Braden was asleep when the homeowners returned.
Enos and Myra O’Dell were an elderly couple, in their late eighties, living in the house they’d raised their family in. Tragedy had never been far from their family, it seemed to follow them. Accidents and illness took four of their eight children by the time all the kids were out of the house, and they’d lost three grandchildren in the Circum-Pacific War, the last of whom was just repatriated from Irkutsk. Samuel had been, at risk of sounding cruel, their favorite. He was always closest with them, and receiving his flag from her daughter had been the single hardest moment in Myra’s life. No words were spoken between them at the time. None could hope to encompass their shared grief.
As they crossed the threshold into their home, the smell hit them. It was acrid and pungent but earthy as well, like if manure could go sour. Their kitchen was destroyed, food everywhere. The O’Dells were on a fixed income, and they’d just gone shopping a few days beforehand. Most of what wasn’t eaten was exposed and covered in shit.
Enos was speechless. Myra was simply despondent. “What…who could have done this…” She needed to sit down and process all this. As she walked to the living room, the trail of destruction continued. Their dog, Best-Of-All, was asleep on the mantle, the only part of the room not sprinkled in shit. Myra sat in her plastic covered armchair and started sobbing.
Enos came in and placed a pale thin hand on his wife. “It’ll be alright dear, we’ll manage. I’m sure one of the kids-”
The moment is interrupted by giggling.
Braden has awoken.
The very good and clever fluffy has wrapped himself in the pretty cloth, and having heard the sounds of humans now gallops down the hallway from their bedroom (which he’s been sleeping and shitting in) to make some new friends. As he enters the living room, he joyfully proclaims “am bestest Bwadin, da pweeeeeeetiest fwuffy ebbah!” He managed to chew a face hole in the cloth, so his snout and eyes stick out and the rest of it billows around him, soaked in wet shit.
“Samuel! Augh!” Myra slumped in her chair, sobbing uncontrollably into her hands. This creature was desecrating the last piece of her beloved grandson she had, the boy she’d read bedtime stories to and given baths when his parents were working. He’d gone off to that awful war and never come back, and now his flag was…
Braden, sensing the lack of fun energy in the room, started dancing. He mostly bucked around and kicked into stuff while singing. “Bwadin am da bestest, ohhhhh da bestest fwaaaaaffy, ebbah in da wowd yeah.” Enos had had enough. “Now listen here you little hellion, this is our house and you’d better get out. You gone done and upset my wife and made dirt all over our home. I got half a mind to tan your hide, I swear.” The feeble old man approached the fluffy, who thought this was some new game.
“Pway? Bwadin wub pway!” The energized and very competitive fluffy, determined to win whatever game this was, ran between the man’s legs as that seemed like it would be impressive and therefore victorious. As he did so, the flag got tangled in the man’s feet. Braden wanted to jump up on the crying old lady to give her huggies and sillies so she won’t cry anymore, so he yanked hard on the pretty cloth to free himself.
Enos tumbled down like a Jenga tower. He bounced off the thin coffee table and landed hard on his tailbone before also smacking his shoulder into the side of the couch behind him. “Ow! My back!” Myra didn’t have time to react before the fluffy was upon her, clad in the memory of her beloved grandson, accompanied by the pained howling of her husband. The fluffy landed softly on her lap, but the smell was overpowering as it hugged her. “Bwadin nu wan owd wady hab saddies, haftu hab bigges heawt happies wif Bwadin! Hooway!” He then made happy poopies in her lap as a sign of respect. The woman tried to throw the fluffy to the ground, but in her advanced age she simply wasn’t able to do more than nudge him. He noticed, and after a few minutes of hugging and giggling he jumped down.
Enos was mostly just moaning now. He’d joined his wife in tears, but still couldn’t do much to rouse himself. The fluffy walked past him as it headed for the laundry room where it had first entered. Enos reached out for it, to try and take some agency back and in some way punish this…this creature. He was unable to do even this.
Braden made his way to the dog door, stopping to make good poopies in the kibble dish he mistook for a litterbox, and said “goobai” to the sleepy dog who’d first greeted him. As he passed through the door, the flag caught on a nail and ripped. By the time he was back outside, it was torn almost in half and he stepped out of it. “Huuuuu, pwetty bwanket bwoken huhuhuhu meanie doow bweak favwit bwanket.” He made a pouty face to show his anger, though the tears in his eyes betrayed how hurt and sad this turn of events made him.
But then a noise from the next lawn over jostled him away from his malaise.
“Nyu fwend? Wan gib tummeh babbehs?”
Somehow, Braden thought everything MIGHT just be okay AFTER all.