Author’s note and warning: This chapter is very, very dark. You are going to see a horrible feral smarty who did horrible things to a family of fluffies, die in a horrible, vicious way. Because of the fact this is otherwise EXTREMELY violent in a very PG-story, I’ve elected to make this neutralbox, rather than hugbox.
There will likely not be a repeat of this content in this story, but I wanted to show how far Theo will go to protect his fluffies, and how nasty Bad Smarties are in my canon
In chapter 12, we will return to our regularly scheduled adorable fun. With two new foals!
You are Theo.
There are two foals, around the same age as yours, laying on your front step as you pull into the driveway.
“Daddeh, wook! Othew Fwuffies!” Chocolate says.
“Stay in the car, bud. I’m gonna go check this out.”
“What wong?” He asks.
“Two foals, no mom or dad, sitting right on the doorstep? Something’s not right here.”
“Don’t be afraid, little man. You’re growing up fast, and besides, I’m here.” You say, getting out of the car and closing the door behind you.
You’re not sure what’s going on here……but you don’t like it.
Approaching, one of the foals looks up at you. It’s visibly been crying, and peeps in fear. You kneel down. “Hello, little foals.” you say. One is a sea-green unicorn with a sky blue mane, and the other is a mono color pegasus, pale, pastel purple. Pretty colors.
“H-Hewwo nice hooman……you……w-wet babbehs in housie fow sk-skettis and toysies?” the unicorn asks, stammering and shaking. The pegasus looks nervously at a nearby bush. You catch her eye, and she gives the tiniest shake of her head.
“Oh, you’re so cute!” you gush, picking up the pegasus and holding her close to your face. She smells awful, but you stand and turn her so your body blocks the line of sight to the bush.
She seems to understand what you’re up to. “Don’t open doowsie….” she says. “Munsta fwuffy in bushes….”
You nod, and set her down, nudging her and the unicorn away from the bush, and darting your hand into it like a snake.
“DUMMEH HOOMAN! NO TOUCH SMAWTY!” You hear. A set of teeth nip at your forearm, but you grab what’s either a mane, or a tail, and pull.
“SCREEEEEEEE!!! NO TOUCH SMAWTY!!!”
It’s a fat, peach-colored Pegasus stallion. You have him, dangling upside down by the tail. “This your Monster?” you ask the foals. They cower, and the unicorn nods.
“Thought so.” You say. “Okay, in the interest of fairness, I’m going to give your fat, ugly ass, 30 seconds to explain where these foal’s parents are, what the hell you’ve put them here for, and why I shouldn’t stuff you headfirst into the tailpipe of a greyhound bus.”
“MUNSTA GIVE DADDEH AND MUMMAH FOWEVA SWEEPIES!!!” The Unicorn screams. He begins crying, squealing, really. “MUNSTA AM HORIBLE, GAVE MUMMAH AND OTHER FOAWS ENFIES AND FOWEBA SWEEPIES, TOOK AWAY SEABWEEZE SEE PWACE!”
He brushes back his mane, to reveal that he’s missing his left eye.
You say nothing.
Rage. Pure rage.
“Is this true?”
“Dummeh hooman, wet smawty- SCREEEEEE!” He wails as you grab a leg and twist it sharply, dislocating the bone.
“I asked you a question, you pig.”
“IS TWUE, NO MORE HUWTIES!!!”
“And….why did you put these foals here?”
The little purple pegasus speaks up. “Towd Seabweeze and Wistiwea if we hewp him get into mistuhs housie, fwuffies couwd have nummies and no get wowstest enfies.”
“So he threatened you?”
“What did you want in my home?” You ask.
“Smeww mawes! Wan enfies and sketties and housie!” he demands. “Give nao! Give poopie babbeh in metaw munstah for wickie cweanies too!”
You pause, and think for a moment.
How exactly do you want to kill this horrible waste of life?
“Little foals?” You say.
They look up at you, still scared.
“I want both of you to wait EXACTLY where you are. If you do, and don’t run away, I will clean you both up, feed you, and be your new daddy.” You tell them.
They look like this is the first good news they’ve had in weeks.
“WHAT BOUT SMAWTY!”
You shake him violently. “I’ve got a SPECIAL thing for you!” you tell him. “It’s even better than sketties!”
“….GIVE SMAWTY BESTEST THING NAO!” He orders you.
“Oh I will.” You say, smirking. You walk around the back of the house to the backyard.
And life the metal grate dome off your firepit.
You drop the arrogant little vermin into it, and he cries out in pain as dry, dead sticks poke him. You set the lid back on, and leave him there for a little bit. You go back to the truck, and let Chocolate out. He says nothing, and runs to the foals. They’re immediately grabbed in a fluffy bearhug.
“No cwy, no cwy, Chocowate be fwiend, give huggies and wuv…” He says, snuggling them both.
He couldn’t have heard what was said, but he can tell they’ve had a bad go of things. You unlock the door, and motion for them to go inside.
“Chocolate, take them to the safe room, have Hazel clean them up and let them have some kibble. Stay there, do not leave, Daddy has to take care of a very, very bad fluffy.” You say sternly. He looks up at you, and nods. “Chocowate undewstand.”
“Good boy.” You praise, going into the kitchen……and getting a small box of matches and a small metal squirt bottle of charcoal starter fluid.
You walk into the backyard, and find the smarty’s pooped on the wood. “Dummeh hooman! Dis no bettew dan sketties! Wet Smawty out!”
You pop the small hatch used to insert more wood on the dome, and spray the inside of the put with the start liquid.
“SCREEE! NO WIKE STINKY WAWAS!”
“SMAWTY GIVE YOU FOWEVA SWEEPIES!” He threatens.
“…You really are fucking stupid, aren’t you. You’re about to die, horribly.” You tell him, voice cold.
This finally seems to pop his bubble.
“W-Wha? No…no. Smawty no gon go fowevew sweepies!” He says, nervous.
“Do you know what fire is?” You ask.
He nods, looking visibly frightened, and looking down. Dry grass, reeds, tree bark, dead branches. He looks up at you slowly.
“…Pwease no give smawty burnie huwties….” He asks, tearing up.
“How many times did the good fluffies you killed ask you not to hurt them?”
He says nothing, beating on the metal grate desperately.
You light a match, and look at him.
He’s terrified, he’s wet himself in fear. Tears and snot are running down his face.
Can you do this? Can you burn this terrified, stupid creature alive? It’s a living thing, it has a-
Wait. It’s a smarty. They don’t have SOULS like other fluffies!
“I saw a movie that ended kinda like this once.” you say dryly, throwing the lit matchstick into the open hatch.
The flames explode to life, catching the kerosene and whipping it into a firestorm. The grass and bark goes up rapidly, setting the branches and dry weeds ablaze, along with the smarty’s fluff.
He screams and screams, coughing and wheezing as the fire burns his flesh and sears his lungs. Eardrums melt, teeth crack, mucous membranes char and slough away. His hooves crack, bones are showing in some places.
You see his skin and fat melt, his eyes glaze over, his eyelids burned off. You walks to the garden hose……and spray the fire out.
There’s nothing but rasping wheezes that must surely be screams of pain.
“You can barely breathe, can’t you? Bet you don’t even really have lungs anymore. I could have let that burn, but I figure this will hurt more.” You say, grabbing the fat, charred creature by what remains of it’s legs. It’s greasy from the fat that melted off it’s body. You walk a ways back, and toss it into the woods behind your house.
“Khaaaa……haaaaaa….waaaaa……diiiiii” You hear. “Wan die” is distorted, but you understand what it’s trying to say.
“You will. Eventually. It’s about 3:30 PM, so I’d say you have until nightfall when a fox or a mink comes and puts you out of your misery. Until then…… I’d say you’re in for a long, long afternoon.”
You turn, and walk away.
There’s nothing to say to this burned out husk.