Cleaners, part 1, by Gardel

Fluffy Carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach.

This city is afraid of you.

Okay not really.

You’re a fluffy cleaner, what’s that you ask?

Well we all know about fluff control, the sociopaths that get paid to do to fluffies what they were going to do anyway.

Of course they clean after the fact, after all that’s what they get hired for.

But you? well thing is far more fluffies die on their own than from fluff control.

After all “shit so fragile that’s broken by all” is the unoficial slogan of these things.

Starving, accidentally stepped on, run over, frozen solid, eaten inside out by parasites, even murdered by snails!

Anything can happen to fluffies.

And because you’re a highschool dropout loser cleaning this is the only job you could get.


Monday 10 AM

You get called to a big restaurant, kitchen was infested by fluffies so they put a bunch of fluff-B-gone slow action sketty baits.

Art by @Fluffus

Unlike the previous version of this bait this one is slow enough for the entire herd to eat it before one of the shitrats kicks the bucket thus signaling the other that the sketties are poison.

The bad news is that unlike the old fast action one that disicates the fluffies this one basically makes them puke and shit their guts out, so instead of picking fluffy mummies you have to take your shovel and start scrapping.

Of course not all the fluffies are dead, since these things despite being so fragile can somehow stay alive even when mangled to fuck.

kafgggrrr…tu-tummeh s-sketties…huuuu

Nu w-wan be tw-twashies

They don’t pay you to give them a mercy kill, and you’re a bit of a pussy so you just scrape them from the floor using your rusty shovel



Under a dead red mare you find 5 foals who are surprisingly still alive. Its mother probably died before giving them the tainted milkies unlike the other dead mares with their dead melted foals.


“Yo boss? what you want me do with these?” you ask the restaurant owner

“What? what do you mean?”

“These foals, they are still alive, should we do something or…”

“Do I look like I want to adopt feral shitrats? I pay you to get rid of them”

“Alright but we don’t kill them, that’s fluff control’s job”

“FFS! just give them to me”

And just like that he picks up the squirmy foals with a gloved hand…

CHIRP! Wuv! - you hear from a purple unicorn filly who thinks its getting a hug

…then tosses them inside a ziploc bag.


Art by @Fluffus

As you keep cleaning around they eventually suffocate and die, then they join their half melted mummah inside the trash bag.

Close it, toss it in the biobin outside.

Takes you two hours to scrape and wash the floor clean, whatever the fuck is in that sketti bait it left some nasty stains on those tiles.


Tuesday, 12PM

It snowed today

You know what that means…

The company gets a call from a fancy neighborhood. As always this time of year lots of desperate strays and ferals rush the houses to beg for shelter as they know the “cold times” are a death sentence for their kind.

Of course only a very tiny minority of hugfags actually takes them in, since even the majority of them reject stray fluffies, after all the guilt of letting a family of ferals freeze to death is nothing compared to having to scrub feral shit off your carpet come next morning, or worse: deal with ferals full of parasites like ticks and fleas.

And is not like the fluffies will give up with their pleads, they just move from one home to another as they are rejected.

Most freeze solid on the doorways, decks and paths. Some on the sidewalks.

Art by Quickhorn

Either case they are a tripping hazard, specially when the snow completely covers them.

The ones on the sidewalk you can remove with the shovel, but if its on a porch you have to get creative since the shovel could damage the wood. There you use hot water to unstick them, or an ice scrapper.

But no matter where they froze to death because their fluff acts as a sponge these shitrat popsicles now weight more than twice than they did before so you have to do twice the trips to and from the biobins since the trash bags you use can’t handle that much weight.

Thank god you get paid by the hour and not by every fluffy you remove, tho if you were paid by weight you would make a killing today.

In one house a mare frozen nearby the door still managed to slip its foals through the mail slot before kicking the bucket.

And because god hates fluffies all the foals broke their necks when they fell inside.

So on top of having to scrap the mare from both the floor and the door you have to pick up the dead foals inside and steam-clean the rug to get rid of all the blood and shit stains.

The house on the corner had a particular situation: one pink pegasus mare with babbehs got into one of those plastic ground bird baths, possibly thought it was a nestie.

It froze face-down within the water, after drowning of course.

You turn the chinzy plastic pool over and a big round chunk of ice falls down with the mare stuck inside. Looking at the mare you can see her face of utter resignation as it realized that was it, its last gasp as bubbles come out from its mouth. The foals on its back are also frozen, some below the water line thus encased in ice with the mare, but you see a blue earthie colt and what you think is a yellow pegasus filly half way out of the ice, eyes open, its faces contorted, its tiny mouths in rictus. They clearly tried to escape up to the last moment before their soaked fluff froze over.

“Well fuck me” you say as you realize that you have to get these shitrats out from the ice somehow.


Wednesday, 9AM

You get a call from a motel, and it sends shivers down your spine

“Oh fuck NO!” you say as you know what’s next

You arrive to room 3A and there it is just as described: some asshole flushed an entire litter of foals down the toilet and clogged it.

…and you have to fish them out because the plumber refuses to deal with shitrats. They have an union, you don’t.

And besides if he did fix this then you wouldn’t have a job.

So you get your gloves on and the crappy paper face mask they give you for cases like this.

As you approach you see the bloated face of a red filly, head sticking out from the hole in the bowl.

And yes, the methhead who did this also had a bout of diarreah on the filly’s face, because why not?

It takes you an hour but finally you get all 6 foals out.

The smell is godawful, you will never forget it.


The bagged foals part of the story was actually inspired by the original drawing from @Fluffus


Disturbing yet oddly intriguing, I love it. Always enjoyed this type of style.

I will never live that one down.

Happy it inspired you though! I’ve been mightily inspired by your stories myself.


Welcome to bleakbox


Really? why?

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Quickhorn art. It begins.

This is something I could see being realistic. Is it going to be a series or one shot?

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To quote myself:

“This image has been the most popular yet, out of all my fluffy stuff so far - across all platforms.

It literally took me 30 minutes during a lunch break at work. Each comic page is about 10-12 hours of work plus time for ideation and formatting.

I’m not bitter. You’re bitter!”


Got it

Working on part 2