“Racecar, it’s FluffTV time!”
…
“Racecar? Come on buddy, I need my little TV pal.”
…
“I can hear Nascar breathing, Racecar. I know you’re there. Drive him to the living room so we can watch the hang gliding competition. Baxter is staying with Arnold this weekend, so you’re all I got.”
A beleaguered fluffy with swollen and overworked front weggies and a sick Jeff Gordon paint job to go with his back wheels slowly crept around the corner. Daddeh started shouting as soon as he came into view.
“AND HERE HE COMES AROUND TURN FOUR, IT’S THE RAINBOW WARRIOR! END OF THE LINE IN SIGHT, CAN HE TAKE THE CHECKERED FLAG?”
The fluffy paused, his face and his shoulders dipping with resigned despair.
“Nas…haf haf…Nascaw awedd…aweddy ask da…haf haf…su tiwed huuuuuu…aw-aweddy ask daddeh…haf…tu nu du dat…Nascaw…nu wike…”
Daddeh stood and made silent eye contact with Nascar while he made his breathless and stumbling appeal for mercy. Racecar was still around the corner, currently in his Littercart rather than wearing his Stumpywheels. He preferred it to his wheels, and frankly he liked it better than his usual litterbox. The litter was replaced with frictionless plastic beads that felt soft and smooth and wouldn’t stick to him. His surface area was such that he wouldn’t sink, but any waste would slip right through into a collecting tray with a deodorizer. He couldn’t use it all the time, as it was low capacity and the beads were expensive. When the hydrophobic coating wore off they started absorbing fluids and would need to be changed. He could hear poor Nascar begging for dignity. Again. Third time this week.
It was Tuesday.
Kid wasn’t bright.
After Nascar finished begging, he slumped down a bit. He let his chunky, bulging weggies splay out and rested his tired chin on the carpet, his back wheels forcing him into an angular posture, almost like a top fuel dragster if it were made out of a sad PigRat.
Daddeh started clapping his hands and stomping his foot. “WOOOOOOOO GREEN FLAG BUDDY LET’S GO FUCK YEAH YOU CAN DO IT NASCAR YOU CAN DO IT GO GO GO GO GO GO GO GO!” He was bending down and shouting directly at Nascar’s face. “COME ON YOU’RE ON THE LAST STRETCH IT’S ALL CLEAN AIR LET’S MOVE GO FASTER YOU’RE NOT GOING FAST ENOUGH TELL HIM TO GO FAST RACECAR TELL HIM RIGHT NOW!”
Racecar complied. “Huuuuu gotta gu fass, bestest fwend Nascaw. Daddeh nu wiww stop yewwies tiww…tiww wace obah? Nu weawwy cweaw wat goaw is…” Nascar knuckled down and pushed.
“Huhuhu daddeh nu mowe yewwin pwease am gu as fass as can! Weggies gib huwties and nu wissen! Hoofies hab cwackies an spwitties wike twee stump! Weawwy huwt a wot! Nee swow down!” The stressed and exhausted little fluffy kept moving. His daddeh was next to him, hooting and hollering for him to go faster when he was already going as fast as he could! His poor weggies just couldn’t do any better!
Finally, he reached the couch. As he finally relaxed his muscles, there was a loud BANG! Daddeh had popped one of those lame ass Champagne Popper fireworks, the shitty tiny ones that have little bits of confetti and are so boring and safe you can let kids use them indoors. Naturally this noise terrified and startled poor Nascar, who let out a small amount of Scaredy Poopies into his DuPont brand diaper.
Daddeh was unperturbed. He picked up Racecar off his Littercart, set him on the couch, and turned back to Nascar. “Okay. Go park.” Nascar sighed. “Daddeh, pwease change Nascaw? Hab wittwe poopies.” Daddeh frowned. “Cars don’t talk. Cars go park.” A tear rolled down Nascar’s cheek. He turned slowly and looked towards the dark wooden box by the couch. “Huuuuu bu am fwuffy, nu am wheewie caw! Am awive!” Daddeh swatted him with a rolled up comic book. “Owwies! Nu gib hitties! Am gud Nascaw!”
“Then go. PARK.”
Nascar trundled into his box. He hated the box. It’s not quite big enough, it’s dark, the walls and floor are all rough particleboard. It gives him itchies. He sobs quietly.
“Say it. Say the line.”
“Nu wan.”
“Say it or I’ll hit you. Racecar? Tell him.”
“Huuuu pwease jus say it, daddeh weawwy mean it!”
“Huuuuuuuuuuu…gawage doow cwose…”
With that, daddeh lowered the metal door behind Nascar, sealing him in the box with his…well not BAD poopies, but not GOOD either.
“Alright buddy, tv time.”
Racecar was feeling optimistic. He DOES love teebee time, and daddeh WAS gonna hold him, which he also loved.
They sat and watched two full episodes of Flufftiques Roadshow, where elderly designer fluffies are valued and sold on the spot, much to their frequent dismay.
“I’d say this Alicorn is worth $600. Do you see the hoof mark? This is very rare, collectors will pay quite a bit for these just to have them taxidermied! They make for excellent display pieces.”
“Mummah? Wat dat mean?”
“So you’re saying I could fetch that at auction?”
“Oh no ma’am, honestly with fees you’d be lucky to see a third of that. We deal in bulk. I’ll give you $550 for him today and we’ll package him into our next sale.”
“Huh? Seww? Nu seww! Nu wan gu wif meanie!”
“Oh wow! Sold! Do you need his papers?”
“Nu! Wai? Mummah teww Bumbwe dis am onwy quick wawkies! Nu seww! Hab speshuw fwend at housie! Am daddeh soon!”
“No, honestly this hoofmark is more than enough proof. We can pull a registration number out of it and have his pedigree. Interested in selling his foals?”
“Nu! Babbehs nu fow sawe! Mummah! Ou teww Bumbwe can hab wast babbehs! Nu hafta seww pwetty babbehs nu mowe! Mummah wetiwed, memba? Memba mummah? Memba ou pwomise tu gud Bumbwe?”
“Bumble, stop it. No, I’m not selling them. They’re all dull colors with no markings, Molly is our family fluffy and she loves them but to be honest I’m getting sick of them.”
“Well you could always sell them to a breeder. Sometimes traits skip a generation. Gotta do it fast, though. The older they get, the easier it is to tell what they WON’T have, and the value drops.”
“Oh! I had no idea. Glad I came here, I was just going to let my nieces and nephews have them when they got older!”
“But mummah! Wittwe hoomins make gud mummahs an daddehs fow babbehs! Mummah pwomise can gu wiff fambwy!”
The woman walked away, never again making eye contact with her fluffy. He cried out, still confused at how a brief walk ended this way. He’d not even finished talking with Molly at home! He told her he’d be right back to hear about the flowers she’d seen, but now he wouldn’t ever hear about them! He hoped they were pretty. And his babbehs! Oh God, the babbehs were in danger! They weren’t getting nyu mummahs and daddehs! They were going to be sold and have their weggies taken!
Racecar hated this show, but he loved daddeh. Daddeh stood up and held Racecar. “Well that’s enough FluffTv. Time for bed.” A yelp came from the garage. “Nascaw weddy fow wawkies! Wan owt!”
“No don’t worry, I’m gonna go put Racecar to bed. You get some rest.”
“But wan softie bed in pwaywoom! An gawage tuu smaww!”
Daddeh picked up the garage box and flipped it upside down before setting it down. “Goodnight, Nascar.” The fluffy tried to respond, but his position made breathing a little hard so he could just grunt and huhuhu softly. Soon he got lightheaded and passed out.
Racecar was placed in his “bed.” For months now it had been this glass box full of plants and a little fake creek made with a pump that circulated water.
He hated this part.
Daddeh dumped the slugs on him again. Every night he did this. They were icky and slimy and they got goop in his fluff and they got all over his food making IT icky too! Normally he has to watch teebee with the sluggies too, but daddeh had been holding him while Baxter was out of town.
The slugs, for their part, treated Racecar with indifference. Slid all over him, sure, but not maliciously. More curiously. The feeling of his soft fluff was unique, and they derived a certain pleasure from inspecting it. The slugs cleaned bits of detritus from the surface of this strange sobbing creature, asking no thanks for their service.
“Huhuhu gwoooooossssssssss! Nu wike swuggies! Pweeeeeze nu gu in Wacecaw smeww pwace dis time!”
Racecar drifted off to sleep, unable to shut out the discomfort he felt at the dozen or so slugs now on his back.
This story inspired in part by the terrific fanart made by Star The Alicorn that I managed to just straight up not see until a couple days ago. Love your work, Star.
And it’s already come so far in just a couple years! Stoked to see stuff from you.
