It is a beautiful morning on your little farm, the sun is rising over the trees and making the dew sparkle on the long grass. Its been a while since you mowed, but that’s a problem for later today. Right now you’re just going to sip your morning tea and enjoy the birdsong, like you do most mornings.
Or, you were until the sound of one of your trash cans falling over startled you. Damn raccoons. You set your mug down and went to scare it off. Fuckers keep digging through your trash and scattering it everywhere, you must have forgotten to put the brick back on top last night. Turning the corner, one of the silver cans is on its side and a brown fuzzy creature has it’s back to you, pawing through the debris.
“Git!” You barked, kicking up some dirt in it’s direction.
“Eeee!” It spun around, revealing a pair of wings and a purple mane. A fluffy. God damnit. “Nu hurt! Pwease!”
You had so much trouble with these little vermin. They were everywhere, less common than they were in the city but still a nuisance enough. Being the big softie you are, it was hard to shoo them off. Their child-like voices just… made it feel wrong to harm them.
“You can’t be here. Go.” You forced your voice to be stern.
The fluffy shrank back against the side of the house. “Pw-pwease nice mistah… If Poopeh nu bwing back nummies… Get biggest huwties!” God. It was so pathetic. It was filthy, fluff patchy and matted with a large scar crossing it’s nose. Her brilliant green eyes are full of tears. Poor thing…
“Ugh. Fine.” You pulled the end of a stale loaf of bread out of the can and handed it to the shaking fluffy. “Go back to your herd and tell them the human who lives here is a monster that eats baby fluffies.” It snatched the bread, and looked up at you with a slight smile. You kicked it gently, getting a squeek. “If you come back I’ll skin you alive and make you into a hat.”
“Nuuuu!” It’s cry was muffled by the bread as it ran back into the brush. Hopefully that would be the end of it. It always pained you to see the brown ones treated so poorly by their herds but what could you do about it? Not like you could take them in, your farmhouse was a one bedroom affair with no space for a safe room. You came out here for your privacy, saved up every bit of money you could working awful jobs so you could buy the place. Now you grow all your food so you don’t have to depend on anyone else. You loved the silence, a baby talking shitrat would ruin it.
You returned to your mug of tea, leaning back onto the railing and started thinking about your chores for the day.
By mid morning you were on your knees in your garden bed, pulling weeds. It was one of your least favorite chores, but you depended on the food from your garden, so it was an essential one. You glanced up, the sky was free from clouds, so it would be warm later in the day. You had better hurry to get this done before it got too hot.
“Dummeh hooman!”
Son of a bitch.
Behind you was a light blue fluffy with a red and white mane. His cheeks were puffed, and his wings outstretched to make himself larger (you assumed.)
“Dis hewd wand nao! Give nummies or get wowstest huwties!” He stomped his hoof for emphasis. Fantastic. A smarty. His technicolor herd stretches behind him, mares and their foals, stallions, and at the very back a huddled brown mass. A familiar brown mass. She stares at the ground.
You sigh and stand to face him. “Go away before I get my shotgun.”
The smarty doesn’t flinch, stomping closer to you. “Nu! Yu go away! Hewd take hooman wand! Take dis!” He runs up and starts stomping on your boot. You don’t even feel it.
The brown fluffy at the back is whimpering, a dark green unicorn is attempting to comfort it. You can’t look away from them, even with the smarty giving his all against your boot. They’re so pitiful, so broken down. The back half of the herd isn’t looking so good either, they’re all patchy fluffed and filthy… You can’t take pity on them. You can’t. They’re vermin. They’ll eat you out of house and home. You could at least take care of the smarty, however. One less asshole in the world.
You yelp, pulling your foot back in feigned agony. “Please! No more! I’ve never met a smarty as tough as you!”
He snorts in approval. “Dummeh hooman weave! Ow smawty gib yu fowevah sweepies!”
“Oh no, please don’t! I’ll give you my special nummies, don’t hurt me!”
“Speciaw nummies?”
You gesture towards your shed. “I keep my secret special nummies in here, they’re only for the bestest and most special fluffies.”
“Gib bestest nummies to smawty and toughies and speciaw fwends!” A handful of fluffies shuffled forward to join him.
“Right this way, bestest fluffies!” You led them over to your shed and opened the door. “The nummies are hidden at the very back, enjoy!” The smarty strutted in like a rooster, his toughies close behind him. Two mares, one with foals and one almost too pregnant to walk joined them. A third mare tried to join, but one of the toughies stopped her.
“Yu nu speciaw! Yu dummeh!” He bonked her on the top of her head with his hoof.
“Buh… Buh… Smawty is fwuffie’s bruddah! Get speciaw nummies tu!” The mare whined, but the smarty just turned and blew a raspberry at her before venturing further into the junk filled shed. The mare plopped down on her rump and started to sob. God these things were assholes.
You slammed the door shut behind them and latched it, the problem members of the herd contained. The rest of the herd stared with wide eyes, the mothers hiding their babies under their legs. “The rest of you can get lost. There’s no food for you here, and unless you want to join them in the…” God you hated the baby talk they used. “The sorry shed, you need to leave and never come back.”
“Pwease mistah, wet fwuffies have widdwe nummies? Smawty eat aww nummies and nu wet mummahs hab any…” The blue mare at your feet sobbed.
“No. I depend on my garden, thats my food and I need it.” She sobbed louder, burying her face in the grass. Her cries started a chain reaction in the herd, causing them all to start sobbing about how much their bellies hurt and how they didn’t want their babies to go “fowevah sweepies”… It sounded like you had just told a classroom of kindergartners that they would never get to eat ice cream again. Why did they have to be so human-like?
“… Wait. I can give you some nummies. Please stop crying.” You crouched down next to the blue mare. “Do you have a name?”
“Fwuffy is Bwubeww.” She sniffled.
“Okay Bluebell, you and your herd can have all the grass you want.”
“Tankoo nice mistah!!” She lept to her feet and hugged your leg. A small chorus of “tankoo” rang out from the sniffling crowd.
“Hang on, I have some rules. You can’t eat ANYTHING but the grass. No flowers, no fruits, and nothing from my garden. If anyone needs to poop they can do it over there by my compost pile.” You pointed it out, making sure she knew what you meant.
Bluebell nodded happily before addressing the herd. “Fwuffies wisten to nice mistah, otay? Onwy make good poopies by cumpost! Onwy eat gwassie nummies!” The herd cheered and slowly scattered, munching away at your grass.
This could be a sweet deal, you thought to yourself. The herd would keep your grass short, cutting a chore off your list. The manure couldn’t hurt your garden either, hell, maybe you could even teach them to weed. You chuckled at the thought of your own fluffy workforce. Bluebell seemed smart enough, if she could keep the herd in line you might even be able to fix up that old barn for them.
Your thoughts were interupted by a gentle tap on your leg. “Poopeh wedy to be hat nao.” The brown fluffy mumbled.
You picked her up by her scruff, noticing she was a mare. “I thought I made myself clear on what you were supposed to do.”
“Poopeh know. Smawty nu wisten, say hewd take hooman’s wand. Poopeh twy to teww smawty nu cum hewe but smawty give huwties.” She had a trickle of dried blood on her nose.
Another fluffy voice spoke up. “Is twue! Smawty am meanie! Pwease nu gib huwties to Poopeh!” The green unicorn had followed her up to you.
“I won’t hurt you. Not your fault I guess.” You gently set her down.
“Nu be hat?”
“No, I won’t make you into a hat.” You hadn’t meant it at all, but she had just accepted her fate. You knew that fluffies were racist as hell but you had never seen the effects firsthand like this.
The green unicorn hugged her happily, wings fluttering excitedly. You could feel your blood sugar rising at the sight, it was something that could warm the hearts of the most staunch abuser.
Wait.
Wings?
Oh shit he’s an alicorn. “What’s your name, buddy?”
He shrunk back from you. “Munstah.”
“No, I’m not a monster, I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
“Nu, fwuffy’s name Munstah.”
“Jesus buddy, your herd is not kind to you two, is it.” The pair shook their heads slowly. “How about this, your name is now Clover.” You pointed at the green stallion, who lit up. “And you are now… Lilac.”
The pair rushed to hug you. “Wiwac wuv new namsie! Tankoo! Tankoo mistah!!” Maybe you should have picked something she can say. Whatever.
Behind you the shed fluffies had finally figured out they had been tricked. You could hear their shrill voices and hooves beating on the door. “You two go get some food. I’ve got some… Things to take care of.” They hugged you one last time, then scampered off to go munch on the grass with the rest of the herd. Pulling out your phone, you called a friend.
“Hi Sam.”
“Hey Dave, you still got that fluffy in your garage?”
“Nah, he finally kicked the bucket last week. Why?”
“I might have something you’re interested in.”