Christmas Clean
“Oh no no no no no!” Tyler hurriedly dug through his mountain of clothes to reach the peeping, but it was already too late. Faced with the tiny corpse of a baby fluffy, his face fell.
The fluffygotchi peeped a few more times in a royalty-free funeral dirge as the pixelated foal grew wings and floated into the sky, accompanied by some embarrassingly low final stats. Tyler groaned and let the item drop, sitting on the floor.
Christmas times weren’t usually this depressing. But after his job had switched to being fully remote, Tyler had been deprived of any meaningful interactions and it was driving him insane - combined with him spending the holidays away from his family, a misguided attempt to be independent that was backfiring terribly, and breaking up with his girlfriend? He could rarely muster the strength to tidy up. As a result, things had built up further and further until there wasn’t a single clean or even empty surface in his dinky apartment.
He wanted a pet so badly, but how could he take care of one when he couldn’t take care of himself? This fluffygotchi had been his sole bargaining chip, saying that maybe a mouse or a hamster would be doable if he could just keep it alive, but - well. The pixel angel on the toy’s screen was testament enough.
Tyler slumped. He couldn’t keep a pet alive, but he needed company. He needed something, or risk adding to that ever-increasing statistic of holiday suicides.
As he stared down at the fluffygotchi, debating with himself, Tyler frowned. Fluffies… He had heard a lot about them. They lived in filth and shit all the time. They were loud and whiny, so there was no risk of him forgetting to feed them. And they were so fragile, no matter what you did, if one died it was just about expected. Tyler tried to talk himself out of it, he truly did, but the thought wouldn’t leave his head until he finally got up and threw the fluffygotchi aside.
He needed some fresh air, he decided as he put on his thickest jacket and scarf. Maybe he’d feel better then.
Of course, as fate had decided to play a trick, Tyler got as far as his apartment complex’s front yard before stumbling onto a fluffy mare.
Despite what he would have expected, the mare wasn’t malnourished nor bloated with babies. Her gray-purple fur was dotted with snow, her pale mane bundled into a make-shift bun with a stick, and she carried the expression of someone doing chores as she collected discarded newspapers for what was presumably her nest.
She looked surprisingly independent, and as Tyler stopped to look at her, the mare looked back. He should say something; this was the first time he’d had to initiate a real-life conversation in weeks. Even if it was with a fluffy, the little things could speak english, right? Just a hello should be fine.
“… Wanna come home with me?”
Fuck.
The mare thought about his offer for a second, furrowing her brow, then set down her newspaper bounty. “Mummah awweady haf nestie, but it is cowdie times… So otay.”
“So, uh… You’re a mom, huh? You aren’t bringing your chirpies?” Tyler asked awkwardly as he walked back to his apartment, fluffy in tow, and quietly wondered why he had chosen the top of the stairway to bring this up.
“Babbehs nu am chiwpies nu mowe,” huffed the mare beside him. “Babbehs aww gwown-up fwuffies now, an’ weft home tu find wuv an’ speciaw fwiends.”
Her tone held a hint of near betrayal, as though she was personally offended her children had the audacity to grow up. Tyler tried to think of a reply. “… I-”
“An’ nu get stawted on nu-gud speciaw fwiend!” the mare continued. “Dummy stawwion sed ‘that’s tuu many babbehs, nu can feed dat many!’ an’ weft! Thewe nu even dat many babbehs, speciaw fwiend just counted wong!”
Okay, maybe he was better off not asking more about this unless he wanted a full-on grandma ramble, Tyler decided. The important part was that the mare lived alone and thus he wasn’t splitting up any families. Reaching his destination, Tyler unlocked the door and swung it open, subtly showcasing the messy but warm apartment as he entered. “What do you think?”
The mare took one step inside, sniffed at the air, and scrunched up her snout as though snorting a lemon. “… Yucky.”
“What – you’re a fluffy!” Tyler protested. “How’s this worse than your nest–”
"Mummah nest am cwean!" the mare cut him off, waving a hoof at one of the piles of garbage. “Wook at dis! Dat’s a mess, thewe nu even any space tu go poopies!”
“I-I have a toilet!”
“And whewe am hooman wittah box?” sneered the mare. "Becuz as faw as Mummah can teww, yu wittah box am ebewywhewe. Thewe nu cwean pwace tu west, nu speciaw cownew fow twashies an’ poopies, an’ ebewything smewws wike yuck! Do yu even haf nummies fow a fwuffy? A piwwow? Am fwuffy meant tu go poopies on fwoow?"
Tyler found himself speechless. The mare was not just berating his home, but doing it in a way he couldn’t refute. He’d been used to the stink and having to nearly parkour to reach his bed, and the realization that his apartment was dirtier than a feral fluffy nest was as disheartening as it was sobering.
“Mummah am going back to nestie, is bettew than dis,” the mare declared, turning and walking back out. Tyler’s heart hit the floor as he was faced with a flashback of his ex-girlfriend leaving, but in the form of a talking pet that reminded him of his grandma, which was a sentence that a therapist would have a field day with.
“Wait!” Desperate to keep the mare from vanishing from his life the way his former squeeze had, Tyler lunged - the mare squeaked as he grabbed her tail and held it tight, hauling her back across the doorstep. “You can’t leave, I won’t let you!”
“Wet Mummah go!”
“If you leave I’ll die, I’ll seriously die!”
“Wet gu of taiw!” the mare growled, trying to pull herself outside for a solid few seconds before grumbling and just steadying herself to glare up at Tyler. For a long moment, the two just watched each other - him with a look of grief, and her with an annoyed scowl. But finally her expression softened, and the mare let out a large sigh. “… Fine. Mummah wiww stay wif big babbeh hooman.”
“Th-thanks…” Did she just call him a baby? The hell, lady. He supposed she was an old lady in fluffy terms but he was still way older than her.
“But,” the mare continued and jutted a hoof at the nearest trash pile, “Mummah wefuses tu wive in dis … squawow! Yu am hewping Mummah cwean up aww dis mess!”
Clean up? Tyler was both dreading the idea of cleaning his apartment, and impressed that a fluffy knew the word “squalor”. As he released the mare’s tail, he looked around - even if he did want to clean up, just where was he supposed to start? Everything was so dirty, the mere thought of tending to it was overwhelming. “Where would we start…?”
“Yu can stawt by making a spot fow a fwuffy nestie an’ poopie cownew,” said the mare, walking to the nearest pile of trash he should definitely have thrown out by now and giving it a cautious sniff. “An’ a spot tu put aww da nasty yucky twashies.”
So clear out an area for the mare to stay, and collect all the garbage in one spot. Okay, that would be easy enough. Tyler pointed at the stack of trash the fluffy was sniffing at. “We can just put the garbage into that pile.”
“Nu be dummy,” the mare replied and gave him a dirty look. “What if thewe’s gud thingies in twashy piwe? Putting poopie cownew in diwty spot wiffout wooking fiwst couwd mean yu poop aww ovew pwetty nummies ow wawm nestie stuffs.”
Tyler faltered. Her logic was sound - there were some belongings he had lost within the chaos of his room - but clearing out space for a whole new trash pile was… It was just a painful chore he didn’t want to do. “I… I guess.”
Sniffing around a bit, the mare picked out a jumble of newspapers and long-expired adverts. “Dis is gud spot fow twashy piwe. Hooman, wook thwough dat fow anyfing yu wan keep, an’ then aww othew yucky twashies can gu on top.”
Just look through the papers? It still felt like a pain, but… a manageable one. Tyler relented and sat by the paper pile, looking through them as his new fluffy scouted out the rest of the apartment. There sure were a lot of offers and ads that had expired, and newspapers he got for free but never read. He’d never realized how much they all piled up when he threw them aside as he entered.
He was about halfway done when the mare returned, tossing an empty soda can onto the papers. Tyler jumped a bit. “Hey, that’s not trash! You can get a penny for recycling that!”
The mare looked sceptical. “What am penny?”
“It’s - it’s a coin, free money. Lets you buy stuff.” Tyler sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was a shitty explanation, but he didn’t know if this fluffy even had a concept of money or shopping. “Just… Any cans or bottles you find, put them in their own spot and I’ll go recycle them later.”
“… Otay.” Though she still seemed doubtful, the mare picked up the can and placed it beside the papers, then waddled away to find any more garbage. Tyler finished sorting through the papers, finding nothing of value other than a not-yet-expired coupon for baked beans, and spread out a few newspapers to designate a “trash here” area. Then he fetched a cardboard delivery box to carry the cans in, calling to the mare to place any cans in there from now on, and re-oriented himself.
Right. Trash stuff everywhere. He should deal with that. The fluffy mare was already on the case, clearly well-versed in cleaning up after her foals, and having someone around to aid him helped spark Tyler’s motivation too. He set to work, picking up an empty food package from the nearest pile of junk, and joined his new pet in building a trash corner.
“Daddeh, what am dis?” asked the mare. Somewhere along the line of them working together, Tyler had been upgraded from “baby human” to “mister” to “daddy”, though he wasn’t exactly sure when nor did he care. He looked to the fluffy, who carried something in her mouth, and lit up.
“Oh hey, that’s my DS!” he explained, crouching down and taking the object. “I’ve been looking for this thing, I thought I’d lost it. Where was it?”
“It was undew wots of yucky bad nummy boxes,” the mare explained, wrinkling her nose and pointing to some scattered chinese take-out containers. Tyler grimaced - that did explain the reddish stains on its gray surface.
“Ah. Well, uh, you can eat those if you want,” he offered as he stood up, scraping at the stains to find them dry as sand. “Yeech…”
The mare stuck her tongue out in a show of disgust. “Onwy yung fwuffies twy tu eat bad nummies wike dat. Aftew making poopies fow two bwight-times wiffout stopping, yu know bettew.”
“That’s… uh… not a mental image I wanted.”
“An’ about poopies, yu shud go cwean up.” She huffed a bit, swiftly turning the topic from diarrhea in the rudest way. “Yu am stinky.”
Tyler groaned and rolled his eyes. Always something with this fluffy! Couldn’t she at least do one thing at a time? What was he, a butler? “Yes, madame.”
The sudden stop and silence caught him off guard, and Tyler looked to the mare to find her staring wide-eyed at him. Instinctively, he prepared for a chiding - being snarky at a parental figure like this rarely ended well. “… Mummah’s name am Madame?”
Oh. Well, fuck. He’d almost forgotten that despite all her fussing and adult demands, this was a child-like fuzzball not well versed in sarcastic butlering. Tyler ran a hand down his face.
“Y’know what, sure.” A shower didn’t sound like such a bad idea, anyway. At least it’d be a break from cleaning.
Madame kept cleaning as she heard her new daddy turn on the shower. There were so many trash things and yucky foods to sort out - anything she wasn’t sure of went into one place so she could ask about it later, while plastic wrappers and rotten nummy containers went into the ever-growing trash pile. It would almost have been impressive if it wasn’t so gross.
As Madame reached further and further into the room, she found a little blinking toy - a closer look revealed a picture of a foal, sporting tiny angel wings and a halo. All at once, she understood a bit better why this daddy would have died without her presence - he had tried to keep other fluffies, and they had died, and he must have had the worst kind of heart-hurties. Such a sad, but all too common, story…
Puffing herself up, Madame placed the little toy aside with the other important items and resumed cleaning with renewed vigor. If that was what it took, she just had to work hard and make sure he felt the love he sorely needed! Madame quickly found another pile of junk, this one covered with a blanket or a tarp, and dragged the blanket aside. But as she stepped into the pile to pull out some paper trash, suddenly a sharp pain shot through her hoof and she cried out, recoiling.
Glass! Too late she saw the shattered glass, a large shard stabbed straight through her hoofpad. Madame tried to grab hold of it with her mouth, but couldn’t get a good angle to yank it out - too hard and she’d break it further, but too loose and she only managed to wiggle it and hurt herself more. Ohh, she couldn’t even lick it clean!
She blinked back the tears and whimpers, trying not to display weakness. It was something she’d grown quite good at as a single mother, knowing she had to keep her loved ones calm. Should she sit there and wait until Daddy was done washing up? No, there was no telling how long it’d take for him to get all the stink out, she might sit there all night.
Thus, careful not to let her stabbed hoof touch the ground, Madame gingerly went back to cleaning.
Tyler felt surprisingly rosy and refreshed as he left the bathroom, and walking into a surprisingly spacious living room only made it better. 70% of the trash had been collected and sorted already, so getting the rest sorted out - especially since some was just clothes he should throw in the hamper - would be easy. Madame was still helping out, limping across the floor with a disposable coffee cup in her mouth.
Wait, limping? And why was there a trail of blood behind her?
“Madame?” Tyler asked, and the fluffy slowed to a stop.
“Daddeh…” She put down her cup and then held up a hoof, a thick glass shard embedded into it. “Fwuffy stepped on bwoken gwassies.”
His throat tightened. Ohh, no. He knew exactly where that shard came from; he had accidentally knocked down and shattered a beer glass some time back and, not daring to touch the pieces until he had some good gloves, had hidden it with a blanket until further notice. He’d completely forgotten about it, and now it actually hurt someone! “I’m sorry…”
“It am in piwe ovew thewe,” explained Madame, pointing out the spot where the rest of the glass lay, curved into the sky like a trap. “Nu can get gwass out of hoof, pwease hewp?”
“Of course, hang on here…” Tyler picked up his new fluffy, carrying her into the bathroom and placing her back first into the sink. He grabbed her leg with one hand and took hold of the glass with the other. “Okay, so this is… going to hurt.”
Madame nodded gingerly, and he could feel her stiffen in preparation. With one sharp yank, the glass was out and the fluffy screamed, but Tyler didn’t let her leg go. “Stop – don’t struggle! Just relax! I have to make sure it’s all out.”
A tweezer check, thorough desinfectation and wash, and bandage later, Madame was absolutely tuckered out. Tyler could understand - it couldn’t be easy to have glass the size of your fist ripped out of your palm like that. He let Madame stay in his bed for a bit as he cleaned up a corner of the room, placing an old pillow there for her to lay on, and the moment she had her clean fluffy corner the old mare was out like a light.
He’d just have to clean the rest up by himself, Tyler decided, but considered it a good thing - at least that way, nobody would get hurt again.
“Merry Christmas! Hope you’re having a good time over there.”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine! Don’t worry, mom,” Tyler smiled at his phone, which sported a video feed of his parents. “Got some take-out so I didn’t have to cook, I could never do a good roast anyway.”
“Take-out! Goodness me, boy. You’re incorrigible.” She didn’t seem too upset about it, used to his eating habits at this point. “Did you at least clean the apartment?”
“I did! Check it out!” Tyler turned the phone around, showcasing the nearly spotless apartment and hearing the ‘ooh’ from his mother. Noticing purple in the corner of his eye, Madame nabbing his empty take-out box from the table, he glanced to the fluffy. “Hey, I was going to throw that myself.”
The mare just shot him a ‘sure you were’ look as she trotted away, and Tyler turned his phone to follow her as she placed the box into the designated trash corner. “By the way, I got a fluffy.”
“Oh my! And she looks so clean, too! What’s her name?”
“It’s Madame. I got her just a couple of days ago.”
“She kind of looks like your grandma, doesn’t she?”
Tyler laughed. “You know, that was my thought too. Same personality and everything.”
“That’s great to hear. I’ve been worried about you with everything going on, but it sounds like you’re in good hands!”
“Yeah…” As Madame returned to his side, crawling up and lying beside him, Tyler relaxed and couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I really am.”
