If someone was to write up the list of names you definitely should not name your fluffy, it would be incredibly long. Instead of listing off individual names, let’s break this down into a few categories.
Part 1: Food Names
“Can Bewwy pwease hab some of daddeh’s nummies?”
You smiled down at your purple and pink unicorn mare. “For asking so nicely, yes. But just a bite, this isn’t very good for fluffies.”
She nodded. “Fwuffy need kibbow nummies to make good wunnies and huggies and poopies. But wittow hooman nummies otay sumtimes!” Her hot pink tail wagged happily as you set aside a bite of your General Tso’s on a napkin. You ate it so often that you only had to give your name at the local Chinese place and they would have it ready. General Tso’s tofu, mild, on egg fried rice with a large milk tea. Tofu rather than chicken because A) you’re a vegetarian and B) you think tofu is better than chicken. When pan fried just right, it’s got a crispy skin like a chicken wing, but the insides are as soft and creamy as fresh mozzarella. Delightful, especially when tossed with veggies and cloaked in a thick, sticky sauce.
“Here you go sweety! Eat slow, it might be spicey.” You set the napkin on the floor in front of her. She gently sniffed at it, then gave the golden cube of bean curd a small lick.
“Saucy am not spicey! Am sweetie!” She began to lick at it again, coughed lightly, and added “saucy a widdow spicey.” She took a tentative nibble on the corner of the block. “Dis… cheesy nummies? Thought daddeh said no mowe cheesy nummies.”
“After the mozzarella sticks incident? Yeah you’re right, no more cheese for you. But this isn’t cheese, it’s tofu!”
“Tobu nummies!” She squealed, as if she’s been waiting her entire life to try them. In one loud “Nom!” the tofu was gone. She chewed quickly, then licked the napkin clean until bits of paper were sticking to her tongue. “Wub tobu nummies!” She suddenly froze, and tilted her head in confusion. “What am tobu?”
You chuckled at her. Antics like this were why you loved your fluffies, they were so silly, so innocent. So full of love, even if they didn’t understand. Your pair brought so much joy into your life, even if they were lots of work. “Tofu. And it’s bean curd, which is kinda like cheese. It’s made the same way as cheese, but it won’t upset your little tummy like real cheese does.”
The puzzled look on Berry’s face grew. “Am… bean nummies? Wike daddeh’s baked beans?”
You laughed. “No, it’s made out of a different bean. Soy bean.”
Your mare stared at you, beginning to shake. “Soy… bean?”
“Yep! It’s used to make all kinds of things, like soy sauce and soy milk, I bet there’s even some in your kibble!” You reach out to ruffle her main, but she flinches away from you, not breaking eye contact.
“Nummies… awe Soybean?”
“…yes? Just soy beans, just like your-”
Oh no.
“WAIT no it’s not-”
“NUUUUUUUUUU!” Berry burst into tears, hiding her face in her hooves. “NU NUM BWUDDAH! NUUUU!”
You jab your chopsticks into the takeout container and quickly drop onto the floor with her. Your fluffy curles into herself, still screaming into her hooves. “No, it’s not your brother! It’s what he was named after, it’s a plant it’s not-”
“Sissy cwy?!” Your stallion, Soybean, skidds around the corner. He’s a creamy white with a pale greenish-yellow mane, and you got him at a huge discount when you bought his sister from the breeder because his colors weren’t “show quality”, whatever that meant. He looked like a little bean sprout when he was just a foal, so you called him Soybean after it. It was such a cute name…
Berry flopped onto her back and wiggled all her hooves in the air in anguish. “Daddeh twick Bewwy! Make num BWUDDAH!!” She wailed.
Soybean looked horrified and rushed to stand between you and her, puffing his little white cheeks in an attempt to intimidate you. “No feed bwuddah to sissy! Munstah! Munstah daddeh!!”
You ran your hand through your hair. “No buddy, she’s just confused. She thinks I cooked you up into tofu, it’s just made out of soy beans, like the actual bean-”
Soybean gasped. “Munstah daddeh… num Soybean? Nuuu!” He stomped his hooves into the carpet. “Nu num Soybean! Nu! Am fo huggies and wuvies and pway!”
“No! Bud, I didn’t eat you!” You reach to pet him, but he dodges and headbutts your arm, causing you to drop your takeout onto the floor. “Shit.” The dark sauce leaked out the side and onto the white carpet. You jumped to your feet, vaulting over the couch and to the kitchen. Stains in carpet don’t really bother you, but this is a rental and you would like your deposit back. A quick dab with a paper towel, a spritz of cleaner and it would be like nothing happened. Then you would deal with the fluffies. Berry’s continuing wails echoed around as you struggled with the toddler lock on the cabinet under the kitchen. Why did you even put these in? They just made your life worse, especially now when moving quick was required.
“Bwuddah nu! Nu num! Dat Bwuddah!!” Berry cried, sending a spike of stress through you. Rushing back to the couch with the paper towels in one hand and a spray bottle in the other, you found Soybean with his entire head in the takeout container.
“Soybean need num munstah nummies!” He shouted back, muffled by the microwave safe cardboard. “Wiww gib dem back to Soybean!”
You dropped the cleaning supplies and yanked him out of the container by the mane, being as gentle as you could. “It’s not you! It’s the plant, the bean you’re named after! I didn’t cook you!”
Your only reply is a loud retching noise from the fluffy in your hand as it vomits “munstah nummies” all over you, itself, and the carpet.
Why didn’t you just get a cat?
