You never liked fluffies.
Still, though, you had very good friends. So, when you found yourself discussing with a friend of yours the merits of their existence, and they found out you were a partial abuser (you liked to kick the adult ones and toss the fat chirpies into trash cans, who cares?), they advised you to try and learn what everyone is so on about with them.
Specifically, they advised you to purchase a newborn, baby fluffy foal. Smallest little thing you’ve ever seen. They figured that maybe by raising one of the little gremlins from practically birth, you’d eventually come to see that they too, deserved to life.
Absolutely disgusting.
Still, though, you weren’t a bad friend, either. They asked, so… might as well try, right?
It won’t work, of course.
But still.
You gaze at the bowl of sleepy foal resting on your table, the tiniest little speck of cream resting in the middle, peacefully snoozing on the pile of loose tissues and toilet paper you placed to form a temporary ‘nest’, just for him… exactly as the manual described. If you were going to do this… you were going to do it right.
…
…
…
It’s just so… small.
And helpless.
…
…
…Gross.
The tiny little thing was barely the size of a peanut… which is why your dumbass, apathetic self named him as such- little ‘Peanut’. He twitches a bit, though it was hard to notice… ick. It looked like a maggot. No hair on the tiny, twitching nub it called a tail, either… god, it looked so weird.
Its little, perpetually agape mouth expanded and contracted just a touch with each labored breath, as the tiny thing- barely a day old- shivered. You watch as it wriggles a bit, helpless, as it pitifully pulls in the corner of a piece of tissue paper, snuggling it close to its tiny chest.
…
…
“…e-eep…”
Your eye twitches.
Suddenly, you fully realize just how fucking stupid the idea of actually getting attached to a creature like… that, actually is. I mean, basically any other living creature on the planet would be walking and and fighting for food by now, but fluffies? They’re the worst of all worlds.
Newborn foals like the little cunt you call ‘Peanut’ are the most pathetic, useless, worthless little shits in the universe. I mean… really now, getting attached to something like that?
It’s, like… one day old! Fucking gross, and, like… holy shit, it’s not even the size of a fucking peanut! It’s just a bafflingly tiny little ball of fluff and shit, with narely a dozen brain cells to rub together to save its life!
Look at the little cunt, just… peacefully snoozing away, cuddling toilet paper! It’s nothing more than an utterly irrelevant, tiny little ball of filth, little body no bigger than the tip of a thumb!
It’s disproportionately-sized, tiny, little baby head? Its useless specks of skin-flaps, somehow serving as ears? Its ridiculously fat, yet still- somehow- grossly tiny, little, insignificant body, with proportions almost closer to a fucking sphere rather than a proper oval?
The disgustingly adorable, cream-coloured peach-fuzz fur covering its whole body? The stupid, useless, tiny little nubs- barely more than rounded stumps- it has for legs, so weak it can’t even crawl, merely wriggle around aimlessly like some kind of a fucking maggot? So weak that it’s almost like it’s barely even alive at all?
The way it peeps, sound so fucking soft and quiet it’s hard to even notice, of all fucking noises? The way the useless fucking cunt somehow finds a way to struggle to breathe sometimes? Good god.
To somehow be so utterly pathetic, and weak, that it needs to build up its energy, opening its mouth all the way, almost like a gasp, keeping it there for a moment, visibly straining from the exertion, just to let out one- just one- single, solitary, soft, barely-even-fucking-perceptible tiny, stupid little peep?
How it’s tiny, disproportionately-sized eyes remain still closed from birth only a little more than a day ago, meaning throughout all of its stupid fucking bullshit, it did it all while still completely fucking blind? How it’s still completely fucking blind?
How the absolutely miniscule tiny little nub- holy shit, its so small- it has for a tail twitches so subtly from time to time? How it sometimes sticks its similarly miniscule, useless, tiny little tongue out for basically no reason, almost like it’s making a face, for absolutely no fucking reason? Just because?
How it spends the vast majority of its day just snoozing away like a little fucking cunt, sometimes on its back, with its stupid fucking leggies pointing straight up in the air for some goddamn reason, basically entirely motionless, exactly as if it was fucking dead or something?!
And then the only way you’d know it wasn’t dead would be if it would suddenly twitch a bunch, flop over onto its side, and just randomly let out a bunch of stupid, pointless little peeps?
Just because?
For absolutely no goddamned reason whatsoever?!
Just… just because that tiny ball of pitiful, worthless filth felt like it?
Just randomly felt like fucking peeping?!
And then after all that, it still has the absolute nerve- the absolute gale, to gasp in hunger like it hasn’t eaten in days- to endlessly peep, and peep, and unironically struggle to peep some more, and all just because… it felt a little peckish?
To collapse onto its back, and mindlessly, silently gasp, legs sticking straight up in the air, over and over again, like it was fucking dying or something, outright yawning for milk, all just because its food came thirty minutes late one time?
All done, almost as if it unironically expects to be cared for? To be protected? To be cherished and cleaned and fed, all while it does absolutely-fucking-nothing in return but snooze, twitch, gasp, shiver, curl up, lie around silently, tiny mouth agape, looking like it’s fucking dead, occasionally wriggle around helplessly for a bit, randomly peep a bunch for no reason, and then shit itself repeatedly, and then complain that you haven’t cleaned it yet after it was the one who willingly decided to literally shit all over its own nest?! Just because?!
Being literally the most useless, pathetic excuse for a ‘creature’ in existence, barely even alive at all… and all that, while still somehow finding a way to act like it… inexplicably, just… just… just deserves to be loved, for some reason?! And all of that, absolutely all of that stupid, useless bullshit… all while barely being the size of a fucking peanut?! The absolute audacity, to-
In a flash, you are filled with a rage the likes of which you’ve never felt before. You briefly see red, and in that moment- though you didn’t realize it until later- you apparently snatched little Peanut out from his tiny bed, eliciting a pitiful little “…Eep!” from the newborn foal as he’s suddenly torn from his slumber.
You then proceeded to violently pitch him straight into the ground with such force that your arm kept going long after you let go and you somehow managed to smash the edge of your forearm into the underside of the table that you got him from hard enough to probably leave a bruise later on.
The foal just goes… flying, it was truly a sight to behold. You watch in glee as little Peanut soundlessly bounces off the hardwood floor and skips across the floor like a tossed stone, before finally impacting the side of your oven with the smallest little ‘twang’ you’ve ever heard, then stiffly falling to the floor.
His fat little body must’ve absorbed most of the impact, both from your throw to the ground and the resultant collision that stopped him; how else could such a harsh throw make such little noise? You didn’t even hear him impact the hardwood… it was almost like throwing a marshmallow.
Clutching your forearm, you approach the tiny speck of white on the floor, leaning down to inspect whether he’s still alive or not. With one part of you hoping he died as he deserves and the other hoping he lived so his suffering could continue, you found yourself feeling fairly indifferent when you see the little guy laying still on his side, stiff as a board.
His tiny mouth lay wide open, almost as if he was gasping… and when you looked closer, you could see the tiniest flap of pink that was his tiny, minuscule little tongue lazily hanging out of his mouth by the tiniest amount. You just stare and watch for a moment, waiting to see a twitch, or a flinch, a soundless gasp, a little distress peep… but nothing came.
But just when you were about to pronounce his death in your head, you saw it- the tiniest of little twitches in his right foreleg. Moments later, another in his left hind leg… then another, and another…. another, another, another, and finally a little gasp, swiftly followed by faint wriggling all across his tiny body as he came back to life.
You chuckle in delight as the little guy proceeds to curl himself up into a little ball, trying to tuck his little leggies into his chest and belly and hunching his back, almost as if he had a stomach ache, writhing in silent anguish.
God… the sight of the little guy waking up, only to be promptly smashed in the face with what you imagine could’ve only been a whole world of agony, only to curl up noiselessly into his stupid little bubble in the most pitiful attempt you’ve ever seen to protect oneself from whatever outside danger could’ve hurt him so badly… it made you absolutely joyous.
You waste a few… god, it must’ve been minutes, surely… you waste a few minutes, just… sort of… watching, as the little cunt quivered in pain, tiny tears forming in the corners of his still-closed eyes, but face otherwise showing the same indifferent look that all newborn foals usually shared, being far too underdeveloped for anything else.
You were just thinking about how remarkable it was that he hasn’t yet made a sound, but then you hear it… the sound was faint, far more faint than even the already extremely quiet ‘normal’ peeps he used to make, but this was was somehow even more pitiful.
You could tell, even before you fully processed the barely audible sound, that this was a cry made with perhaps the most monumental amount of effort that little Peanut has ever put into anything in his entire life… currently running at slightly more than a day.
“…e… …e-eep…”
The sound is pure bliss. One of the purest sounds known to man: that of a tiny, innocent, helpless newborn baby foal, weakly writhing around on the ground, completely and utterly trapped in an perpetual state of pure, unfiltered agony.
You take one last moment to bask in his suffering, hoping for one last pathetic, desperate peep before you intended to crush him flat with your thumb once and for all… but it never comes. Examining the foal more closely… oh.
His body seems to have lost all tension… and his tongue is lolling out again. You wait a moment… still nothing. You lightly tap him on the head… no reaction. Finally, you roughly jab him roughly in the middle of his body with a pointed index finger, so hard as to send him sliding across the floor a few inches. And… nothing.
Yup, he’s dead.
Oh, well…
You carefully pick up the little foal and bring him back over to what once served as his little nest, and gently place him atop the tissues in there, right where he was happily snoozing away before you brutally killed him out of pure anger over just how much of a worthless little shit he was… and still is.
Well… except that he can’t be anything anymore, on account of no longer technically existing… so I guess ‘was’ is the correct term. The goal wasn’t to be sentimental or anything, by the way- you just wanted it to be as easy as possible to clean up after you squish his body flat out of spite that he ever had to disgrace your presence with his filth.
And so that’s exactly what you do- you place the pad of your thumb over his disgusting little corpse, and a single, effortless press turns him to paste. After washing your hands and throwing away the tissues that once served as his bedding- and I suppose will now serve as his ‘coffin’ of sorts, as little as he deserves that sort of respect…
I mean, not that there’s much of anything left to bury anymore, but still- you mentally shrug the whole thing off. The last time you- and, in fact, anyone or anything in all reality, for now until forevermore- think about him occurred mere minutes later, when you briefly considered for the third time since Peanut’s well-deserved death, just how… stupid you were.
Stupid for ever even considering the idea that a disgusting, worthless, peanut-sized fluffy foal would ever be good for anything other than stress relief and cat food, let alone a ‘pet’, if you could even keep your lunch in long enough to admit that’s what you tried to keep him as… right before you idly wondered what was on television right about now.
And with that, the entitled piece of shit once called ‘Peanut’ died his final death. Rest in piss, for he will not be missed. Useless fucking cunt. Eat shit, asshole, you dumbass piece of shit. What an idiot.