“peeeep! peeeep! choo! kip! peep! chirp chirp chirp! peep!”
Those were the cries of a newborn little brown unicorn colt. Cries that were meant as a signal for someone who loves it that it was distressed, that it needed tender love and care.
But no one loved it. Not even it’s mummah.
When she saw her other two pretty babbehs, she gently nudged the poopie babbeh with her hoof until it was right below a huge bag of broken glass.
“Bleh! Nee wash hoofsies nao! Dummeh poopie babbeh su ickie…”
You had been born merely minutes ago. You had patiently awaited lickie cleanies but only got them just enough for you to breathe. You felt the touch of your mother hoove and it filled you with so much heart happies…but mummah was pushing you? This wasnt right! You flopped your miniscule body over the scalding concrete and made all the chirps your little vocal chords could muster
“peeeeeeeeep! kipkip! eeeeee! chirp! peeepeeeeep!”
By the end of it you were exhausted. Where had mummah and bwuddah and sissy even gone? Were they still here? You gently brought air in and out of your nose and sniffed about your surroundings. No mummah. You were getting hungry too. And desperate.
You call out into the void. You had given up hope, accepted that you were a bad babbeh and stopped making effort. You lay your soft little head against the concrete when suddenly you felt something. It was a touch. Warm. You instinctively show affection and prepare for wub. New daddeh looked like he needed a lot of wub. He will give you so much wub and make you feel biggest wub! You would try to make him feel so much heart happies! And wub!!! You wub wub so much!!!
“coo!” says your new abuse toy.
You unzip your pocket and pull out a fluffy foal milk bottle which is specifically one for newborns. It’s what you’ll be using to feed the seemingly rejected (or just got lost, but considering it’s a “poopy” foal and seems to be about an hour old its probably the first one) You rest the little brown foal on its stomach on the palm of your hands. You can feel the foals fur as it squirms on your hand and makes quiet peeps. You stroll back to the car with your hand still open flat. When the little brown unicorn heard you slam the car door shut, its sensitive eardrums couldn’t handle the loud, scary noise so it began rapidly making terrified chirps and curled it’s tiny body up into a shivering ball.
“CHEEEEEEP! chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp!!!”
But after finding the bottle which you held up to its mouth the newborn foal quickly relaxes and begins gently kneading your hand as it fills it’s starving belly. This drive home very well could be it’s last peaceful moment.
Once home you place it into a cardboard box filled with a bunch of shredded newspaper. The foal begins sucking its hoof and making muffle high pitched vocalizations as it drifted off to sleep. decide you’ll start having some fun with it tomorrow night. This was quite good to also manipulate the foals mind into thinking it was in a safe, loving place. Better yet, it believed it had been saved from a not so good situation (it wouldn’t be able to comprehend death yet) and that would make it love you even more for being its savior. What it didn’t know is that it was in an even worse situation.
The next morning you wake up early to go check on the foal.
“DADDEH! chirp chirp HEWWO! chirp WUB OU DADDEH! peep! OU SABED BABBEH! *coo!”
You lower your hand in front of the foal
“UPSIES! coo! WUB UPSIES!” says the beaming foal as it climbs into your hand.
The little brown foal is lying on its belly on your palm. It looks up at you with a huge smile
“coo Wub ou! peep”
“Wait what?! EWWW! YOU’RE A GROSS POOPY BABY!” you shriek.
“H-huh??? chirp chirp chirp! Bu-bu daddeh wub babbeh! eek! Daddeh sabed babbeh!”
The foal, which is now lying on its back, looks up at you stunned and its loving smile is now an expression of shock and concern. Its first tears are forming in its newly opened eyes.
“Well I did. I just noticed now that you’re an ugly, filthy poopy baby. I see why your mother abandoned you, shitrat. And that MONSTER horn of yours”
“CHIIIIIIIRP! WAI DADDEH SU MEANIE TALKIES?!? chirpchirpchirp DADDEH WUB BABBEH! kipkipkip! WAI GIB BABBEH HEAWT HUWTIES! BABBEH NU AM MUNSTAH, BABBEH NU AM POOPIE, PWOMIS!”
“Hmm…well I have a way for you to prove it. Lets go.”
“peep…o-otay daddeh…babbeh wub ou…” says the foal in a weak voice, now suckling its front hoof for comfort.
You arrive in the kitchen where on the counter you’ve made a makeshift arena. In it is a tiny remote controlled car about the same size as the foal. You made a scary, fanged vampire face out of clay and stuck it on the front and on the back of the car you used a hot glue gun to weld three drawing pins. On the sides of the car, you put extra strong double sided tape. This tape would certainly be strong enough to rip out a fluffies fur and maybe even some of its smaller body parts. You just slathered the top with fresh hot glue so that if the weak, chirping foal can somehow get on top it will just be “BURNIE STICKIES!”…that sounds a bit dirty but whatever.
“Okay, shitrat. If you dont get hit by the munstah, you aren’t poopy or a munstah!”
“m-munstah?? peep! n-NU WAN SEE MUNSTAH! NU WAN!” protests the foal as you lower it slowly onto the small arena. It cowers in fear, covering its eyes and singing the ingrained “mummah song” to itself in an attempt to calm down. You rev up the toy car with the control panel to freak out the already jittering foal even more.
“EEEEEEEK! BABBEH SOWWY DADDEH! peep! BABBEH SOWWY FOW BEIN POOPIE! kipkipchirp! AN HABIN MUNSTAH HOWN! chirp BABBEH WUB DADDEH SU MUCH! DADDEH WUB BABBEH TU, PWEASE!!”
The foals suddenly remembers its in an arena with a munstah and runs around frantically. You slowly make the toy car follow the foal as it waddle-runs while crying hysterically. You put it into full speed and drift the car sideways into the foals ass. The tape rips off the foals balls and a huge chunk of its fur on its rear.
"CHEEEEEP WUMPS!!! WUMPS GON!!! EEEEEE!!! DADDEH OU WUBS BABBEH!!! HEWP!!! CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP CHEEP CHEEP KIP KIP PIP PIP CHEEP!
“Who’s “babbeh?” I only know shitrat!” you taunted.
The foal collapses from exhaustion and you reverse the toy car right into its face. One of the pins spears its left eye, one is just under its right eye, and the other is just above its chin.
"s-s-sss-SCREEEEEEEEEEE!!! CHIRPCHIRPCHIRP SEE PWACE! WAI DADDEH HUWT SEE PWACE?! DADDEH SU MEANIE TU BABBEH!!! PEEEEEP!
You move the car forward and examine the foal. Its eye has swollen shut, its face is bloody and drooping, its delicate skin from under its ripped off fur is covered in scabs and the rest of its privates are barely attached.
“daddeh…peep…bu daddeh wubbed babbeh…babbeh wan gib daddeh wub and huggies…wai daddeh wince peepeepeep! nu wan?”
“I don’t want your useless love.” you reply, not wanting to admit the foals is kind of getting into your head a bit.
“bu daddeh nee’ babbeh wub…wai daddeh su meanie?”
You grab it by the scruff, making it emit a shrill “CHEEP!” and throw it into a litterbox with a small slice of old, rotten tomato.
You wake up the next morning and find the foal suffering and writhing in its own feces. It seems to have attempted to eat the rotten chunk of tomato but threw up and was too scared to eat any more. It isn’t talking anymore, just quietly making little high pitched vocalizations. They probably aren’t so that someone who loves it can come tend to it, but just because of pain. Its so thin you can see its ribs.
Without much issue you pluck off its horn. You pick up the tiny, malnourished, injured, blinded foal and shove the horn through the top of its head. It passes through almost like butter and within about 5 seconds the foal is dead. As you pushed the horn through, you heard the foal quietly mutter
*chirp! wai…n-nu wub…"