Safety is Job One
>O.M.G.
>So, like you got this job, right?
>And… get this! It’s at a fluffy pony amusement park!
>Thousands of the adorable little scamps just playing and happy as can be beneath the giant fiberglass spaghetti mountain.
>You don’t even care that you’re getting nine bucks an hour. You get to play with fluffies all day long!
>This is the best summer ever!
>Today, you’re operating the “Fluffy Coaster,” a high intensity thrill ride for the bravest and most stalwart of fluffies.
>It doesn’t go more than six feet in the air, and it’s not even faster than a moped, but for most fluffies it’s more thrill than they can handle.
>You hate to see the earth fluffies and unicorns crying as they get off, but the pegasi absolutely love it.
>They just scream their heads off and beg to get back in line after they’re done.
>It’s your job to make sure the fluffies are “Manually evacuated” which means the owners hug them till they poop in the box.
>They can also put them in a sonic box that plays a “brown note” and empties a fluffy out for them.
>It’s kind of gross, but the coaster itself is pretty neat.
>The cars are designed with grating so that even if a fluffy has an accident on the ride – and they do—the mess falls beneath the coaster and into the sewer grates.
>That creepy engineer guy – who was totally trying to look down your shirt – explained it all, but you weren’t really listening.
>Says everything flushes into a storage tank that is processed into fertilizer.
>Dude was totally gross, though, and you hope you never see him again.
>But oh, yeah, fluffies!
>Once that grossness is over, you check the cars. Two fluffies per car, each strapped in butt first.
>They look like little fuzzy people, sitting with their stubby hooves sticking straight out from all that fluff!
>You can’t help but tickle each one as you check the straps.
>They always cheer and nuzzle you with the soft faces and thank you for “Gifin’ tickews to fwuffy.”
>They’re just so cute!
>As you get to the last car, you notice there’s only one fluffy in here, and she’s taking up both seats.
>Man, that is one fat fluffy. So fat, in fact, that you’re pretty sure her feet wouldn’t touch the ground.
>But she’s even cuter because of it!
>”You ready to go on a thrill ride?” you ask the fluffy.
>”Wan go wide!” she says. “Wan go wide!”
>You rustle her pretty mane. “How’d you get so chubby, you cutie chubby fluffy?”
>”Gon be mu…” She stops speaking a moment, and says something else. “I eated too many skettis!” she says instead.
>Adorable. You buckle the two straps together, and head back to the ride control.
>You press a button to fire off the automated recording of a fluffy announcer.
>Actually, it was this French-Canadian voice actress who was totally anorexic, and a complete bitch.
>”Dis is a wide!” says the fluffy imitator. “You gon go up and down and weaw fast, but dun be scawed! Dis wide compwetwy safe fow fwuffies! If make scawdy poopies, it okay!”
>Ugh, you could totally do a better voice than her.
>”Be sure dat no mummies ow sicky fwuffies awe widen! Dun wan no accidents! Haf fun!”
>What would a pregnant fluffy even look like anyway?
>As the train starts climbing the hill, you see the chubby fluffiy in the back car shaking and shivering already.
>”Nuuuuu!” she screams as the cart climbs the hill. “Dun wan dis wide!”
>”What the hell are you doing?” asks a voice behind you.
>You nearly jump out of your skin. It’s one of the Non-Human Relations Specialists.
>Guys in blue jump suit with power washers and nets to clean up fluffy “mishaps”
>”Like Chill, Ryan,” you say. “That fat fluffies just a little scared.”
>”She’s pregnant you idiot!” the guy hisses. “What kind of dolt doesn’t know what a pregnant fluffy looks like?
>It hadn’t occurred to you until he mentioned it, but you vaguely remember something about it during training.
>You were to busy making eyes that chiseled Russian hottie to pay attention.
>”Stop the damn ride!” Ryan yells. “Do you know what’s going to happen to her if she…”
>As the pegasi in the front throw up their hooves and scream with delight, the cart reaches the apex of the hill, and starts barreling down the hill.
>The chubbie fluffy starts screaming as the cart drops. ”No wike dis game! No gud fow bebehs! NUUUU!”
>The cart plummets down the hill at a blistering fifteen miles an hour.
>The pegasi up front are scraeming in sheer exstasy, wihile the unicorns and earth fluffies are screaming in terror.
>The chubby fluffy at the end, just looks terrified for a moment before…
>OH MY GOD DID SHE JUST EXPLODE?
>There’s chirping foals all over the car and track!
>Two of them dropped into the sewer grates below, and two are mewling as they roll across the sidewalk.
>The other fluffies haven’t even noticed! They’re just crying and pooping and laughing and…
>Ryan just scoops up the two foals on the sidewalk and places them in a heated kennel before unhitching the power washer.
>The ride comes to a stop a minute later.
>Predictably, the pegasi are cheering, and every fluffy else is crying their eyes out in terror.
>Ryan simply hoses down the cart where the mother was and puts what remains in a black bag labeled “Sleepy Fluffy Bag.”
>He hands it to you.
>”Now go tell the owner what happened,” he says. “And tell him he can pick up the foals at the adoption center.”
>Ryan speeds away on his golf cart before you can even react.
>The owner, a giant of a man, stares daggers at you from a full foot above your head.
>You’re supposed to say something as the fluffies get off the ride, but what was it?
>Oh god, this guy’s totally pissed. What were you supposed to say?
>That’s right!
>You smile weakly and hand him the bag full of fluffy bits.
>”Have a fluffy-riffic rest of your day here at Spaghetti land?”
