Sewer Fluffies are Really Gross
>Spaghetti Land has been a humming hotbed of hugboxing for a weekend now.
>The happy, spoiled fluffies that run around the streets above you just kind of make you wonder about their owners.
>More money than sense, as your dad used to say.
>Whatever. They’re paying the bills for this place.
>More importantly, even with the influx of ferals to Cleveland, the automatic waste disposal pumps you helped install manage to keep the park clean.
>Not that you could tell since you’re in the maintenance tunnels beneath Spaghetti Land, but night has fallen on the “Mistake by the Lake.”
>You’re busy wrenching on a pipe when you feel a tug at your leg. You look down to see a red fluffy unicorn with a huge smile on his face.
>“Hi Dwayne!” says your fluffy friend Drain. “Dwain wan teww you dat…” he pauses a moment, putting a hoof to his chin.
>It’s so cute when they try to think.
>“Oh yah!” he says at last. “Cuwvewt sez he wan gif you sometin!”
>What could a smarty friend possible give you that would be of any value at all?
>“Sure,” you say. “Let me go grab a flashlight and my waders.”
>Donning your sewer diving gear, you start making your way into the sewer tunnel and into the drainage system beneath the streets of Cleveland.
>After a few minutes walk, you come upon the sewer fluffies hide out, a largish storm drain where dozens of fluffies covered in unimaginable filth are living.
>Seems like there’s a lot more of them than usual. Some are whining about “waww nummies,” which is actually the fat that accumulates on sewer walls.
>Drain trots up to a massive black earth fluffy, and taps him on the rump. “Dwayne heh, Cuwvewt!”
>The earth fluffy turns around to reveal not only his mass of scars and missing eye, but also a half broken Batman Halloween mask.
>In addition to being kind of gross, sewer fluffies are really weird.
>“Gweetin’ fweind hooman,” he says in what you suspect is supposed to be a deep and somber tone.
>More like a kid’s voice trying to sound grown up.
>“Fow maneh dawk times you haf gived us foodies fwom you bag of nummies.”
>It’s true, you have been feeding the sewer fluffies for the past few weeks. They’re cute enough and they did help you out that one time.
>“You be fwuffy of seweh to us now, fwiend hooman,” he says. “Bu fiwst you pass seweh fwuffy test!”
>The herd gathers round you in a large circle and starts chanting. Most of them have Indians penants stuck in their fluff like capes.
>Drain is wearing a cheap Indians ballcap that swallows his entire head. Only his big green eyes stare out the back.
>“You want me to join your herd?” you ask. You don’t really know anything about fluffies, but you suspect this is a fairly rare occurrence.
>“Hooman Dwayne gweatest fwiend an awwy!” says Culvert. “Wan make suwe you safe when bad fwuffies come.”
>The hell is he talking about?
>It’s then that you notice the literal mound of dead fluffies stacked up in the corners of the storm drain. Your eyes hadn’t quite adjusted yet, and they were so caked in filth that you couldn’t tell what they were.
>“Haf mow fwuffies to test befow hooman, so fwuffies bgein wituaw!”
>The sewer flufies begin chanting “New fwiends, new fweinds, new fwiends!” in a nearly tribal display of weirdness.
>From one of the tunnels comes a dozen scared, but relatively clean ferals. They’re covered in dust, but not muck, which means they came from outside rather than the sewers.
>“Dis sketti wand?” asks one of the fluffies.
>“SIWENCE!” squeaks Drain. Good for him. Looks like he’s gained a few ranks in the tribe. “AWW FWUFFIES WISTEN TO SMAWTY FWIEND!”
>“Gobo smawty fwiend!” yells a unicorn. “Aww fwuffies wisten Gobo!”
>Culvert waddles up to the unicorn, and with a single shove, knocks him onto his back.
>Gobo hollers for a moment before Culvert sits on him, and takes an absolutely massive dump on the unicorn’s face.
>Fluffies are so weird.
>Culvert continues to hold the complaining smarty friend as Drain continues.
>“Cwuvewt smarty fwiend of seweh fwuffies,” says Drain, ignoring the cries and protests from Gobo. “Cuwvewt faih an wise weader, so wha he say!”
>The other fluffies, cowed by Culverts total dominance over their smarty friend, wait in quiet suspense for him to speak.
>“Aww fwuffies wiww cwoss dah wivah,” he says. “A fwuffy who no swim, no good fow seweh fwuffy twibe.”
>At this, the gathered fluffies shit themselves in panic. You never thought about it, but these sewer fluffies routinely swim where most fluffies would sink and drown.
>The only one who doesn’t quail in terror is a pegasus mare. And the smarty friend, who has started whining about “no smeww pwetty.”
>Drain leads the chanting herd and the initiates down a tunnel to a small set of run offs. A tiny stream of water divides the room.
>“Aww fwuffies wiww cwoss da wivah of twials!” says Culvert. “Fwuffies dat wive get be seweh fwuffy!”
>Make sense. If you can’t swim, you can’t live in the sewers. You idly wonder how many times they’ve administered this test.
>The drain pipe clogged with fluffy corpses tells you “a lot.”
>As the fluffies psyche themselves up for the test, you walk over to the pipe and give in firm shove with your foot.
>The mass of dead fluffies collapses, allowing more water to rush through toward the river.
>Your gas alarm chips for a moment. Levels are… acceptable, but higher than normal.
>You certainly hope that dead fluffies aren’t causing backups elsewhere in the sewers.
>The first few fluffies take tepid steps into the river, trying to concentrate in not dying.
>One trips and face plants in the water, drowning in what seems like only a second. The other fluffies ignore him and keep moving.
>You notice Drain is dropping something out of his fluff. It looks like a snap caps, like the kind you threw at your brother when you were a kid.
>Culvert lifts a foot, and starts stomping on them, sending pops and snaps echoing through the chamber.
>Most of the fluffies in the “river” duck and cover their heads with their hooves. They remain beneath the surface for far longer than you suspect they can hold their breath.
>Seriously, they’re less than eight inches of water here. Fluffies and water clearly don’t mix.
>A few more panic as Culvert continues to stomp, and in the end, only the pegasus mare emerges from the other end.
>She looks back at the sea of dead fluffies, and starts to weep about “Fweind haf big bad sweeps fwom bad wa-was”
>Sort of sad, really, but the rest of the sewer fluffies splash across the “river” and give hugs to the sobbing mare.
>“You now seweh fwufy!” says Drain. “Aww fwuffies gweet new fwiend! Wha you name, new fwiend?”
>“F…fwuffy am Dawing.”
>“AWW FWUFFIES GIF HUGGIES!” cries Drain. He points to another fluffy “Git dose fwuffies out wivah fow bewwwy skettis, den have wots nummies!”
>Belly Spaghettis? The herd leads the mare away as some earth fluffies drag a few sopping corpses from the river.
>One of them starts tearing out the fluff of the dead fluffy while another picks up a piece of glass from the ground.
>What in the world are they… OH GOD, HE’S CUTTING OPEN THE DEAD FLUFFY.
>“What the hell?” you ask. The earth fluffy looks up at you as he drags the dead fluffy’s intestines across the ground.
>“Wan some?” he asks. “Git bewwy skettis fwom fwuffies wif bad sweeps! Wots of fuwffies haf bad sweeps, so wots of bewwy skettis!”
>Jesus Christ. Sewer fluffies are really gross.
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