Dry Wellspring (Poopiest_of_bebbehs)

Fluffy Text Self-Posting
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Pringle was his name. He was nothing special: a cream coated earthy with a messy and long brown mane. By all accounts, he was relatively worthless, but his owner had liked him all the same.

Pringle was a fluffy of many a hobby: from huggie tag, to playing his toy piano, from drawing with crayons, to occasionally swallowing one because it looked tasty, he was a fluffy of many pursuits.

Alas, the tiny stallion was in a state of terrible dismay, for he had hit a road block.
His owner, his daddeh, slowly began to veer away from his biotoy, and by extention, all that he produced.

The days were now a rarity when the man would sit cross legged in the saferoom and listen to Pringle bop and flick and play many keys in a random order on his toy piano, and no longer did he even stop to look at the drawings that Pringle slaved away at from breakfast till dinner.

“D-daddeh?” Pringle asked shyly from the the hallway.

“Grmf, what?” Stephen grumbled as he dragged himself from the sofa.

“Mayd nyew pictew fow daddeh.”

“And?” he sighed as he walked past the stallion in the hallway.

“Pwingwe wuv yew.” was the timid response.

“Good for you.” Stephen replied in a monotone fashion, as he began searching the kitchen cupboards for some of that garbage low quality instant coffee.

Pringle stared into his owner’s back and felt a twinge of something he had not felt before.

“Daddeh, can pictuw gu un da fwidge… pweas?” he asked softly, tail wagging hopefully.

“Eugh… needs milk.” Stephen sighed, utterly ignoring the cracking voice of his toy.

“Da pictuw am ob daddeh an Pwingle, goin tu da pawk, seein’ da pwetty duckies in the wawa.” Pringle trailed on, looking into the picture with wetted eyes, as if staring into a window into better times.

“Daddeh! Pweas wook at Pwingwe!” he shouted.

“Oops, forgot his…” Stephen grumbled, still refusing to gaze upon the forlorn stallion.

“Stawp pwetendies dat Pwingwe nu am hewe! Am hewe!” he snapped.

“Need sugar… always out of sugar.”

“WOOK AT PWINGWE!” the stallion stomped, “NAOW, NAOW, NAOW, NAOW NAOW!” she screamed and flailed.

“…”

“WY DADDEH NU WUV PWINGWE NU MOWE!? PWINGWE WUV DADDEH! W… WY YEW NU WUV BACKSIES!?” he blubbered.

“…Need an espresso machine…” Stephen sighed to himself as he began filling the cups.

“DADDEH AWWAYS USED TU WATCH PWINGWE PWAY PEE-AN-EW! DADDEH AWWAYS WUV PWINGWE PICTUWS! WY NU WUV NU MOWE… a-am… am Pwingwe bad fwuffy?” he sobbed.

“no, Pringle…” Stephen replied, “you aren’t a bad fluffy, I just don’t care for you anymore.” he admitted.

“Nu… Cawe…?” Pringle asked as his owner passed him by.

“Yeah, I just don’t care about you, I’m tired of you.” Stephen explained in a tone bereft of warmth or malice.

“C-chirp… Wy… da-chirp-ddeh?” Pringle asked, as he slowly retracted into a shivering ball, curled up upon his side.

“No, reason, you’re just boring. I’m going to get rid of you by Monday.” Stephen glared with glazed over eyes. “Here, a drink for the road.”.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

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This is some peak sadbox. You have given me biggest heawt huwties :sadboy:

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Dudes like that shouldn’t have pets. If you’re that easily bored, you shouldn’t get something that you’re responsible for.

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Well damn. I feel really bad for little Pringle.

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I feel like a dick because I found myself laughing at the end when reading the scree

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Hey man, it’s all good, you can enjoy my writing in any way that you want. At the end of the day, a writer’s job is to entertain, and if you were entertained then I did my job.

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Without additional information or context, I would agree with you, but playing devil’s advocate, Stephen could very well be suffering from depression, stress or some other mental condition that’s making him apathetic to Pringle.

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It’s amazing how many people can shrug off every source of joy becoming boring and every day listlessly floating by sleeping and not realizing something is wrong.

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I would say that this would be due to the large majority of people are so busy with work and other responsibilities (especially if they’re supporting a family or other dependents) that they don’t have time to decompress or reflect and realise that they’re suffering.

This is especially worse in the US where medical fees and ‘at-will’ employment are factors.

From personal experience, the type of work also plays a part - I once did a month of shift work where I was doing 12+ hour days for 6 days a week and while I got used to it, you don’t have the time or energy to do anything except eat, sleep and work.

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Beautiful.

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To be fair, it’s a fluffy. They don’t really do much that isn’t preprogrammed.

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Depends on your headcanon. My personal one is that most of the OG PETA-released fluffies had programming, but that most of it has evaporated since then through the generations of natural-born fluffies.

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For me and my headcanon, a fluffy can learn to move beyond quite a few of the bio-coded behaviors that are hard set into their wetware computer like brains. By all accounts, they are essentially bio-androids that are set to read and write data. Although, generation one fluffies that escaped from hasbio usually are just set to read only and can’t really evolve beyond their limitations, those behavioral mutations happened due to selective breeding in the wild and has now resulted in fluffies being able to actually learn things. Usually they don’t learn them well or to the depth that a human could understand but they can definitely learn things.

Think along the lines of the T-800 from T2 developing a personality, learning and eventually developing something resembling a soul. by the end. What that translates to is that a fluffy can have the capacity to become so much more than the sum of their parts if you have the time, care, and patience to teach them.

Here’s a post on it.

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The glazed over stare bit gave me the heebie jeebies. People are horrifying.

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As most of your works my dude, peak. Sucks that Stephen sounds more dead inside than just bored of Pringles, but none the less? Magnificent!

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