“Whewe wady take babbehs?”
It was a question Martha had heard pretty much every day in the year and a half that she had worked at the breeding centre. Sometimes, when she felt like like it, she’d answer it. Today she did not. Instead, she wheeled the cart to foal room A-1 in silence.
Upon arrival at the door, Martha knocked twice. In a matter of seconds, a peppy young Latino guy named Ethan opened the the door. “Heya Martha!” He said gleefully, “Who are these little buddies you’ve brought me?” One of M-26’s foals replied, “Hewwo nice mista. Babbehs am babbehs!” Ethan squealed with excitement. Martha rolled her eyes in annoyance as her coworker gathered up all the foals, aside from the one in the jar. “Okay little buddies, let’s leave that meanie-bo-beanie in the jar with Martha and put you guys in your new home.” and with that, Ethan took the foals back into the room, closing the door behind him.
Martha snatched the red brat’s jar out of the cart, smirking cruelly at the shit-caked colt. “Now that that’s over with, let’s make an example out of you!” she said as she shook the jar a bit. “Dummeh wady! Put babbeh backsies wit mummah! Nu wan be ‘zample!” the hellspawn whined. “Well that’s TOO BAD! Rules are rules, and the rules say that unsellable violent brats like you are always made into examples.” Martha chuckled a bit as she said this, and brought up a list fluffies in need of discipline on her phone.
“Hello S-3.” The red unicorn stallion in the pen turned to look up at Martha, puffing out his cheeks. “Dummeh wady, gib Essthwee safewoom an’ specha fwend an’ nyu namsie wite naow! Essthwee desewb tu be daddeh mowe den dummeh bwudda! Nu wike dummeh pen!” Martha frowned theatrically, “Oh come on S-3, Mochi earned the right to be half of a saferoom breeding pair with good behaviour, if you want what he has you have to be nice.”
S-3 didn’t even seem to understand what Martha had said, he just continued glaring at her with puffed out cheeks. The young woman sighed, and opened the jar. “Well, there IS another reason you can’t help raise your foals…” she yanked the red brat out by the scruff of his neck, “THIS little savage is one of your foals! He bit his sister earlier, and with how you’re acting right now, I’m beginning to think he got his attitude from you. You’d be an awful dad!” S-3’s anger gave way to fear. He too remembered what happened to violent foals at this breeding centre.
“NU! NU HUWT BABBEH!” the stallion pleaded, “You’ve been bad S-3, bad fluffies don’t get what they want.” Martha chided playfully, “Let’s see what the foal says. Tell me you little shit, do you want to live?”
“BABBEH WAN WIBE!”
Martha had thrown the foal to the floor as hard as she could, killing him instantly. S-3 wept bitterly, “B-babbeh… nuu huu huu…” Martha snapped her fingers to get the fluffy’s attention, “Stop demanding things, or it will be you next time.”
As she strode away, Martha wondered if S-3 really was the red brat’s father…