>You are an electrician, and you are freezing your balls off.
>Who the hell does construction on a theme park in December anyway?
>At least the pay is good. Not too many jobs in the winter, and it seems like everyone and their brother got hired to do this place.
>But, man almighty, this is one of the weirdest jobs you’ve ever had to do.
>Everything’s flat and level, and all the buildings have foam walls on the lower half
>All the outlets are covered by spring loaded outdoor enclosure, even the wall outlets in offices.
>And everything is conduits. Not a scrap of wire left behind the walls without shielding.
>Something about “Wall spaghetti” whatever that means.
>A bit odd, but the customer gets what they want.
>Today, you’re finishing the high voltage lines coming in from the substation that the city put in for this place.
>All that sweet nuclear power coming from Perry just warms your heart.
>Looks like everything checks out here, and it’s about time to throw the switch.
>One last check for anything left in the substation. Ladders, tools, lunch boxes…
>”Hi mistah! Nummies?”
>Fluffy ponies…
>You briefly consider flipping the switch anyway and letting the critter roast, but your kid has one of these things and they’re not all bad.
>Instead you pick him up by the scruff and hold him to eye level.
>”Nuuu!” he squeals, furiously pedaling his legs in the air. “Dun huwt fwuffy!”
>”You realize how dangerous places like this are?” you ask the ball of fluff. You turn him back to the substation, then back to your face.
>“You would have been vaporized. Annihilated. Exploded.”
>”Esp-wode?” says the fluffy. “Wha dat? Soun fun! Fwuffy wan espwode!”
>You really don’t have time to argue with a fluffy pony, so you set him down on the ground and boot his fluffy butt away from the substation.
>”You big meanie munster!” whines the fluffy. “Jus wan nummies!”
>”Yeah, well I want a blow job,” you retort. “You can’t everything you want. Now scram.”
>The fluffy blows a raspberry at you and wanders off across the muddy plain.
>After locking the fence, you pick up your cell phone and give the power station a call.
>”Yeah, we’re ready here,” you tell the station. “Area’s clear, secure, and ready for power.”
>You’ve been doing this job for as long as you’d care to remember, and you still get a thrill every time you get to power one of these beasts up.
>It’d be better if that fluffy wasn’t tugging on your pant leg.
>”I thought I told you to get lost.”
>”No get in metaw pwace!” he says.
>”Stay out of there, you idiot!” you reply. “Did you want to die?”
>”Bu hewd in dere!” he says.
>…wat.
>Actually, watt. A whole heaping few thousand kilowatts power through the station with the force of a trillion electrons just aching to do work
>It’s only a moment before the screams of a dozen ferals reaches your ears and the stench of burnt fluff reaches your nose.
>Spells like rabbit, actually.
>Luckily, these newer substations are fault tolerant for such things.
>A small pop sends four flaming foals from somewhere within the substation.
>One lands at your feet, chriping and crying as it tries to escape the flames.
>”Fieh no gud fow babehs! Fwuffy gif hugs! Put dem out!”
>The fluffy launches himself over to it and tries to hug the flaming foal.
>Smothering flames with your body doesn’t work when you’re covered in flammable material.
>The fluffy is soon engulfed in a flames of his own.
>Instead of running in panic, he simply sits down and stares up at you.
>What a serene little fluffy; accepting death like a Buddhist monk.
>”Dis onwy da beginin’" he says, as the flames ignite the fat beneath his skin.
>”Da end wiww come fow us aww.”
>…this fluffy is apparently receiving some sort of enlightenment on his pyre.
>”It wiww end da onwy way it can,” he continues, as the flesh melts from his face.
>“Fwuffies wiww dwon in da fiehs, an earfs, and wa-was. Aww faww down. Aww wiww pewish."
>The charred body of the fluffy slumps to the ground and falls silent
>Freakin’ spooky.
>”Yo! Donnie! What’s the hold up?” calls your co-worker. “Help us get this shit wired. I’m freezing!”
>You walk away, but can’t help looking back at the charred fluffy staring back at you with empty eyesockets.
>Freakin’ spooky
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