Robert was your typical 40 year old man, he worked hard at his job in order to support his wonderful wife who did most of the housework and a young, excitable daughter that had now made it to the second grade.
Currently, the family was preparing for the holidays as the parents made arrangements for that year’s Christmas Feast by calling up most of their close family and seeing if they would be able to make it or not. Of course, their daughter, Cynthia, was preparing as well by writing up a wishlist full of toys and games to mail to Santa Clause. Once completed, she merrilly skipped across the hall and rushed down the stairs to her parents whom were taking a short break with some coffee before their daughter arrived.
“Mommy, daddy, my list is all done! Could you mail it to Santa for me now? Please? I don’t want him to miss our house because he didn’t get the list!” She begs, waving her paper covered in crayon scribbles and writing. Her father lets out a hearty chuckle as she plucks her daughter from the ground and places her on his lap “Oho, you know that Santa wouldn’t miss our house, unless…have you been a good girl this year little lady?” He asks teasingly as both he and his daughter chortle, her assuring him that she had indeed been good with a nod “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about! Now run along back to your room while your mother and I are very busy but we’ll come and check up on you in a little while, sound good?” He asks, his daughter nodding once again before running off upstairs
“So, what did she ask for this year Saint Robbie?” His wife asks, giving her husband a taste of his own medicine which he didn’t seem to mind “Well let’s see here…Little Cynthia asked me and my lovely Mrs. Clause to get her a dollhouse, a coloring book, and a foal in a can. Huh, that Hasbio Corporation just keeps inventing new ways to sell those fluffy things don’t they?” He asks, adjusting his glasses whilst his wife, Martha, simply rolls her eyes “Well if people keep buying it then it only makes sense to sell more of it right?” She says before taking a sip from her coffee mug. “I suppose so, I’m just thankful that her needs are so simple, I’ve heard of people at the office practically fighting for overtime to make the money for their kid’s presents.”
The next day, the family takes a trip down to the mall with Martha’s Parents taking their grandchild to see Santa Claus in person whilst their daughter and her husband sneak off to buy gifts and load them into the car before their daughter can see. One by one, they hit the shops and manage to pick up a stack of coloring books, a bag of candies, and a dollhouse which they all keep concealed in the trunk under an old tarp that Robbert’s Father used during his time as a home remodeler.
Things were going smoothly as they checked off their daughter’s christmas wishes off of her list until they came to the final one - a foal in a can. Despite the numerous vending machines dotted around the mall, every single one seemed to be completely out of stock with even the bad colored foals being picked up by desperate parents. “Guess these things are more popular than we thought” Mathra remarks, looking at the machine with a cracked window caused by an attempt to bust the thing open “Well it’s to be expected, I’m sure plenty of other folks thought the same thing we did and would just pick up a canned foal while they were here. I’m sure that they’ll be restocked tomorrow and we can just pick one up then while you and your parents go looking for a christmas tree.” Robert says confidently, though little did he know that getting his hands on a canned foal would be much more tricky than that.
Weeks go by and Robert drives to every mall, convenience store, and grocery outlet in his county only to find that the foal in a can machines were completely out of stock, all the while he’d watch his daughter excitedly set things up in preparation for her new friend to be, getting a litter box, food dish, and water bowl all the way she liked them. Of course,her mother made sure that Cynthia knew what was being asked of her by letting a fluffy into their home as she practiced checking the litter box, food, and water so that she could get in the routine of doing it all by herself.
Soon, desperation turned to fear and woe as Robert continued his search only to come up empty handed every single time, eventually caving to his wife just three days before the big day in their bedroom “I just don’t get it Martha, I’ve been to every corner of this town and beyond and I just can’t find one of those darn canned foals. Just what is it that makes them so popular anyhow?!” He moans, staring up at the ceiling with despair only to have his wife place a hand onto his “It’s not your fault dear, these canned foals are new so people are bound to scoop them up. Also I heard from Melissa that a shipment coming across the sea was lost due to the container not being fastened down properly, so there is sure to be a shortage as well. Besides-” She huffs, moving her body so that she were now fully cuddling her lover “You have gone well out of your way for our daughter, I’m sure she won’t mind not getting a fluffy inside of a glorified mason jar”
“…Say that again.” Robert says, his eyes going wide as he slowly sits up in bed “A fluffy inside of a mason jar?” Martha asks, now being somewhat concerned for her husband “That’s it! That’s what we’ll do! I’ll just go get a fluffy foal, put it inside one of our mason jars! Honey I love you!” Rob blurts out happily, rolling over and placing a kiss on his wife’s lips before the two capitalized on the moment by having things become a bit more intimate between them.
Early the next morning, Rob rushes out the door and speeds off to the nearest Fluffy Mart, practically bursting through the doors as he and several other frantic shoppers try to make some last minute gift purchases. Of course, Robert’s Eyes were set on the foal pen which he quickly rushed over to only to find that it was completely empty, sure he could simply buy foals that were returned after christmas, but by then it would be all but too late. Much like before, he went from store to store in search of his daughter’s last gift only for the results to be all the same as the foals were either sold or thrown into the incinerator early so that employees didn’t have to come in on the holiday to take care of them and to make room for the inevitable returns.
At this point, Robert was completely defeated as he sat in his car wondering what words he’d use when his daughter inevitably either threw a tantrum or bawled her eyes out for not getting her foal in a can. A long, heavy sigh escaped his lips, but just as he was about to start the engine and drive away, he heard something pound on the side of his car. Initially, he thought it was something wrong with the engine, which if it was the case he was about to lose his mind but thankfully it’s just turn out to be something trying to get in
Rolling down his windshield, the 40 year old man peeked out his window and down at the side of his car where a large yellow mare could be seen along with three foals on her back. “Pwease, nice mistah, be neu daddeh? Mummah nee’ wawm housie fo’ babbehs. Nee’ nummies fo’ mawk bestest miwkies fo’ babbehs.” She pleads, looking up at him with the same desperation he had when asking all of those store workers. He certainly did feel her pain, but at the same time he couldn’t take care of a whole family of fluffies and his own. He knew what he had to do, but he took no pride in doing it.
“Sure, I’ll be your daddy. Hand me that little pink baby you got and I’ll pull her and the rest of you into my car” He says, holding out his hand whilst the mare’s face lights up with excitement. “Wewwy? Mummah hab suu mawny hawt happies! Mummah an’ bebbahs am bestest fwuffies ebbah!” She exclaimed, meanwhile her foals chirped and peeped excitedly as she took her pink foal by the scruff of its neck and hoisted it up as high as she could. Carefully, Robert lifted the foal into his car, placed it in the passenger seat, and quickly put the thing into reverse before driving off.
The mother on the other hand hardly had any time to react as she fell forward onto her stomach and muttered ‘owie’ before realizing that the car was leaving without her and her babies “BESTEST?! NU TAKE BESTEST BEBBAH! BEBBAH AM TU WITTLE! NEE’ MUMMAH AN’ MIWKIES AN’ WUB!” She calls out, though her stubby hooves couldn’t keep pace with the car as it quickly exits the parking lot with her bestest.
In her panicked state, the mare had completely forgotten about her two other foals whom were currently attempting to catch up with their much faster parent “Mummah! Nu weab bebbahs! Am gud bebbahs!” One of them pleads, though in their own blind panic the two had failed to notice a car speeding towards them and promptly crushes the leading baby under its uncaring tires.
Spooked by the sudden death of their sibling at the hands of the ‘vroomie monster’, the second foal attempts to run back to the alleyway which they called home only to be stepped on by a man dressed as Santa whom was trying to get donations for charity.
In its fading moments of life, the half-crushed foal could do nothing but try and call out for its mother, whom at this point had realized her mistake all but too late.With tears in her eyes, the mother attempts to get her last foal to wake up only for it to finally give up its fight for consciousness and slip into the world beyond.
Meanwhile, the last surviving foal would not be any better as the sudden ‘adoption’ had caused her to soil themselves out of fear “Nu wike vwoomie munstah! Huu huu huu! Wan Mummah! Wan Miwkies! Pwease, Nicie Mistah, pwease bwing bebbah tu mummah!” She pleads, though her words fall on mostly deaf ears as a wave of relief and guilt washes over Robert during the entire car trip back to their home.
Finally in the home stretch, Robert snakes his way inside, grabs a jar from the cupboard, and makes his way into the bedroom with the foal safely inside the jar. Of course, he knew that the thing would need air, so instead of using the lid, he’d just poke a few holes in some printer paper using a pencil before fastening it on using one of his wife’s old hair ties. Already they had managed to soil the jar as they bang on their leathery hooves and beg to be let out “Pwease! Fwuffie am a gud fwuffie! Nu wike sowwy gwassie box! Fwuffie nu kno’ wa fwuffie do bu’ fwuffie pwomise nu do ‘gain!”
Already Robert was contemplating throwing the jar out but his daughter wanted it and to be fair he did just rip a child away from its family which was understandable “It’s okay, it’s o-k, you’re gonna have a new mummah soon! She’ll give you plenty of milk, and hugs, and love!” He says, trying to calm the small creature which worked surprisingly well “Wewwy? Fwuffy neu mummah hab miwkies an wawm housie?” It sniffs, drying some of its tears using a piss-soaked hoof “Yes, but you gotta promise to be good or else you’ll stay in the jar, okay?” Rob asks with an eyebrow raised and both hands on his hips “Otay, Fwuffie be gud fwuffie fo’ new mummah.”
The next few days pass without incident, the foal’s jar was emptied, rinsed out, and resealed once a day, a process which when coupled with their incessant demands to see their new mother, be fed, and played with, left both the parents feeling more and more jaded and bitter towards the creature with the only thing ensuring that the thing wasn’t killed being that their daughter really wanted it and Rob had gone through so much effort to get the damn thing.
When Christmas Eve finally rolled around, the jar was about to be sealed up in wrapping paper “Daddeh, fwuffie nu wike dawkies. Fwuffie am scawdies!” It whimpers, though by now Robert was at his limit with the creature, as he continues wrapping and even gives the thing a firm shake when he sees the foal trying to climb out.
The foal was placed under the tree along with several other presents, the scent of fresh scaredy peepees and poopies giving it away instantly as Cynthia sits down by the tree and ponders over which present to open first. Of course, the foul stench puts her off as she turns to her parents with her nostrils pinched “Daddy, what is that smell? It smells like rotten eggs!” She asks whilst cringing from the oder “Well why don’t you open the place where it’s coming from and find out, I promise that you’ll love it” Robert says, though his tone of voice was not as warm as it usually was and sounded more exhausted than anything.
Although skeptical, Cynthia did as her father told her to and began ripping open the small jar where a small pink foal could be seen stewing in their own waste “Am neu mummah? Fwuffie am su ‘cited! Wub neu mummah!” The foal chirp whilst attempting to climb out of the jar once more, only for the young girl to set the jar off to the side with a look of disgust. Of course, Martha was the one to clean things up before handing the foal off to their daughter whom seemed to take it better now that it was cleaned. Finally, the nightmare was over, their daughter was happy and the two parents sat resting by the fire whilst their daughter named and played with her new pet.
At long last, Christmas Day was upon them. Robert was holding a personal video camera ready to film his daughter’s excitement as she unwrapped her presents and Martha was in the kitchen making pancakes for everyone. Sadly, instead of running down the stairs with excitement and glee, Cynthia came bawling and screaming with visible brown streaks in her hair and on her Hello Kitty Pajamas. Naturally, the parents rushed to her aid to see what was the matter, but all she could do was point to the top of the stairs where the bright pink fluffy foal stood “Wittle mummah! Nu fogewt Cawton Candwy!”
This was the final straw, Robert and Martha had taken care of that little annoying pink hellspawn for three days and three nights which to them felt more like three whole weeks. They were fed up, and Robert would be the one to finally snap as he grabbed the foal by the tail and carried it out like a dead mouse.
“SCREE! BAD UPPIES! CAWTON CANDWY NU WIKE! NU HEWT FWUFFY! AM ONWY WITTLE BEBBAH!” It cries, though Robert’s mind was already made up. He spun the fluffy around and round by its tail before finally letting go and launching it through the air before rolling and skidding across the pavement. Chunks of fluff and tender flesh were forcibly torn from the foal’s body, its bones being shattered and teeth being knocked loose from tumbling across the walkway until finally coming to a stop in a growing pool of its own blood.
Despite its grave injuries, the foal managed to cling on to life, chirping and peeping out of fear whilst Robert slowly closed the distance between him and the shitrat “I’ve gone through hell and back to make Christmas the best it could be for my daughter. I give you a warm house and someone who will love and take care of you, and you decide to shit on my daughter?! You little shit, I should have left you to die with the rest of your family”
With that, Robert slammed the door closed on the mangled fluffy foal to comfort his daughter whilst the fluffy attempted to drag itself back to the front door. Its pace was slow even by fluffy standards, its weak front hooves were barely inching itself forward and yet its sheer determination to get to the only family it had left kept it moving. Finally, after nearly half an hour of crawling, it managed to reach the front door, leaving a trail of blood and fur behind them.
Unfortunately for them, before they could knock on the front door, a gangly black cat came running from out of the bushes and pounced on the bright pink foal, its teeth sinking into its neck and finally putting the creature out of its misery with a low growl. The cat was nothing but skin and bones, a mangey black coat clinging to its body and emerald green eyes that lit up as the taste of fluffy blood rolled over its tongue.
The thing was a stray, abandoned by its owner when they moved away and it having little to no idea how to live on the streets, though it still had its survival instincts which immediately kicked in the moment the house door opened and there stood Robert whom came to finish the job now that his daughter was okay.
The cat’s ears folded back, their teeth on full display as they let out a sharp hiss. This was their meal, and they would rather die at the hands of a human then to slowly starve on the streets, though to their surprise the human was not there to shoo them off or hurt them but rather to feed them with a small bowl of ham scraps. As it turned out, Martha had seen the entire attack unfold whilst her daughter happily scribbled in her coloring book, and it was right then and there that both she and her husband came up with an idea.
It took a lot of time, effort, and meat scraps, but the black cat grew close with the family and even managed to go into their house for food. Before anyone knew it, the cat was a part of the family and given the name ‘Baxter’ by Cynthia. The old amenities that were to be used for the fluffy were instead given to the cat along with getting some things of their own including a small bed, toys, and even a deep blue collar with their name proudly displayed on a silver fish-shaped tag. Even though Cynthia didn’t get the fluffy she wanted for Christmas, she still got what she wanted most of all - a friend.
~ THE END ~
