The green pegasus stallion was enjoying his meal of lettuce. It didn’t taste great, but it didn’t taste bad, either. Plus, it had a lot of moisture inside of it. After the trash nummies and yucky water he had been drinking for the last few bright times, this was a relief, feeling cleaner and fresher in his mouth.
There was so much more to eat in this place as well. The round yellowish pink fruit on some of the trees smelled very nice, though he hadn’t had any himself yet. The long, dark, purple fruit looked like they might be tasty as well. He was eager to try them all, but the leafy thing he was chewing on now allowed him to watch the rest of his herd and still eat. There had been only a few of the round nummies on the ground, and they had already been eaten by peach colored mare. He could have stepped in and claimed them for himself, but, he didn’t feel as if he had to assert himself in that manner. In fact, he made sure he reached the lettuce first, and let the rest of them see him begin to eat, just so that they could know it was ok for them to begin eating as well.
It was important to him that his herd had a win. He wanted them to be happy, and, well, he had made a few mistakes recently. The most severe of which had cost him his own sister’s life. That still hurt. It probably always would, on some level.
But, he knew what it meant to be a good leader, or at least he hoped he did. And more than that, he hoped this food filled area would be a good place to live, at least for a little while. His special friend was due soon. With the help of their only babbeh…no, not babbeh now. No, he was a colt, and would be a big toughie soon…but with the help of their colt, his special friend had finally made it to the lettuce.
That was good. He was happy to see her eat, and was happy to be near her. He could smell her scent, that almost babbeh time scent. He kept his eyes scanning the area even as he reached over, and have his purple special friend a gentle hug. “Eat up the nummies, speciaw fwiend. Dis pwace might be good pwace to stay.”
He meant it, of course. He was typically honest, and didn’t enjoy lies. They only made things confusing, and when things were confusing, fluffies got hurt, or even went forever sleepies.
But, this WAS a nice place. True, it was close to a human place, but what place wasn’t? No place that had any food. And while he could hear humans in the distance, it was not like it was back in the city, where they were everywhere. Which would have been nice, if not for the fact that so many seemed be angry with them. Not just his herd, but fluffies in general.
That made him sad in a way he didn’t understand, and it felt wrong. But, he did know that humans being near by didn’t automatically mean death, or else he would have been dead a long time ago.
Time to scan the area again. It looked good still. The walls were tall, from his point of view, and in good shape as far as he could tell. Sure, there was a hole under at least one of them, but if there hadn’t been, they wouldn’t have been able to get to the nummies. Plus, the walls were not so close together as to make him feel trapped. The trees with various nummie fruits. The water fountain with the weird animal on top of it…it wasn’t a REAL animal and couldn’t hurt them, he knew. But the water there was clean, he could tell just by the smell. So that was another positive. In addition to that, he noticed an overturned barrel. Kind of like the big cans where they could sometimes find trash nummies, but on it’s side, and made of wood. THAT would be a good space for his special friend to have their new litter.
Over there, in the other corner…it looked like a box. Like the cardboard housies they sometimes used in the city. It didn’t look very heavy. In fact, if he, and his toughie friend, his colt, and the peach mare worked together, they could probably move it close to the barrel. That way, they would all be close to each other, which was usually for the best.
Yes. Yes, this place should be good. It had been a good choice to come here, after all. He had been doubting himself recently, but he felt better about this decision.
Taking another bite of lettuce, he took a moment to stop scanning and give his colt some attention. Dark blue, with a long green mane and tail. He was an earthy, unlike either of his parents, and that meant he would be strong. He was also their only child. Not their only SURVIVING child, but the only one that was born to his special friend. Which meant he had received a lot of milk, which in turn would mean he would grow to be even bigger than most earthies. Most joyously of all, he never had been called the ‘bestest’, and had never called himself that either. That was a relief, and made the pegasus proud. He knew that sometimes babbehs, while wonderful for the most part…could grow up wrong. He had seen it. Not often, but enough times to be worried for a little while that having sole access to milk and having no siblings to compete with might cause some…problems.
No such problems had arisen, and as he watched his son regain his breath, he smiled. He was a good colt. And he wasn’t the one who picked the fight that had cost him his ear, though he was the one to end it…with a bit of help from his daddeh, of course.
“Otay. You been weaw good cowt to mummah and daddeh. You go have nummies.”
His colt grinned happily, and then turned around, and started to trot towards one of the purple fruit when he froze. His father followed his eye line…and…
A human came around the corner of the house, holding the biggest sorry stick the pegasus had ever seen. With three, large, scary points on the end of it. His special friend hadn’t seen it yet. The peach mare hadn’t seen it, or the babbahs, just his colt, and then his toughie friend, who had stopped playing with his foals for just a moment, as he had wanted to ask his peach special friend something. Only the three non-foal males had seen the new arrival.
The shock only lasted a moment. The pegasus didn’t know how he hadn’t heard the approach, but that didn’t matter. Stopping a potentially violent misunderstanding mattered much more than that. He called out even as he rushed forwards, “Hoomin hewe!”, even as his toughie friend turned his body fully around so as to face and approach the grinning figure. As soon as the others heard that exclamation, they all snapped their heads up, and looked about, until they found the potentially dangerous hoomin.
The human in question was indeed there. He rolled his pitchfork against his shoulder, letting the curved tines roll from a downward position, to an upwards position, and then back again. He kept the oaken handle pointed more towards the ground, but didn’t point it at any of the fluffies directly, not at this point.
Filbert smiled, his brown eyes excited, as two of the fluffies came at him rather quickly. Two stallions, in fact, and if he had to guess, he was going to say the the green pegasus was the smarty. Not that their exact social dynamics mattered much to him, but he had played with enough of them over the last few years to pick out who was what rather quickly.
He wasn’t surprised when the green one opened his mouth and addressed him, and not overly surprised at the words he used. The pegasus looked up at him, but didn’t make direct eye contact, and kept all four feet on the ground, his wings folded back, and his posture non-threatening. The orange toughie at his side adopted a similar posture, but did make eye contact, and for a moment, Filbert admired the vivid purple of the orange stallions eyes, before turning his attention back to the speaker.
“He…” A brief pause, and then a continuation “Hewwo hoomin! Is dis youw wand?”
Filbert nodded his head, and chuckled softly as he spoke. It was so cute the way they acted, especially when they still thought there was any hope left. “Yes, it’s my land. Well, me and my brother’s land. And, I guess you found your way in under the fence? I know you didn’t go over it, at least.”
He watched as the blue colt stood stock still, until the purple mare tried to whisper to it. “Cowt!” It wasn’t a very good whisper. “Cowt, go to howe, hewp peachy mare and Babbehs!” The colt didn’t move, not yet anyway, but the peach colored mare began to move towards her foals and tried to gather them up, though it was difficult. The foals had clocked Filbert’s introduction, but the ball was a lot of fun, too, and the peach mummah was having a hard time wrangling them together, considering the two distracting forces that were playing upon them at the moment. A human, which they had never seen this closely before, and the ball, a known, fun object.
Cute. Filbert had to admit that. Not the mares, exactly, but just their behavior. Personally, he found the mares unattractive. It wasn’t just that FIlbert was gay either, though that was part of it. But their weird, and to the blond man, gross crotch tits…just…eew. They didn’t even look like animal udders, more like human breasts. Especially when they were bloated with milk. Plus, they when they were pregnant, still nursing their foals, they sometimes dragged on the ground and…just yuck.
His brother loved them, though. So, it was very fortunate for the mares that Elliot wasn’t here. Well, not VERY fortunate. But, a small blessing, perhaps.
“Oh, smawty fwiend undewstand.” His attention was drawn back to the green pegasus, who was still in a non-aggressive stance. “Dis am nu hewd land. Fwuffies nu twy to steaw wand fwom you and you bwudda. Pwease no be angwy with hewd. Hewd go.”
Filbert shook his head, his short blond hair moving a little, but not too much. It wasn’t a windy day. “No, don’t worry, I’m not mad at you. In fact, I’m glad you are here. Me and my brother…I’m Filbert by the way, … we made sure that the branches were hanging low enough for fluffies to reach up and take some fruit. Plus we planted the lettuce you’ve been enjoying.”
The Green pegasus looked at him in the eyes for a moment, and Filbert used the shaft of the pitch fork to point towards the window he had been watching them through. “I was standing right there, watching you guys eat. But that’s cool, because that’s why we planted the food, and built the fluffy holes. We don’t usually eat much of the apricots and eggplants, and it’s pretty easy for us to reach up and grab the ones we do want.” He flipped his pitchfork around this time, and pointed to the various fruit that were out of fluffy reach, still spinning the tines around a little bit.
Hearing those words seemed to have a positive effect on the peach mare, who visibly relaxed, and started to open her mouth, probably to say something, but the pegasus cut her off, his voice skeptical, but polite. And yes, Filbert could hear the tinge of hope mixed in with the suspicion. “Nice Mistew Fiwbewt weawwy nu angwy with hewd? That vewy…nice…but Nice Mistew Fiwbewt…that am a weawwy big sowwy stick.”
This got another chuckle out of FIlbert, he noticed the toughie was looking back and forth between him and the green pegasus, and the colt was now on the move towards the peach mare, though he seemed to have lost a lot of his nervousness. He had red eyes. Not bad…shame about the ear, though. Kind of made his face look off. Fluffies ears were cute when they could be expressive, but, with only one ear and the raggedly base of another one on the other side … the effect was a little bit lost.
Still, Filbert shook his head. “It’s not a sorry stick. It’s a pitchfork. It helps me with yard work, and grabbing things to eat, like fruit. Sometimes.” He stuck the pitchfork into the tree branches, and twisted a little, making a few of the apricots fall to the earth. "See, like that. Sometimes. " He pulled the tool back close to himself, and smiled again.
“Anyway, it’s WAY too big to be a sorry stick.” The pegasus was lowering his guard, and like many pegasi, was a bit more curious than the average fluffy. Not that the green stallion was all the way relaxed, but there was a shift in both his posture, and in that of the orange toughie.
“Fwuffy nu kno dat sowwy sticks nu can be too big.” He did sound interested in the topic, and Filbert was willing to continue to play along, it was part of the way he had fun, after all. Meanwhile, the green pegasus had made brief eye contact again, and the human could see that his eyes were a dark shade of green. So, a lot of green on this one, with the only other color being the yellow mane and tail. Fine. He couldn’t be picky when fluffies just came into his grasp like this. Well, maybe a little picky. But, there was nothing wrong with the pegasus, at least.
“No, it’s true. See, when I was younger, my neighbors…uh, humans that lived in a house next to me, had a few fluffies. And sometimes, when the fluffies were bad…” He noticed a flinch in all of the fluffies when he said those words, and a momentary retightening of postures in all of the adults, “they’d get hit with sorry sticks. But, they were small. Just big enough to let them know they did something wrong. Kind of like a light hoofie.” And that was true enough. His neighbors had had fairly well trained fluffies that had only needed a few swats in their early days to keep them in line. “So a big pitch fork like this can’t be a sorry stick.” He lowered the tined end to the ground, and started to lightly use it to roll the fallen apricots about in a more or less random fashion, while keeping them together in the same place.
The peach mare seemed rather interested in this, as well much more relaxed now, and watched the rolling fruit with a dog like intensity. She also began to sniff at the air, and approach the tool as he moved it about.
“So, anyway, this would be a bad sorry stick. If I really hit a fluffy with it, like, hard, he wouldn’t learn a lesson. He’d be dead. So, no, not a sorry stick.”
The pegasus seemed to be considering his words, and was taking some time to respond, and the orange toughie had relaxed much more now, and was no longer staring at him, instead he was looking at his mate, who was moving ever closer to Filbert. “Otay. Nu sowwy stick…am gwad. But, you want hewd go, hewd go. Nu want Nice Mistew Fiwbewt be mad…or brudda mad eithew.”
But Filbert shook his head again. “Hey, it’s ok. I promise. You haven’t done anything bad. I’m not even angry. Not at all. Like I said, we planted most of this for fluffies like you. Well, technically, we planted more stuff, but other herds came through, so, this is what’s left.”
Another pause before a response from the stallion. “Oh. Othew hewds come, and nice mistew Filbewt and brudda let them eat…”
Filbert nods his head. “They eat some, yeah. And, no, before you ask, they don’t come to live with us. One day, sure, me and Elliot will probably each get our own fluffies to keep, but right now…meh, not ready for that kind of commitment.”
The peach mare was now leaning forwards, and took a sniff at the tines, and gasped “Speciaw fwiend! Not sowwy sticky smeww pwetty!” Which in turn got the orange toughies attention to focus even more on his mate.
“Weawwy? What smeww wike?”
But the pegasus still had questions, it seemed “Otay. After hewd eat, hewd have to weave?”
The peach mare was responding even as the smarty friend was talking. It was exciting. All these new foods, smells, and a nice hoomin talking to them. She did catch that they’d have to leave, which was sad. But, still this was a bright time to remember. “Smeww wike…wike…um…”
Filbert grinned even wider, “Noooo. None of the herds that come here leave.” He quickly rotated the tines upwards, and then yanked up hard, catching the peach mare through her lower jaw and the top of her muzzle part way though her attempt at describing strawberry body spray.
Fluffies had robust immune systems, but were rather fragile in other ways, and this was not Filbert’s first time using his pitchfork on one of them. Her whole body lifted up as he jerk the farm tool, and then part of her body came back down. Her head remained on the tines for a moment, and blinked one time before dimming, before he jerked his arm’s forwards, making the head fly over the collapsed, decapitated corpse that was still spurting arterial blood onto the grass.
It only took another second before the screaming and crying to begin.
The herd leader was having some very mixed feelings about all of this. He wasn’t used to talking to humans. At least, not for very long. He, or his herd, might do something a human didn’t like, and then he would try to apologize … which usually didn’t help much. But it was always worth trying.
This was different. This human, Nice Mister Filbert, was actually talking to them, and he had a smile on his face. Deep down, that is what the green pegasus wanted to see. A human smile at him. Still, there had been a few things of concern that he could put his hoof on easily enough.
The stallion didn’t like that Filbert had watched them from the window. Oh, no, it wasn’t that he thought Filbert was WRONG to watch them. But the fluffy didn’t like that it had escaped his notice. Then there was the big sorry stick. But Filbert had explained that it wasn’t really a sorry stick at all.
It was called a pitchfork. It was something that Filbert could use to grab nummies from high places, sometimes.
Sometimes.
While he was enjoying his first actual conversation with a man, and was trying his best to pay attention to each word, something was bothering him. Nice mister Filbert hadn’t been mean at all, and the green eyed stallion felt a tinge of guilt for feeling this way, but something was nagging at him.
Filbert wasn’t swearing. He was using friendly words, but it felt like there was more there. Something that the fluffy just wasn’t quite getting. He couldn’t really figure out what it was, but…
But, he should stop. Filbert was the first nice human he had met. Well, he had seen a several nice seeming humans before, but he had never felt it the right time to approach them. Right now, Nice Mister Filbert was explaining the few, simple rules of this place, and the stallion knew he should be grateful.
Yes, he had been ready to ask something he had always wanted to ask, but the comment about none of the herds living with Filbert and his brother took the wind out of his sails about that topic. The rest of the rules seemed very easy.
He knew he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. His colt had stopped being nervous. He had also stopped trying to help the peach mare help gather up the babbehs like his own mummah had told him. That was something he would have to talk to his colt about later.
Yes, things were going well here, but the blue colt needed to understand that if he was going to be a good toughie, he needed to keep his head in the game. Though, that would be a little bit of a hard point to bring across, considering his orange earthie friend was kind of letting himself be distracted as well.
He could still smell his special friend in the…lettuce…nummies. He hadn’t expected her to move yet. Moving was hard for her. She could still do it, but by the next bright time, she would probably be unable to travel until after the babbehs came.
Which was why he really wanted to clarify things with nice mister Filbert. It was disappointing to know that they would have to leave at some point. That they couldn’t all stay and have a home…and maybe…maybe even names. But, Filbert had been clear on that, and the pegasus was not going to try to fight him on it.
Because that was something only dummehs did. Fighting humans usually ended with a dead fluffy, or sometimes much more than just one dead fluffy. And yes. He had heard stallions, and even mares brag about how they had giving this or that mean human sorry hoofies, and worstest hurties, and even forever sleepies.
He knew those fluffies were full of bad poopies. He had never, EVER seen any fluffy confront a human with violence and come out victorious. He didn’t even believe it was possible. He had seen even small, talkie human babbehs take powerful hoof strikes from the intimidating stallions, and usually just laugh. Sometimes cry in the way babbehs do when they are upset, but not hurt. And one time, he saw one hoofie a stallion right in the nono stick, hard enough to make said stallion run away crying.
So, no. No, the herd leader would NOT try to fight Nice Mister Filbert. And even if he could … he really just didn’t WANT to do so. He was enjoying this. All of this. Still, he knew it was going to end. So, he wanted to make sure he fully understood the rules.
They couldn’t live here. He understood that. But, could they stay for just a few dark times? Maybe that could be allowed? It would only take a few for his special friend to have their babbehs, and this would be the best place for it. If Filbert said it was impossible, then…so be it. But, he would be a poor smarty friend if he didn’t find out for sure.
“Otay. After hewd eat, hewd have to weave?” He wanted to get the answer, and then possibly ask for a few days of leniency. Filbert’s answer was unexpected, and his following were actions as horrifying as they were surprising.
Okay. Now it was time to shift gears. As much fun as it had been to chat with the pegasus, he needed to get moving. He didn’t want to spend all day outside. Since the peach mare was practically on the tines already, which was why he had sprayed the pitchfork down anyway, he happily informed the green eyed stallion that they would not be leaving at all.
After decapitating the peach mummah, he took a step over to the foals, who were watching him with a mixture of confusion and wonder. This was when the atmosphere really changed, as he heard shouting from the green stallion. “Cowt, hewp mummah to howe. WITE NOW!”
Filbert didn’t look to see how much obedience the one eared adolescent was giving to the stallion. It didn’t matter much. There were only so many places to go in the yard, no way for a fluffy to escape, and no place to even really hide. He and Elliot had made sure of that. So right now, all he needed to go was get rid of the chaff.
The blond giant…or at least, giant compared to the fluffies, put his boot down on the pink foal, who simply watched it come without moving, crushing it into the grass. He had no idea if it was male or female, as he knew sex had no determination on colors. But, he had to start some where.
This was when he was tackled by the screaming, threatening orange stallion. Well, it was an attempt at a tackle, he was sure. The small front legs were wrapped around his leg, it it didn’t make him fall…or even really shift position much. “Hatechu! FLUFFY HATECHU!” Filbert didn’t care. He had heard it all before, anyway. He simply lowered his pitchfork, and carefully flipped the stallion backwards. It wasn’t difficult, and he was sure not to hurt…or rather…not to damage the fluffy. And then he down spiked the red and orange foals just as they were really starting to realize what was happening. One prong for each. Enough to mortally wound them, and to keep them from wandering away.
Not enough to keep them from screaming, though, so he put his boot down on them as he lifted his pitchfork, and them kept pushing. It just took a moment for the screaming to stop, and the guts to come out. Through the back door of the red foal, and the mouth of the orange one.
Speaking of orange, the toughie was back, fat ears streaking down his adorable face. He caught the back side of the tines again, once more flipped away, even as he hurled simple, more or less family friendly insults at him, expressing his hated and so forth.
He would deal with the orange fluffy later, but for now, he has a few more things to do. Ah, there she was. The purple soon mummah. If Elliot had been around, Filbert would have left her to him. But if that had been the case, he would have left the peach mare, too. Since it wasn’t, he stalked over.
“WAIT! NU, PWEASE NU, MISTAW FIWBEWT!” And the green stallion was standing right in front of him. Trying to block his path. Or, maybe just buying some time, as the purple mare was hobbling away from the lettuce with the aid of the blue colt. Not moving very quickly, and certainly not quickly enough to escape.
“NU, PWEASE…ooofff.” He heard the green stallion grunt as he was gently swatted away with the pitchfork. And then it was the orange toughie’s turn again. He was right up to the blue and purple pair now, and looked down into the big red eyes of the colt, remaining ear back, his body heaving with effort and fear.
“Pwease, nice mistaw Fil…NUUUU!” The human didn’t bother flipping the colt away, and instead just stabbed that big fat purple mare right through the back. She had been pleading too, but, Filbert wouldn’t get off on her tears or pleadings. Instead, he hoisted her up, and walked over to far corner of his yard. It wasn’t too late in the day yet, and his fluffy mulcher was electric, so it wouldn’t make much noise.
Unlike the mare, who wailed as she struggled on the fork tips, the spine having been missed, but the rest of her body had not been. Filbert was sure it must hurt, and surely didn’t care. She made a noise that sounded something like a pig’s squeal, and a horse’s neigh…but at a much lower volume, and some words mixed in with the noise. He felt nothing about her concerns for her tummy babies. Instead, he just opened the top of the green colored mulcher, and stuck the pitchfork partway inside, shaking it a little bit, so that the formerly soon mummah fell off of his tool.
In the darkness of the mulcher, he could catch a quick glimpse of the mare’s horn’s bioluminescence. All unicorn and alicorn horns had some bioluminescence to them, but it was usually rather dim, and it was a bright day. Now though, he could see it flashing rapidly. Their glow was usually tied to some other body function, and not under conscious control. So, this one was probably tied to heart beat or breathing. Also, so what? He shut the lid again.
Then it was back to the rest of the garden. “TOUGHIE! COWT! TO THE HOWE, NOW!” The toughie wasn’t listening, though, and came at him again. And again, he was tossed aside easily. The land owner stabbed the peach mare’s corpse through it’s disembodied head, and decapitated body, went back to the mulcher. He dumped the remains in side, on top of the still living purple mare, who was starting to cry more softly. The huu huu sounds. Much more tolerable than the screaming. Even pleasant. Once more, he closed the lid.
He would truly hate it if a curious cat, stray bird, or random raccoon some how got into the mulcher without him knowing. It would have made feel sick, and certainly would have given him nightmares. Which was why he was always careful with how he treated the machine, and always closed the lid when he wasn’t standing right next to it.
Another toughie attack, and another unconcerned toss back. He forked up each of the squashed foals. He didn’t bother trying to figure out which was which sex. It didn’t matter. They were dead, and the reason for that was that he was in no way going to devote the time and energy needed to make sure they grew to a useable size.
Back to the mulcher again. He tossed the remains on top of the rest, and paid no attention to the brief, weak, “pwease…hewp…fwuffy has so…” Whatever. Instead, he turned the mulcher on, and just heard a brief, but loud scream, some grinding, crunching, and then, it was done. Fluffy mulch. He and Elliot could use that later.
Now, it was time to gather up his prizes. He was a little surprised to see the green pegasus staring at him, in the middle of the yard. Shrugging, he just walked over to his first catch.
This was the worst thing he had ever seen. Almost his entire herd, wiped out. And so very quickly. He couldn’t believe how fast it had been. One moment, he was contemplating how to ask nice mister/scary monster Filbert for a few dark times of safety, and had felt pretty confident that he might even grant it. And then…blood. Screams. Pleading. Dead foals. Stabbed mares.
His toughie being tossed aside again and again, despite his strongest efforts. His own words being ignored, as he was tossed aside just as easily. His colt terrified, so scared that the stallion had to hoofie him for the first time ever, just to get him to move. And then that awful, crunching sound. It reminded him of the metal monster that attacked and killed his sister. Maybe it was a different kind of metal monster that the human kept as a pet instead of fluffies. The pegasus just didn’t know.
How did this happen? Why did it happen? What did he do wrong, because he definitely did something bad. How else could Mister Monster Filbert just change like that? The pegasus knew he had made a mistake, a grave one. By coming here, yes, but he must have somehow given the human a reason to do what he was doing. He must have crossed some foul, heinous line unknowingly, and made Mister Monster Filbert act like that. He must have.
But why was Mister Monster smiling? He must be angry. He had to be. But he was smiling. He…would probably never know. He had made sure he was in Mister Monster’s line of sight when he turned around. He had gotten his colt to run to the hole they came in, and FINALLY gotten his orange friend to stop attacking Mister Monster, and to try to make it to safety.
They would need time to do that. Time they would only get if the pegasus was able to stall Mister Monster in some way. His only option was to try to talk again, even though he was scared. Even though he expected that he would soon fine himself impaled and dropped into that bad metal monster sorry box. “M…M…Mister Filbert…pwease…please nu mowe pitchfowk huwties. Fluffy am…am…vewy vewy sowwy…bad uppsies!”
That had surprised him. He had hoped Mister Monster would talk. But had been expecting to be stabbed. He hadn’t expected Mister Monster to grab him by the scruff of the back of his neck, and hoist him into the air. And normally, he would be delighted to see the world from an elevated vantage point. But, it hurt, and he was scared. At least, though his colt and his orange friend had time to…get…away.
Why was his toughie friend racing around the inside of the fence still? That wasn’t where the hole was. Why could he see his colt’s hind legs sticking and kicking out of the bushes where the hole actually was located?
“HOWE GONE AWAY!” his toughie friend cried as he ran back and forth, trying to find a way out. All the while, Mister Monster, with the pegasus in his left handed grip, closed the gap between him and his only remaining friend. Then, the pitchfork. But it stabbed only the ground, right in front of the purple eyed stallion, halting him in his tracks, making him rear up…right into the waiting right hand of Mister Monster, who grabbed him by the left rear leg, and held him so firmly his toughie friend squealed in pain.
The orange fluffy struggled again after a moment, but stopped struggling, and made sickie wawas after he was shaken a few times. This seemed to make it easier when Filbert transferred the orange fluffy from his right hand, to his left, taking a moment to shift his grip on both, so that he was holding them by their tails, in his left hand, hanging them upside down.
No, this was nothing like what he though flying would feel like…but no time to worry about that now, because Mister Monster had his pitchfork again, and was heading in the colt’s direction.
“Nu…nu, …Mistew Fiwbewt…pwease.” But Mister Monster didn’t respond, at least not in that moment, and not to the pair of stallion’s in his grip. Oh, his tail hurt so bad, and he couldn’t help himself. His colt was in danger, and he had to make sickie wawa’s himself.
He did, at least, hear the human monster speak, and his voice sounded sincere, and not mean at all. It was confusing for the pegasus, but now that he had finished barfing, he could hear what was being said. “Okay, colt. You can come out, or I can use my pitch fork to grab you out. Head’s up, you won’t like that at all.” Mister Monster waited a moment, and then gave the upside down pegasus a meaningful glance, before shrugging, and readjusting his pitchfork.
Now the green stallion had to think fast. The hole was gone. It didn’t matter how. Even upside down, he could see that his colt had pulled himself down, and was hunkering in just the entrance to the hole, his red eyes wide and terrified. There was no way to get out. The green stallion hated it but…he had to do it. He took a deep breath and called out.
“Cowt…cowt…wisten to daddeh. Come out. No make Mister mon…Mister Fiwbewt use pitch fowk…nu get mowe huwties…come out, cowt.” He hoped that his son wouldn’t stay in place. He hoped that he would move.