Donald Evan slunk through the aisles of his local Fluffmart. Of course, he had to keep a low profile. He forbidden from being in this place due to his devious ways. They knew the ChirpyChastiser86 name well. Smirking to himself, he pushed through the stacked up pallets of kibble and colorful displays of toys.
Today he didn’t even have the time to bother the fluffies up for adoption. Usually if he took a trip here, he’d be bugging them. It always made for great content! No, no. A mission was in mind for today.
Fluffmart had a table loaded with special holiday knick-knacks. Chirpies which had been propped and posed in various patriotic ways to celebrate the Fourth of July. There was a Statue of Liberty chirpy posed in a standing position on a little base, a torch and a book labeled ‘book’ taped to it’s hooves. George Washington chirpy in a powdered wig, posed in a canoe while another foal was positioned in the back half to ‘row’ the vessel. Even a Benjamin Franklin chirpy taped to a kite.
These were baubles meant to display during your Independence Day celebrations. To be posed up for a few hours and promptly thrown away whenever the party wound down.
“You think you’re so cute, hmm? You think you’re free of MY wrath?” Donald asked the Statue of Liberty chirpy as he tugged it up by it’s cheap plastic base. This little idiot hadn’t even opened it’s eyes yet but gave a ‘cherp?’ as if responding to his inquiry.
Cutting to the front register, Donald lay his intended purchases out on the counter. Purposefully looked off to the side as the frizzy red-haired woman began scanning barcodes on the the foal’s rumps.
“You’re really excited for the fourth, huh?” She asked, just making polite conversation. Donald mumbled something, looking as shifty as possible. Normally this cashier wouldn’t care enough to even notice something was amiss but he was being incredibly suspicious. Turning, she went to glance at the only ‘Banned’ poster in the store. It was, of course, ChirpyChastiser86 himself.
Turning back around, the cashier shook her head. “I know you! You’re the guy who changed all the signs that said ‘chirpies’ to ‘burpies’. And gave the poopie babies names! Sir, you’re going to have to leave.”
Oh, Donald would be leaving. Not without his purchases though. Slapping a hundred dollar bill down on the counter, he swept his Fourth of July decorations into the pockets of his cargo shorts until they budged. His eyes focused in on a donation jar.
Said donation jar had only a few coins in it. Taped on the front was a photograph of a fluffy which obviously came from a printer that had been running out of ink. ‘Please donate to our fluffy cancer program’ it said.
Stuffing twenty bucks into the jar (obviously thinking it was to GIVE fluffies cancer), Donald chuckled and backed off to the sliding electronic door as if he were being pursued by a lion. “Don’t bother calling the police. I’d be out by dinner time.” With that, he ran out the door.
The cashier, looking incredibly confused, just pocketed the cash and marked the holiday goods as lost inventory.
++++++
Donald lived in a single story home in the suburbs with his dear mother. It was an ordinary place: Antique Tupperware in the kitchen, paint-by-the-numbers Jesus pictures on the walls, Precious Moments figurines on the mantle. Though his mother spent as much time at Goodwill as she did church events, the place was not a hoarder’s situation or even cluttered. Just decorated in a haphazard fashion.
“Mother. I’m home.” He announced in his usual indulgent tone, as if announcing a visiting member of the state had just dropped by. Wait. Where was she? A Dr. Phil rerun was on the television and her favorite snack, those diet devil food cake cookies, sat on a plate near the plastic covered sofa in the living room.
Panic ran through his heart. Rushing to the basement (The ChirpyChastiser86 Lair), he flung open the door and fatly went down the stairs.
Even before he’d gotten to the third step his worst fears were confirmed. His dear old mother was down here. Surrounded by the VERMIN he’d pulled in from the street. Oh. He heard giggling. GIGGLING. FLUFFY JOY.
“Aha!” He said, jumping down from the last few steps to the carpeted concrete floor below. There were four or five mares that he’d pulled in off the streets before going to the Fluffmart. Before leaving he’d left them with no entertainment except for C-Span on the television and tepid room temperature tap water for refreshments.
There was his dear old mother. A squat, round woman who perpetually seemed to be wearing an apron. Kind brown eyes. Matted, frizzy brown hair quickly going grey. What was she doing? Tickling the tummy of a pink and yellow mare who was thrashing on the floor, giggling and kicking her hooves in the air.
“Oh, hello, Donald! I’m just introducing myself to your friends.” His mother said, continuing to tickle her captive mare.
“Nuuu! Nuuuuu! Teeheeheee! EEEEE!” The mare, who Donald knew was named Pixie, said as she was seemed ready to make bad peepees right there on the floor.
The indignation that Donald currently felt! Oooohhhh! This was too far. Yet as he took in more of the room, he found it to be far worse than originally thought.
His very own mother had given these talking pests a few Uncrustable sandwiches. If he were to give fluffies a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he’d somehow make it ALL crusts! Not only that, there were empty fun sized chip bags scattered around. One brown mare even had a bag of Cheetos shoved over her mouth, tongue slopping against the inside of the bag.
“Is that it? Hmm!? IS IT!?” Donald shouted, glancing to a purple and green mare laying on a rug in front of the television. C-Span was off. His mother had put a Veggie Tales tape in the VCR. That mare, named Kush, was currently attempting to nurse two of his wrestling action figures. Stone Cold Steve Austin and The Rock. A lurch in his stomach. It felt like he was going to lose his lunch.
Snatching the action figures away from Kush, he stamped a socks with sandals clad foot on the carpet. “These are my collectibles! And mother, do NOT interfere with my business! Go back upstairs and leave me to what must be done!” Speaking of? There were a few peeps in his cargo shorts. Taking his purchases out of his pockets, Donald began angrily stripping the chirpies of their holiday decorations.
His mother didn’t immediately leave. “Honey…what ARE you up to?” She asked curiously. It’s not like she really got the whole ‘ChirpyChastiser86’ thing.
Donald gave a sick chuckle. Tossed kites and statue of liberty costumes into the nearby trashcan. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m denying these moronic creatures their purpose. And I’m giving them!” He pointed to the mares. “More babies. They lost theirs. Wouldn’t it be such sweet sorrow to see them suffer even more?”
This confused his mother even further. Though she could see, easily, that he was doing good when he passed over a fat little teal foal to one of the mares. She gasped, giving a tilt of her head.
“Babbeh? Babbeh ‘fo Chessy?” She asked in pure amazement. It was true that she had lost her chirpies. Not through any fault of her own. Even still she had lots of love to give to any babbeh, and plenty of miwkies too. Letting the chirpy latch onto her teat, she cooed adoringly.
Well. Donald’s mother gave him a kind, mystified smile. “You’re a good boy, Donald. Clean up in here when you’re done.” With that, she left him to do whatever it was he did. Dr. Phil was on after all.
Once mother was gone, Donald cackled wickedly and began passing out more chirpies. Turned on a camera connected to his livestream in the corner of the room.
“Prepare yourselves, fools. Your torture has just begun.”
+++++
It was about nine at night when his captives started streaming out the front door. The mares were stuffed absolutely silly because aside from the snacks his mother had given them, he’d also grilled up some hotdogs. Did he allot them any condiments? No. And you could see the suffering etched upon their faces.
“Bye nice mistah!” Chessy called out, waggling a hoof out at him. Her new chirpies cheeped and peeped happily from their rest on her back.
“wub yew chiwpychastiseyeibbysix!” The brown mummah named Bonbon called out cheerily.
Hugging up against his leg, Pixie sadly tugged on the edge of Donald’s cargo shorts. “Pwease wet Pixie stay? Wub yew. Yew nicies mistah. Wan wub an’ huggies.” Along her back, the chirpies called out in unified peeps as if they agreed.
Donald crossed his arms. Sneered. “Stockholm Syndrome? Scram.” He said, nudging her with his foot.
Pixie walked a few steps up the walk sadly. Looked over her shoulder. Giving her an uncaring look, Donald made a shooing motion. Breaking back toward him in a gallop, she hugged his leg. Cooed. Squealed happily. Went running back toward her departing friends.
“Disgusting.” ChirpyChastiser86 mumbled to himself. He’d sanitize that leg with rubbing alcohol.
(Art by @qwertytf )
