Be The One
A Response to @jberg360’s Fluffy Runner
By Oculus
~
“Bawwoons! Wub bawwoons!”
Alessia smiles as she watches the little pale pink foal play with the balloons. Similar balloons and streamers adorned the walls of the office she was sitting in. There was a happy atmosphere in the air, as today was the birthday of one of the adult fluffies stationed here.
Alessia’s workplace lies in the heart of a village, located not too far from the outskirts of a bustling Eastern European city. This building was officially constructed as a language enrichment centre, which offered classes in English to the locals, as well as corrective therapy for the people suffering from Fluffspeaking syndrome. However, and due to research’s staff’s experience and expertise with Fluffspeak, the centre also doubled as a shelter for feral fluffies. Here, fluffies that were obtained from the wild would be cleaned, neutered, observed and after a while, determined if they could be sold as pets.
The brown fluffy kept stamping upon the balloon. While having not that much weight, he was unaware of the stress he was placing on the surface of the balloon. Though made of vulcanized rubber, the stress was enough to make little tears upon the latex. And, as with all things, there is only so much roughhousing. With one mighty stamp, the brown fluffy landed his hoof on the balloon.
Pop!
~
BOOM
Like deafening cracks of thunder, the sounds of destruction reign upon the Eastern European city, as shelling had continued into its tenth day. Evacuations had begun a month prior to the conflict, and continued as the conflict dragged on.
Alessia had been busy tending to the wounded soldiers. Earlier that week, she had managed to evacuate the fluffies under her care to a safe place, far from the village. Having finished that, she returned to the city, as she had volunteered to help with the rescue effort. The continuous shelling from the enemy had seen the destruction of many civilian targets, including the humble building that she had worked at.
One of the men attached to her was an old army colonel with a unique handlebar moustache. He had been working tirelessly to rescue as many people as he could, removing the rubble with might and dexterity. In awe of his stamina, Alessio wondered what had motivated the man to work so hard to save as many lives as he possible could.
As the colonel kept removing the bits of broken concrete, he could see movement in the dust.
“I found someone!”
But upon closer inspection, what he thought was a hand was actually a hoof. The soft hoof of a baby fluffy pony, the genetic engineered creature that was introduce into his country just a few years back.
“Is it a man or a woman?”
“No, it’s just a stupid fluffy!”
Upon hearing that, Alessio rushed towards his location. Dusting away the grime from the foal, the Colonel looked on in bewilderment.
“Why are you bothering? It’s just a fluffy.”
“Fluffies are no different from pet animals,” Alessia retorted, as she pointed out, “You wouldn’t let a dog die under the rubble, would you?”
Having removed most of the grime, Alessia cradled the young fluffy pony in the palm of her hand. The fluffy in question was clearly a foal. Judging from his size, being about larger than that of a guinea pig, the foal was perhaps no older than four months old. Not too far from it was hoof of a much larger fluffy. However, that fluffy’s body had already been crushed. It was likely that the dead adult was this poor foal’s parent. It wouldn’t matter – priority had to be given to identify human corpses as opposed to animal ones.
The fluffy could only mutter incoherently, its mouth chocking with the grime. Tears from the foal were starting to wet her hand, perhaps indicating that the foal was in severe pain. Alessia strokes the foal, trying to get it to calm down.
“Don’t you worry. I’ll get you to a safe place.”
~
Alessia is holding a photo taken in the backseat of a van. There were many fluffies assembled, along with many foals. One of foals of note in the picture was a pale pink foal with a purple mane, who was entertaining himself with a little toy globe. Another foal of note was an orange foal with a brown mane. A Castillan fluffy, he was larger than the others despite being the same age, and was twice the size of a hamster. And there was a blue foal mentioned earlier, nursed within a protective cage of glass, as he was recovering form his wounds. The photo was actually taken by a colleague of Alessia, who had transported the fluffies of the shelter to safer lands while she remained working in the city for a good week.
“Blueball was always quiet when I first met him.”
Alessio is currently sitting in the meeting room of the Enrichment centre. On the other side of the table was Ms. Krolyk. Krolyk was a native of the country, but had to evacuate from the land almost a decade ago due to the conflict. As time went on, she got accustomed to living in the foreign country. And yet, she dearly missed her homeland.
Krolyk’s left hand is stroking a brown fluffy with a purple mane. His name was Bosco.
“Bosco’s a really handsome looking guy for a natural colour!”
“Indeed. He’s my beautiful Jberg.”
“A Jberg. Interesting. How old is he?”
“Eight years.”
“Eight!” noted Alessia. The Jberg breed was one of the earlier fluffy breed that had a genetic defect of having a lifespan of only four years. Alessia asked, “I take it he underwent the gene therapy?”
~
A little brown foal is in a cage, holding a small marble. This brown foal was one of the many feral fluffies that had migrated from the city when the shelling started. The brown foal, who didn’t have a name yet, remembered that his brother went missing when the terrible noises started. He remembered that one of the blasts that landed near him burned his nice pretty tail. His father had stayed behind to look for his brother while his mother carried away, following the other ferals that formed a herd that ran out of the city. After a day of travel, the herd had managed to reach the safety of a nearby encampment.
Sadly, his mother, exhausted from travelling without food for a forever, collapsed.
Now alone in the world, all that the brown foal had left in his life was a shiny glass ball. It was a special ball that was given to him by his father, who had gone missing.
“Fwuffy miss mummah…. Huu…. fwuffy miss daddeh…… huu… fwuffy miss bwudda…… huu…. fwuffy miss pretty tawe…… huu huu.”
The brown foal had no idea how long he would be in the cage. At first, he was examined by the weird hummehs who were wearing weird green clothes-fluffs. After a while, he was passed to other hummehs, who were checking his eyes and teeth.
“Poor thing. He has lost eyesight in this one eye, and there’s burn marks on his tail area. Other then that, he’s rather healthy.”
The brown foal could hear the cage be opened up again. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen to him. At this point, he didn’t care. Hanging on to his little glass ball tightly, he remained quiet.
To his surprise, the female hand that took out of the cage now presented him a small plate of spaghetti. She introduced herself as Ms Krolyk.
“How are you feeling, little one?”
The brown foal remained silent. He wasn’t sure how to answer her. Smiling, Ms Krolyk continued with a reassuring tone.
“I know things are a bit confusing for you now, but we’ll be trying to get you a new forever home. One with a nice mommy and daddy. It won’t replace the ones you lost but, hopefully, it would be a better place than the where you were from previously.”
With nothing left in the world, and with this sudden hospitality presented to him, our yet unnamed brown foal could only ask the most natural question any young orphan would ask after such hospitality.
“Nyu mummah?”
The lady was a little taken aback by the little foal’s question. The little brown foal was supposed to handed over to an organization that specialized in rehabilitating orphaned fluffies from war-torn areas that could be sold off to more affluent countries. But after some thinking to herself, she nodded.
“Yes. Yes little one.
I am your new mother.”
~
“He did. It was a little expensive, but Bosco has been my close companion for the past many years. He was so special to me that, I just couldn’t let him die so early.”
Alessia looked around, and commented, “from what I understand this was the second fluffy shelter that was built around here.”
“It was. It took about half a year to get the build made but, we got it done.”
“So how does an American Italian woman from Ohio land up in a village on the outskirts of Kyiv?”
“It’s quite the story. I majored in linguistics and, when I was fresh out of university, I came across a job offering at a major company that caught my fascination. Though it was listed as Quality Assurance Consultant, the requirements matched a person in the field of linguistic development. As it turned out, I ended up being involved with research in the language development department of FluffTV.”
“You were from Hasbio?”
“Hassenfeld, actually. Officially, fluffy ponies were a Hassenfeld product. Hasbio was the name of the bio-engineering division. My job was a rather simple one – review the programs the fluffies would be watching, as well as determine what programming would get the foals to develop their language acquisition skills.
It was during this time that I met this guy. Iskandar. He was one of the pioneers of the Fluffspeaking movement, and was one of the people who had been developing the Fluffspeak language.”
“I heard about him. Didn’t he commit suicide or something?”
“I don’t know. All I know was that, he was a very driven man. He believed that something big could come out of fluffspeak. He ran a site called Fluffspeak Nation – it’s been ages since I was there, but I remember translating the entirety of Roadside Picnic into Fluffspeak.
Not too long after Hassenfeld folded, I got more interested in pursuing a field related to understanding how fluffies, and young children, acquire fluffspeak as a language.
I then heard about the fluffy colonies that existed in Ukraine, especially the few herds that started to wander into the Chernobyl exclusion zone. For a good whole year that had been the focus of my research.
Then the war happened.”
~
A blue fluffy is walking down the village road. He’s just like any other fluffy pony biotoy that one can acquired in the West from a reputable breeder or a store like Fluffmart. But for the past few months, this fluffy has led a different life. As a service animal, he wears a black protective vest, designed to have enough Kevlar to protect him from possible shocks from explosives. The vest that he was wearing was emblazoned with a funny symbol. It looked like a three-pointed fork.
The humans call this path a road. And now the road was covered with a lot of flat discs. They reminded the fluffy of the plates that that hummehs eat from. But these weren’t plates, but bombs. A special kind of bomb that, if a human stepped on, would give them the forever sleepies.
Blueball, and the other fluffies, had a difficult task ahead of them. For the mines that were on the road, they had to carry them, and move them to the side. Then, they had to inform the humans where the mines were. Sometimes, the fluffies would be involved in moving the mines to a safe place where the humans could detonate the mine away from anyone else.
As Blueball carried the mine, he felt like he was playing with the blockie toys. But this was no toy he was playing with. He had seen bombs in the cartoons on FluffTV, and they seemed so harmless. But he had also seen the bombs in real life, and real bombs gave forever sleepies to anyone, hummeh, good boi or fluffy.
For a brief moment, he wondered to himself – why would humans make a bomb like this?
~
Alessia holds up a photo. The three baby fluffies that were in the back of the van were now all adults. Each of them were wearing the black protective gear, indicating their role as service animals for the country’s military.
“They got famous as the anti-bomb squad. They were mostly involved with transporting mines and clearing them out.”
“I thought the dogs sniffed out the mines?”
“They do, but dogs can’t transport mines. A dog can understand sniffing out and barking to someone to move a mine, but it wouldn’t understand the danger that the ordnance could bring. However, the fluffies could. The fluffies understood how dangerous mines and bombs were, and understood the way they had to be carried. Plus, and because of their ability to order and command dogs, the ministry had determined that it was more practical to send in the fluffies to manage the dogs in sniffing, isolating and removing the mines.”
Alessia sighed. “I feel that they also did it this way because fluffies and dogs were expendable. Easier to risk an animal to clear the ordnance as opposed to using humans,” she remarked with a cynical air.
“Weren’t the fluffies afraid? I miean, they saw the bombings. They knew that they could die from the mines?”
“To be honest, I was never keen on sending any of my fluffies out. I had grown quite attached to them, and wanted to see them live in safety.
But, Blueball wasn’t quite the same as the others.”
~
The fluffies looked on helpessly, as their white friend was being attacked by the swarm of scorpions.
The fluffies were going on a field trip as part of an enrichment. Somehow, this particular group had gotten lost in the forest. While trying to navigate their way back home, the white fluffy fell into a pit. Not only did he injure his leg, worst of all, the pit was filled with these scorpions.
“Hewp! Hewp!”
The fluffies looked on in fear. They were taught about scorpions, and how they were not fwens, but dangerous munstahs with a venom that could give forever sleepies. But they were too afraid. What could they do? Who was going to be the one to jump in?
Suddenly, Blueball jumped in.
As the hard hooves pressed upon the carapace of the arachnid, the hapless scorpion could barely move its chelicerates, as it was crushed by the weight of the far larger chimeric mammal. But there was more than one scorpion, and their stings were at the real threat.
But Blue was undeterred.
“Back, munstahs! Gib foreba sweepies, munstahs!!”
And Blue kept going, crushing at each sorption as much as he could. Braving the pain, Blue’s dance of death was enough to wiggle each scorpion off him and the other fluffy.
By the end of their little dance, all that remained of the scorpions was crushed exoskeletons, chelicerates, and one twitching tail.
Tired, though triumphant, Blue collapsed to the ground.
~
“I never could understand it.
Blueball was born on the streets like other ferals, but it’s very rare that I’ve seen a fluffy like that was so courageous and willing to be involved in more dangerous work.”
~
“Mistah, mistah pwez. Daddeh hab bigges’ huwties. Fwuffy nu can hew daddeh, nice mistah.”
She was a young human girl, about the age of ten. However, she spoke with a heavy lisp, and with stunted vocabulary. She was one of the many human people in the world who were suffering from fluffspeaking syndrome.
Colonel Hetman was standing in front of her with the little squad of fluffies by his side. He had recently adopted the biggest fluffy of the group, Quesada. The Castillan had just led the squad to take on a rogue griffin that was terrorizing a nearby building. Naturally, the fluffy ponies prevailed, and Quesada had brought back the head of the dead griffin as a trophy for the colonel. Though well-organized, the squad were all tired by this one venture.
“Can we go in that building?”
“Negative. It hasn’t been cleared, and we suspect it’s been booby trapped.”
The Colonel was faced with the solemn task of having to inform the girl that there was no way the soldiers could enter the burning building.
Just then, and perhaps out of frustration, Blueball charged towards the burning building.
“Blue, WAIT!!”
Blueball stopped for a moment and turned around. Through his damaged helmet, Blue could see the sad pleading eye of his friend, as Quesada pleade with him.
“Nu more fwens foreba sweepies.”
Earlier, the Castillan said that line when the squad finally overcame and killed the griffin. But now, the line felt different.
But Blue smiles, as he said, “Yes, nu moar fwens foweba sweepies. And nu mowe nice mistahs foweba sweepies too.”
And Blue ran off, straight into the building. Zander, initially feeling reluctantly, chased after him.
Quesada was silent. Realizing he had no other choice, the Castillan moved forward.
~
The picture showed a man on a stretcher, his face thoroughly bandaged, and hooked up to an IV drip. And yet, through the bandages, a smile could be seen, as the man had his right arm with a thumbs up. Beside him was his jubilant daughter, similar with the thumbs up, now reunited with her father. And on the bed, with a simple but happy smile, were the three fluffies of Zander, Quesada and Blueball.
“That’s how they got a little bit famous. Blueball was already well-known as the face of the anti-mine squad, but in the village, his squad became a local legend. Who ever would have thought of fluffies saving a human life? But these fluffies did. Against all hope, against the threat of the enemy, they resiked their lives, and saved a human one.”
Alessia dwelled on the photo for a little longer. There was one more photo she wanted to take out. Flipping the pages, she continued to narrate.
“The fluffies that were in the mine squad sort of, settled down. Developed lives of their own. They were all neutered but, and as with any fluffy, the peace time became a time for them to find new relationships.”
~
It had been a few months since the war had ended. Blueball was sitting in his room, playing with his blockies. While he was doing so, he felt a tap on his back.
“Uhh, Bwuu?”
“Yus?” asked Blueball as he turned around, curious as to who had approached him. To his surprised, it was Quesada. The Castillan had been famous for his stoicism and solitary lifestyle, much like Blue. However, and for the first time, Quesada was approaching Blue for help.
“Bw…Bw… Bwuu. Fwufffy wi… fwuffy wi…”
Blueball was a bit confused. He was wondering if Quesada was making a love confession to him.
“Fwen wike Fwuff?”
“Nu nu nu!” said an exasperated Quesada, shaking his two hooves in refusal. Then bringing his two hooves together and in a sheepish tones, Quesada admitted, “Fwuffy wike Bubbwes.”
Blueball laughed, as he said, “Fwen tawk ta mawe fwen?”
The Castillan shook his head. In shame, he admitted, “Fwuffy am…. Fwuffy am shy.”
Blueball could imagine why the Castillan was approaching him. Just a few days ago, the fluffies of the Shelter had visited an old folks home. There, Blueball got to meet and spent quite a long evening with a beautiful blue mare by the name of Whisperwind. Quesada had noticed this, and was wondering what was Blue’s secret to talking to a girl, and getting to know her better.
“Jus be ‘ou.”
~
The final photo that Alessia was showing to Ms Krolyk was taken no more then a month ago. Love had blossomed between the various adult fluffies of the shelter and, while they had restrictions, some had gone on to develop little families of their own. Quesada and Bubbles went on to have a son named Cheese. Zander, though single, adopted an orphaned pink foal that matched his colour scheme. Out of the fluffies in the picture, only Blueball remained single. But he seemed happy.
“What a beautiful family! But I thought it was mandated that fluffies, especially rehabilitated ferals, were supposed to be neutered?”
“It wasn’t easy. But I managed to get the permission from the Ministry of Environmental Protection and Natural Resources. I argued that these weren’t just any ordinary fluffies. These were heroes, fluffies who had put their lives on the line. Not just for the village, but for the country as a whole. And after a while, the Ministry relented. They had a restriction though. Each family was limited to only one foal. And the foal had to be sterilized.
But they allowed Quesada to have a family.”
With the little presentation done, Alessia remarked, “And that’s how Blueball got to be so famous.”
“That really is a lovely story.”
”So I told you about what Blueball means to us. You say that you have something that’s relevant to Blueball?”
~
A large blue feral was patrolling the streets. In recent forevers, the hummehs had started leaving the city, and the ways had become more bare. Feeling that it was more safe, the feral took his eldest son, the “bestest baby”, out to follow him on the foraging hunt, to find for their nursing mother. After all, the feral’s mate was nursing a second foal, a brown foal.
While looking for food, the blue feral noticed a shiny glass ball nearby, perhaps dropped by one of the hummeh children. There was a problem – the glass ball was protected by a nearby scorpion.
“Dummeh munstah.”
Without even thinking, the feral jumps up. With precising, his hoof lands on the arachnid’s body, squashing it quickly. The foal is impressed – he had been watching his father, and had learnt bit by bit what was needed to survive in this harsh city as a feral.
“Hab da toysie, babbeh.”
“Nu nummie baww, otay?”
Tiny hooves were playing at a little marble ball. He was a little blue foal, happiest as he could be in the world. He had a loving mother, and a loving father. And now, he had this shiny new ball.
Baby was so impressed by the clearness of this ball. And he kept playing at it. Rolling with it, marvelling at how well it could roll around.
But then there was a smell. A smell he was too familiar with. The smell of inferiority, which preceded the ugly colour.
“Can bwudda pway wif baww?”
The Blue hated his runt of a brother. He hated his smell, and he hated his colour, for his brown colour looked so much like poop. In fact, he looked so much like poop, he imagined that he smelled like poop. And so, like any child who didn’t know better, he pushed his brother aisde.
“Gu way, dummeh babbeh! Dis baww am for bestest babbeh onwy!”
The brown brother, feelng dejected, could only limp away.
Feeling proud of himself, the blue foal was happy. He got rid of that stupid brother. Good! It would be better if the stupid poopie baby would die one day. Only bestest baby gets the bestest numies, and the bestest toysies…
A large, giant mouth swooped, in, and took the ball away.
“Hey!”
With a quick flick, the daddy fluffy rolled the ball towards the brown foal. Then, taking a stick with his mouth, he preceded to whack the Blue foal.
“SCREE! WOWSTEST HUWTIES!”
“Babbeh am bad babbeh!”
“Nuh uh” retorted the blue, as he pointed out, “Babbeh am bestest babeh!”
With a quick strike to the cheek, the blue foal fell to the ground. In anger, the father fluffy pointed out, with a strong stern voice, “Aww babbehs am bestest babbehs! Bwuddas am speshuw! Weawn to shawe!”
“Nuuu! Babbeh dun wike ‘ou! Babbeh wish mummah, daddeh, and wowstest bwudda foreba sweepie!!”
And with a huff, and a puff, the Blue ran away, skulking.
~
The fluffies of the shelter had gathered to celebrate the birthday of one of the most special members. But there was a big problem.
“Whewe am Bwuu?”
“Why am Bwwu taking so wong?”
Up above, higher than anyone, Blueball was alone. The blue fluffy, Hero of the war, defeater of Monsters and matchmaker of Quesada & Bubbles, was now alone in a corner. Despite all the praise he got, and all the good memories he had, on this day, this one day, he was reliving a memory he had tried so hard to forget. So lost in his memories was he, that he was not aware of the sound of the cellar door opening.
~
A forever passed. The blue foal got lost. He was starting to feel a bit sorry about what he said. As he kept walking in the immensity of the city became clear. It was completely, and entirely empty. A terrible sign was wailing, a sound that felt like a warning, crying out across the city. And in the sky, he could giant bird monsters, flying high above.
“Babbeh dun wike dis pwace. Babbeh wan gu home!”
But the Blue remembered something. All street fluffies had learned to develop a form of code. By following specific drawings, fluffies could differentiate the places that meant safety, from the ones that meant danger. The foal saw the old sketti shop where his father had killed the scorpion and found the glass ball. Home was nearby. He was safe!
The blue ran hurriedly. He knew that home was within his reach. He was ready to say sorry. Sorry to daddeh. Sorry to mummah. As he saw the nest up ahead, he yelled out with a happy, “Mummah! Daddeh-“
BOOM!!
The Blue woke up. He didn’t know how long he slept. It was a different kind of sleep, and not a nice kind of sleep. When he was walking around the city, hearing the air raid siren, he was scared. That fear lasted a forever. And when he fell asleep, that sleep he just had was not the comfortable sleep of sleeping during the dark time and expecting bright time when he opened his eyes. No, this sleep happened because something terrible had his head, and forced him to sleep. As he woke up, trying to make sense of what happened, the first thing that greeted his eyes was rocks.
Big piles of debris, covering where the nest should be.
Scared, the foal tried to walk around the rocks, trying to understand what became of his home.
“Mummah? Daddeh?”
And then he saw it. What seemed like a hoof.
“B-bwuu?”
“DADDEH?!!”
Baby yelled out in fear. A giant rock had landed smack on his father’s body, and a dark, red liquid was staining the area around him, reaching up to his hooves.
“Babbeh am back. Daddeh am happeh. Been twyin’ to find ‘ou.”
“Am sowwy” cried Blue, as he kept sobbing, “am sowwy….”
But his apologies were for naught. With a closing of his eyes and a tired smile on his face, Daddeh forever slept.
The blue foal could not stop crying. As another explosion happened, and the debris started to rain around his old home, the foal was filled with a sense of guilt and shame. Guilt that he had abandoned his family. And shame, that he was not able to properly reconcile with his father.
~
Zander speechless as he heard Blueball narrate the story.
“Fwuffy nu am a hewo. Fwuffy am a munstah.
Famiwy hab foweva sweepie, and babbeh neba got to say sowwy. Bwubaww am wowstest fwuffy.”
There was a lump in Zander’s throat. He now understood why Blueball always kept to himself. But he also knew there was to Blueball then just that story.
~
A little blue foal was seated in a corner. He had been ignoring everybody, and had been spending most of his time doing nothing. He followed the group wherever they went, and played the same games, but he mostly kept quiet. This caught the attention of a number of foals at the makeshift daycare. One of the teacher fluffies at the daycare told the foals to try and make friends with the blue loner. But they were all hesistant.
“Dat babbeh am scawy.”
“Dat babbeh mebbe dummeh.”
“Dat babbeh mebbeh nu fun. Babbeh dun wun be da one to hab tawkies wif ‘im.”
That seemed to be the reccuring statement. “Not me.” But then, a dissenting voice came from a pink foal.
“Fwuffy wiww be da one.”
As Zander left the group, the other foals tried to discourage him at first. Then, and being bored, they just walked away, and concerned themselves with another game.
The pink foal approached the blue, hearing the sobs coming from the corner.
“Fwen an otay?”
The blue foal continued to cry.
“Babbah am Zanda. What am nyu fwen name?”
His mind, losing the memory of the family he had, he could only repeat the one thing he could remember, the one thing he had lost that day.
“Baww…… baww….”
Zander was a bit confused. But then, realizing how interesting and unique that name he was, he said,“Dat am a nice namesie!”
And with that, Zander hugged the blue foal. It took him by surprise. But Zander smiled, as he said, “Fwen hab a nice namesie, Baww.”
Blue was a bit confused. He felt like he had his own name, one that his mummah and daddeh gave all that while ago. But he had forgotten that name. And while Ball made sense as a name, it felt like it was missing something.
“Bwuubaww. Dat am babbeh namesie. Bwuubaw.”
“Bwuubaw,” echoed Zander. But the pink foal smiled as he acknowledged, “Fwen am happeh ta meet Bwuubaww.”
~
Blueball was surprised. Despite the story that he just told, Zander was hugging him again. It wasn’t just any ordinary hug that fluffies give to each other in happiness. This was a hug between two friends, who had been through thick and thin.
“Bwuu nu am munstah.”
~
Zander’s face was bleeding. His right eye was blackened, as the other bigger foal had just punched him in the face. Zander was just playing with the squeaky toy when this other green fluffy came up and took the toy from him.
”Gu way dummeh! This am smawty’s toy!!”
Just then, a blue hoof came out of nowhere, and punched the green bully in the jaw.
“Weave fwen awone!”
~
Blueball was confused. But Zander was crying, as he yelled out,
“Fwuffy nu cawe if fwen hab been a bad babbeh ow a dummeh babbeh! Bwuubaww had hewp so many fwens, big an’ smaww! Bwuu had hewp hummehs, good bois and fwuffies!”
Zander was hyperventilating. But he got Blueball’s attention. And, as Zander calm down, he noted,
Ib fwuffy daddeh wuz hewe, daddeh wouwd be pwoud. Bwuu hab been da bestest fwuffy. Stwong, bwave, nu fraidie ob munstah ow da dawkies!
We aww wub ‘ou, Bwuu! Even fwuffy, Zanda, wub ‘ou!
‘ou am a hewo, Bwuu.”
Blueball’s eyes are filled with tears. But he realizes that his friend was right.
“Now come fwen. It am ‘ur berfdae. Aww da fwuffies hab a pawty fow ‘ou.”
~
Everybody that Blueball and Zander knew was at the party. The colonel was there, along with Quesada, his mate Bubbles, and their young son, Cheese. Alessia was also there, this time with some woman that Blueball had never met before, but was most likely another nice lady as she was holding a rather happy brown fluffy. Even Whisperwind was here, as her owner was a big admirer of the local hero.
Happy to see his friends, Blueball apologized.
“Fwuffy am sowwy fow being so wate, fwens.”
“It am awwite.”
“Fwuffy am happy to see Bwuu!”
“By the way Blue, you have a special visitor today!”
As she said this, the nice lady that was standing next placed the brown fluffy that she was holding down on the floor. This brown fluffy walked up to Blueball.
A little confused, Blueball nonetheless greeted him with a, “Huwwo. Nyu fwen?”
But Bosco smiled. There was a pocked holstered around his right hood. With a little skill, Bosco reached for a little item that was housed within the pocket with his teeth. Then, very gingerly, he placed the curious item for all to see.
“It jus’ am a baww,” noted Cheese.
But Blue’s eyes widened. As he carefully looked at the marble, he then turned his eyes back to Bosco. And then he realized. The same brown colour. The same eyes.
And there was only one explanation.
“B-bwudda?”
Bosco smiled. A happy, but bittersweet, smile as he nodded.
“Yes, bwudda.”
And he hugged Blueball. The biggest hug he could ever imagine. Blueball had so many burning questions on his mind. So many, but there was something more important he wanted to say to his long lost brother.
“Bwudda, bwudda, Bwuu am sowwy.”
But Bosco smiled, as he noted, “It am otay.
Nice whady sez ‘ou fight many munstahs, and hewp many fwens nu hab foreba sweepies. Bosco am pwoud to hab Bwuu as a bwudda.”
And the two brothers embraced each other again.
~
“Oh bury me, then rise ye up
And break your heavy chains
And water with the tyrants’ blood
The freedom you have gained.
And in the great new family,
The family of the free,
With softly spoken, kindly word
Remember also me. “
