(A Hobby Horse one-shot)
Ebony was a black mare, with a silver mane and tail, and a silver streak down the middle of her face, out to her nose. She had given birth to three lovely little foals a while back. The babies were now old enough to talk, and run around. Her bestest baby, a dapple bay filly stood up from the napping nest and out into the sunlight.
“Uh. So hawt.” {So hot} she turned back to her mother “Mumma, it soooo hawt!” {Momma it’s so hot!}
Ebony yawned and nodded
“Mumma, nu wunna gu way out dewe to wittuhbawks. Tuu hawt!” {Momma, no want to go way out there to litterbox. Too hot!}
Ebony thought for a moment, and then got to her feet. She didn’t want to go out in the sun just to make poopies either. She walked to the edge of the shade, and hunched down, expelling a couple of hard turds in the grass.
“Poopies aww huwtie cuz dummah Fawmeh gib kibble steada sketties. Noo woows am poopies! Ebuhnee nu go way out dewe ta wittuhbawks.”{Poopies all hurtie 'cause dummy farmer give kibble instead of sketties. New rules am poopies. Ebony no go way out there to litterbox}
The foal was shocked at this behavior.
“Buh…buh mummah maek bad poopies! Fawmuh sed him gonna use sowwy stick on mummahs makin bad poopies!”{Bu…but Momma make bad poopies! Farmer said him going to use *sorry stick on mommas making bad poopies!}
“Dummeh fawmuh no use sowwy stickie on bebbehs, doh. Ebuhnee teww Fawmuh Bawb dis am babbeh poopies.” {Dummy farmer no use sorry stick on babies, though. Ebony tell Farmer Bob this am babbeh poopies}
The foal sniffed at the turds as she pondered this idea.
“Yuh! Dat smawt! Mumma so smawt!” {Yeah! That smart! Momma so smart!} and she hunched down, making her own poopies in the grass.
Together they went back to the sleeping nest and napped away the heat of the day.
When Farmer Bob came in to put out feed for the herds that evening, he saw the poopies, and glanced around. Ebony was the nearest to them, so he asked her
“Hey Ebony, who made these poopies?”
and she told the story she’s practiced in her mind for the whole afternoon.
“Mebbe wun bebbes maek bad poopies. Bebbehs tuu smaww ta use wittuhbawks.” {Maybe one babies make bad poopies. Babies too small to use litterbox}
“Oh. I see. One of the babies.”
Ebony nodded
“Well, that’s alright I guess. But if you see a baby making bad poopies, tell them to go to the litterbox instead. Okay?
“Kay missuh fawmuh Bawb!” {'Kay mister farmer Bob!}
Bob went up to the big house and asked Margaret to borrow a bottle of red fingernail polish, and a sewing needle.
When she asked him why, his cryptic reply was
“I just need to teach someone a lesson.”
Back at the barn Bob took a drawstring bag and walked up behind Ebony, who was happily singing to her foal, pleased as punch that Bob hadn’t caught her lie.
He slipped the bag over her head and pulled the strings tight, tying them in a simple knot.
The mare thrashed trembled for a moment, before taking off running…straight into a wall.
“Ebony” he said as he picked her up and carried her to his workshop “I do not like being lied to.”
“Fwuffy no wie! Fwuffy sowwy! Fwuffy nu wan sowwy sticky huwties!” {Fluffy no lie! Fluffy sorry! Fluffy no want sorry stickie hurties!}
Bob closed the door, leaving her foals outside, pawing and pleading for Bob to spare their mother’s hide.
“Well, that’s good, Ebony. I’m glad you’re sorry, and you’ll be happy to know that you won’t be getting the sorry-stick.”
She lifted her little bag-shrouded head
“Nu sowwy stickies?” {No sorry stickies?} maybe she really would get out of this…
“No, I’ve got something different in mind.” He plugged in the electric shears, and brought a can of cream-colored paint, and the fingernail polish to the table.
“I think, since you can’t be assed to get up and trot a whole twenty feet out to the litterbox, from now on, you’re gonna live in the litterbox.”
Ebony covered her bagged head with her hooves and whimpered “nuuu! Fwuffy nu wanna wive in wittuhbawks!” {nooo! Fluffy no wanna live in the litterbox!}
Bob used an old belt to strap the mare down to the table
“Oh yes. And to make sure you stay there, I’m going to have to take off your legs.”
Were it not for the belt she would have bolted off of the table. Ebony screeched in horror
“NUUU! Nawt weggies! Wub weggies! Wub wunnin un jumpin’ un pwayin! Missuh fawmuh Bawb, Ebuhny pwomise nebbah makin bad poopies ebuh-ebuh!!” {NOOO! Not leggies! Love leggies! Love runnin’ and jumpin’ and playin’! Mister farmer Bob, Ebony promise never makin’ bad poopies ever-ever!!}
He didn’t say anything more to her as he began shearing the fluff from her legs, one at a time. She continued pleading with him as he shaved each of the limbs clean, and then used the cream-colored paint to cover up her hooves, blending the color in with that of her naked legs as best he could.
As he used the blood-red nail polish to draw lines down her leg, and exes on the bottom of her hooves, he hummed the Good Poopies song. After a moment, Ebony started singing along.
“Mummah gif gud babbehs
Huggies and wuv! {Momma give good babies huggies and love}
Bad poopies nu smeww… pwetty
on ….Daddeh’s ….fwoow ……” {Bad poopies no smell… pretty on…daddy’s…floor…}
Her tiny voice cracked and the mare shuddered under Bob’s hands, whimpering.
“Nu wanna wiv in wittuh bawks. Huuuuuu huuuuuu huuuuuu!” {No wanna live in litterbox. Huuuuu huuuuuu huuuuuu!}
Bob stood up and looked at his handiwork.
That should do the job, he thought.
“Okay, we’re ready to proceed with the amputations. Sorry I don’t have anything to make this hurt less.”
“HHUUUUUUUUU!” she wiggled and tugged her legs away from him in one last, desperate attempt to keep them attached to her body, but Bob firmly grasped one of her back legs and held the sewing needle with his other hand.
“Here we go! Biggest hurties for a bad poopy mama!”
He jabbed the needle a few millimeters into the bottom of her leathery, painted hoof.
Ebony shouted and peed on herself
“Nu! Nu! Pwease gib weggie bak! Ebuhnee du innyfing!” {No! No! Please give leggie back! Ebony do anything!}
“Now we’ll get the other rear leg…” He jabbed the needle into this hoof and the mare screamed again.
“Okay, two down, and two to go!”
“Nu take fwunt weggies! Am most bestest weggies!” {No take fron leggies! Am most bestes leggies!}
Again he jabbed the needle into her hoof, and again she screamed as though he’d just shattered her soul. Then he grabbed the last leg.
“Oh wow, this one just does not want to come off…” jabbing her hoof one more time
“There we go! All nice and neat.”
Ebony laid on the bench and sobbed, wetting the bag further.
He un-strapped her from the bench, and carried her out to the litterbox. Her foals scurried along behind, crying for their mama.
Bob laid the mare down in the sand where she slumped, defeated.
“Okay, are you ready to see what a good job I did? I’m really proud. Try not to thrash around or you might tear your stitches open.”
When the bag was pulled off of her head she held her painted hooves up in absolute horror, wailing.
The foal came to her side and sniffed the paint on Ebony’s legs.
“Bebbehs, b…bad…poopie mummah need huggies. Wan huggie bebbehs tuu, buh…buh…no can huggies… wib no weggies!” {Babies, b…bad… poopie momma needs huggies. Want hug babies too, but…but…no can huggies…with no leggies!}
She hung her head and sobbed into her recently ‘amputated stumps’.
Other mares and foals gathered around to see what fate had befallen their playmate. Bob walked back to the barn, pulling out his phone and starting a timer. He wondered how long it would take before she realized what he’d actually done.
“Wuh…wuh doin’, Ebunee?” {What…what doin’ Ebony?}
Ebony flailed her legs as she told the terrible tale of how she had made bad poopies, lied about it, and how her pretty legs were torn from her poor little body giving her the worstest owwies imaginable.
The other mares looked confused, but gathered around her to comfort her with huggies and wub, just in case.
She continued telling the story, which became more and more horrible each time she told it, for the next four hours.
Only then did she actually try crawling to the barn.
She didn’t try walking until the paint started to flake off.
Ebony was convinced that her legs were growing back.
“…They’re so adorably stupid…”
Original version, circa 2021
(A Hobby Horse one-shot)
Ebony was a black mare, with a silver mane and tail, and a silver streak down the middle of her face, out to her nose. She had given birth to three lovely little foals a while back. The babies were now old enough talk, and run around. Her bestest baby, a dapple bay filly stood up from the napping nest and out into the sunlight.
“Uh. So hawt.” she turned back to her mother “Mumma, it soooo hawt!”
Ebony yawned and nodded
“Mumma, nu wunna gu aww da way out dewe to wittuhbawks. Tu hawt!”
Ebony thought for a moment, and then got to her feet. She didn’t want to go out in the sun just to make poopies either. She walked to the edge of the shade, and hunched down, expelling a couple of hard turds in the grass.
“Poopies huwtie cuz dummah fawmeh gib us kibble un nawt sketties. Fawmuh Bawb neu woows ib poopie! Me not gonna go out dewe ta wittuhbawks, neevuh.”
The foal was shocked at this behavior.
“Buh…buh mummah maek bad poopies! Fawmuh sed him gonna use sowwy stick on mummahs makin bad poopies!”
“Dummeh fawmuh not use sowwy stickie awn bebbehs, doh. Ebuhnee just teww Fawmuh Bawb dis ib bebbeh poopies.”
The foal sniffed at the turds as she pondered this idea.
“Yuh! Dat gud ideuh! Mumma so smawt!” and she hunched down, making her own poopies in the grass.
Together they went back to the sleeping nest and napped away the heat of the day.
When Farmer Bob came in to put out feed for the herds that evening, he saw the poopies, and glanced around. Ebony was the nearest to them, so he asked her
“Hey Ebony. Who made these poopies?”
and she told the story she’s practiced in her mind for the whole afternoon.
“Dat mussa bin one dah bebbes make dat bad poopies. Bebbehs stiww wuwnin ta use wittew bawks.”
“Oh. I see. One of the babies.”
Ebony nodded
“Well, that’s alright I guess. But if you see a baby making bad poopies, tell them to go to the litterbox instead. Okay?
“Kay missuh fawmuh Bawb!”
Bob went up to the big house and asked Margaret to borrow a bottle of red fingernail polish, and a sewing needle.
When she asked him why, his cryptic reply was
“I just need to teach someone a lesson.”
Back at the barn Bob took a drawstring bag and walked up behind Ebony, who was happily singing to her foal, pleased as punch that Bob hadn’t caught her lie.
He slipped the bag over her head and pulled the strings tight, tying them in a simple knot.
The mare thrashed trembled for a moment, before taking off running…straight into a wall.
“Ebony” he said as he picked her up and carried her to his workshop “I do not like being lied to.”
“Fwuffy no wie! Fwuffy sowwy! Fwuffy nu wan sowwy sticky huwties!”
Bob closed the door, leaving her foals outside, pawing and pleading for Bob to spare their mother’s hide.
“Well, that’s good, Ebony. I’m glad you’re sorry, and you’ll be happy to know that you won’t be getting the sorry-stick.”
She lifted her little bag-shrouded head
“Nu sowwy stickies?” maybe she really would get out of this…
“No, I’ve got something different in mind.” He plugged in the electric shears, and brought a can of cream-colored paint, and the fingernail polish to the table.
“I think, since you can’t be assed to get up and trot a whole twenty feet out to the litterbox, from now on, you’re gonna live in the litterbox.”
Ebony covered her bagged head with her hooves and whimpered “nuuu! Fwuffy nu wanna wive in wittuhbawks!”
Bob used an old belt to strap the mare down to the table
“Oh yes. And to make sure you stay there, I’m going to have to take off your legs.”
Were it not for the belt she would have bolted off of the table. Ebony screeched in horror
“NUUU! Nawt weggies! Wub weggies! Wub wunnin un jumpin’ un pwayin!Missuh fawmuh Bawb, Ebuhny pwomise nebbah makin bad poopies ebuh 'gin!
He didn’t say anything more to her as he began shearing the fluff from her legs, one at a time. She continued pleading with him as he shaved each of the limbs clean, and then used the cream-colored paint to cover up her hooves, blending the color in with that of her naked legs as best he could.
As he used the blood-red nail polish to draw lines down her leg, and exes on the bottom of her hooves, he hummed the Good Poopies song. After a moment, Ebony started singing along.
“Mummah gif gud babbehs
Huggies and wuv!
Bad poopies nu smeww… pwetty
on ….Daddeh’s ….fwoow ……”
Her voice cracked and the mare shuddered under Bob’s hands, whimpering.
“Nu wanna wiv in wittuh bawks. Huuuuuu huuuuuu huuuuuu!”
Bob stood up and looked at his handiwork.
That should do the job, he thought.
“Okay, we’re ready to proceed with the amputations. Sorry I don’t have anything to make this hurt less.”
HHUUUUUUUUU! she wiggled and tugged her legs away from him in one last, desperate attempt to keep them attached to her body, but Bob firmly grasped one of her back legs and held the sewing needle with his other hand.
“Here we go! Biggest hurties for a bad poopy mama!”
He jabbed the needle a few millimeters into the bottom of her leathery, painted hoof.
Ebony shouted and peed on herself
“Nu! Nu! Pwease gib weggie bak! Ebuhnee du innyfing!”
“Now we’ll get the other rear leg…” He jabbed the needle into this hoof and the mare screamed again.
“Okay, two down, and two to go!”
“Nu take fwunt weggies! Dem ib most bestest weggies!”
Again he jabbed the needle into her hoof, and again she screamed as though he’d just shattered her soul. Then he grabbed the last leg. “Oh wow, this one just does not want to come off…” jabbing her hoof one more time “there we go! All nice and neat.”
Ebony layed on the bench and sobbed, wetting the bag further.
He un-strapped her from the bench, and carried her out to the litterbox. Her foals scurried along behind, crying for their mama.
Bob layed the mare down in the sand where she slumped, defeated.
“Okay, are you ready to see what a good job I did? I’m really proud. Try not to thrash around or you might tear your stitches open.”
When the bag was pulled off of her head she held her painted hooves up in absolute horror, wailing.
The foal came to her side and sniffed of the paint.
“Bebbehs, b…bad…poopie mummah need huggies. Wan huggie bebbehs tu, buh…buh…no can huggies… wib no weggies!”
She hung her head and sobbed into her recently “amputated stumps”.
Other mares and foals gathered around to see what fate had befallen their playmate. Bob walked back to the barn, pulling out his phone and starting a timer. He wondered how long it would take before she realized what he’d actually done.
“Wuh…wuh doin’, Ebunee?”
Ebony flailed her legs as she told the terrible tale of how she had made bad poopies, lied about it, and how her pretty legs were torn from her poor little body giving her the worstest owwies imaginable.
The other mares looked confused, but gathered around her to comfort her with huggies and wub, just in case.
She continued telling the story, which became more and more horrible each time she told it, for the next four hours.
Only then did she actually try crawling to the barn.
She didn’t try walking until the paint started to flake off.
Ebony was convinced that her legs were growing back.
“…They’re so adorably stupid…”
