Pride Goeth before Skeeball
>You are another underpaid teenager working in the glorious fluffy paradise known as Spaghetti Land.
>Really, you couldn’t give a crap less about fluffies, but it’s either this or the WalMart for the summer.
>And here you don’t have to help clueless old people looking for a new rotary phone.
>Besides, the fluffy arcade is air conditioned, and all the games are easy enough for a fluffy pony to win.
>Watching fluffies play on DDR machines with only two flashing dance pads is entertainment you’d pay for.
>The intense concentration in their fluffy little faces makes you laugh every time they try to stomp a hoof on the flashing pad.
>Then there’s the trackball PacMan clone that only goes in a box.
>Fluffies can’t really come to terms with that one, and it’s not as popular.
>And Fluffy Fighter Pro is completely lost on them. Two buttons and a track ball is just way too complex for a fluffy.
>On the other hand, you’ve mastered the game and just lay waste to any fluffy who dares challenge you.
>You give the owners free tokens when they lose, so it’s alright.
>Made the mistake of giving a fluffy the token once. He choked to death before you could even realize the error of your ways.
>You were a little too quick with the “Half Off A New Fluffy” coupon on that incident, and the owner got pissed.
>But by far the most popular attraction is Skeeball or “Kee-baww!” as the fluffies call it.
>It’s just a steep yellow ramp leading to a caged off area with hundred point bin at every step.
>It’s eight feet wide, all funneling into a three foot point bin. A dozen fluffies at a time can play, and often do.
>Fluffies pick up the wooden ball from the bin, and roll it down into the chute.
>The individual scores don’t really matter; the bell rings every minute and occasionally showers the fluffies with confetti.
>Even though cleaning up the feces mixed with confetti is probably the worst part of the job, it’s better than telling fat people they can’t eat butter from the cartons till they’ve paid for it.
>Today, you’re dominating on an owner who thought that Fluffy Fighter Pro was easy.
>He’s right of course, but you’re still better.
>Move into the “Hug, Tickle, Ear Pull, Reverse Flip, Cheek Puff” move that takes away 90% of his health, then finish him off with “Bad Poopies.”
>Owner high fives you for a job well done, and starts looking around for his fluffy.
>“Pride?” he says, searching around the arcade. “Pride, are you here?”
>You help the owner search for the lost fluffy. Everything here is two feet off the floor, and you can easily see under everything.
>The only places to hide here are near the Skeeball machine, and that’s only because it’s usually crowded with fluffies.
>The skeeball machine is especially busy at the moment with two dozen fluffies clamoring to “pway wif baww!”
>the owner doesn’t see his fluffy in the crowd till a single voice comes from the far end of the Skeeball machine.
>How he got behind the protective grating, you have no idea, but that machine’s a real bitch to open.
>“I smawt!” says the little green pegasus. “I get aww da bawws dis way! Fweinds! Gif Pwide you bawws! Wan you bawws in mouf!”
>The owner only rolls his eyes. “Gaaaaay.”
>You’re inclined to agree with him, but you’ve got to get that fluffy out.
>As you shuffle behind the machine, the machine’s voice chirps to live.
>“Awight fwuffy fwiends!” says the female voice. “Take you wood baww and push it down the wamp! Scowe points, win pwizes!”
>You met that voice actress. She was unbelievably hot, and her voice was mesmerizing.
>It takes another second to process but you realize that all two dozen fluffies have bum rushed the play area and are heaving heavy wooden balls down the slop.
>More importantly, your shorts are snagged on the machine and can’t stop the fluffies.
>You watch in mild horror as Pride jumps up to catch the first wooden ball in his mouth.
>It smashes into his face, spraying blood over the scoring area.
>“Baww meanie!” he sniffs. “Gif boo-boo juice!”
>Oh shit, he doesn’t even see the two dozen other balls headed his way, and he’s not moving to avoid them.
>The heavy wooden balls pummel him in the face and chest, blacking his eyes and knocking out his teeth as they smash the fluffy to pieces.
>“Stop! Stop! Jesus Christ, stop!” you yell at the fluffies, but they’re so absorbed in the flashing lights and throwing balls, they ignore you.
>“No wike dis game!” Pride cries, as yet another ball smashes into his face. You’re pretty sure you heard bones breaking.
>With a mighty pull, you tear your shorts and reach the cage just as the rest of the balls career off the ramp toward pride.
>Pride covers his head with his hooves, but it’s too late. Four dozen balls streak down the incline and off the ramp in a hailstorm of wood.
>The fluffies doesn’t stand chance, the balls shattering every one of his weak bones as they crush him against the scoring plates.
>He lifts his head in agonizing pain, only to see a final ball streaking toward him. With that much speed, you suspect was thrown by an owner.
>The final ball catches Pride in the face, throwing him backwards into the 'High Score" plate.
>His head smashes against the plate, and splatters against the metal surface.
>“Hi scowe!” says the voice actress. “Howway fow fwuffy fwiends!”
>The happy circus music starts, showering the arcade with confetti.
>The fluffies cheer and dance with the excitement of victory, ignoring you as you pull the destroyed remains of Pride from the machine.
>You stuff the corpse in a fluffy sized Tyvex body bag labeled “Sleepy Fluffy Bag” and sheepishly hand the owner the remains of his pet.
>“Sorry about that,” you say. “Here’s a coupon for half off the purchase of a new fluffy.”