While Jonathan and Artemis left to deal with Clarkson’s Garden invasion, Taylor took a moment to lift Stroopwaffle off the ground and carried him into his workshop.
“C’mon Stroop, I got something I wanna try with you.”
“Ok Mistah Tay-wuh.”
“Crikey you’re a hefty lad, never picked up one of you Fluffalo’s before. Hell of a weight to ya.”
“Stwoopwaffeh nu see udda Fwuffawo since speciaw-fwiend, sumtimes fink Stwoopwaffeh am da onwy wun weft.”
Taylor placed Stroopwaffle onto his workdesk and pulled up a chair. “Nah, don’t think like that Stroop. I use to think I was the only person in the world who liked the taste of liquorice until I met… Well that’s not important, what’s important is we deal with why you’re here, hold on a second I need to grab something.
Taylor adjusted his glasses and wheeled the chair back to a set of drawers near to the window, Stroopwaffle took the moment to examine his new surroundings, the desk was hard wood but Taylor had placed down a soft rubber top layer for to protect the easily scuffed top. Around him Stroopwaffle saw multiple loose screws and washers strewn about the place in various states of rust, to his left were five screwdrivers arranged by size, and to his right were several pieces of paper with rough drawings and outlines for future projects.
Stroopwaffle was so engrossed in trying to work out how a catcher’s net could fit into a ball that he almost didn’t hear Taylor wheel back across the floor with a parcel in his hands.
“Find something interesting?”
“Mistah Tay-wuh, wha am dis? Wai am catchy-stwing inside of baww?”
“It’s an idea I had to help us catch runaway Fluffies, something non-lethal.”
“Non-wethuh?”
“Something that doesn’t kill them. You throw the ball, the net jumps out and onto the Fluffies, they’re trapped in place making it easier to catch them.”
“Wike how nyu fwiends catch Stwoopwaffeh?”
“Not exactly, normally when we catch Fluffies we take them to someplace that’s called a ‘shelter’ they keep the Fluffies safe until they find a new home, or until they… y’know.”
“Gu foweba sweepies?”
“Exactly. It’s not pleasant and most of them do die without finding a home, but they get three meals a day and plenty of playtime, it’s better than what most Fluffies get.”
“Wai Mistah Jon and Missus Ah-tah-mus nu take Stwoopwaffeh tu sheh-tuh?”
“Ha, good fucking question Stroop. I think they felt bad for you, John told me about what your old dad made you do to your kids, that sick fuck. The shelter takes you in but to avoid any issues they have to neuter you.”
“Nootuh?”
“They cut your balls off.”
Stroopwaffle let out a small ‘eep’ followed by a tiny squirt of piss.
“Exactly, anyone, seems like Jon didn’t want to take away your chance of being a dad again, you seemed to be quite proud of it.”
Stroopwaffle’s face dropped as he remembered his children. “Yeh, being daddeh gib Stwoopwaffeh da biggesh heawt-happies, bu meanie daddeh fowce Stwoopwaffeh tu gib babbehs wowstesh stompies, babbehs nu eben hab namesies yet. Du Mistah Tay-wuh knyo wha gib Stwoopwaffeh eben bigga heawt-huwties den babbehs guin foweba sweepeis?”
“What?”
“Wen speciaw-fwiend say she nu wub Stwoopwaffeh nu mowe cos gib babbehs stompies. Speciaw-fwiend see daddeh big Stwoopwaffeh shouties, she knyo dat Stwoopwaffeh nu wan huwt babbehs, bu stiww bwame Stwoopwaffeh fow babbehs guin foweba sweepies.”
“Christ, I’m sorry Stroop. She had no fucking right to say that.”
“It ok, Stwoopwaffeh undastan dat speciaw-fwiend was jus tawkies wiv angwies. Am bad tu tawkies wiv angwies, bu sumtimes we du wivout knyoin.”
There was a beat of silence that passed between the two for several seconds before Taylor slumped back in his chair with a deep sigh, dropping his parcel to the floor.
“Jesus, you’re a better man than me Stroop. When did Fluffies get so damn smart?”
“What Mistah Tay-wuh mean?”
Taylor fell silent again, the look on his face showing he was internally debating how much to tell Stroopwaffle, if anything at all. Eventually he took another sigh and figured it’d be good to get the story off his chest.
“It was a long time ago now, back when I had my first real relationship, my first proper special-friend. His name was Stephen.”
Taylor paused, half-expecting Stroopwaffle to say something but the Fluffalo stayed silent, eagerly awaiting the next part of the story.
“Now you’ll need to know a few things to understand what happened, firstly that I’ve always been technically minded, always loved taking things apart so I can see how everything worked. It’s just been my thing for as long as I can remember. Secondly, when me and Stephen were together, there was a bit of a bomb scare going about, big loud bangs that killed a lot of people. Bloody IRA. Anyway, me and Stephen were together for four years, which was a long fucking time for people like us back then, bought out own house together and everything. Then the news came that they’d found a bomb on one of our local buses, thankfully before it could do any harm. The police knew I was a local tinkerer so they came by as a formality to check that none of my equipment matched the evidence, which makes sense, better to rule me out quickly than have me as a potential dead-end for months. That wasn’t the issue, the issue was with Stephen.”
Taylor paused and reached over for a bottle of perfectly room temperature water that he’d left on his desk for a couple of days, he took a swing of the lukewarm liquid, more just to wet his mouth than anything, and then continued.
“When the police told Stephen they were investigating the bomb threat, something in his eyes changed, I don’t even know how to describe it but he looked… he looked like he believed I was the bomber, without a single fucking hesitation. After four years and countless struggles together, that he thought that little of me… well let’s just say that was the end of our relationship. Of course we didn’t break up until about six months later because we were young, dumb and full of stubbornness but that was the moment it ended for us, we just took too long to realise it.”
Taylor looked over at Stroopwaffle, chuckling at how engrossed the little big guy was in his tale. “Wowwies, su Mistah Tay-wuh’s speciaw-fwiend fink he was meanie? Dat am howwibew, Mistah Tay-wuh must hab had biggesh heawt-huwties.”
“Oh it hurt like fucking hell for a long time, took a long of drinking and a lot of drunken night in other people’s bed for me to recover from that one. Eventually I moved out here to the middle of nowhere in the hopes that I could move on, and I think I have, but there are times… no matter, can’t change what’s happened.”
“Weww Stwoopwaffeh fink Mistah Tay-wuh am vewy nice Mistah, an am gud fwiend.”
Taylor rolled his eyes but gave Stroopwaffle a friendly scratch behind the ears as thanks. “You’re alright Stroop. Ah shit, I almost forgot, the entire goddamn reason we came in here.”
Taylor reached down to the parcel he’d left on the floor, opening it up, Stroopwaffle saw a bundle of fabric, quite similar to his light brown coat.
“Wha am dat Mistah Tay-wuh?”
“This, my little friend, is a jacket. Specifically a jacket for you.”
“Fow Stwoopwaffeh? Bu Stwoopwaffeh nu need jakit, hab Fluff.”
“True, but not all your Fluff, right?”
Taylor pointed to Stroopwaffle’s side where the words ‘FOAL STOMPER’ were still etched into him.
“Those are bad words Stroop, they tell me you’ve done bad things. Now I know those bad things weren’t your fault, but other people might not, they might think you’re a bad Fluffy and hurt you without getting to know the truth. And those bad words have been burnt into your skin with acid, hurty water, which means your Fluff will never grow back over them, you’ll always have those bad words with you.”
Stroopwaffle’s face got visibly lower and lower as Taylor spoke, he had known about the pain in his side when his old daddy burnt him with the hurty water but he didn’t realise they were bad words. Seeing Stroopwaffle’s face starting to droop, Taylor quickly wrapped the coat around the Fluffalo’s body.
“Now this might feel a little loose, I didn’t know your measurements so I went with too much material over too little, but we can sort that out later. Until then…”
With only some minor awkwardness with getting the sleeves to fit round Stroopwaffle’s hoofs, eventually Taylor had managed to fit the jacket across the Fluffalo’s back, held in place by well-placed sleeves and a fashionable belt around his waist. The inner material was a light cotton which made it breathable so it wouldn’t overheat Stroopwaffle, and the outer coat was a faux-Fluff that almost perfectly matched Stroopwaffle’s, at first glance you’d never notice anything was different.
“Fank yu Mistah Tay-wuh, Stwoopwaffeh wub jakit.”
“I’m glad you like it, if it feels too loose or uncomfortable just let me know.”
“It am ok wight nyo. Wha am Mistah Tay-wuh gun du nyo?”
“Dunno, might head back to the kitchen, have some lunch, maybe stay here and tinker a bit more.”
“Can… can Stwoopwaffeh stay an watch?”
Taylor looked down at Stroopwaffle, slightly surprised that he would even think he had to ask. Then he smiled and slowly nodded.
“Sure, why not?”
Over the next couple of hours, Taylor worked away at some of his projects while Stroopwaffle listened, questioned, and even occasionally helped out by collecting small items like screws and nails. At least he did until he realised his jacket had pockets, then he spent several minutes stuffing them to the brim with nick-naks around the workshop.
Taylor let him had his fun, the little scamp’s joy was… infectious to say the least, and Taylor felt himself smile like he hadn’t done for a number of years now.
Eventually they heard the van pull into the Base and Jonathan, Artemis and Scarlett returned. Excited to show off his new coat, Stroopwaffle rushed through to greet them.
“Scahwet, Scahwet, wookies at wha Mistah Tay-wub gib Stwoopwaffle!”
Scarlett, still reeling from the emotional turmoil of her moral confusion, almost brushed Stroopwaffle away, until she saw the jacket and had to do a double-take.
“Wha da fuk am yu weawing?”
“I concur with Scarlett.” Jonathan interjected. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
“It am jakit, Mistah Tay-wub gib it tu Stwoopwaffeh tu hidies da bad wowdies in Stwoopwaffeh’s Fwuff.”
“So that’s what he was doing.” Artemis chuckled as she pulled out some toolboxes from the van. “Taylor asked me the other day for some sewing needles but wouldn’t tell me what they were for. Well it looks good on you Stroop don’t let the Depression Twins put you down.”
Jonathan looked over to argue but Artemis just smirked and turned away, knowing he had no argument, Jonathan conceded the loss and went to help her out. Scarlett meanwhile went to head for a nap, too drained from the day’s events. She took a couple of steps before Stroopwaffle suddenly stopped her.
“Um, Scahwet? Du yu… eh, du yu fink Stwoopwaffeh am bad Fwuffy?”
“Wha? Whewe da fuk did dis come fwom?”
“Jus, du yu fink Stwoopwaffeh am a bad Fwuffy? Eben knyoin dat Stwoopwaffeh gib babbehs foweba sweepies?”
Confused as to what Stroopwaffle was on about, and wanting to get some rest, Scarlett shook her head. “Nu, yu nu am bad Fwuffy, bit fukin weiwd bu nu bad.”
Stroopwaffle’s face lit up. “Weawwy? Su Scahwett nu finkies dat Stwoopwaffeh wan gib udda Fwuffies huwties?”
“Wha? Nu, yu am tuu muchies of a softy kunt tu eba gib huwties, nyo wha d afuk am yu… HEY!”
Stroopwaffle rushed forward and enveloped Scarlett in a tight hug. “Stwoopwaffeh fink Scahwett am gud Fwuffy tuu.”
“Stwoopwaffeh?”
“Yeh?”
“Wet Scahwett gu or Scahwett gun wip youw fukin weggies off.”
Stroopwaffle made no move to stop the hugging, and he noticed that Scarlett made no move to stop him either.
It seemed, if only for a moment, huggies did make thing a little better.
she hates it but she still allows it 