Ever since daddeh has brought his work home, the thoughts of more playtime and attention from your most favorite human would come. But he just stays in his office, the door closed and you stay stuck in your bed. You wish you could get up and see daddeh, but your dummeh no-leggies won’t let you. That meanest barky munstah bit them off so many bright times ago, but you can still feel them; it’s not fair, all you wanted was to be friends and give it huggies. You are so bored, all your toys just gather dust as you sit there. Looking at them and then at your no-leggies, sad wawas begin to fall from your see-places
At least daddeh put you in front of the tee-bee, just in time to see “Pillowfluff”. A nice pretty mare appears on the tee-bee, she is very happy and giving plenty of huggies to another fluffy, he was a no-leggie like you. The mare turns and looks right at you, she has the biggest and prettiest smile you have ever seen.
“Hewwo dewe” she says to you, “Fwuffy’s name am sweetie, an’ sweetie wub nu-weggies fwuffie. Just wike jaspah.”
You say hellos to Sweetie, and as you watch, the name is a perfect match for her. She is the nicest fluffy you have ever seen, giving nice huggies and singies to all of the no-leggie fluffies she can see. And each time she is done with one, she looks right at you and tells you how special you are and how having no-leggies shouldn’t give you heart hurties, but let you be happy for being different. After a while, Sweetie looks to you and says her friendly goodbyes and waves. You try to wave but realize your leggie isn’t there, you feel a little heart hurtie, but then remember what Sweetie said, and the owwie goes away. The tee-bee changes and it goes to the next show, “Mistah Jackson’s Playpen”.
“Yay!” You hear yourself yell, “Petah wobes mistah jackson!”
“Hey!” You hear daddeh in his office, he sounds very mad, “Keep it down Peter, Daddy’s trying to finish some work!”
“Sowwy daddeh, am just su happy to see mistah jackson. Petah wiww make hushie-tawkies.”
You watch as Mistah Jackson looks right at you with his finger-hoofsies in front of him.
“Hello fluffies, Mister Jackson has a very special treat for you all today,” he opens his hand and you see three little fluffies just sleeping, “these are micro-fluffies, they are just like you but they are teeny tiny. These fluffies are all grown up and have special friends and families, even though they are so small.”
You are in a state of shock, your jaw has hit the bottom of your bed. You have seen plenty of babbehs before on the tee-bee and the park, but never in your life have you seen stallions and mares the size of big babbehs. Just thinking of it starts to give you head-huwties.
Mistah Jackson then woke up the “micwo-fwuffies” as he called them, and showed all sorts of ways he played with them. They ran through mazes made of daddeh’s pokah cards, climbing and nesting in Mistah Jackson’s fluff under his face, and even showed how the fluffies had their own big home with little tubes to go and visit each other. After so much fun, Mistah Jackson sat down and pulled out Wusty, ready for another goodbye song.
“Alright fluffies, and even littler fluffies, its time for us to leave the Playpen, but how about a song?”
“Yes pwease mistah jackson,” you said in a very hushed tone, not wanting to have daddeh yell at you again, “Petah wobes aww of youw singies.”
“Well alright then. Well how about a song about the bestest food a fluffy or human can have in their whole lives, a food we can’t live without, fresh sketties!”
Your eyes light up with excitement, Mistah Jackson knows you so well.
Fresh sketties, fresh sketties, fresh sketties, I cry
If you don’t give me fresh sketties, I surely will die
If the ocean were sketties and I was a duck
I’d dive to the bottom and never come up
Fresh sketties, fresh sketties, fresh sketties, I cry
If you don’t give me fresh sketties, I surely will die
Way up on the mountain, where pegasi fly
I’m hungry for sketties, and that’s what I cry
Fresh sketties, fresh sketties, fresh sketties, I cry
If you don’t give me fresh sketties, I surely will die
I’ll eat sketties hot, and I’ll eat 'em cold
I’ll even eat 'em if they’re a couple days old
Fresh sketties, fresh sketties, fresh sketties, I cry
If you don’t give me fresh sketties, I surely will die
The song has you bobbing your head up and down, hot wawas run from your mouth, the tastes and smell of sketties is in your mouth and hear-places.
“Well, that’s all we have time for my friendly little fluffs. And remember, don’t say goodbye at the Playpen, say until next time. Until next time friends.”
The tee-bee goes dark and Mistah Jackson disappears, it then starts to show all sorts of new toysies and fluffies playing with them, but you don’t care about that, all you can think of is sketties.
“Fwesh sketties,” you hear yourself singing loudly, “fwesh sketties, fwesh sketties, petah cwy! If 'ou nu gib petah fwesh sketties, petah suwewy wiw…”
“Shut up!” You look to see daddeh, he is running at you and has a mean face. He picks you up by the fluff on the back of your neck.
“EEEEEE! Bad-upsies! Petah am sowwy daddeh, nu did mean to be woud.”
Daddeh raised you to his face, he is very angry, his face is red and he is just staring right at you. You make scardey pee pees.
“Petah onwy wanted some sketties.”
“You don’t get sketties! How many times have I told you to be quiet! I’m fucking busy! Now shut the fuck up before I take away your kibble too.”
Daddeh drops you close to your bed but hard, landing in your own scaredy-peepees, no becoming bad pee pees against your fluff.
“Petah nu smeww ow feew pwetty.”
“Let that be a lesson. If I hear you scream or yell or be loud in anyway again, you’re staying in the sorry box tonight, got that!”
Daddeh walks back to his office and slams the door. You just lay in your own bad pee pees, huuhuuing as your hear-places and heart hurt from daddeh. Why can’t Mistah Jackson be your new daddeh?