Fluff McSuds is the way cool biopet making big waves in the advertising scene! After seeing sales figures drop about 20% after an incident involving salmonella, Cool Beer was ‘all hands on deck’ to save their image in the public eye. It took a fluffy with a serious love for partying to turn things around and Cool Beer has clawed their way back to being the nation’s largest purveyor of good times. Even kids are getting in on the fun with talking stuffed toys and T-shirts featuring slogans from the party animal himself. A corporate spokesperson has reached out to assure us that they would never advertise to children and take drinking responsibly quite seriously.
-Excerpt from an alcohol trade magazine
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“Hewwo pawty-peepews! Am Fwuff McSuds!” Prancing out onto a stage, the red and white stallion nearly felt himself knocked over from a total wall of noise. It was spring back down in a sunny place called Fwo-ih-duh. McSuds had been done here many times in his life during a time which the big mummahs and daddehs called spring break. Who was it a break for? Certainly not him, he was working every day and night.
Out on a stage surrounded by inflatible palm trees and a kiddie pool filled with lots of ice and refreshing brown bottles of Cool Beer. There was so much music and loud music but McSuds did what he knew best: Boogying down. Getting up on his hind legs, he started shaking around in a spastic fashion just about any fluffy could do. ‘Nothing special’ was the best way to describe him. Just the first fluffy they’d happened upon with colors that people would find relatable to the brand. Just slap a cheap pair of oversized pink plastic shades on him and teach him a few catchphrases, that’s all that needed to be done.
“WE LOVE YOU FLUFF MCSUDS!” Screamed a bunch of nice ladies who weren’t wearing much clothing. He could tell they had been drinking too much silly wawa but he was told that they should drink MORE! That led to good things. For him? Not really. Regardless he took position behind a special device rigged up just for him. A cannon shaped nozzle attached to two high-pressure kegs filled with beer. With levers specially designed to work with only his hooves, he directed the cannon at the group of young women and blasted them with a golden, cold jet of beer. Squealing with delight they took off their tops and he’d look away.
He didn’t want to see a bunch of nice ladies show their nu-nus off! There wasn’t much time to be embarrassed though because hands lifted him up, sent him sailing off into the drunken crowd below. Tossed around in tumbling spirals through the air like a screeching beachball, he finally landed in relative safety on a picnic blanket.
“Hewwo!” Was the only thing he got out before a bottle of beer was forced on him. Despite being the spokesfluffy for this particular brand, he hated alcohol. What kind of fluffies would enjoy it? They were for huggies ‘n wub, not getting plastered! Throat bobbing up and down as the booze spilled down it, he coughed and sputtered. Waved his hooves out.
“P-Pwease nu mowe! Pawty we-spon-we-bwy!” Another bottleneck got shoved into his mouth, clinking against his teeth. It hurt so bad and he was sure this time he’d drown in all the silly wawa being funneled down his mouth. This happened almost every day and night though. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. Soon he’d turn silly like all of them and wouldn’t remember much. He’d end up with booboos, heart saddies, sickies all over his fur.
DRINK DRINK DRINK!
McSuds had no choice, the sea of faces around him blurring. Warmth spread throughout his body.
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A spring break party wasn’t the only thing McSuds was booked for that day. Peeling through the crowd, his handler finally found him face-down in a carton of cheese fries. Twitching a bit, the fluffy found himself roused and still quite drunk.
“Get ahold of yourself.” The handler told him with some amount of disgust, taking a wet wipe and cleaning up some congealed cheese from the fluffy’s cheek. Mumbling a bit, McSuds felt reality slipping away from him and slipped back into darkness.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept but woke rudely like he often did: Being zapped with a cattleprod. A cruel stick went sent hot fire throughout all of his body. No matter how off his head with silly juice he happened to be, the zap would get him up right quick.
“You’ve got the Cinnamummah promotion today. Come on.” Hauled out by his mane from a limousine branded with Cool Beer imagery (including his own face), McSuds stared out at a large crowd which had formed around a movie theater.
Right. The Cinnamummah thing. With a stagger and sway, the party fluffy attempted to remain on his hooves. McSuds had been in Cinnamummah’s new movie, not an important part of anything. Just showed up to do what he did best: Dancies.
Crowd parting as handler and fluffy went up to the greet and meet table, McSuds attempted his best to remain as normal as possible. The world felt so spinny. Looked over to the mare beside him, he felt something happening in his think-pwace.
“Hewwo! Dank yew ‘fo come an’ see Cinnymummah!” Trilled the blonde-maned mare, her body jiggling as she clapped her front hooves together. A large posterboard nearby showed Cinnamummah photoshopped onto a surfboard along with several chirpies on their own boards appropriate for their dimunitive size. ‘CINNAMUMMAH’S BIG TIKI ADVENTURE’ the title read in cheesy tropical script.
Nostrils flaring, McSuds could smell her. Skettis and that funny smell mares always had. Now, he was a good fluffy. Yet his brain was currently pickled in who knew how many beers. Clumsily stepping up onto the table and nearly slipping over a bunch of autographed photos (Cinnamummah stamped her hoof in ink to transfer it over), he got up on his hind legs and began aggressively thrusting his peener right at her face.
“WOOK AT NU-NUS!” He sneered, causing Cinnamummah to flail back and screech loudly.
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McSuds had a lapse of memory after that. He vaguely recalled a meanie security guard slapping him right in the nu-nus and a bunch of flashes from cameras. Now he was being brought back to his hotel, and there were a bunch of reporter people hanging out in front of it.
“McSuds! McSuds! I’m Dan Inyaface with the Daily Botherer, can you tell me about what happened with Cinnamummah back at the movie promotion!?” The fluffy found himself surrounded by a bunch of reporters, his handler too.
“Don’t say a fucking thing, fluffy…” His handler hissed out, but you know what? McSuds was McHungover, his nu-nus had huwties, and today was going just about as badly as most days went.
Puffing out his cheeks, McSuds stuck his tongue out. “Oh, fwuffy teww yew abou’ Cinnymummah! She am…she am poopie! Bigges’ poopie dummeh! Poopies bewong in da WITTABOXS! Fwuff McSuds HAECHU POOPIES! Fowebbah! Nu pawty ‘fo poopies!”
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It was a few days later and Fluff McSuds was back at corporate headquarters. Things had been somewhat different the last few days. Most notably, he hadn’t had to go do any work at all. They said he was racist, and racism wasn’t cool OR hip.
McSuds had been in this boardroom plenty of times. Usually to cheers and great revelry. They always told him to keep being cool and dance, so he always did. Right now they weren’t cheering. Not even a smile in the room. It was a sea of incredibly grave faces, posterboards with charts going way down, and no beer in sight.
“H-Hewwo fwends. Da’ pawty fwuffy am hewe.” Getting up on his hindlegs, McSuds tried to do his special dance. Nobody was laughing.
Taking ahold of a permanent marker, the guy who always led this meetings threw it right at the fluffy’s face. It struck him in the eye and brought out a sharp yelp. “No, not the party fluffy. The big fat racist. We already had some pretty big problems but that really cut the cake. Someone bring him up on the table.”
Hefting the fluffy up, McSud’s handler set him down on the long table. Clearing his throat and gathering a few toys together, the president of the company clearly had the stallion’s attention.
“Toysies!” He cooed a bit, trying to get closer. There was a toy bus, a car, and more than a few dolls.
Shaking his head, the president of the company set the dolls up. Positioned the bus and car at two different angles. “Not toys. Props. Let me ask you, McSuds, do you know what you did?”
Nervously looking from side to side, McSuds nodded. “Y-Yis. Say bad pooby wowds an’ meanies. Am say sowwy?” This caused a fingerwag from the president.
“No. Just last night, some guy. One of your fans got loaded up on Cool Beer. He took his BUS out and smacked into a bunch of people.” Gripping the toy bus, the president of the company smacked it right into a few of the dolls which had been set up. The fluffy squealed in horror as it continued ramped into the car, then backed up over it with lots of cartoony sound effects from the man gripping it.
“Nuuuu! Fwuffy nu do dat! Pwease nu!” Horror. There was no way he made some guy drink silly wawa and crash into people! Fixing the fluffy with a serious glare, the president reangled the bus and smacked into the rest of the standing dolls.
“Oh, you did. It’s all your fault. Some guy ran over ten people. And then crashed into a car full of people. And then ran over the rest of the people. A horrible thing. Not our fault. It’s your fault. You were supposed to tell them to drink responsibly, but obviously you didn’t.”
Whimpering a bit, McSuds had tears dragging down his cheeks. It was beyond what a fluffy could comprehend. Being responsible for so much pain and misery?
Sighing a bit, the president continued pushing the bus along the table and making vroomy noises under his breath.
“Anyways, Fluff McSuds. It’s our corporate responsibility to execute you on live television to satiate the bloodlust of the public. Or to appeal to their sense of justice. To be honest, they’ve blended together.” Vroom vroom! He was pretending the bus was going to the gas station. McSuds was having far less fun.
“Huuhuu…oh cheesebuwgehs…”
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Sitting in the locker room at Cool Beer Sports Arena, McSuds sadly watched a teebee. On it, they were talking about him. The teebee hadn’t stopped talking about him lately.
“We’ve received further shocking allegations from women who say they were pressured into sexual acts by Fluff McSuds…“ A news anchor showing off a photograph of McSuds. The fluffy was only a chirpy in the photograph, looking confused and super cute. Squeezed between a pair of bikini-top clad boobies.
“Buh! Buh! Nu faiw! McSuds was omwy widdew babbeh! Nu faiw!” He tried to protest at the teebee but they were already moving past that and going into further reasons why he was such a bad fluffy. No matter what he said, nobody ever listened. They just heard what they wanted to hear and ignored him the rest of the time.
His handler was putting in his last day on the job with even more malice than usual, strolling into the otherwise empty locker room and giving the stallion a zap with the cattleprod. Squealing, McSuds scurried away to the direction he was pointed in.
Out into a stadium. So much noise. So many lights. They weren’t cheering though. They were booing him. Soda cups and batteries rained down from the stands as his little hooves hurried as fast as they could. To the center of the arena, a spotlight following him.
“ON ONE SIDE, A TEAM OF CLYDESDALE HORSES.” An announcer boomed out, the voice drowning out the crowd. McSuds cowered in place, shivering a bit as he looked over and saw a bunch of horses. They kind of looked like him, he thought. Just so much bigger.
“ON THE OTHER SIDE, THE NUMBER 69 NASCAR SPONSORED BY COOL BEER.” Now he was really shaking, looking over to a really cool race car on the other side of him. It revved up, the loud engine making bad poopies fall right out his butt. Leather straps were brought over, one set attached to the team of horses and the other done up on the Nascar.
Breathing in exhaust fumes and the sweat of horses, McSuds felt something bop him on the head from above. It was a microphone. He’d used these plenty of times.
“DO YOU HAVE ANY LAST WORDS BEFORE YOU FACE JUDGMENT?” Came the loud, booming voice.
Last words? He didn’t want to go fowebbah sweepies. Didn’t want to! It wasn’t fair! This wasn’t his fault! All those people who got hurt, and the nu-nu touching, and…and…
Tears streamed down his cheeks. Standing up proudly on his hind-legs, he stared up to the gathered crowd who now hated him. Shaking his hips around and making his peepee jiggle around, he called out into the microphone:
“Pwease dwink we-spons-wi-by!”
