe in a basin.
Since no one had any reason to come here, kids from his school would come here to smoke weed or drink without being disturbed. Since most of it was basically a little patch of woods in a suburban sprawl, many runaways or feral fluffies also lived here. It was large enough to support probably dozens of fluffies, maybe even a hundred. Lots of grassie nummies and places for nesties.
Herds however were rare, as Smarty fluffies had a very short life span when impulsive teenagers were around. The last smarty Josh saw was during a drinking party early in the year. The golden pointy had stomped up demanding the humans give nummies or get sowwy hoofies as its herd of maybe 15 fluffies watched from a few feet behind.
This caused everyone to laugh until it turned around and sprayed sorry poopies on one of the girls shoes. Jessica, the girl in question happened to be the very same girl that the star kicker of our schools football team Edwardo, was in the process of trying to charm and hook up with that night.
“Gib smawty nummies NAOO-UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaa aaaaa aaaa aaaa aa aa…”
The kicker wasnt wearing cleats, but he punted the smarty clear over the fence and it sailed over the house next door as well. Its golden figure got smaller and smaller and a trail of poopies/blood made it look like a grotesque shooting star. It had to have gone at least half the distance of a football field.
Eduardo turned to the herd who had been wide eyed and still processing what had happened to their leader.
“Well, make a wish!”
"annnd the kick is gooood, 3 points for cleavland!
“looks like team rockets blasting off again!”
The teens laughed at the cheesy jokes while the fluffies took that as their cue to screee and scatter while spraying each other with scardey poopies. Josh chuckled to himself remembering the chaotic scene. The fleeing fluffies screaming munstah, the slapstick sound of the fluffys cartoonish squeel getting further and further away. But what really made his night was on the way home he heard a car alarm and saw the very same smarty embedded halfway into the windshield.
The group chat was on fire that night. Ever since then, Josh hadn’t even heard of another smarty showing up. Perhaps those fluffies spread the word. Their speech made them interesting, able to pass on generational knowledge. It made screwing with them that much more fun knowing it was creating legends amongst another species.
Josh tossed his backpack over the fence and then scrambled over it himself. The fluffies tended to stay away from the fence areas where people walking their dogs can see them and scare them with their viscious barking. They would be deeper in. He found a rock to perch himself on and zipped open his backpack.
He pulled out a case that simply had “Sling shot” written on it in faded writing, a brown and green jacket that would help him blend into the surroundings, and small bag of sun chips. First opening the slingshot case, inside he saw a well made classically designed slingshot complete with the wrist brace for stability. Engraved it even said NOT A TOY on it. Ron told him the same, but the in the same sentence told him ‘its a tool for hunting varmints’ and winked.
There was also a small segmented box that said “ammo” on it. There was an assortment of types it seemed. It was labeled but some of them were too faded to read. However he could make out ‘lead’, and ‘plastic practice’ but the rest were too far gone. Some were clearly rubber, another metal type but shiner then the lead shot. what appeared to be glass marbles as well. Another almost looked like a little arrow and others clearly had something inside.
He equipped slingshot around his wrist and grabbed for a few of the orange balls labeled ‘plastic practice’ for obvious reasons. First he shot off a few just to test what seemed to the best technique to shoot and get used to the power. He took a few shots at the tree in front of him and was surprised to see when he got a good straight shot, that bits of bark occasionally broke off where his pellets would ricochet. Very small pieces but still it was visible damage. One had even gotten embedded in the wedge of the bark.
Josh then tried to aim for the thinner branches above, he missed the first but the after an adjustment and a deep breath, the second nailed the thin branch dead on and it notably wiggled. Josh was feeling confident he could hit something from this distance, but he would need to get better at longer distances to really do what he wanted. Time for some live targets.
Putting on his jacket and reaching for the unopened bag of sunchips, he cracked it opened just enough for the smell to come out, but not enough for the large sunchips to fall out of the opening. Josh tossed the bag as far as it would go before the air slowed it down to a fall about 30 feet away, landing in small clearing with the open end landing perpendicular to his sightline.
Not even five minutes later a relatively dirty pink fluffy poked its stubby head out of a bush looking left and right while sniffing the air.
“mummah smeww nummies…”
“*yaaaay! nummies mean miwkies!”
“wub miwkies! wub mumma!”
“chirp chirp miwk”
The earthie mare slowly stepped out of the bush revealing 3 adorable little cheering foals on her back. earthy red male, a pointy white female, and a wingie yellow male. Josh sat unmoving and still as she turned around a few times, surveying the new clearing and looking directly at Josh for a few seconds. His green and brown jacket fulfilling its intended effect of blending into the his backgrounds. Of course fluffies did not have particularly good eyesight at even a mild distance, nor were they known for their attention to detail. Deciding the clearing was currently free of munstahs, the mare excitedly turned to her foals.
“das wight babbehs, nummies den miwkies soon! mummah jus nee to fin dese nummies an- GASP chippy nummies! mummah WUB chippy nummies!”
Finally seeing the bag on the ground, the mare had previously enjoyed discarded bags of chips from the teens who littered here. She practically did a little dancing prance to the center of the clearing, lowering her head down to the bag. Her little snout sniffed out and began prodding the narrow opening and trying to take nibbles through the hole that was too small for a chips to come out, stepping on a corner to hold it in-place, she began to slip her little pink tongue inside the aperture and lick the salt off some chips she could reach.
“cum hewe yummy chippys, mummah hungee” the mare said while grunting with exertion while her little foals gave off cries of encouragement and excitement from her back at the prospect of milkies.
Meanwhile, Josh had a wide grin and reached for a rubber pellet. A side angle on a perfect target. It might as well have had a bullseye painted on its side. He figured it would be best to aim center mass for the biggest chance of a hit since this was his first fluffy shot. Grabbing a rubber shot this time, he begin pulling the sling back to full extension, taking a deep breath he lined up the fluffys flank perfectly between the sling shot posts, pulled back and released.
He knew immediately it was a bad shot. Not used to the rubber shot, he didnt release it cleanly enough, causing a slight wobble and while on target and a fast release, it was at a strong downward angle. Half way towards its target it hit ground, quietly bouncing off a solid patch of dirt taking some of its momentum but bouncing it back up toward the fluffy mummah. The ball narrowly sailed over the mare and instead clobbered the red earthy foal directly in the shoulder, breaking a front leg and perfectly knocking him off his mummah and onto the grass where it broke its opposite leg.
“screeeeeee!!! peep OWIES! BABBEH FAWW peep MUMMAAAA! WORSTEST OWIES!, cheep peep”
The mares prodding had managed to open the bag just a bit more but she was still unable to get chips out. However upon hearing her foals crying out for her on the ground, she moved from the chips and snapped to her crying babbeh in extreme concern, trying to figure out what happened.
“babbeh faww!? whea hab huwties?”
"WEGGIES cheep cheep WEGGIES WORSTST HURTIES, PEEP MUMMMAAH!! NEE HUGGIESSS!!*
Looking closer she could see her foals front 2 leggies were crinked at odd painful looking angles. She saw how one shoulder seemed to also have a spherical shaped indent in it. Her meager fluffy brain concluded all the damage must from a simple clumsy fall. She didn’t feel any impact since the pellet hit only the one foal before bouncing off into the grass. None of the other foals had seen the fast moving projectile, too focused on the promise of milkies at the time. The pink mummah mare had seen foals frequently fall off their mummahs for one reason or another. They usually would become no good dummeh fluffies…
The injured foal tried moving in to hug mummahs leg but burst out in a cacophony of pained panicked cheeping as lightning bolts of pain surged through his limbs the moment he put weight on them. Quickly thrashing about until he was on his back with his arms up.
Reaching to the skies with busted legs toward his mummah and siblings who were now looking down from her back, the little foal desperately cried out
“peepmummah, bruddah, sissy! cheep peep nee huggies! worstest hurties huu huuu”
Still convinced her foals injury was a self inflicted accident, and believing he was now a dummeh fluffy, her maternal insticts had now designated him lowest in the pecking order. And she was still very hungry for delicious chippies she had almost reached, the mare looked up at her trembling peeping foals and said
“be gud babbehs and hewp dummeh bruddah wiff owies, mummah stiww nee to num chippies fo miwkies”
The other foals were extremely concerned and empathetic to their brothers clumsy tumble. But upon hearing the word ‘milkies’ they accepted their duty with the knowledge that huggies would fix everything. If they let mummah num chippies while they give life saving huggies, they can all have milkies as a family and be happy fluffies again. Slowly the foals waddled down mummah and came up on both sides of their brother.
“dun wowwy bruddah, wiww fix owies wiff bestest huggies!, wight sissy?”
Trembling the tiny white pointy filly shook her head affirmatively in a frantic motion before they sat back on their haunches opposite each other with their brother on his back in the middle, broken twisted leggies facing the sky. They each wrapped their front hoofies around one of their brothers broken limbs. Then both of them suddenly squeezed as hard as they could while pulling the mangled legs as close to their bodies as possible for some firm healing huggies.
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
The little foal let loose a torrent of scardey poopies from the most excruciating pain going through his limbs. The scream was so high pitched and sudden it caused the ‘helping’ foals to give off some scardey poopies off their own, striking fear in their little hearts as they realized their brother was in even more pain. Now feeling scared for themselves, adrenaline pumping and desperate to stop their brothers suddenly increase in suffering, they squeezed and hugged and pulled on his shattered limbs EVEN HARDER, not for a second realizing his pain was their fault. The yellow foal was doing a rocking motion while wingies were involuntarily flapping as he exerted himself the most he ever had in his life.
CRACK POP SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-kaff hack hack cough
The little red foal in extraordinary pain had screamed with such intensity his vocal chords had been shredded. No longer able to scream but still in just as much pain, the little foal breathed heavily in and out with wide bug eyes looking up at the sky, now only making croaking peeps and cheeps and whispery wheezes.
His 2 siblings stopped squeezing so hard after realizing their brother had stopped screaming. Both foals released his leggies and they actually looked much straighter then they did before. Still quite messed up, they would likely heal in a way that left his legs straight but unable to bend and in pain for the rest of his life as the joints where shattered and compressed. His face looked even worse than before, but he was no longer saying he had owies or making screechies.
No longer being able to hear his sibling cry and seeing straight leggies, the yellow wingie foal proclaimed victoriously
“yay we fiks bruddahs weggie owies! am gud babbehs!”
The little yellow foal turned from his injured brother to do some celebratory dancies shaking his hoofies back and forth while twisting to and fro as his wings flapped in an adorable display of front hoofie use that the red earthie would never be able to do again. The little filly did not seem as sure, she desperately suckled her hoofie while trembling and staring at her broken brothers horrifying expression as he let out terrible sounding wheezing and labored breathing.
“huu huu suckle …scawey”
Meanwhile the mare had been probing at the opening of the bag with her tongue during the outburst, the fluffy momma didn’t even turn around but did notice her poor clumsy red foal had stopped screeching. She then heard her yellow wingies report of successful huggy therapy. She felt proud her babbies did such a good job fixing their brothers owies. She thought red babbeh was gonna be a dummeh fluffy!
Josh couldn’t believe what just he saw. All that chaos from just one rubber pellet? A rubber pellet he missed his intended target with none the less. This was incredible. The stupid fluffies didn’t even realize anything was amiss. They just thought her dumb baby fell off on its own when he was just sitting on a rock 30 away guilty as sin. He was going to have to thank Ron when he got home.
. Really hope he nails a good shot to incapacitate mummah so the babbehs have no way to run off. I can already tell that this mummah is a little bitch so I can’t say I’ll feel sorry for any of them.