Samantha is a fluffy pegasus.
She has a nice playpen with blocks, blankets, a posse of stuffed animals, and she even has picture books. They only have pictures, but they are pretty pictures! Samantha likes explaining the pictures to her stuffed animals because they are not the brightestest bunch, and they can’t read like she can. This makes Samantha feel smart!
The carpet inside the enclosure is soft and pink as well. It’s the best space for a fluffy to spend her days. The food she is given is soft, delicious vegetable mush that her owner makes for her. It’s practically
human baby food! But the food and water bowls are in the kitchen because Samantha is a messy eater.
And Samantha is downtrodden about that fact. She doesn’t like it when she isn’t being praised by her owner! She doesn’t like being mean to her pretty carpet either! The worst feeling of all was when Samantha felt dumb!
Samantha used to have markers and crayons, many eternities ago to her small mind, and they had go be taken away too, because the fluffy kept leaving stains around her living area. So now, Samantha is tired of being a messy fluffy!
“Wai Sammatha su bad at bein’ gud!? Wan’ be gud fwuffy fo’ mummah!” lamented the little fluffy.
She threw herself against the fencing of her playpen, standing on her rear legs and bracing with her forward ones. Samantha then started to rattle it in order to get her owner’s attention.
“Mummah!”
“Mummah!”
“Mummah pwease come to Sammatha!”
“MUMMAH!” she shrieked,"PWEASE COME TO – "
Her owner barged into her spare room, wherein Samantha was kept in her pen. There was never any need to give an entire * room* to fluffies in her opinion; that was a waste of space and it only increased the likelihood of a fluffy pet getting itself killed in any number of ways.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Samantha, what the fuck is the matter with you?”
The fluffy recoiled and shrunk down into herself. Her owner was annoyed! And she was using that word that Samantha did not understand, but knew enough to recognize that it wasn’t spoken from a place of happiness. The only time that the word sounded happy was when a new daddy came over after her owner was out late on the weekends. Except the daddy never stuck around, and Samantha was never allowed to meet them anyhow. She only knew about them from the scent lingering around the house.
That was neither here nor there. “Mummah, Sammatha am gud fwuffy! Wan’ bowuw an’ wawa dishy backsies! An’ – an’ cowows fo’ doodows!”
The woman narrowed her eyes and sighed, frustratedly. “No, Samantha. Just saying you’re a good fluffy doesn’t make you a good fluffy, and I don’t need you making more unnecessary messes for me to clean.”
The words bit into Samantha’s little heart. Her mind raced to present a rebuttal while she felt stinging tears well in her eyes. "Buh – Buh Sammatha ma’e gud poooies in witta box! Ma’e gud peepees too!’
Her owner raised a brow. “I thought fluffies dropped the litter box thing once they grew up…” the woman mused to herself.
“NU! SAMMATHA PWOUD OF GUD POOPIES AN’ PEEPEES!” Samantha rocked on her hind hooves to shove the play pen with all the might and heft of a cotton ball.
“You’re being a bad fluffy, Samantha,” the woman stated simply, and then departed the room again.
Samantha screamed out in indignity and continued assaulting the sturdy enclosure until she got tired. Then, she limply fell onto her haunches and let herself cry until she had no more tears to cry.
Afterwards she took a nap.
When Samantha woke up again, she was still glum about what had happened earlier. To make herself feel better, she went to one of the picture books. There was a stuffed bunny nearby, so Samantha decided she was going to read to it.
The bunny probably never heard this story. Probably.
“An’ dis picshaw abowd how Sammatha a gud fwuffy.”
The pegasus turned to the next page.
“An’ dis picshaw abowd how Sammatha a gud fwuffy.”
She scooched her hoof across and turned the page.
“An dis picshaw abowd how Sammatha wan’ ma’e gud dwaw-wies an’ – an’ – huuu huuu huuu. Picshaw abowd how Sammatha a dummeh, messies fwuffy!”
Samantha clutched the bunny close and cried into its fabric. “Don’ wan be meanies to aww Sammatha stuffy fwends, an safe woomsies! Don’ wan be meanies to mummah!”
Samantha sobbed bitterly until she ran out of air in her lungs. She gasped down a breath and kept on crying. Soon, her owner returned with concern emblazoned on her countenance.
“Samantha, what the fuck is going on!?” she asked, though her voice was soft and sympathetic.
“Huu huu, Sammatha feew saddies fo’ bein’ messy fwuffy! Am sowwy fo’ bein’ messy fwuffy! Jus’ wan’ nummies and cowow stickies backsies! Buh’ too messy!”
Samantha’s owner scooped her up in her arms and hugged the fluffy. “Samantha, you dumbass. You can still eat food, and color in your book! You just can’t do it here!”
“Huu – huuu – huuuuu… Wha’ mummah meansies?”
“I mean you can eat and draw in the kitchen. I can clean tile. I can’t keep using the shop-vac on your carpet.”
Samantha sobbed the trailing edge of her sadness away. “Weawwy?”
“Samantha, you asshole, I’m going to drop you if you don’t get your shit together.”
“Huu huu, am sowwy, mummah. Sammatha gon’ ged Sammatha shid togetha.”
Try this on for size.
