Fluffy Pony Haiku
An Impromptu Poetry Session
by Technicolor Carnage and Wangew Wick
Shitrats in my yard.
“Dis am smawty wand, dummeh!”
Fuck fluffy ponies.
Brown, looming mountain
with a stench that could slay gods.
Fluffy took a shit.
Smarty’s special friend
had a litter of eight foals.
Where’s my pitching wedge?
Tiny horns and wings,
or just nothing more than fuzz.
Not a one is safe.
Stupid fucking mare
wanted “babbehs” more than food.
Starved as a feral.
Unfinished project
running rampant through the streets.
PETA dun’ fucked up.
Walking down the street,
saw fluffies in the alley.
Fed them rat poison.
Wet roadside ditches
filled to the brim with corpses
of obnoxious pets
Killed a herd today.
Didn’t mean to—all I did
was dig a koi pond.
The shelters are full.
No room left for cats and dogs.
Fluffs breed like rabbits.
Fluffy pony foals
are soft, cuddly, and cute,
and taste best deep-fried.
Neuter foals early.
Waiting too long can give them
chronic depression.
You like arts and crafts?
Fluffy testes are cheaper
than craft store puff balls.
The soon-mummah eats
fresh, green grass, leaving bare spots.
Time to test new boot!
All of my roses
are gone thanks to those shitrats.
They’ll shit out the thorns.
My old mare refused
to eat her kibble. So I
made her eat her legs.
Ghost peppers are fun:
when your pet demands “sketties”,
mix them in the sauce.
When your breeder mare
makes only shit-color foals,
milkbag that fucker.
