Aww Staw Supah Fwuff
A story in seven parts
By Oculus
Adapted from “All-Star Superman” by Grant Morrison, and based off “Supe’ Fwuff" by KMEB
Cover art by Carpdime
~
Part 3: Mummah Wub
Mark Connors is at the podium. On his left is a small casket of wood, polished and varnished. Before him in this house of God, a small congregation had assembled to pay their respects. Surveying the interior of the chapel, he cleared his throat.
“We are gathered today, to pay our respects to someone who was dear to Supah Fwuff.”
Mark wasn’t sure how to start. Man and fluffy pony alike, the congregation consisted of a few of the members of the Band of Heroes who could attend. Mark recognized the fluffy heroes such as Prince (also known as Spiritsmith), Joseph (also known as the Porter) and Mauve (also known as Fox Master). Also in attendance were Emerald (human identity unknown), the Neptunian and Asteroid Cowboy. Sadly, not everyone could make it, such as Gargoyle, Pisces and Brunhild, as too many prominent heroes would draw attention, and some didn’t really see the significance of such an event. But perhaps it was for the better – they were ones who attended were people Clark had known for a good decade.
Clark could hear the roar of a rocket coming close to the church, than slowing down, and ending with a large metallic thud. Heavy metallic footsteps followed, and a figure of bronze, red and yellow opened the door.
“Apologies for my lateness,” says Robot-man. One way or other, he always had to make an entrance.
Robot-man proceeds to sit down besides Clark, dressed in a tuxedo. Although Clark has his face to the ground, he was aware of Robot-man’s presence.
“Tanks fow comin’, Mistah Wobot.”
“It’s the least I could do.”
Mark Connors remains silent for a good minute. The congregation eyes him, finding the silence a little uneasy. Seeing that the church door remains closed, and with no other surprise visitors coming in, he then begins his speech.
“I know that Clark asked me to give the eulogy for this funeral, but, the truth is, I had the hardest time writing this speech.
And that’s because, I hardly knew Oswald. But you see, Oswald didn’t have much of a life to begin with.”
~
In a breeding factory owned by Hasbio, a beige coloured fluffy exists. A few months earlier, she had been forced, against her will, as well as her partners, to breed with a pink stallion. She had produced many litters of foals, all of which had been taken away from her against her will. Lately, however, her fecundity had been lowered, perhaps out of over-use.
“Clark! The mare in Wing 5 keeps producing dead foals! ’f I were you, I’d just replace her already.”
“Not yet. I think she can still produce a few more before we toss her out.”
Clark. That was the name she kept hearing. It was the only name she ever knew. From her birth in the factory, to being raised with the others, and then being hugged from behind by the various stallions, the name she kept hearing was Clark.
Even though she had no name for herself, she always called her children the one human name she knew well.
“Mummah wub babbeh Cwark. Aww babbehs am bestest babbehs.”
The foals she had just given birth to all had some similarity to her father, the nameless stallion she wished she knew the name of
But they were all still.
The nice blue one. Dead. The nice purple one. Dead
Cyan. Purple. Red. Cream.
All quiet, all dead.
“Chirp! Chirp!”
One baby!
One that is still alive!!
He seems weak. She had given birth to some stronger foals before, this one seemed weaker than the others
But it would do.
This was the last baby that came out, and it was a baby that she would love all the same in this dank and unloving place
As she tends to the baby, she gives it the only name she knows.
“Cwark am wastest babbeh, bu Cwark am bestest babbeh. Mummah wiww be a gud mummah fow Cwark.”
~
“Oswald was a breeding mare. As you all know, Hasbio had long marketed fluffy ponies as a biotoy, when the truth is that they are genetically engineered animals, heavily modified to be as toyetic as possible. However, Hasbio had long kept their true nature as natural-born animals from the public, and while they attempted heavily to condition their charges to forget the scant memories they had in the mills, some foals still retain those memories.
Its why, when Clark first got his powers, one of the first things he did was to go look for his mother.”
~
It was just another day at the breeding mill located outskirts of Cleveland, Ohio. The factory worker at Hasbio was having the hardest time getting one of the stallions to give “special huggies” to the artificial mare, mainly because it was the stallion’s first time.
“Nu wan gib speshul huggies. Wan pway baww.”
“And you’ll never get your damn baww if you don’t give that bitch her special huggies!”
It was a difficult job, especially with all the fluffies around him continuously babbling, but he had a quota to fill. A specific number of foals of a specific colour had to be produced per season. Artificial insemination was the quicker and safer way to produce more fluffies, though the latest increase in demand for specialized foals meant having to work with specific pairings, and with some stallions not finding artificial mares attractive at all, they had to settle for the real thing.
“Pweez daddeh. Fwuffy nu wike enfies.”
“One more complaint out of you and I’m going to destroy your damn ball!”
That made the stallion cry.
“Oh for God’s sake will yo-“
Before the factory worker could finish his sentence, he feels a sudden force of strength grab his overalls from behind. Dangling by his collar, he sees the mass of babbling fluffies below him, as he is dragged through the air to one of the platforms above.
Screaming in confusion, the force lets go of him, and he lands upon the metal platform. Though it’s a short distance, it’s still enough to hurt him.
“Ow… my back… Oh god, my back…”
As he says this, he sees a pink fluffy hovering above him. Wearing a red cape and a yellow hood, his teeth glare as the fluffspeak comes out of him in anger.
“Whewe am fwuffy mummah, munstah?!”
~
“His exposure to what he saw at the mills angered him. However, I always taught Clark not to hurt anyone, even if he wanted to.
It wasn’t an easy lesson to get through to him.”
~
Clark didn’t understand what his father was trying to tell him
“Bu’ daddeh! Dummeh hummehs maek poow mawes hab bad enfies! Taek ‘way babbehs and nu gib huggies and wub!!”
Mark was grabbing the bridge of his nose, trying to best to deal with his frustration in talking to an overly powerful fluff pony
“Clark, I get it. They’re fluffies like you.
But you got to look at the big picture. You got to think of the others that go through the same thing.”
“Daddeh nu undahstan! Pwoow fwuffies hab bad enfies an’ wowstest huwties, an’ aww da hummehs awways hab huggies an’ wub! Hummehs neba undahstan’ da huwties fwuffies get!”
“All, the humans?”
This was too much, for Mark. But he knew that getting angry at Clark would be pointless. Instead, he had to show him something. Mark conveniently had his laptop on the table. With a few quick clicks and taps, he was able to draw the video feed he saw on the previous night’s news
“See this? This happened last night.”
Mark points his finger towards an African man standing on his jeep, yelling commands with a megaphone. Below him was a sea of AK-47s, held up high.
“You see this African warlord? He ordered the captured of hundreds of schoolgirls. Schoolgirls who are still “babbehs”, as you’d call them. And he’s marrying them off to men older than them.”
“D-dey gib enfies?”
Mark nods.
“Precisely.
You think all the humans are lucky? You think we all get spaghetti, hugs and love? Some human children don’t even have a chance to live past a certain age, because there’s not enough nummies in >their land. And on top of that we have evil people like that man, treating his fellow men the way those factory workers treat fluffies.”
Clark is a little speechless.
for the longest time, he had only known the world of the suburbs and the nearby bigger cities, so the only hardship he had seen were the ones his fellow kind were experiencing
but now, he was getting a glimpse of something larger
Mark sighs
“Clark, I know you have a great heart, and I know you mean well. But there is evil all over the world. And if you want to save fluffies, you have to save humans too.”
The video shifts to a demonstration from the village from which the schoolgirls came from.
Clark stares at a placard that says “Bring our girls home.”
“Fwuffy undahstan. Fwuffy wiww do am bestest.”
~
“It is not easy to get through to Clark. Or any fluffy for not that matter. No disrespect, fluffies.”
There was a light laughter from the audience, and Mark was thankful that they had a sense of humour.
“But Clark came to understand what I had to say. I remember his first heroic act, way back in the day, when he helped save a little kitten from a tree, and return him to his owner.
First it was a little kitten. Then, it was a druglord who was selling crack to kids. It then became an asteroid. Saving schoolgirls from a Nigerian warlord. The Herd from another World. The Flossians. And the occasional giant monster. Over time, Clark got busier and busier, doing the thing he does as a member of the Band of Heroes, and as a superhero.
As Clark was doing all that, I felt like doing a little bit of my own sleuthing. After all, I came to be familiar with Hassenfeld, thanks to the interest they had in Clark. And they too were wondering is his parentage had anything to do with his special abilities.”
~
“Is this her?”
Clark is reading the record that Mr Adams had placed on the table.
“Yes, it’s her.”
Written in a utilitarian language, Clark noted the details. Identification number O5W444387. KMEB Breed, Beige colour. Had a production span of five years, before being retired due to developing ovarian cancer and heart disease. Was destined to be culled, and buried at a municipal lot owned by Hasbio, the usual fate for all discontinued breeding products.
“She’s been dead for three years. Clark is not going to like this.”
“I did what I could, Mister Connor. You wanted me to find Clark’s mother, well, here she is.”
~
“But, and as some of you know, he’s been getting more pensive lately. And the one thing that he wanted to do was spend time in our old home.
That was when we had a surprise. As you had all heard in the news, Clark had been involved in an experiment that had secured an almost infinite energy source by helping Mistah Adams and Robot-Man localize a black hole on Earth.
It was during this period when I met an unusual visitor.”
~
“So, you’re a fortune teller?”
The man in front of Mark was wearing a parka, a pair of sunglasses, and a facemask. The hood of the parka completely covered his head, thus making it impossible to see the face of this mystery man. However, the man who had the moniker of John Doe went through the trouble of arranging a formal lunch meeting with him.
That lunch meeting became a game of guessing, as the man made several predictions of what was to happen, five seconds into the future. Prior to sitting down, the man predicted that a dog was going to chase a fter a cat, a kid would drop his ice-cream, Supah Fwuff would pass by at the exact moment, and a water would drop a cup of coffee by accident. All those events came to pass, exactly in the sequence the John Doe described it.
“Not exactly. I’m from the future. Or, at least one version of the future.”
“Oh right, time travel. We’ve had those before. How far from the future are you?”
“Quite far. But I don’t have much time.”
“I can imagine,” moans Mark, remembering the last time a similar time travel story had happened. “Let me guess, it has something to do with Supah Fwuff.”
“Actually, it is something I can do FOR him.”
~
It has been two month since the time Supah Fwuff rescued Samuel Adams from the failed mission to map the Sun. Due to the over-exposure of solar radiation that he had experienced, Clark’s body was deteriorating at a steady pace, and Mr Adams had estimated he now had only four months left.
Mark and Clark were at their old home in Ohio. Clark expressed a wish to go back to their old home, the home that Mark had inherited from his parents, and was now renting out as an additional source of income. Currently, the house had one tenant, who arrived that day.
As the container is placed down on the ground, the John Doe opens up the hatch. Crawling out slowly with her hooves was an elderly beige fluffy. Ravaged by time, and by constant abuse, all she knew was the dark cages of the mill, harsh treatment from her human masters, the crying of both her breeding mates and the loss of her continuous children.
But, O5W444387 never forgot each of the faces of the babies she had lost. They all had a similar face, a face that resembled hers. And she saw a bit of herself in the pink stallion in front of her.
“B-babbeh? Cwark?”
“Mummah!!”
In full elation, Clark greets his birth mother with wide forelegs. Smelling her soft, cleaned fluff, and her frail body, he restrains his immense power, as he gives the gentlest of cuddle.
“Mummah…. Mummah… babbeh miss mummah so much…”
“B-bbabeh…”
Mark looks on in surprise, as he turns to the John Doe. “Is this really her?” he asks.
“Well, it wasn’t easy to get her. I had to disguise myself as a Hasbio employee, and I had to get the timing right in order to whisk her away. But indeed, this is O5W444387, as she was on her last day at mill.”
Clark noticed the identification number and hears the traveller repeat it. But he can only approximate the number in a name he had heard before.
“Oswawd. Mummah name Oswawd.”
“Oswawd? Who am Oswawd” asks the elderly fluffy.
“’ou, mummah. Mummah am Oswawd, mummah ob Cwark. Oswawd am bestest mummah.”
Oswald repeats the name, like a child coming to understand his or her own name for the first time.
“Oswawd… fwuffy am Oswawd. Fwuffy wike bein’ Oswawd.”
~
It was the happiest day of Clark’s life.
In the morning, he had a chance to walk with his mother, slow as she was. Even when walking felt like crawling to him, his mother literally could not keep up. It was then that he decided to do something for her.
“Fwuffy am fwying! Mummah am fwying!!”
To Clark, it was only a few centimetre above the ground. But, for Oswald, it was higher than and longer than any jump she could attempt. As the gentle breeze air brushed her face, she felt a freedom she never once knew in all those years in the mill.
For lunch, Mark prepared a simple meal of spaghetti bolognaise. Oswald herself had never tasted this dish, having lived a life that entirely subsisted of kibble and water. Because her mouth was so frail, Mark had to twirl the spaghetti with his fork, and neatly place the morsels in her mouth.
Oswald tastes the savouriness of the tomato sauce and beef, mixed with the slight saltiness of the pasta. It was a next experience, but a most welcome one.
“Yum! Sketti am bestest nummies!”
Clark smiles, realizing he had brought another joy to his mother.
~
Mr Connor had spent a good while narrating the happiest day of Clark’s life, and it brought him much joy to narrate it. But he stumbled, as he realized that he had to talk about the day after.
“But the happy moments couldn’t last forever. And sometimes, we have to be reminded why Clark is Supah Fwuff.”
~
Clark is busy placing the last building block on a giant tower. Usually, fluffies can only build up to a certain height due to their limited strength and reach, but Clark’s ability to fly, and familiarity with rebuilding things has allowed him to make a fairly stable tower of building blocks.
“Bwockies am so high! Cwark am su smawt!!”
However, Clark can sense a tremor in the ground. One of the blocks falls. He dives down to grab that block, but another falls, and then another, until an avalanche of blockies starts to come down.
“Nuuuu!”
Oswald shields her face, fearing the onslaught of theblocks. However, Clark swoops in, and brings her to a safer spot.
Switching to telescopic vision, Clark senses a battle between Band of Heroes, and a giant dragon ravaging the nearby suburb. Clark knew that he didn’t have to go – after all, the Band of Heroes had been aware of his condition, and they all had agreed to let Clark have his week of peace while he stayed with his owner Mark, and now, with his mother.
But in the distance, Supah Fwuff could see Brunhildr and the Porter were knocked out. The Asteroid Cowboy was dropping Spiritsmith onto the dragon, who attempted to knock the soul out of the dragon, but that attempted fail as the dragon’s own soul pushed Spiritsmith back, and flung him against Robot-Man. What was supposed to be a routine giant monster fight for the Band was now getting a bit serious.
“Clark. You shouldn’t go. Your mother needs you.”
The traveller said this. Not with a harsh tone, but with one of sadness and concern, speaking of a decision that was destined to come.
“It am otay babbeh. Mumma wiww stiww be hewe.
Gu’ gib that munstah da biggest huwties. Sabe ewewy fwuffy.”
Clark hesitates. His x-ray vision can see the frail beating organ in his mother’s chest. But he knows what he has to do.
“Wait fow babbeh, mummah.”
~
An hour passed. Spiritsmith was now utilizing his spirit detection to sense if anyone died. So far, there were no casualties, though there was now one new spirit, one that had already departed, having lived a full life. The Asteroid Cowboy was assessing the damage done to his ship. Brunhild, Porter and Robot-Man were having their wounds attended to.
Clark was now back home.
“Mummah? Mummah?”
Clark shakes the still body of his mother, now cradled in Mark’s arms. His x-ray vision, and the lack of blood flow, had already given him the answer he already needed, but he had to be sure.
Tears stream down Clark’s eyes. However, instead of sobbing, he proceeds to do the only thing he can, to remember his mother – hug her.
~
“Oswald was already old, and she had endured a life of abuse at the hands of the mill she was living in. Thus, and even though the traveller managed to bring Oswald to our time, he had to rescue her on the day she was slated to be culled. She was bound for a natural death, a reason why they had decided that fate for her.
But, even though Clark wasn’t there to see his mother die, I was with Oswald, as she watched her son fight the dragon.
And I remember her final moments.”
~
“Kind mistah, wet Oswawd see Cwark.”
Cradling Oswald in his arms, Mark brings Oswald to the window. In the distance, Supah Fwuff collided head on with the dragon, the proceeded to give the massive reptile an unimaginable upper cut.
Oswald is confused, by what she was seeing, as the action was too fast for her to comprehend. But in a way, she was happy. Even though she never met most of her children, she had met one that seemed to be the strongest and best fluffy she had ever known. And even though she never got a chance to raise him, she knew that he was looked after a kind and caring parental figure. The same figure who was holding her up now to see the fruit of her loins.
Her vision growing dim, the last thing Oswald sees is a figure of a triumphant fluffy in the sky, against the backdrop of an overpowering Sun.
“Cwark am bestest babbeh, a supah babbeh. Mummah wub….”
And Oswald breathes her last.
~
It is a day after the funeral itself. In a small garden, flanked by a simple house, a tombstone stands. On its inscription reads “Oswald. Mama of Clark.”
There are two people who are at the grave, that being the stranger, and Clark, the Supah Fwuff.
“I know this is difficult for you Clark. But there is one more person who will be coming here.”
As he says this, a bright brilliant flash of light appears, as a golden portal tears through the fabric of reality. Clark could not understand what he is seeing, but a being of light steps out of this portal. A fluffy made entirely of light, if one could comprehend that. Walking on his hind legs, he carries a hugtoy, one that radiates as brightly as he does. Pacing up to the grave, he lays the shining hugtoy before the grave.
And then, the Fluffy of Light speaks.
“This was the only time I could come. But it is an important time. Not many of our kind have the chance for a dignified death, let alone a spot of such significance, but this individual played a very crucial role in the History of our Kind.
Clark, you will not understand this now, but in time you will. Until that time comes, we from the Future present to you this Indestructible Hugtoy of the New Skettiland. From all of us.
In remembrance of all that we are.
And that we will be.”
And in a bright flash, both the traveller, and the Being of Light, disappears.
Supah Fwuff sits alone, seeing the light of golden hugtoy shine upon the grave. In one final act of love for his mother, he hugs the tombstone.
“Mummah, Wub ‘ou foweba.”
~
TO BE CONTINUED