Derpy Daycare
By @Za
Originally Penned February 25th, 2020
Chapter One
Sunlight burned through the window, my curtains doing little to inhibit its progress. I instinctively peeked my eyes open, howling in pain as light assaulted my retinas. I rolled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my burning eyes. My vision wandered across my room, the dark walls appearing white and my band posters plastered across them incomprehensible. Oh god, what was I thinking staying up so late last night? Today was the first day of my new job, and I needed to keep this one. Iâd been unemployed for a few months, and my mom finally grew tired of paying my car insurance and phone bill for me. She gave me an ultimatum: lose my car and my phone, or get a job. The former seemed like a fate worse than death, considering I was a high school student. As I got my bearings, I glanced up at the clock on my wall. Nine in the morning, far too early for me to be motivated. Nonetheless, I scratched my nuts and swung open the closet door with a groan. I filed through a selection of greyscale tees and blue jeans, searching for the disgusting eyesore of a uniform they expected me to wear. At last I found it, the bubblegum pink shirt standing out like a middle finger. I grabbed the shirt and my only pair of khaki pants, slinging the vile garments across my shoulder as I shambled towards the bathroom.
I spent my shower dreading the day I had ahead of me. Why, out of all the places I had applied to, was this the only one that offered me a job? I couldnât complain too much though, as the pay was lucrative compared to my previous minimum wage job in retail. The warm water felt like heaven, lulling me back to sleep as I sat slumped against the wall of my shower. Thoughts of the warmth of my bed filled my mind, the pleasant illusions serving only to drift my mind further towards sleep. My rest was interrupted by a rattling banging coming from outside the bathroom. âGet out of the damn shower!â screeched my mother, her shrill voice piercing my ears. Groaning, I rubbed my eyes once more and tiptoed out of the shower. After drying myself off and brushing my teeth, I found myself staring once again at the uniform. I really didnât want to wear it. Not just because I hated pink, but because I didnât want to work in that hellish place. I grabbed the shirt, glaring at the text emblazoned upon the back. âJuniperâs Fluffy Daycare Center,â I muttered disgustedly beneath my breath. âUgh, fuuuuuck.â
I thundered into the kitchen and grabbed a pocketful of breakfast bars, swigging haphazardly from one of my dadâs open cans of Miller Lite. I turned to look at my mom through the opening between our kitchen and living room. She sat there slothfully with a cigarette in her hand, her feet kicked up on the table, and her eyes affixed on FOX News. âIâm going,â I called to her. She hummed affirmatively, not even turning to look at me. âTry to actually keep the job this time, Mitchell.â My mom, love her as I may, got on my nerves every second of every day. She had the nerve to tell me to get a job, even though all she ever did was draw disability and spend half of it on cigarettes. I grumbled, slamming the door behind me. A dark, cloudy sky loomed overhead. Oh well, Iâd be fine as long as I made it there before it started raining.
I did not make it to work before it started raining. I climbed into my clunker, a barely-functional black Camaro left to me by my father, mere moments before the sky unleashed a hellish torrent. With a heavy sigh, I turned the key and the vehicle sputtered slowly to life. I adjusted my rear view mirror, taking a moment to give myself a once-over. I hadnât had time to shave, and the dark circles beneath my eyes were prominent as always. What a mess I was. Minutes later, after a short drive through town, I came upon this sickening technicolor monument to humankindâs sins. The outside walls were decorated with paintings of the usual suspects for fluffy involvement. Foals hugging, bowls of spaghetti, the like. I also saw a fenced-in playground area, populated by one girl about my age and three fluffies. Two of the fluffies, a bright pink mare and a cobalt blue stallion, were playing with a foam ball and having a hell of a time with it. The third, a lavender colt, was being pushed on a fluffy-safe swing set by the admittedly attractive caretaker. She was a skinny blonde with her hair in a braid, her round glasses making her just my type. She stood 5â7 or so, a fair bit shorter than myself. The little shitrat she was pushing squealed in delight, begging for âmowe pwetty upsies.â In my distraction, I failed to notice that I had stopped and was holding up traffic. A line of honking commuters had accumulated behind me, shouting obscenities from their luxury Porsches and Lamborghinis. I flipped them the bird, turning into the parking lot of the hellscape I now called work.
I stood reluctantly at the front door, glancing in through a slightly open window to see a family of fluffies snuggled up for nap time in the corner. A yellow pegasus mare and red earthie stallion were piled up with a couple of multicolored foals. They looked so peaceful, so precious⌠and so very punchable. With a snicker, I pressed the alarm button on my key fob. With a blaring beep, my Camaroâs shrill alarm echoed through the block. The little eyes of the shitrats shot open as they bolted across the room. With each gallop came another squirt of putrid shit. As I disabled the grating alarm, cackling all the while, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a similarly dressed woman, likely in her late thirties, smiling back at me. âYou must be Mitchell!â she chirped excitedly, gripping my hand with both of her own and shaking vigorously. âYeah, yeah! Take it easy, youâre gonna rip my arm off!â I called back to her, pulling back. She laughed, smiling. She led me into the colorful building, introducing herself as Mikayla. I focused as well as I could, holding vomit in as I looked at the many pictures adorning the walls. Fluffies hugging their caregivers, snuggling with each other, slurping up spaghetti⌠what the fuck was this place? A passing employee waved at me as he was leading a small pack of foals out into the playground. They barreled towards me, hugging my ankles and greeting me as a ânyu nice mistahâ before their wrangler could gather them back up. I threw up a bit in my mouth, wishing I could have kicked the little monsters. Giggling, Mikayla continued on blabbering some uninteresting drivel about her degree in zoology and how interesting she found fluffies to be. When we reached the end of the hallway, she pulled me into an office. This room was normally colored, and for that I could only thank God himself. âSo,â Mikayla began as she shuffled a stack of papers, âhave a look at these while I go get Juniper.â I nodded with a lukewarm smile. âSuper excited to work with you by the way!â she added, slipping out the door. From here, I could no longer hear any of the jabbering. Another reason to thank God.
After a few minutes of glancing over the packet, I heard the door click open. I saw a glittery blue eye peek through the crack. âPeek-a-boo!â came a sugary sweet voice. Oh dear sweet fuck, I was gonna hate this chick. The teeny tiny girl I had seen outside earlier pranced in, thick jam jar glasses adorning her face. She smiled a buck-toothed smile, swirling into an office chair across from me. Her uniform was different. She wore a black shirt and a long white lab coat. âSo youâre Mitchell?â she chirped, adjusting her glasses and looking closely at a clipboard. I affirmed that I was, in fact, Mitchell. She continued to scrutinize the clipboard, squinting her eyes and humming thoughtfully. âItâs just as I feared,â she said with faux worry in her voice. She turned the clipboard around, revealing it to have no papers attached. âThereâs nothing on this clipboard.â She laughed, tossing the clipboard aside. I couldnât help but chuckle, despite the fact that 80% of me wanted to cave this girlâs skull in before she made another joke. âSo tells me about yahself,â she croaked in a false accent, slinging her feet up onto the desk and flashing me that silly buck-toothed grin. I twiddled my thumbs nervously, thinking. What did I say to someone with such a loud personality? I pondered what positive attributes I had, eventually coming to terms with the fact that I didnât have any. âWell, I-â She cut me off. âAh! Say no more! Youâre a thoughtful person, and I like it!â I smiled joyfully, more than okay with skipping the interview process. She extended a small, delicate hand. I took it in my own and she interlocked our fingers, kicking the door open. âWell letâs get you started, Mitchy Mitch Mitchell!â she cooed, prancing down the hallway with me in tow. In the reception area, once again surrounded by those disgusting photographs, she pointed out the important areas to me. âRighty-o, Mitchellino. That thereâs the supply closet. If you need new litter, another bag of kibble, new toys, or anything like that? Check in there first!â I nodded, smiling. She peeked her head into a large set of double doors, pulling me in along with her. âHey, sweeties!â she cooed. I felt viscerally angry as I got a better look at the daycare area Iâd seen from outside. It was so⌠FUCKING⌠CUTE. Small toys were everywhere, especially stuffy friends and blockies. Some fluffies were even being read a storybook by some young-looking redheaded guy I hadnât seen before. The shitrats were absolutely enthralled by the exploits of The Very Hungry Caterpillar. They were hanging on this kidâs every word, going âoohâ and âaahâ every few seconds. Beds were lined around the roomâs perimeter, each one appearing cozy enough to put anyone out like a light. Quickly, she yanked me into a spin as she bounded towards the door to the playground. Outside I saw the handler from earlier running around holding a violet pegasus up in the air as it cheered on and on about how it was flying. I groaned internally as she jabbered on about how she had built the playground equipment by hand. I had to give it to her, that was pretty impressive. âThatâs the bathroom,â she continued, stepping back inside and pointing to a door beside the office. She gave me a gentle nudge or two in the ribs, giggling like a child. âYou know, for good poopies.â I sighed disappointedly, laughing slightly under my breath. âMy bad jokes are part of the job, buckaroo!â Juniper chuckled as she led me back towards the fluffy area. Her extremely soft, delicate hand still clasped my own as she guided me through the doors. The little rat bastards swarmed us, doing dances on their hind legs for Juniper. âNice Missus Jyunipew! Mewwow wub ou!â one deep-scarlet foal peeped, snuggling into Juniperâs ankle. âAww!â she cooed, petting the creature behind its ears. âI love you too, Merlot!â With another few purrs and cheeps, the foal eventually scampered off back to its parents. She led me onward to a pink, sticker-covered metal door in the far back corner of the room, rapping a tune against it. âDiddly dooney, itâs Junie!â she called out to whoever was on the other side. She received a response quickly, with a very flamboyant male voice replying that he would be a moment getting to the door. Juniper rocked back and forth, humming what I recognized to be a mummah song. I had expected myself to hate this girl, but something about her high-energy personality was surprisingly refreshing. I smiled at her. âThanks again for the job, Miss Horowitz,â I told her. For once, I was actually grateful. My compliments were usually borne of obligation to societal standards of politeness, but under these circumstances I felt differently. I wasnât exactly thrilled to work with fluffies. To tell you the truth, Iâd wanted to stomp the little bastards since Iâd arrived. However, I felt that this job might be able to bring me out of my depression. Such positivity, and dare I say cuteness, could be quite beneficial. âPfft!â Juniper laughed, her rosy freckled cheeks puffing up not unlike those of an angry fluffy. âNo, Mitchell. My mama is Mrs. Horowitz. Call me Juniper! Or June, or Junie, or Juju, or Junie B. Jones, or whatever else.â She chuckled again, adding with a grin âCall me anything as long as you call me for dinner.â I smiled myself, laughing along. Iâve had some pretty bunk managers, but this chick was a breath of fresh air.
The door creaked open to reveal a tall, gangly boy with messy brown hair. âThis my new partner in crime?â he laughed meekly, extending a bony hand. I hesitated and recoiled my own hand slightly. It was extremely out of character for me to even consider shaking someoneâs hand like this, especially when heâd just called me his âpartner in crimeâ when weâd just met. Oh, the hell with it. I grabbed his hand and shook, grinning a toothy grin. âMitchell Pearson.â He shook back, his eyes wide with surprise at my returning of the gesture. âCh-Chandler,â he introduced himself, still smiling albeit weakly. âChandler Davies.â Juniper clapped her hands together, her blue eyes beaming and her buck-toothed smile glistening. âPerfectamundo!â she gladly exclaimed. âNow that you two are acquainted, Chandler can give you the lowdown.â She pointed a set of finger guns my way, winking. âGot any questions, ya know where to find me!â Her expression shifted to one of sudden realization. âOh, wait! No ya donât!â She gestured towards a huddled group of fluffies. âIf Iâm not over there,â she explained, âIâm out there on the playground.â She pointed a finger towards the exit door. âAlright, ta ta!â She strode towards the exit, stopping to ruffle the manes of a few resting fluffies before leaving. Chandler turned to me, sighing heavily. âAlright Mitchell, youâre gonna hate me for this.â I laughed, wondering what was coming. Cleaning the litter boxes? Bathing them? Pfft, easy stuff. I peered behind him to see a colorful room with no other occupants. Shelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with books of some sort. I looked back to Chandler quizzically. âThis is the Derpy Education Center,â he explained, heading into the room. âOwners drop their derpy fluffies off here for speech therapy. Your job is to teach these dumb pieces of shit how to talk.â His use of vulgarity and grumpy tone shocked me, considering the generally sweet and innocent vibe this place had given me so far. He turned to a small metal lockbox, crouching to insert a key. The lock clicked open, echoing throughout the silent room. The lid creaked open to reveal a crying, cross-eyed white unicorn filly. The box was filled with shit and piss, stinking to high heaven. âYou gonna speak now?â Chandler growled through gritted teeth, narrowing his dark eyes. âBluh, mithtowâŚâ the filly sobbed, sputtering dejectedly. âNuu huu, suwee, pbbt.â Chandler scooped up a handful of kibble and slung it haphazardly into the box. He slammed it shut, eliciting further cries from the child. âI quit, theyâre your problem now,â Chandler grumbled. I stood there with my jaw dropped. I was dumbfounded that Juniper allowed this to go on. âEverything youâll need is in here,â he hummed, walking out the door.
What did I do in this situation? Chandler has left me with no assistance, no knowledge, nothing. As I stared at the now closed door, I glanced back down to the box. I grabbed the key, opening it to see the foal desperately munching at the kibble. She looked up at me with hope in her eyes. âHuu huu⌠pbbt⌠hew fwubbâŚâ she asked, beaming at me. I smiled warmly, happy to be able to release some of my pent-up aggression. I scooped the remaining kibble out, throwing it in the trash. Peppermint stared back at me as if I had just broken her very soul. She very weakly cried âNuuuhuhuuu,â wailing as I locked the box back and began shaking it like crazy. As I set the box down, I heard Peppermint sobbing and complaining about the shit and piss that had smeared into her fluff following the violent shake. I grabbed a book from the shelf. âThe Comprehensive Fluffy Speech Therapy Handbook,â I read to myself, âwritten by Dr. Egor Alexeev, DVM.â I grinned evilly as I slapped it down on a nearby desk. I slumped into the nearby office chair and turned to page one. I knew I was going to enjoy this job.
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