Marigold and Pam
>You are an owner with a yellow and green fluffy pony named Marigold.
>You love nothing else in the world more than you love her.
>Though you’ve started to fall in love with this Deluxe Super Fluffy Package that you bought for your visit to Spaghetti Land in Cleveland.
>Seriously, is this what you’ve been missing all your life of visiting theme parks?
>This place isn’t even meant to appeal to you, but to fluffies, and you still can’t help but want to do everything your Deluxe pass lets you do.
>Not that Marigold would complain about that. She’s having the time of her life. She’s dined upon spaghetti, gone on plenty of fun rides, and even got to meet her idol, Uni the Unicorn!
>And that was all in one day.
>The night could have gone better.
>Marigold was so tuckered out that she fell asleep on the drive back to the hotel.
>By the way, a content fluffy sleeping is amazingly cute.
>People wonder what it’s like to have attained pure happiness? They should look at fluffies. Those little fluffballs have it figured out, man.
>They don’t have to worry about jobs, or money, or taxes, or fluffies invading a nuclear power plant that causes citywide blackouts.
>Wait, what?
>Yeah, according to the news, a large herd of fluffy ponies had apparently traveled from the East Coast trying to find Spaghetti Land, and had mistaken the Perry Nuclear Power Plant for their promised land.
>You’d heard of megaherds before, herds that numbered from seventy up to two hundred. They were only seen in the wild, and that many fluffies could never remain a cohesive community in the city.
>But the media’s calling this one an ultra herd. A few thousand fluffies, all swarming the plant, overwhelming the workers and managing to get themselves embedded in critical areas in typical fluffy fashion.
>They found a fluffy in one of the water tanks.
>Drowned, of course.
>The tank was completely sealed off, though. There was no conceivable way for even a flea to get in there, much less a fluffy pony.
>And now the fluffies were chewing on exposed wiring, mistaking it for spaghetti.
>They met an electrifying end, but the damage was done.
>And now the city is suffering from a fluctuating power supply.
>Your own hotel is having a hell of a time with it.
>But Spaghetti Land is still running just fine.
>Apparently they have their own power source, so they wouldn’t put an excessive burden on the city’s power grid.
>And it saved their ass.
>The hotel’s continental breakfast is distinctly lacking, what with the lack of a functioning waffle iron.
>Well, may as well head to the place where the fun’s at.
>Back to Spaghetti Land!
>Spaghetti Land is full of ferals!
>Well, not the park itself, but the parking lot.
>Fuck.
>My God, they’re everywhere.
>You can’t hope to count them all.
>You stand in the parking lot, watching as a tide of fluffies washes past your feet.
>If the fluffies are the wave, could they drown themselves?
>Not important right now.
>It’s amazing you managed not to run any over.
>Not everyone is so lucky, though.
>Or maybe they were doing it on purpose.
>Some people, man…
>According to the radio, this is just the tip of the iceberg.
>There are even more on their way.
>Jesus Christ, how many feral fluffies could there be?
>They’re literally the least likely animal to survive on their own.
>Though they do have an astoundingly fast rate of reproduction.
>They should have opened the Spaghetti Land gates half an hour ago.
>But that would mean letting a few hundred wild fluffies pour into the park within minutes.
>And unlike yesterday, they don’t have Uni to keep them in line.
>She’s still doing shows inside the park, but no opening ceremony this time.
>You thought all those ferals on Saturday were a fluke, a semi-inspirational tale of a fluffy quest across the country.
>Apparently they were only the tip of the iceberg.
>The only thing keeping all the fluffies from rushing the gate are four dogs standing guard, all barking as loud as they can.
>There are guys all around the gate with sprayers.
>From their uniforms, you guess they’re exterminators.
>They’re spraying some concoction all along the base of the gate.
>Smells like if you peed into a bottle of Tabasco, then let it sit in the sun all day.
>Shit’s nasty. And the fluffies agree, because they’re now standing much further back.
>The noise is incredible.
>A constant din of baby voices all shouting threats and demands at anything and anyone they can see.
>”Daddy, why so many new fwuffies? Dey wook mean, Mawigowd no wike…”
>Marigold is in your arms, clutching your chest. As much as fluffies are conditioned to treat strange fluffies as friends by default, the multicolored horde of hostile fluffy ponies are scaring her.
>Lots of people are starting to show up. You hear the sounds of screeching brakes, screams of pain, and crushed bodies as they inevitably run over the invading herds.
>Probably not on purpose this time. There are too many to avoid.
>As the people with their fluffies get out of their cars, you see the exterminators now spraying the fluffies closest to the park.
>Some guy behind the gate rolls up in a go cart and turns on a megaphone.
>”ATTENTION ALL SPAGHETTI LAND CUSTOMERS! THE PARK WILL OPEN IN AN HOUR AND A HALF AFTER WE HAVE DEALT WITH THE INFESTATION! WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE.”
>Well, can’t be helped.
>Best you and Marigold skedaddle for now. Don’t want her seeing all these fluffies slowly die from whatever foul toxins they’re using.
>Actually, the fluffies in the front all look…dead. You didn’t hear any of them screaming in pain, or choking. They just dropped dead in about a minute.
>”Hey Marigold, the park’s not open yet. Let’s go walk around Cleveland, okay?”
>”Otay, Daddy…”
>You can’t tell if Marigold’s disappointed about Spaghetti Land, or just not looking forward to exploring Cleveland.
>Man, those flats looked like a Scooby Doo ghost town…
>Lots of food vendors, but you’d rather go hungry than buy food that’s prepared near the street.
>At least they didn’t build Spaghetti Land in Detroit. That would have been really fucking awful.
>Time to go back to Spaghetti Land.
>Thank God.
>When you get back, there are still shit tons of ferals.
>But they managed to erect a short barrier around most of the parking lot.
>And it’s a big parking lot.
>Jesus, those Non Human Relations Specialists move fast.
>People are entering the gates.
>The only entrance to the parking lot is guarded by those dogs, and the ferals are all too afraid to get close.
>There’s also a garbage truck nearby, where the exterminators are loaded large black bags into the compactor in the back.
>Don’t have to wonder what’s in them.
>Poor guys. They were so close to their goal, only to be snuffed out at the end.
>No time to feel bad for them, thought. It’s time for another day of fun with Marigold!
>You flash your Deluxe pass and walk through the gates.
>Hmmm, what to do…
>Grumble.
>Was that you or Marigold?
>She’s still in your arms, and you feel her stomach gurgle, followed immediately after by yours.
>”Daddy, haf tummy owwies, pwease haf nummies? No haf bwekfast today…”
>”Let’s get some spaghetti, honey.”
>You may have just blown Marigold’s mind.
>She NEVER gets spaghetti for breakfast.
>The idea that she can even get spaghetti before noon is a whole new concept for her.
>Not that she’s going to argue with a good thing.
>You attach her to her leash and let her scoot along the ground as you both head for Spaghetti Tower.
>First customers of the day. Ballin’
>Get a personal pepperoni pizza because whatever, you do what you want.
>You paid a lot of money for that Deluxe pass, and if you wanted to use it to get a pizza before McDonalds even stops serving breakfast, then by God, you were going to get that fucking pizza.
>Tastes like freedom. And grease.
>Marigold munches on her spaghetti without a care in the world.
>She’s probably already forgotten about the ferals this morning.
>Spaghetti Land is going to have to make a few adjustments outside their gates if ferals keep showing up in those kinds of numbers.
>Kinda surprising they didn’t take that issue into consideration, but to be fair, nobody could predict thousands of fluffies storming the gates at once.
>There are still some ferals running around, but a lot fewer than yesterday.
>They must be the ones who were able to find a good hiding place the night before.
>The ones who didn’t are either in a shelter or in one of those exterminator’s black garbage bags.
>Probably the latter, given that the radio mentioned that Cleveland adoption centers were already overloaded before the park opened.
>You feel a tug on your pants leg.
>Below you is a purple and yellow pegasus fluffy with three babies on her back.
>”Pwease, mistah, hewp Pam? Pam wose hewd, nee’ nummies fo’ make miwk fo’ babehs.”
>The babies on her back are all squeaking, asking their mumma for milk to make their tummy owwies go away.
>They can’t be more than a week old.
>Before now, you’ve been fine with ignoring the ferals and letting nature take its course.
>But seeing a hungry mother caring for her babies hits you in the soft spot.
>Marigold, who up until now had been completely engrossed in her spaghetti, looks over to find the source of the squeaking.
>”Daddy, baybehs! Dey so wittwe! Hewwo, fwuffy mumma! Fwend?”
>Yesterday she was too absorbed by all the rides and attractions to really pay much attention to all the other fluffies, but with it relatively quiet, she’s back to her usual, overly friendly self.
>Pam, despite her obvious hunger, smiles back. “Fwend! Fwend haf nummies? Nee’ nummies fo’ miwk!”
>Marigold doesn’t hesitate in grabbing her bowl with her teeth and hopping down to the ground, placing the remaining third of spaghetti in front of the mother. “Mawigowd good fwuffy! Shawe fings!”
>See? You see that right there? That’s how you know you raised a good fluffy.
>Marigold just offered to share her spaghetti without any hesitation.
>Fluffies get a bad rap for being selfish, but the truth is that they usually take up so much brainpower just taking care of themselves (as best as fluffies can), they usually just aren’t smart enough to be selfless.
>3 months of Marigold doing everything you told her to do so she could come here has certainly paid off. Being well-behaved seems to be permanently ingrained in her brain.
>Fuck. Yes.
>Pam is beside herself with delight. “Fank yoo, Mawigowd! Yuu is nicest fwuffy eva!”
>She starts eating the spaghetti with great gusto.
>Huh. You could have sworn you saw all the ferals being fed as you were leaving last night.
>Maybe she got lost.
>Well, Spaghetti Tower can be seen from anywhere in the park.
>Maybe one of her babies got lost.
>Yeah, sounds about right.
>Even the good fluffy mothers can’t be perfect.
>She finishes quickly, then gives Marigold a big hug.
>Marigold happily hugs back.
>She’s always happy to make a friend.
>But now all that sauce is smeared across both their fluff.
>Dammit.
>Still, you’re really proud of Marigold, doing something so generous.
>If fluffy marks were a real thing, she’d have Rarity’s.
>Sweet, sweet Rarity.
>Pam’s probably still, hungry, though. A mother needs more food to make milk, and those babies are getting antsy. As they open their mouths to cry, you can see they still have no teeth.
>The spaghetti is pretty soft, maybe they could…
>No, their digestive systems probably aren’t ready yet.
>But you can do the next best thing.
>”Marigold, stay here with Pam. I’ll be right back.”
>”Otay, Daddy! Mawigowd pway wif baybehs!”
>You mosey on over to one of the kiosks and get two more fluffy sized bowls of spaghetti.
>No skin off your back. Mothafuckin’ Deluxe pass has got your back.
>Watch out, Rarity, there’s a new waifu in town, and she’s made of plastic.
>…The pass. Talking about the pass, not…nevermind.
>You walk back to the table, bowls in hand, and stop a few yards back to just drink in the scene before you.
>Marigold is lying on her back and Pam’s babies crawl along her belly.
>She giggles as they ruffle through her fluff, looking for her teats.
>Probably not going to have much luck there, kiddos.
>Besides, not like she’d have any milk, anyway.
>But she laughs and hugs them and coos about “Pwetty baybehs, Mawigowd wuv baybehs!”
>Pam, grateful for a babysitter, is lying on her stomach, hooves tucked under her.
>The babies are still hungry, but the attention from Marigold seems to be helping them forget about their hunger pangs.
>They also laugh and squeak and chirp as Marigold lets them tromp around on her belly.
>Two mares and three babies, just reveling in each other’s love.
>You see one baby, legs splayed out, just lying still on Marigold.
>Uhoh…
>They didn’t look that bad, did they? There’s no way one could have just-
>Then the baby picks its little head up and lets out a happy squeal of “wub!”
>You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
>Note to self: no soda today. You’ve had all the sweetness you can bear for one day.
>”Who wants more spaghetti?”
>Pam jumps to her feet, er, hooves, and bounces up and down.
>”Weawwy, mistah? Haf mo’ sketti? Fank yoo! Fank yoo!”
>”You’re welcome, hon. Now dig in.”
>You don’t have to tell her twice.
>The babies slowly try to get off of Marigold, who carefully picks each one up off her belly and places them on the ground.
>They’re uncoordinated, and trip and much as they step, but what do you expect from babies?
>They’re too little to even see over the small plastic bowl, much less be able to recognize what’s in it, but even at a few day’s age, the word ‘spaghetti’ triggers their programmed desire.
>Pam notices them, and picks her head up out of the bowl.
>”Good baybehs, soon mumma haf miwk, Nummies make miwk fo’ good baybehs. Wuv good baybehs!”
>You smile, and put the second bowl in front of Marigold.
>She looks at the bowl, then you, then Pam, then the babies, then the bowl again.
>She takes a sniff, and slowly moves her head to the bowl, her mouth opening.
>But she stops before she takes a bite, then starts pushing the bowl with her snout towards Pam.
>”Mawigowd no am hungwy, haf wotsa nummies awweady. Yuu eat nummies, make miwk fo’ pwetty baybehs!”
>Pam cries a little, then gives Marigold another hug.
>The babies latch on to her legs and hug her too.
>They probably have no idea what just happened, but all they know is that Marigold is a nice fluffy who gives them hugs, and Mumma is giving her huggies now, so they should too.
>Oh God, your heart…
>You can’t imagine what else you could do for Marigold besides taking her to Spaghetti Land, but she definitely deserves it after willfully giving away not one, but two bowls of spaghetti to a fluffy that needed it more.
>Note to self: give more money to charity.
>Oh, St. Germain, grant me your blessing, that I may know generosity like my fluffy does.
>Then give me some of that plot…
>After Pam polishes off both bowls of warm spaghetti and sauce, she’s groaning.
>”So many skettis…Pam aww fuww. Neba feew so fuww befowe…”
>She lies down and rolls onto her side, still moaning.
>Probably should have warned her that if she ate all that food, she’d get a wicked bad tummyache.
>Not that it’s in the nature of a feral to just leave food uneaten.
>Her babies chirp and squeak as they trundle over to her teats, which have started to swell a little.
>She only has two teats, and one baby is left sitting there, tears beginning to well up in her eyes.
>”Wan mik! Mik! Mumma mik!”
>She’s so little, she can’t even pronounce milk.
>Okay, neither can regular fluffies, but you know what I mean.
>You tell Marigold to keep the hungry baby company and you walk back over to Spaghetti Tower.
>”Hey, you guys have fluffy milk, perchance?”
>The young girl behind the counter raises an eyebrow.
>”You mean like, for baby fluffies?”
>”Yeah. Got a baby over there that’s pretty hungry.”
>”Nope. We don’t even have regular milk. You could try the day care. They’d probably have it.”
>”You guys have a day care?”
>”Yeah, it’s over by the entrance.” She points to where the entry gate is.
>You feel like pointing out that it’s hard to miss the big honking Spaghetti Land flag that marks the entrance, but that would be rude. She’s just being helpful.
>”Do people really bring little foals all the way out here just to drop them in a day care?”
>The girl shrugs. “Sometimes owners want to bring their fluffies that have babies. The mother would probably get upset if they got left behind at home. None of the rides are meant for foals, you know? ‘You must be this tall,’ something like that.”
>”Seems like a waste to have to pay extra for each baby.”
>”You know what they say. A fool and his money are soon parted.”
>You catch her eying your Deluxe Pass.
>Hey, up yours, lady. This thing is AMAZING.
>You thank her for the help and head back to the table.
>No way are you walking all the way back to the entrance to get milk. You know Marigold can be trusted to not wander off if she’s left alone for that long, especially with her new friends, but you pity the fool that tempts fate with a fluffy.
>That baby is just going to have to wait.
>Or not. Looks like Pam rotated them while you were away.
>Marigold is now playing with the other baby. A single drop of milk is stuck in the baby fluffy’s fluff around its mouth.
>For fucks sake, if this scene gets any cuter, you might actually die.
>But Marigold is having fun, so you sit down and watch her play and cuddle with the babies as they take turns suckling.
>You take the opportunity to clean all the spaghetti sauce off of their fluff before they get fluffstains.
>Soon the park fills with owners and their fluffies.
>Time to hit the rides!
>”Marigold, let’s go! Time for more fun!”
>”Daddy, can pwease take Pam and baybehs?”
>You’re about to tell her no, but Pam speaks up first.
>”Fank yoo, Mawigowd, but Pam haf find hewd. Dey in Sketti Wand, Pam wose dem when baybeh faww off back.”
>Marigold looks sad, but she gets that Pam has her own family. They share a warm hug.
>”Wuv yoo, Pam. You is good fwend, good mumma.”
>”Wuv Mawigowd, she and nice mistah gif nummies, pway wif baybehs.”
>She runs over and hugs your legs too. “Wuv mistah! Nice hooman gif skettis! Pam nu foget!”
>You bend down and pat her on the head.
>You can’t bring yourself to tell her that her herd is probably already dead, rounded up in the night and thrown into a wood chipper.
>And she’ll probably suffer the same fate before the end of the day.
>Her and her babies…
>No. You won’t allow that.
>”How about you come with us, Pam? That way you can look for your herd, and Marigold can help with your babies.”
>You’ll let her play with Marigold, then drop her off at that fluffy store you saw near the entrance for people whose fluffies met an unfortunate but somewhat predictable end in Spaghetti Land.
>There’s still a chance they’ll just keep the babies and turn Pam into fluffy chunks, but her odds are much better there than with the NHRS.
>Pam stands there as she slowly considers the offer.
>She nods, and lies down on her hooves again, and calls for her babies.
>”Come on, baybehs! We goin’ on adventuwe! Fin’ hewd, smawty fwend be happy to see us!”
>The babies slowly climb up her fluff until they’re all on.
>Wonder how she’ll react when she finds she doesn’t have a herd to return to.
>She sure seems trusting that the smarty friend won’t just bitchslap her for getting lost.
>Fuck smarty friends. Every time a herd got on your lawn, you’d have to deal with a smack-talking fluffy with a swollen head that thought his declarations were enough to drive you away.
>The rest of the herd could be reasoned with easily enough, but usually you had to get rid of the smarty first.
>You made it quick, though. Annoyance or not, you can’t bring yourself to torture an animal.
>You’re a lovefag, you know it.
>With Marigold leashed to your belt loop, and Pam’s babies riding on her back, you three set off on your second day in Spaghetti Land.
>Plenty of fun has been had.
>First, you took Marigold to the roller coaster.
>With a max height of six feet, it’s the most unintimidating park ride since…well, it’s just about the least intimidating roller coaster ever. Of all time.
>But Marigold had fun.
>One of the few non-pegasus fluffies that was screaming with glee, not abject terror.
>Some owners just keep making them ride again and again, long after the fluffy has made it unequivocally clear that they don’t want to.
>Any feces in their digestive system has been fear-shat several rides ago.
>And they just keep jumping back into the Fast Pass line, apparently finding their fluffies’ reactions just too funny to resist.
>Jerks. The Deluxe pass is not meant to be a tool of malevolence!
>The ride comes to a stop. A unicorn in the front just keeps screaming in short bursts, interspersed by rapid inhaling.
>”Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!”
>Okay, that’s pretty fucking funny.
>Even lovefags can appreciate a little schadenfreude now and again.
>Pam eyes the roller coaster longingly, then goes back to looking around for any sign of her heard.
>She told you the kinds of colors her herd has for fluff, but it doesn’t help much.
>There are tons of fluffies that match those color combinations.
>You don’t understand how fluffies are able to recognize each other.
>Not that you’re seriously looking anyway, just making a show of it.
>You march onwards towards the Ferris Wheel.
>It too is pretty scaled down, but no less functional.
>You hop into a cab with Marigold and Pam, and you all begin to ascend.
>You hold the babies in your lap so Pam can move more freely.
>They feel so soft and warm, and though they’re a little apprehensive about you, they’re soon cuddling each other on your lap. The one that you thought was dead earlier at Spaghetti Tower is doing the same thing to your leg. His legs are splayed out as wide as they can, and he rubs his head against your pants leg, mumbling “wub, wub.”
>Awwww. He’s a hugger, that one.
>Pam and Marigold stand against the glass, their front hooves pressed against the glass.
>Every time they turn their heads, they let out another awestruck “Wahhh!” as they see some new part of Spaghetti Land they hadn’t explored yet.
>Looking at her, you’d never guess that Pam was a feral fluffy, probably born and raised in a harsh world where it’s a question of when you die horribly, not if. Starvation, exposure to the elements, other animals, and sadistic humans are just a few things that could end a fluffy without a home.
>But now, she looks like any other happy domestic fluffy. Just having fun at Spaghetti Land, the place all fluffies want to go to.
>You wouldn’t mind taking her home. Marigold could always use a playmate.
>But your landlord is a real uptight prick about pet ownership.
>Only one. You can’t even get two beta fish in one tank without getting written up.
>Given that most fluffies get melancholy when left alone without a playmate, your neighbors usually stick with a dog or a cat.
>The best you can do is leave her and her babies in the park’s pet shop and give them a good chance at getting adopted.
>But not now. Now, she and Marigold get to have fun.
>Next up is the fluffy swing.
>It’s like those spinning swing rides you see in most theme parks.
>The centrifugal force lifts you up until you’re swinging at a 60 degree angle.
>Fun times.
>That sort of height would be too much for most fluffies, and nobody wants to suffer a flyby shitting to the face because the fluffy thought it was too fast.
>But like with the roller coaster and that drop tower thingy, the pegasus fluffies fucking love it.
>The barrier around the ride is painted on the inner side with a blue sky and white clouds.
>They can pretend they’re flying. The one thing a pegasus fluffy wants most.
>Pam watches as the fluffies are swinging around, squealing with joy, shouting “Wook, Daddy! Chwiss fwying!” and “Wan’ go fasta! Wan fwy in cwouds!”
>There’s one light blue pegasus fluffy with a darker blue mane that seems to be trying to reach with her stubby hooves to grab the clouds on the dividers.
>Her owner is shouting at her to just enjoy the ride. He’s holding a little pillow stitched to look like a cloud.
>Cute.
>Pam gets a kick out of watching the fluffies swing around, but she also looks sad.
>Oh, duh. She’s a pegasus, she wants to ride.
>But she has no money for a ticket, and she has to take care of her babies.
>Yet again, the cruel and unforgiving hand of reality deals a fluffy pony a shitty hand.
>But you have an ace up your sleeve.
>Deluxe pass, activate!
>”Hey Pam, want to go on the ride?”
>”No can go, haf cawwy baybehs…”
>You gently pick up the babies off her back, and they are whining and squeaking.
>They calm down when you put them on Marigold’s back.
>”I don’t think Marigold will mind taking care of them for awhile.”
>”Mawigowd wuv baybehs!”
>”But Pam no haf Daddy, no can go on wide…”
>”Don’t worry, girl, I got you covered.” You flash your Deluxe pass.
>”Wha dat?”
>Ignorant fools. Soon they shall know your might.
>”It’s a Daddy pass. Now let’s get you up in the air.”
>Pam can hardly believe her fortune.
>As you pick her up and carry her over to the Fast Pass line, she’s damn near vibrating with excitement, tripping over her own words as she tries to thank you a million times a minute.
>The attendant directs you to the ‘manual evacuation booth.’
>Also known as the Poop Chute.
>”Hey, do those sonic emitters force out their milk, too?”
>The acne-ridden kid just shrugs. “Dunno, man. Pregnant fluffies aren’t allowed on this ride.”
>Fuck it, you’ve gotten her hopes up already. If it does happen, you’ll make the trip over to the day care and get some milk.
>You sit her on the grate and put the sonic emitters in her ears.
>Two bowls of spaghetti come out the other end, by now having been turned into nitrogen-rich detritus through the abominable miracle that is the fluffy digestive system.
>Read an info pamphlet that said all these grates lead to a big holding tank where they process the poop and sell it as fertilizer.
>The gas released from the shit is also collected and used as a power source.
>Would explain how the park can remain fully powered while the Perry nuclear plant is suffering a fluffy crisis.
>Number two is Spaghetti Land’s number one.
>No milk spilled. Nice.
>With Pam sufficiently emptied, you place her in one of the harnesses, telling her to just relax and enjoy the ride.
>”Fank yoo, nice mistah!”
>You return to Marigold and watch as the ride starts up.
>Several dozen fluffy legs are kicking around wildly in excitement.
>You can see one horn poking out above the harness.
>His legs are curled up, and you can tell he’s shaking.
>Sucks to be that fluffy.
>You think you can hear him above all the excited babbling.
>”Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah!”
>Oh, it’s that fluffy again.
>Hahahaha, hilarity.
>The swing picks up speed, and now the fluffies are all lifted up in the air, and the sound of laughing fluffies is all you can hear.
>Marigold is watching with elation, making sure the babies stay still on her back.
>They want to watch, too.
>You pick them up so they can better see.
>That unfortunate unicorn is now screaming, but because of the Doppler effect, he almost sounds like a high pitched ambulance.
>”AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh”
>Nope, never gonna get old.
>Besides, there are far worst ways to abuse a fluffy than by taking them to the rides they don’t like at Spaghetti Land.
>Pam looks like she’s having the time of her life.
>Her eyes are closed, her hooves are pointed forward like a fluffy Superman, and she’s just enjoying the feeling of weightlessness, the wind blowing through her mane.
>Her wings are flapping furiously, not that they’re really contributing.
>It’s a pretty beautiful sight.
>When the ride is over, you help her out of her harness, and she latches to your stomach, her wings still flapping like her life depended on it.
>She’s still thanking you like crazy.
>You take her back to her babies, and she hugs each one of them before putting them back on her back.
>”You can go again if you want. The Daddy pass will let you go as much as you want.”
>”Fank yoo, nice mistah, but Pam hafta fin’ hewd, cawwy baybehs.”
>Dammit, she’s still thinking about her herd. You were hoping you could get her mind off it.
>”Well then, who’s hungry?”
>Both Marigold and Pam hop up and down. “Sketti!”
>The babies chirp. “Seti! Seti! Seti!”
>By now, the food court is loaded.
>You grab two bowls of spaghetti and a corn dog.
>Because you can’t go to an outdoor place like this and NOT get a corn dog. It’s a rule.
>You all eat in relative silence, and Pam lets the babies feed.
>After, you decide you’ve had enough wandering around, and take the group over to the giant playfield.
>It’s a gigantic patch of astroturf, taking up a large chunk of the park’s real estate.
>There are plenty of benches around for tired owners to sit and take a load off while their fluffies play with each other.
>There are a few kiosks that offer to sell inflatable balls.
>I’ll tell you what’s inflated: those prices!
>Ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaa…oooookay.
>You get one and look for an unoccupied patch.
>The ferals have sorta taken refuge here.
>They learned the first day to be polite and accommodating, though, so they don’t get territorial and aggressive like your typical ferals. They tend to gravitate towards the outer edge of the playfield, near the fences. Less people bother venturing out that far. But now they’re mingling, both to make new friends and to beseech the goodwill of people with food.
>They learned the hard way that astroturf is not edible.
>The NHRS had to collect quite a few bodies that had died due to severe internal hemorrhaging from eating the fake grass long after the point that they should have realized it was fake.
>You plop down on a bench where there aren’t many fluffies around and unclip Marigold’s leash.
>”Okay, girls, have fun now. Go run around, but stay by this bench, alright?”
>”Otay, Daddy!”
>”Kay, nice mistah!”
>You toss the ball, and they run to it, playing catch with it by rolling it to each other.
>They could have just made Spaghetti Land be a gigantic astroturf playfield with a spaghetti vendor and probably generate the same amount of appeal to fluffies. They’re creatures of simple tastes.
>Simple games, simple food, simple ideas, and simple affections.
>A completely pink fluffy runs out from under your legs.
>”Baww! New fwends shawe baww?”
>Marigold and Pam are very welcoming to their newest best friend, and they all partake in the standard fluffy greeting.
>Hugs. Many of them.
>”Now Sweetheart, be sure to play nice!”
>A short, stocky man with a Texan accent sits down next to you on the bench.
>”Sweehawt am good fwuffy, Daddy!”
>The trio resume their game of ball, now in a triangle formation. They don’t really follow any order of passing the ball, they just butt it with their snout and let it roll towards one fluffy or the other.
>”Fascinating creatures, those fluffies. They’re always so fast to be friends with one another. People would say they’re simple minded, or they’re naïve. And being honest, they are. But you know what? Fluffies are a hell of a lot happier than human beings. A sincere happiness, you know? Maybe there’s something to be said about being naïve every now and again.”
>He makes a good point. “Never thought about it like that.”
>The man offers his hand. “Marshall Conagher.”
>You offer your own. “Isaac Cain.”
>Damn, that guy’s got a strong handshake.
>You notice Marshall has a small Igloo cooler at his side.
>He opens it up and pulls out two beers, offering you one.
>You take it gladly. “I thought we weren’t allowed to bring in outside food.”
>”Son, I built half of this place. Nobody’s gonna tell me what I can and can’t do here.”
>”You built Spaghetti Land?”
>”Well, I designed most of the rides. And the machine that makes all the spaghetti. It’s been a fun little contract.”
>You both twist off the bottle caps.
>”Well, you made one hell of a park.”
>”Much obliged, friend.”
>You clink the bottles together and take a swig.
>Man, this is the good stuff.
>You both sit there and watch your fluffies play.
>Marigold is trying to teach the babies to walk properly while Pam and Sweetheart hug the ball together.
>”So, what made you want to build a place like this? Inspired by your fluffy?”
>”Actually, I didn’t have Sweetheart when I started. At the time, it was just another job. Granted, it was the biggest job of my career, but I didn’t have any personal reason for it. Seemed like an interesting challenge.”
>”Yeah, making a theme park that’s entirely fluffy friendly sounds like it’d be pretty damn hard.”
>”Hoo boy, you don’t know the half of it. These things die like nothing else. The safety rating for those rides is pretty dismal, as theme park rides go. And they’re still twice as safe as I technically had to make them. They said it would be unrealistic to expect me to make something as safe as a human ride is for humans.”
>”Really? I’ve taken Marigold on most of the rides, and I never saw any sort of problem.”
>”Give it time. These fluffies will find a way.”
>”True that.”
>More silence and more observation of the fluffies. Pam is cheering on her babies and they try to walk on the astroturf, and Marigold and Sweetheart watch expectantly, also providing moral support.
>”Pam!”
>Where did that come from?
>”Paaaaaaaaaaaam!”
>That voice, it sounded like…
>Then you see a herd approaching.
>”Watch out, Marshall. We might have trouble.”
>”No worries. All the ferals still in the park have shown they can get along with domestics.”
>All the same he too gets up.
>Pam looks away from her babies towards the herd.
>An orange and red unicorn steps forward.
>The smarty friend.
>You’re content to live and let live with smarty friends, but if he makes so much as one false step towards Marigold, he’s going down.
>He charges towards Pam, and Pam charges towards him.
>The collide in a big hug.
>”Awchew! Foun’ smawty fwend!”
>”Pam! Awchew so fwaid, fought you be huwt, or take wong sweep!”
>More hugs.
>Well, holy shit. Looks like Pam’s herd survived after all.
>You unclench your fists.
>The smarty friend seems like a nice guy, for once.
>Pam tells Archer all about her adventures, from you giving her spaghetti, to taking her with Marigold out for a fun filled adventure in Spaghetti Land, to her ride on the swing.
>Archer offers friendship hugs to Marigold and Sweetheart, and they graciously accept.
>He then shuffles over to you.
>”You nice mistah, hewp Pam?”
>You nod.
>Archer turns to his herd. “Hewd! We haf foun’ Pam! Nice mistah hewp her, gif her nummies and hewp hew baybehs! Hewd give fanks to nice hooman!”
>The herd erupts in a chorus of “Fank yoo” and “Wuv nice mistah!”
>It’s all very touching.
>And Marshall is just standing there, grinning his head off.
>Once all the gratitude has died down, Archer tells Pam that they’re heading for their safe place.
>Pam is happy to be reunited with her herd again, but she’s very sad to have to leave you and Marigold.
>Her eyes are stained with tears as she gives goodbye hugs to you and Marigold.
>Even the babies are crying, squeaking “Wub Magowd!”
>You doubt they’re just copying their mother this time.
>Even Sweetheart, who just met Pam, is sad to see her go.
>They go through more rounds of crying and hugging than you bother to keep track of, but Archer waits patiently.
>Finally, Pam picks up her babies and walks towards the herd, who all turn around and begin heading back to whatever piece of land they’ve scoped out for themselves.
>”Bye, Mawigowd! Bye, nice mistah! Wuv yuu aww!”
>Her babies chirp “Wub! Wub! Wub!” and wave with their tiny legs.
>Archer stays for a moment.
>”You nice mistah, hewp Pam. Awchew neva foget dis.”
>Then he turns around and runs to catch up with his herd.
>You feel yourself getting choked up.
>You turn around, and Marshall meets your gaze.
>”Happiness, friend. Happiness.”
>Sweetheart and Marigold continue playing with the ball, but with less energy. They both miss their friend.
>”Oh man, time flies when you’re having fun. It’s getting late.”
>The sun’s already setting, and you’re not too keen to navigate your way back to the hotel in the dark while a big fluffy infestation waits outside.
>You and Marshall shake hands again and part as new found friends .
>He offers to give Marigold a tour of his spaghetti machine tomorrow.
>As you carry Marigold back towards the entrance, you wonder if you should come back tomorrow.
>The feral infestation is only going to get worse. Will they be able to hold them off indefinitely?
>The parking lot is slowly emptying.
>The barriers are still there, but it seems like either the fluffies got ran off, or they managed to wipe them all out.
>Wow, that’s a lot of garbage bags.
>Yep, those exterminators were busy.
>Maybe they can keep the ferals at bay. And you’d like to see Marshall and Sweetheart again.
>Fuck it, you’ll come back for a half day tomorrow before hitting the road back home.
>What’s the worst that could happen?
