>You have a fluffy named Bingo
>You had two, but your other fluffy got dismembered in a tragic can opener accident.
>Bingo sat and watch the whole thing, and now craps himself every time you open a can of Spagehti-o’s.
>Since you don’t want him to suffer from the terror of the can opener, you find online instructions on memory resetting.
>Gather supplies: alligator clips, litter box, old TV for power.
>Connect clips to power supply, Turn on TV, and tune it to PBS.
>Summon Bingo into the safe room.
>“Wat dis? New game? Pway new game?”
>You put an alligator clip on his ear.
>“Owie! No wike! Nuu! Dun huwt Bingo!”
>“Settle down and you’ll get a cookie,” you say. “This is going to make you feel better.”
>Man, why does your phone keep ringing?
>Check your phone. It’s your mom.
>Put other clip on Bingo’s other ear and answer phone.
>You sister’s been in a car accident.
>Rush out the door to the hospital.
>Come back hours later. She’s fine, but she broke a leg.
>Man what’s that smell? And why are there British people talking in your safe room?
>Oh shit, you forgot about Bingo
>His head is smoking and the TV is blaring “Downton Abby”
>Yank the cord out of the wall, and Bingo falls over.
>You think you’re going to need a new fluffy when Bingo stands back up.
>“Wots aww dis den?” he says. “I say, dis is higwy peculiah. Spawt of tea, govneh?”
>You’ve accidentally created a British fluffy.
>Your British Fluffy pony has been depressed recently. Keeps going on about “jammy dodgehs” and “spawt of teh”
>You decide he needs a friend, so you head down to the breeding center.
>There was apparently a fire last night, and the sprinkler system drowned all their fluffies
>But there’s a new type of biotoy out these days. They’re called “Puffy Griffons” and they’re apparently even more playful than fluffy ponies.
>You head down the hall to the Puffy Griffon center to find an entire flock of puffy griffons sitting along cat trees, smiling down at you.
>“Hi Mistar!” “Guten tag!” “Vant play, Mistar?”
>You play with the puffy griffons for a few minutes and find their little German accents endearing.
>Their claws are no sharper than a pair of children’s scissors, but they eagerly climb up your pants and sit on your shoulder like a parrot.
>You pay the man, and think of a name for your puffy griffon. You’ve got it, and tell it to him.
>“I vill call meinself Kaiser!” he says, puffing out his feathery chest with pride. “Kaiser luff Mistar!”
>He’s pretty adorable, and you hope your British fluffy will love him too.
>You get inside and call Bingo into the room.
>“Pwease caw meh Nigew,” he says, as he trots into the room. He stops as soon as he sees the puffy griffon. “Wots aww dis den?”
>“This is your new friend Kaiser,” you tell him. “He’s a puffy griffon.”
>Kaiser clacks his beak and spread outs his wings. “Kaiser vill remove zeez floofy vermin for you Mistar!”
>Bingo puffs up his cheeks and stamps his hooves on the floor. “I nawt vewmin, yoo wuffian! Haf at yoo!”
>“What? No. Bingo is your friend, Kaiser. Both of you play nice or you both get the sorry stick.”
>“No vant sorry stick, Mistar!”
>“Pwease no sowwy stick, Govneh!”
>Hopefully the threat of the sorry stick will keep your fluffy and puffy playing nice.
>But you get the feeling it’s all going to end in hilarious tears.
>You are Kaiser, glorious puffy griffon descended from the long lines of puffy griffons from the old country (l.e. Cleveland)
>Your new owner has placed you in a house with your mortal enemy: A fluffy pony.
>It has been two days and you’re still waiting for the opportunity to strike down the fluffy vermin and feast upon his insides.
>Were he a pegasus, you’d simply dive bomb him from the couch and eat him, and if he were a unicorn, you’d have to avoid his sparking horn to make a kill.
>But he’s an earth fluffy, the toughest and strongest of the fluffy kind. Those pounding hoofs could crush your hollow bones in a second.
>You follow him around as he does fluffy things: eating, pooping, watching PBS and saying things like “Oh dose scowndwels!” while laughing like an idiot.
>You hate Bingo. You hate his stupid tea time, and you hate his penchant for water crackers and cucumber sandwiches.
>You sit waiting atop a chair for Mister to come back upstairs when Bingo prances into the room.
>“Wat you doin’ up dere?” he asks. “Govneh no wan us on da chaihs.”
>“Kaiser vill do vant as he vants!” you snap back. “If dis vere de vild, I vould eat floofy und play vith you bones!”
>He puffs up his cheeks “You wan fisticuffs, ow’ bean?” he says, stamping his feet. “I gif you wat fow!”
>That’s it! You leap off the chair at that fluffy pony. He lifts his stubby hooves, and leaps back.
>Soon you’re rolling around on the floor with Bingo. He pummels you with his hooves and tears out chunks of your fluffy feathers as you try to find skin
beneath his fluff.
>You’re about to bite his ear when a massive boot stamps beside you.
>“I thought I told you two to behave!” yells Mister.
>“He stawted it!” says Bingo. “Kaiseh es meanie puffy!”
>“Bingo es a cowvard und a baby!”
>Mister just looks at you, and goes to his cabinet for something.
>“Time for tacos?” you ask, hopefully.
>“Is skettis time?” asks Bingo.
>Nope. He slams a huge metal pot over Bingo. While you’re laughing at his, a large metal bowl drops over you too!
>You hear a loud CLANGCLANGCLANGCLANGCLANGCLAG coming from the other pot.
>“WOUD! TOO WOUD! BINGO SOWWY! NO WAN PWAY DIS GAME!”
>You can only chuckle, but before your mirth can reach its full height, the sides of the pot ring with a castrophony of noise. You try to cover your ears in
panic.
>“NEIN! NEIN! SCHNELL! SCHNELL! DAS ES NUT GOOD FOR PUFFY!”
>He takes the pot off, to reveal that you have wet yourself in terror.
>“Now, the war’s over kids,” he says. “Any more trouble out of you and I’ll throw you both outside.”
>You sit weeping for a minute as Bingo does the same,
>Stupid vermin, getting you in trouble. You’ll show him.
>You are Bingo, British Fluffy extraordinary. You are from the eleventh house of Queensbury from Darrow on the Shire.
>Recently, Governor brought home a vile puffy griffon and told you to play nice.
>You don’t trust that kraut further than you can throw him though.
>You’re watching T.V. when your favorite show comes on: Funny People in Fast Cars! You sing along to the music when puffy griffon Kaiser hops up on the
sofa behind you.
>And you were having such a nice day, too.
>“Wat you want, yoo cad?”
>“Vant to eat you und poop in yur skull, heir floofy,” he says. “Vat you doin?”
>“Watch tewwy!” you say. Suddenly, you hear humans talking just like Kaiser does! “Hey dehe some of you hooman on da tewwy!”
>Kaiser plops down next to you as you watch the funny humans driving their fast cars.
>He seems happy about the funny talking humans, and how they drive their cars.
>At the end of the program, they funny people who talk like you seem sad that the funny people that talk like Kaiser did something.
>Kaiser stands on his back legs and does a little dance. “Ve are da best!”
>“Yoo can’t dwive,” you say, sticking your tounge out at him. “Wat you happeh fow?”
>“drive!” he snaps back. “I show you! Vere es das auto?”
>Oh, it’s on. You climb up on the table and grab the jingle chain, then head to the cold floor room. Inside is Governor’s car.
>You drop the jingle chain in front of Kaiser. “Wets see you dwive den, you kwauwt.”
>Kaiser picks up the jingle chain and struggles to climb up on the car. “Gif puffy un hand!” he says.
>“I nawt have hands, twit,” you say.
>“No, gif puffy un push!” You get underneath him and shove him atop the bonnet. He scrambled up and through the roof of the car to land in the front
seat.
>This silly car has the circle on the wrong side! You climb up after him and drop into the other seat.
>“Weww?” you ask. “Wat you waitin’ fow? Pwesant fwom da queen?”
>Kaiser is fumbling with the jingle chain when you see the door open up. Governor sees you sitting the the car, and his face gets very ugly.
>A little while later, you can’t even sit down. You’ve never been sorry-sticked so hard in your life, and now you’re standing in the bad fluffy box.
>Next to you in his own sorry box is Kaiser. He just glares at you, and you glare back.
>“I vill kill yoo,” he says.
>“Sod off, yoo twat”
>You are the proud owner of British Fluffy pony Bingo, and Puffy griffon Kaiser.
>To keep the two from killing each other, you let them watch as much TV as they want.
>Bingo is busy singing along to the theme song of an American show that he actually likes.
>“Wivin in sin wif a safteh pin goin’ Cweavwand wocks! Cweavwand wocks!”
>“vhat is dis garbage?” demands Kaiser. “Poot on ze tanks channel! Vant vatch tanks!"
>“I gif yoo wat fow!” says Bingo. “I watchin’ dis!"
>"You’ve been watching sitcoms for an hour, Bingo. Let Kaiser watch what he wants.”
>Go over and change the channel to the History Channel.
>Kaiser sticks his tongue out at Bingo.
>Bingo pouts at the TV until a tape of one of Hitler’s speeches comes on. He’s immediately entranced by the German speech and wild gesculations.
>"not like dis guy,” says Kaiser. "Someting aboot him make me nervous.”
>It switches over to something about Winston Churchill.
>“Wots aww dis?” says Bingo at the picture of the Prime Minister. “Dis guy wooks wike a Pikey.”
>“I qvite like dis man,” says Kaiser with an upturned beak. “Bettar zan dat Hiltar guy.”
>“Yoo mus be daft!” says Bingo. “Hitwar da best hooman!”
>Kaiser spreads his wings, and puffs out his cheeks, “Vinston es best human, you floofy dope!”
>Bingo puffs out his cheeks and throws out a fluffy hoof. “SIEG HEIL!”
>“GOD SAVE ZE QVEEN!” yells Kaiser before tackling Bingo.
>The two pound on each other ineffectively for a moment before you get up.
>Separate the puffy griffon and fluffy pony and stick them both in their bad fluffy boxes.
>Every Day, it’s like World War II in here.
>Except your idiot pets are rooting for the wrong sides.
>Be the owner of a Puffy Griffon (Kaiser) and a British Fluffy pony (Bingo).
>Bingo and Kaiser have been at each other’s throats ever since you brought Kaiser into the house.
>Everyday, Kaiser tries to eat Bingo, and every other day, Bingo beats the crap out of Kaiser.
>Puffy griffons were made to hate fluffy ponies, but Bingo is big enough that Kaiser hasn’t been able to hurt him.
>Still, their tussling has gotten out of hand and the normal punishments aren’t working.
>Perhaps they need a new friend to help them find common ground.
>Pound is out of fluffy ponies.
>Apparently they all went to Cleveland.
>Another puffy griffon is out of the question, as two on one would spell a death sentence for Bingo.
>Finally settle on a fuzzy dragon, which is something new from France.
>“Bonjour, Pa-pa!” he says. “Je t’aime, papa!”
>You don’t speak French, but whatever. The French are known for their skills in diplomacy, so this will be perfect.
>Introduce Bingo and Kaiser to Pierre, the fuzzy dragon.
>Pierre starts talking to them in broken Franco english about… you have no idea really.
>Your German puffy griffon and British fluffy look at Pierre, then back at you.
>“Wots aww dis den?” says Bingo.
>“Vye you bring dis ting into da house?” demands Kaiser.
>“Because you obviously need a new friend to help you communicate,” you tell them. “Now play with Pierre while I make dinner.”
>Pierre is happy and excited, and goes on babbling in French to your pets while you go into the kitchen.
>Dinner takes about fifteen minutes to make, but after ten, you notice that you don’t hear Pierre talking anymore.
>Set the bowls of food down, and go into pet’s room.
>They greet you at the door.
>“We no fight no mow,” says Bingo. “Jowwy good, den?”
>“Jah,” says Kaiser. “I tink we friends now?”
>Bingo and Kaiser walk past you, nonchalantly. Behind them is Pierre, laying face down in the water bowl.
>Well, at least they found a common ground.
>Seems like even Fluffy Ponies and Puffy Griffons hate the French.