You’re a fluffy. Your name is Petra.
You have grey fluff, a green mane and tail, and yellow see-places. And you have a hownie.
You’re a very happy fluffy.
You live in a country called Gweece, with your daddeh, and the two of you are happy together.
The sitty you and your daddeh live in is called Aff-ens.
It’s very warm around here. You like that, because fluffies don’t like the cold, but sometimes it gets too warm.
Right now, he’s taken you to a big old stone housie.
It’s called the… um…
You look up at your daddeh.
“Daddeh, wut am dis housie cawwed?”
He smiles down at you.
“It’s called the Parthenon, Petra. It’s very old. In ancient times, people worshipped the goddess Athena here. She was the goddess of wisdom.”
“Wut wow-ship meen?”
“They’d pray to her. Ask her to protect them. The ancient Greeks worshipped many gods, y’know.”
“Wut gawds?”
“Well, there was Zeus, the god of the sky, Ares, the god of war, and Poseidon, the god of the sea, among others.”
“Wawa am bad fow fwuffies.”
“Yeah, it’s not good for humans either, which is why sailors would pray to Poseidon for safe passage.”
“Did dat wowk?”
“Not always, Petra.”
Later, you and your daddeh stop at a baw to get a drink.
He’s drinking wine. You’re lapping up a bowl of apple juice.
“You were thirsty, huh?”
“Yus, daddeh.”
“I gotta say, Petra: I’m happy to call you my fluffy. You’ve always been a good fluffy. I’ve been feeling lonely ever since I moved here. I’m glad I’ve got you to keep me company.”
“Can Petra haf sketties watew?”
“Weeeellllllllll… it is sketties day.”
“Yay! Petwa wub sketties! An Petwa wub daddeh tuu!”
“And I love you, Petra. You’re so dependable. You’re my rock.”
When you get home, you and your daddeh have dinner.
Your daddeh is sitting at the ta-buw, numming something called moo-sah-kah, and you’re on the fwoow, numming a bowl of sketties, just like daddeh promised.
You always look forward to sketties day.
You happily num a meatiebaww.
Daddeh says they’re made of something called wamb.
So what are meatiebawws usually made of?
You look up at your daddeh to ask, and when you look him in the see-places, something strange happens.
KHNK
Your daddeh turns to stone.
“D-daddeh?”
Okay, don’t panic, Petra.
There’s gotta be a way to fix this.
You think, and you think, and you think.
Of course!
You know how to fix this!
Huggies!
Huggies fix everything!
So you run over to your daddeh to hug him, but as you do so, he falls over, out of his chaiw.
SHATTER
And then he breaks into lots and lots of pieces.
“Daddeh! Nu!”
You start crying, hugging the biggest piece of your daddeh left.
His head.
“Huu… Petwa am sowwy, daddeh… huu huu… pwease git bettew… huuuu… nu gu foweba sweepies…”
Then you realize what you should have done.
You should get help.
Maybe someone can put your daddeh back together! And turn him back to normal!
You head outside, through the fluffy flap.
You see the nice mistah living next door, in his gawden, and you run up to the fence as fast as a fluffy can.
“Mistah! Petwa daddeh nee hewp!”
He looks you in the see-places.
“What’s wrong, Pet–”
KNHK
And then he turns to stone too.
Why does that keep happening?!?
You run through the streets, looking for someone, anyone who can help you.
Luckily, your daddeh had left the gate open.
But everyone you look in the see-places turns to stone.
KNHK
KNHK
KNHK
And you don’t know why.
Anyone who isn’t turning to stone is running away, and trying not to look at you.
“Προστατέψτε τα μάτια σας! Έχει ένα βλέμμα που μετατρέπει έναν άντρα σε πέτρα!”
“Βοήθεια! Μέδουσα χνουδωτό!”
"Πού είναι ο Περσέας όταν τον χρειάζεσαι?!?"
You don’t know what they’re saying. Fluffies have enough trouble understanding English.
You start crying again.
“Huuu! Wai am dis happun-in tu Petwa?!? Petwa nu wan!”
You hear someone speak up behind you.
“Close your eyes. My name’s Calvin. Call me Cal. Everyone does. I’m here to help you, Petra.”