I lean back in my seat, looking out the window, sipping on one of those ridiculous tiny drinks they serve, feeling, for the moment, complete and utter contentment.
I had a very pleasant five days in Amsterdam. Not ten minutes after entering the Red Light District, I saw a prostitute who looked like Helen in one of the windows. Exactly like her. It was uncanny. I ended up spending as much time as possible with her. Cost me several hundred euros, but it was worth it! She wasn’t always available, but as luck would have it, there was another hooker who eerily resembled Judy. I went back and forth between the two of them for five days. I’m pretty sure the last load I shot, two hours before I left Amsterdam behind, was just dust. My flight was delayed, I had time to kill, and I can move fast when I need to.
Now I’m on the plane back home, wondering how Lavender is doing without me. I was so busy boning I’ve been forgetting to call and check in. I haven’t heard any bad news, so I’m guessing she’s doing fine.
Thinking about my dear little fluffy reminds me of the mess on my pickup truck. I’ll have to deal with that as soon as I land. Can’t let Lav see me drive up with five-day-old fluffy gore on my tires.
The captain’s voice informs the passengers that we’ll be landing soon.
You’re Lavender, and you’re happy, because when you woke up this bwite time, your uncle Leslie gave you some very good news!
Daddeh is coming home!
Has it really been five bwite times already? You aren’t sure. You tried to count them. One bwite time… two bwite times… three bwite times… um… lots of bwite times?
Apparently, Amm-stew-dam is really far away, so he won’t be back until it starts getting dawk. It’s the middle of the wawm times right now, so the bwite times are long. Your daddeh once said that the bwite times are shorter in the cowd times, but you’re not old enough to have seen the cowd times in person.
Unlike the fluffies who suffer through the cowd times because they don’t have mummahs or daddehs or housies (you saw them on Tee-Eff-Enn, they looked really saddies!), you’re looking forward to the cowd times, because you have a nice wawm housie. You heard from daddeh that pretty cowd white sky wawas fall from the sky, and he told you all about “Kwis-mus”! Kwis-mus sounds amazing! Daddeh said that if you’re good until Kwis-mus, he’ll get you a super-duper-extra-special pwesent for Kwis-mus! You already can’t wait for Kwis-mus, even though daddy said it’s still a lot of “munfs” to go. You don’t know how long a munf is.
But it’s been a very exciting many bwite times. You got to watch your uncle get miwkies from the hornie not-fluffies, and he explained that hoomins can drink milkies even when they’re not babbehs anymore. Unless they’re something he called “wac-towse in-tow-weh-want”, like his bestest friend Jim. You watched uncle Leslie get fluff from the white not-fluffies, and he promised you that he wouldn’t take away your pretty purple fluff. He reminded you that he could turn the white not-fluffies’ fluff any color he wants with hoomin magic, so if he wanted purple fluff, he could get it without hurting you. And he would never hurt you, he said. You’re part of the famiwy. He promised to show you the hoomin magic that changes the fluff’s color soon.
You also watched your auntie Helen, giving little nummies to the biwdie-munstahs that say bok bok bok. She says they’re called “chikkins”. They have scary little see-places, but they’re very friendly biwdie-munstahs. One of them started nuzzling with you, and auntie said it was because the chikkin was feeling “bwoody”! She was also gathering up little round things called “eggies”, she said that hoomins can num the sticky stuff inside them. She later made you eggie nummies called an “omme-wet”, and it was sooooo yummy! But bwack-cuwwant ice cweam is still your favorite nummies.
All of the other nice hoomins who help your uncle and auntie like you, too. One of them, your uncle’s bestest friend Jim, who lets you call him uncle Jim, even though he’s not uncle Leslie’s bwuddah, keeps an eye on you when your uncle and auntie are both busy. They pass your daddeh’s little beepie thing between them. But you haven’t had to stay in your saferoom since the bwite time that your daddeh left.
You haven’t been seeing cousin James lately, though. You’ve gotten little glimpses of him here and there, but you pay him little mind. The bwite time that daddeh left, you looked out the big see-through thing in your new saferoom, and you saw James walking past, holding another fluffy you’d never seen before. You had a sinking feeling that you’d never see that fluffy again.
You don’t like James. You wish he’d just go away. You don’t like the look on his face when he sees you. It’s like the look your daddeh gets on his face whenever he sees your auntie’s poopie place, but meaner and without the weird bump that appears at the top of daddeh’s weggies.
Sometimes, daddeh would go into the “baff-room” and use the hoomin magic to make the door stay closed, and he’d stay in there for a long time and make funny sounds. If you listenened closely, it sounded like fapfapfapfapfap. You sometimes heard him say your auntie’s namesie. Was he talking to her in there? You wonder if he’ll be doing it again when he comes home.
Oh! That reminds you! Daddeh is coming home soon! You go to ask your uncle how time till daddeh. You’ve asked twenty times today, but you can’t count that high.
I pull up at the farm, my good mood starting to spoil. When I got out of the airport, I saw that some cop had ticketed my truck for the fluffy gore on the left wheels.
Then, after paying a ridiculous sum to get the tires cleaned, traffic was once again the worst. And this time, I didn’t have Lavender to keep me company.
I got another glimpse of Judy and her stoner boy-toy, walking their fluffies. This time I saw them kiss, and their fluffies were ooh-ing like a sitcom studio audience. I would have thought it was cute if wasn’t feeling intense hatred, and, cards on the table, some envy for that hippie fuck. Bet they’ve been banging non-stop. Oh well, after the week I’ve had, I can’t complain.
I’m now out of the city, en route to the farm. I’m driving a bit slower this time, because I just got the tires cleaned.
I’m looking forward to seeing my family again. My brother, even though he’s an asshole, my sister-in-law, and I really hope Chris Jr. doesn’t rear his purple head again when I see her, and of course, Lavender, light of my life. Oh, and then there’s James. But fuck James.
I carefully steer around the remains of the fluffy family I ran over on the way out. Not long now.
I’m surprised they’re still there.
You are Lavender, and you can tell your daddeh is close.
You aren’t sure how, or why, but you’re one of those fluffies who can always tell when your daddeh is nearby. You’re outside, waiting for him with your uncles Leslie and Jim, your auntie Helen, and… hey, wasn’t James here a moment ago? Where’d he go?
You forget all about James’ absence when you see your daddeh’s caw pull up and you start to beam. The door opens. You beam harder.
Daddeh’s home!