You are Deeg, the youngest son of Eustace the fluffy farmer. You love fluffies. They are cute and silly creatures, way more fun than boring old chickens and pigs. They laugh and play and argue, it’s like having a bunch of little kids around. The way they talk is so funny and ridiculous you don’t see why people hate them so much. Sure they can be mean and spoiled, but that’s peoples fault. Humans go bad all the time, but that doesn’t mean half the population starts torturing them for fun. You figure if dogs and cats could talk, they wouldn’t be too far off from fluffies and people would start to feel the same way about them too.
Regardless, farming fluffies can be fun, mostly when dad and Cleet aren’t around, but a lot of the time it is sad. You don’t like treating something that can talk like livestock, and you really don’t like killing them, but this is a farm and that’s how it goes. Your dad asked for your help sheering the fluffies, so that’s what you were going to do now. It wasn’t the worst job on the farm, and it didn’t really hurt them, but it made them so upset that you still felt guilty. But if you didn’t help, then not only would you get in trouble, but dad might ask Cleet to help, and he somehow turned EVERY fluffy chore into a torture session for the little guys and gals, and you didn’t want that. So off you went.
“Hey dad, I got the bags and the sheers.”
“Good lad, lets go, we need three bags, that’s going to be at least two pens worth.”
“Whose buying?”
“Some Costume shop in Massecheusats. Probably going to turn it into slutty (insert any noun here) costumes for drunk college girls.”
“Well if it has to be something.”
“Heh, yeah I suppose there are worse uses. Lets get to it.”
You both walk down to the pens and each choose one of the feeder fluffy pens. The ones not designated for breeding. Some lucky fluffs lived out mostly full lives with relatively little hardship besides living outside and the occasional wild animal, or Sylvester. Others only made it to slaughter weight, which took roughly two months since they grow so fast. You unlock the gate and step into your pen, the fluffs recognizing you as the “nice wittwe mistuh” Because you liked to talk to them and sneak them treats when you could, and beg you for upsies, huggies and food.
“Witwe mistuh giv fwuffy huggies? Neba haf hoomin huggies before!”
“Pwease gif nummies wittwe mistuh, meanie smawtey taek aw fwuffies at bwekfest time.”
“Daddeh, pwease be nyu daddeh! Wan wiv in wawm housie, nu wike outside huuuu su cowd, nee wuv an gud toysies.”
“Look at that, nuthin you give em is ever good enough, that’s why I told you and your sister not to bother.”
You and your sister Loretta shared a common bond over fluffies. She also thought they were fun and cute, and didn’t like everything that happened on the farm, but dad never gave her any trouble over it like he did you. You had convinced your parents to let you buy some second hand baby toys from the thrift store in town. Wooden blocks, some tennis balls and even some worn out stuffed animals. You put them in the pens as evenly as you could, and the fluffies were super excited to have them. But they still lived outside, and even though they didn’t have hard hooves and didn’t root around like pigs, the pens still got muddy from time to time and the toys were all dirty by now. The fluffies complained about this, but still played enthusiastically. You didn’t blame them, they were designed to be luxury pets(or toys as so many people correct you) and they were programmed to like clean, soft things. It’s only natural they didn’t understand why they had to settle and suffer.
“It’s fine pa, I don’t mind, and the toys keep them busy and quieter then if they were bored all day. Less fighting too.”
“Well you ain’t wrong about that I guess. Get too it, color doesn’t matter, just fill the bag. And avoid the ass, your mom doesn’t need to waste time washing shit out of the product.”
“Sure thing pa.” You grab your stool and your imobilizer from the corner of the pen, and get your space set up. You scoop up the closest fluff, a red and orange earthy who was pawing at your leg, and set his little legs in the holes.
“Huuu wai nice wittwe mistuh put fwuffy in weggie box? Am gud fwuffy! Nee weggies fowe wun an pway and huggies! Huuuu pwease wet out.”
“I’ll let you out in just a minute buddy. I just need to get something from you, then you can go play with the others ok? No hurties, I promise.”
“Huuu huuu otay witiw mistuh. Fwuffy be gud. Wat wittwe mistuh nee fwom fwuffy? Nee huggies?!” He looked so excited it hurt to burst his bubble.
“I’m sorry, but my daddy says he needs your fluff.”
“Nuuuuuu!!! Nu take pwetty fwuff!!! Fwuffy nee fwuff fowe be pwetty fowe mawes an wawmsies and…fow be fwuffy!!! Huuuu pwease nu take onwy ting outsidie fwuffy haf huuu huuu”
“Sorry buddy, but this is just-”
“Damnit Deeg, do NOT argue with the fuckin livestock. You don’t ask a cow for permission to milk it, you just DO. Same with these, if you try to reason with em, they will never shut up. If you think they can be reasoned with, then it makes everything we do here pretty damn fucked up don’t it? They are animals, just animals made with a few stupid words to entertain kids. Hell, lawyers say they ain’t even that. So stop jabberin, and start workin.”
“Yes paw.” You click on the buzzer and get to work. You start at the top of the tail and work your way up in long straight lines while the fluffy “huuuu’s” and begs. Each strip get’s rolled up and tossed in the burlap sack beside you. Once everything is bald and pink besides the face and rear end, plus the legs, you pull him out and send him on his way with a little handful of peanuts from your pocket as an apology.
“Dank yu fowe sawty nummies wittwe mistuh huuu huuuuuu how wong tiww fwuff cum back?”
“Might not have time, we got an order in for a dozen smoked.” Your dad answers mockingly from the next pen over, already there were three crying fluffs with awful haircuts waddling away from his work space.
“Wat dat mean wittwe mistuh? Fwuffy get nyu daddeh?”
“Maybe buddy, now go play, I have to keep working.”
“Buddy? Fwuffy haf namsie!!! Buddy wuv nyu namsie! Tak yu widdwe daddeh!” He wanders off and starts bragging to his friends about his new name.
“Damnit Deeg! Now the whole herd is going to be griping about names until the sun goes down. That one is going in the smokey order and you’re doing it.”
“Pa please!”
“No! I’ve had it. You treat these things like pets, and it makes everything I ask you to do harder, and slower. Yer a farmer, yer grandparents were farmers and their grandparents before them too. You think none of them ever got a little attached to a particularly nice cow? A smart pig? Maybe a goofy ass chicken? Of course, but they didn’t let it throw them off and loose focus on the job at hand.”
“I…I’m sorry pa. They’re just…so different from other animals.”
Sigh “I know boy. I know. They talkin, the beggin, the crap about huggies and love, it’s odd. I don’t know I could shoot a pig that told me it loved me. But…I want you to have the life I had growing up. I loved this place. I loved waking up every mornin ta feed the pigs and give my favorite milker a hug before fillin the bucket. I always slipped ole Benjamin the donkey an apple when we could afford it. But times change, and if you ain’t some four eyed billionaire pedophile you can’t make farmin regular animals worth enough ta raise a family on. These things are the best chance I got at passin this all down to you without goin down some coal pit every day and dyin at 50 with a chest full of soot.”
“Huuuuu fwuffy am dummeh ugwy nu fwuff fwuffy huuuu huuu-WOWSTEST POOPIE PWACE OUCHIES huuu nu kick fwuffy.”
“I’m sorry pa. I love it here, I love everything about it, and I want to keep it goin.”
“Nuuuu pwease stahp! It tu cowdie fow woos fwuff huuuuu”
“I’m glad to hear it boy. You and Noah will have to look after the place together once your sisters married, and Cleet’s in prison for god knows what haha.”
“SCREEEE wowstest pinchy owies huuu huuuu”
“Shit, gotta watch what I’m doin. You know, one thing I do appreciate about the shit rats, they are a hell of a lot easier than anything I grew up raisin. Hogs’ll eat ya if ya give em half a chance. Everything else makes ya wake up at the ass crack a dawn ta get em fed and taken care of. These spoiled little turds are a vacation in comparison. Only downside is the talkin.”
“I think theyre funny.”
“Well I already had my kids, I’m baby talked out. Your sister and you were worse than any of these bastards. I’d listen to smawtey wan dis, smwatey wan dat owe giv poopies” He did an impressive impression of a fluff. “Then hear another one of your stories about nuthin haha”
“Jeez, thanks, love you too.”
“Nuuuuu!!! Am pwettiest fwuffy, nee pwetty fwuff fow species fwen and babbehs huuuu huuuu.”
“Why do they complain about bein cold, when this stuff doesn’t insulate worth a damn?”
“Hey, don’t you go cussin like that around your ma. She’ll be takin my special lumps. Hell I don’t know, maybe they are just toys and it’s a way of tellin kids not to ruint he product. These things don’t make no sense to me. You got enough yet?’
You looked down and realized you had a small legion of mostly naked fluffs around you, and a sack full of multi colored fluff.”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Well let’s get this back to the ladies and have some lunch. I wasn’t kidding about having an order for smokies.”
“Do I have too?”
“You heard what I said boy, you need to learn how to do everything here, and I am not listening to a named fluffy pissing off the rest of the herd for another two weeks before slaughter day.”
“Ok pa, I got it. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, just means your a sweet kid. Cleet would be rubbin one out behind the orchard if I made him name one first.”
“Don’t remind me.”
