Non-Human Relations Specialist
>After six months of unemployment, you’d have taken anything just to get out of your house, but this job pays surprisingly well.
>Now, you are an employee of Spaghetti Land on security and clean up. A “Non-Human Relations Specialist.”
>They gave you a sleek blue jumpsuit, a net, and a power washer.
>Your golf cart is pimped out with kennels along the bed to contain lost, stray, and feral fluffies till you can get them to the Lost Fluffy Center.
>You’ve also got a supply of fluffy sized Tyvex body bags labeled “Sleepy Fluffy Bags” for the owners who inexplicably want their dead fluffies back.
>Your job is to clean up the remains of fluffies.
>It’s not that bad really.
>As fluffy proof as the whole park seems, it’s really amazing how many fluffies have died on the premises in just the opening days.
>Two hundred and seventy five, at your count. Not including the massive herd of ferals you led into “Magic Spaghetti Maker.”
>Why Spaghetti Land even has a wood chipper that big is beyond you,
>But like some sort of crazed Pied Piper, that lesbian in the furry suit led them right to their doom with a smile.
>Your primary concern is the domestics that find a way to hurt themselves in insane ways.
>Discretion is key, so you simply roll up on the golf cart, bag the remains, hose off everything, and disappear before anyone can panic.
>Slip the owner a coupon for “Half Off A New Fluffy” and maybe suggest they find a new beloved pet before the kids figure out that little Betsy is missing her entire torso.
>It’s easy work really. And the ways fluffies manage to kill themselves never ceases to amaze you.
>One fluffy drowned in an ice cream cone
>Another choked to death on his own hoof trying to cram an entire plate of spaghetti in his mouth at once.
>Yet another managed to climb atop the Adoption Building and plummet to his death not three minutes after he was adopted.
>Apparently that retarded one had gotten past the screeners, and they just gave the family another.
>You simply showed up, bagged the fluffy, and lead the family back inside for a replacement.
>As you top off your water tank, a call from Cassandra comes in over the radio.
>“We need a NHRS to the basketball game.”
>That’s less than fifty yards away. You drop the hose and slam on the gas.
>Within ten seconds, you’re there staring at Cassandra; her fluffy liaison, Autum; and the problem at hand.
>A fluffy is clutching the foam basketball for dear life as it rotates on a wire through the basket.
>“Fwyin!” he says. “Fwuffy fyin! Wuv dis game! Weee!”
>“Hang on!” yells the owner. “Don’t let go!”
>“Why wet go?” asks the fluffy. “Fwyin! Fwyin! Fw…”
>The fluffy looks down, and realizes that he’s ten feet above the ground.
>“TOO HI! FWUFFY NO WIKE DIS GAME! GIT FWUFFY DOWN!”
>The game operator slams on the emergency stop and the ball jerks to a halt.
>“Pwease dun faww!” yells Autumn. “Wan you win big pwizes!”
>The fluffy keeps clutching the ball, sobbing “No wike dis game anymow!”
>You’ve got this. Grab the ladder from the back and…
>FUCKING MIGUEL STOLE YOUR LADDER AGAIN.
>You snatch the net instead and jog over to the hoop.
>“No howd on!” says the fluffy, struggling to maintain his grip.“Gon faww! Nuuuu!”
>The fluffy lets go, and plummets to the ground in a fit of tears and feces.
>Only to land in your net less than two feet away.
>It’s nice to be able to save one of these critters once in a while.
>He opens his eye tentatively, and looks around. “Fwuffy… wiv?” he asks.
>“You’re a bad Fluffy!” says the owner. “You almost fell! What would I have done if you’d have hurt yourself? Bad fluffy!”
>“Sowwy!” he whines. “I sowwy! Pwease dun weave Sketti Wand!”
>“Sounds like your fluffy got a bit of a behaving problem,” you say. “Might want to take him on the ‘Good Fluffy Ride’.”
>“He’s being obstinate and you want me to take him on a ride?” asks the owner.
>“Trust me,” you say. “He’ll be nothing but good if you take him through the ‘Good Fluffy Ride.’”
>You look around a moment, and lower your voice.
>“Ask the attendant for ‘Nightmare Mode,’ and you’ll never have a problem again.”
>The owner leashes his fluffy and drags him back toward the entrance, swatting the fluffy’s behind as he walks.
>Quickly hose the fluffy poo into the drain, then turn back to the attendant and smile.
>“That all you need, Cassandra?”
>“Actually, there’s batch of strays that are hiding in those bushes,” she says. “But good catch on that fluffy.”
>“Well we can’t let the little fuzzballs hurt themselves, can we?” you ask, rustling Autumn’s mane.
>“Pway bask-it-baww?” asks Autumn. “Win big pwizes!”
>“Games are for fluffies, and owners,” says Cassandra. “Anybody who wears a clothes like that works here, remember?”
>“Wight! Sowwy mistah!”
>Cute.
>You leave the two behind for a moment to round up the strays with a can of generic Spaghetti-o’s.
>It takes all of five minutes to toss the loose fluffies into the kennels after they thunder at the opened can. Not even a drop of poop on you this time.
>You tip your cap to Cassandra. “Anything else I can do for you, my dear lady?”
>Cassandra only smiles back. “Got a pen?”
>She jots down her number on the back of your hand, and gives you a sly smile. “Call me.”
>“We need a NHRS to the Good Fluffy Ride.”
>“Duty calls,” you say, and hop back into the golf cart. The kenneled fluffies voice their concerns as you putter away.
>“Waah!” “Weh we goin?” “Dis a wide?” “Nuu!” “Weee! Fun!”
>Despite the din of fluffy voices you hear Autmun talking to Cassandra, clear as day.
>“You gon gif him spechaw hugs?” she says.
>As you pull up to the “Good Fluffy Ride”, you see the basketball fluffy exiting the ride.
>He’s white as a sheet and trembling with every step.
>“B…b…b…be… gud… f…f…f…fwuffy,” he stammers. “W…w…wisten t…t…to d…d…daddeh.”
>You look up at the attendant, who simply nods to flagpole.
>A fluffy has latched onto the Spaghetti Land Flag, and is flapping in the breeze with every furl of the flag.
>Sigh.
>A Non-Human relations Specialist’s job is never done, but it’s good to be employed again.
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Honestly, I’m very curious about how you organized yourself to put all this together.
(google traductor)
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We had a forum separate from the old Fluffybooru where we toiled in secret for a few weeks. We put together a basic storyboard, a timeline, then the authors and artists created their works. We had a release schedule, and released all the stories and art over two weeks. It was great fun.
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It must have been quite an experience and a good mess. I suppose you would have rules, so that it wouldn’t become crazy, that or you were all in constant contact (which is also crazy), whatever the case, thank you very much for your work.