Continued from Part 2
I couldn’t help but smile as I watched the pale green mare giggle and tap her hooves as she heard the fluffy music channel I was streaming. It was an interesting sight; the way she expressed her joy in such a silly manner. Fluffies had the minds of children (albeit dumb ones) and there was a beauty in the innocence of her joy.
“Smawtie dances siwweh!” She exclaimed. She was right. The smarty was rather amusing in its “dances”. Not that it could control them, of course. After drilling a hole in its horn I looped the steel cable through and crimped it. It was now leashed. The cable had also been run up through a hole in one of the joists in my basement to keep his front involuntarily stood up. That same cable was hooked up to an electric fence energizer that had been modified with a dimmer switch. There was enough current now running through the smartie’s head to cause it to spasm uncontrollably. The horn was close enough to the useless matter it called a brain to short circuit its senses. Its eyes jerked in so many different directions you’d swear it was a chameleon.
I cut the juice and turned off the music stream. “You should go watch FluffTV,” I suggested to the mare as I gently patted her back. She agreed and happily plodded over to the corner of her safe room where I had set a monitor to stream FluffTV for her. I liked how it hypnotized her; she was oblivious to the plight of the smarty as she was watching it.
I turned to the smarty. Its hind quarters were flopped down sloppily on the floor; with the cable leashed through its horn it couldn’t rest his since hanging from it seemed to hurt. Good. It was breathing heavily, trying to reorient itself after its crude electro-shock therapy. Thankfully it had completely evacuated its bowels and bladder into the sink when I installed its leash or this likely would have been messy.
It finally managed to get its eyes straight. “Tingwie… tingwie huwties!!!” it gasped. “Nu wike! Heaw cowors!! Nu feew pwetty!”
I laughed at its confusion. “That’s just a taste, ‘Smarty’”. If the little shit hadn’t been so rude I would have felt bad for it. I don’t understand how these things survived in the world they were so stupid. I could understand how the pleasant ones made good pets, but these “smarties”……
Its stomach gurgled. “Dummeh… tummeh hewties… give…. sketties!” It twitched a little as it tried to form sentences. Thirty minutes of “tingly hurties” might have been too much if I wanted this buffoon to feel the full weight of its consequences. I made a mental note to use a lower setting on the fence energizer.
“You must be hungry……” I said. It hadn’t a thing to eat for well over a day; so I knew it must be starving. “Let me get you something to eat….” I said, picking up a bowl and moving back to the sink. There was still a plentiful portion of shit in the corner despite the hosing down it got. Smarties seemed to excel at expelling foul things, be it diarrhea or bad manners. I used the bowl to scoop up some excrement and walked back to the Smarty. I adjusted its leash so he could finally drop down.
It took one look at the bowl and immediately stomped its hoof and puffed its cheeks. “Dis nu sketties! Dis poopies! Smawtie nu eat poopies!”
How wrong it was. I took the free end of the steel cable and rapped it firmly across its back. It opened up a fresh gash that almost seemed to blend in with its crimson fur. It screamed in pain, complaining of “wostest hewties”. “You are the poopie now,” I told him. “This is what you told the poor mare to eat when you stole her food. Food that I gave to her, not you. As you ate food that was meant for her, I expect you to do it again.” I raised the free end of the cable again, staring him dead in his stupid eyes. “Or more hurties……” It froze up, its eyes wide. I’m sure that had it been fed it would have shit itself once more. It finally realized that more threats and insults was going to result in pain. “Eat. The. Poopies.” I told him, making myself ready to crack a new gash on its back.
It immediately pushed its snout into the bowl of shit that lay in front of it. I watched, still waiting for it to actually consume it. I could see it finally accept its fate as I soon heard light lip smacking followed by sobbing and tears. “Nu taste pwetty……” it cried. “Smawtie nu wike eatin poopies…” The little bastard sobbed until the bowl was gone.
I gave it a condescending smile. “Very good. You’re learning your place in my home.” I picked up the energizer, turning the dimmer to the lowest setting. I then switched it on to see the effect. This time there was no dancing. The smartys head simply twitched involuntarily. I leaned down to look at it. “Would you like some sketties, Smarty? I can bring you some. In fact, I will….” I then switched the power off.
It dropped down, panting once more. “Hooman…. nu twick smawtie! Ou pwomised sketties!!!” Good, apparently it had full awareness of what was happening while stunned. This was going to be fun. I went and retrieved a bowl of canned spaghetti. It was more than the little bastard deserved. I was going to prove it.
I held it where he could see it. “Shall I give this to you?” I said, trying my best to hide my glee.
“HOOMAN GIVE SKETTIES NA-“ He was cut off as I ran the low current through him once more.
I placed the spaghetti in front of him. The low current was great at stunning; he could only try to take quick glances at the bowl but wasn’t able to advance on it. “I gave you sketties, Smarty…” I taunted. “Don’t you want them? I got it just for you.” I laughed as I watched it twitch trying to summon up any control that could get it nearer to the coveted treat.
“You don’t? Well, in that case… Fluffy mare!!” I called over to the corner. The mare turned her head to me, head tilted to see what I wanted. “The Smarty doesn’t want his spaghetti. I think he wants you to have it instead!”
Her eyes lit up with joy. “Weawwy?!” She cried, quickly trotting over. She approached the smarty cautiously, worried it might try to hurt her. “Smawtie nu huwt poopie?” She inched closer to the bowl, watching to see if the smarty would hurt her. He just laid there, twitching. She smiled. “Fank ou, smawtie! Poopie wikes sketties!” She then dug in, quickly devouring the noodles in front of the twitching smarty.
The whole time my eyes were looking straight at it. I could see the defeat and impotence in its eyes. The treat that was hard-wired into its brain to be treasured above all else was right in front of it and it couldn’t eat it. I could see anger. It wanted to hurt her. It wanted to hurt me. It wanted to be free of the leash. It wanted “sketties”.
Too bad. This smarty was going to be kind and nice to this mare, whether he wanted to or not. He had no idea yet just how nice….