Things were becoming unbearable in the city, the persistent nausea that afflicted Him seemed to worsen every day. Not even His home was free of the stench, it seemed to permeate through brick, through steel, through concrete. The only places He could feel somewhat at ease anymore were high places, so He spent most of his time on the roof of his apartment block. From there, He stared at IT, that temple to inequity.
He watched as people came and went, entering empty handed, and leaving with one of those pestilential mounds of fur. It sickened Him to his core, to see such utter filth in plain view of His own home. With every passing day that it was allowed to exist, the miasma smothering the city would only worsen. This cannot stand.
His obsessive observations of the comings and goings at the shelter, had long allowed him to determine a way in. One of the late shift employees had a habit of forgetting to lock the back entrance, all it took was shadowing the alley that lead to it. Once He confirmed that the worker had left, He walked up to the door and tried the handle. Unlocked.
After waiting some more, to make sure that there was no associates of the establishment in the area, He quietly entered the shelter. Making His way to the shelter area proper, the stench in the air only intensified, causing Him to heave for a moment. Once He had regained His composure, He looked around and bore witness to the utter depravity before him. Cages upon cages lined the walls, each housing one of the repulsive artificial horrors. This was a shrine to defilement. Defilement of nature. Defilement of man. Defilement of God.
He knew clearly, what he must do, and so He set about completing his grim task. Walking up to the first cage on his left side, He undid the latch, the sound rousing the inhabitants within.
A pastel pink mare raised her head groggily, and stared towards the yawning beyond which He lay. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could make out faint features on His face, and she let out a scream.
“MUNSTAH!”
The scream shocked the rest of the shelters inhabitants into consiousness, as they looked around in fear. All the while the mare that had first sighted Him began to cry out.
“Pwease nu huwt mummah! Nice munstah weave fwuffy awone?”
He soon made out smaller voices behind the din of the panicking vermin.
“Chirp! Scawy! Nu wike dawk! Cheeep!”
The wretch had multiplied. Their tiny squaks of fear were akin to nails on a chalkboard, and His hatred spurred Him into action. He roughly yanked the mother from her cage, and a few of her progeny that had been snuggling up to her came tumbling out as well, falling to the cold hard floor below, bones breaking on impact.
He held the fluffy at arms’ length, as the vile thing babbled on in despair for her injured children. Pulling out a buck knife from His jacket pocket, He swiftly slit the mother’s throat, then dumped her on the ground to bleed out. As He looked down, He saw her broken young wriggling on the floor, not quite dead as they cried in pain, begging their now dead mother to save them from the pain, to lend them comfort.
“MUMMAH! Babbeh hab’ wowstest huwties huuuuuu! Nee’ huggies!”
“Wai weggies nu wowk? Pwease weggies! Nee run away fwom munstah!”
He quickly crushed both of them underfoot, and spared no further thought for them. As for her remaining foals, He looked into the cage, and saw three more huddled together, their undersides soaked with urine and feces as fear wholly unmade them.
“Huuu dis onwy meanie sweepy pictuwe, dis nu am weaw…”
“Chirp! Cheep! Chirp! Mummah!”
“NU WAN’ FOWEBA SWEEPIES, NU WAN’!”
He pulled each one out in turn, and broke their necks, then threw each over His shoulder without looking.
And so His work continued. The owner had never invested in security, believing that no one would ever bother breaking in to a fluffy shelter, as a result, no rescue came for the fluffies, even as they begged and pleaded for someone, anyone to save them from this horror.
“MUNSTAH WEAVE SPECIAW FWEND AWONE OW’ GIB’ WOWSTE- SCREEE-hurk”
With each gruesome death, He could feel His breathing becoming less labored.
"Dummeh munstah, smawty gib’ ou sowwy poo-hurk
“NU NU NU PWEASE AM SOON MUMMAH! NU GIB FOWEBA SWEEPIES!”
“MUMMAH SABE BESTEST BABBEH! MUMMAAAAAAH!”
Each ended life seemed to lessen the smog that surrounded everything.
And soon enough, there were none. The once pristine white tile floors of the shelter were now inundated with blood, along with the contents of many evacuated bowels.
All in the task had taken Him around two hours, as the clock on the wall now read 1AM. He pocketed his knife, but as He set to leave, He felt as thought there was something left undone. Whoever discovers this scene, might well assume this to be the work of some psychopath or deviant, doing it for nothing more than some perverse pleasure. The thought that someone could so grossly misunderstand His task enraged him. So He set about leaving an appropriate message behind to elucidate those that look upon it.
Dipping His fingers in the pool of blood covering the floor, He began to write on the wall behind the cashier’s desk. Soon a message left in blood could be read clearly.
“By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.”
And so He once again slipped out from the back door, into the darkness of the night. The cool air tasted cleaner to Him than it had in years. For but the briefest of moments, He felt at ease.
…Local owner of a fluffy shelter discovered a grisly scene at their establishment this morning, as they entered the building only to find every fluffy housed in the shelter gruesomely killed. No money or valuable medical equipment was stolen however. Store owner Andreas Sanchez had this to say:
“I just don’t understand who would do such a thing… or why for that matter. The only thing these fluffies ever wanted was someone to care for them, and quite a few had come from abusive homes. I only hope whatever sick freak did this is caught soon before they can do any further harm to anyone else.”
Though fluffies are not protected as living beings under the law, police have a opened an investigation and are on the lookout for any suspects for breaking and entering, as well as destruction of property. Police are asking anyone with any information which could lead to the arrest of the person or persons responsible, to contact them immediately.
“If there was any silver lining to this situation at all, it’s that the intruder didn’t check the upstairs office, where a handful of fluffies had been held due to a shortage of space in the main area.”
Failure. Failure. Failure. He failed. He failed utterly. He was a failure. The stench had gotten worse than ever before, and its because He failed. He didn’t kill them all. He failed. Some survived. He failed.
He screamed in utter hatred. Hatred for those wretched creatures that had escaped with their lives. Hatred for Himself, for failing.
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