Bob built three more litter boxes in the other fields.
Many good poopies were made in them within minutes of their erection.
One stallion had even gotten so excited when Bob started digging to level out the foundation for the litter box in his field that he’d immediately crapped on Bob’s shovel.
Back at the barn, dozens of disappointed fluffs were gathered.
Beef Supreme was cheek-puffingly furious as this turn of events.
“Dummeh fawmeh teww fwuffies dem gotta maek poopies in dem bawksies. Beefie Supweme gon maek poopies wewebuh him WAN maek poopies!”
A few of the other colts neighed their agreement, pomfing the hay with their hooves.
Then the red stallion trotted over to the feed troughs, still half-full of Fluffy Kibble
“An Dummeh Fawmer sez fwuffies godda num kibbuw 'steada get nummy SKETTIES! Him got wossa sketties obew deaw in dat woom! Su manies sketties!”
Fluffy-sized fury began to spread among the crowd. They all knew Beef Supreme was right. They had all seen the buckets of skettis stacked soooo high over their heads that they could scarcely see the top.
Sketti skyscwapews.
Panini didn’t like where this was headed. He wanted sketties too, and he didn’t want to deal with trotting out to no litterbox whenever he needed to make poopies…but he was Not ready to cross Farmer Bob again.
Beef Supreme never asked for his opinion, and instead pomfed back and forth furiously, looking for the proper words to inspire his cadre.
“Fwuffies gon’ go un TEWW dat dummeh fawmew weez gonna get dem sketties!”
there was a smattering of approval from the crowd ‘yuh. Wut him sez wite.’
“Dewe whoooowe wotsa fwuffies, but dey onwy one fawmuh!”
more of the crowd joined in now ’ Yuh huh! Gib him da baddes hoofies!”
“We gon’ go maek Sowwy Poopies aww obuh dem wittew bawksus!”
Their tiny anger was reaching a fever pitch, now. Dozens of tiny stallions and colts puffed out their cheeks and pomfed the ground in agreement.
In this instant Panini almost grasped the idea of “irony”; Wondering how making poopies in the poopie boxes was going to make Farmer Bob see the error of his ways.
Beef Supreme reared up on his hind legs and pawed at the air as menacingly as he could
“C’mawn fwuffies! Wet’s go git bak Sketti Wand!!!”
He wheeled and galloped out the door, followed closely by a phalanx of his fellow fluffs, shouting for boo-boo juice. *
Panini followed them, with hurty wawas filling up his see-placies.
He knew this could only end badly.
“CHAWWWWGE!” bellowed Beef Supreme
“Wess go GIT him!”
“Wewe dummeh fawmuh at?”
“GUUUUHHW!” Asparagus growled
“stompunimstompunimstompunim!”
“Wun Sketties Wun Sketties Wun Sketties Wun Sketties”
The tiny herd of Wild Stallio…
….well, that’s not exactly right…
Emboldened Stallions wheeled in the tall grass, sweeping across the land.
While they weren’t quite churning up the turf, they were making a few grasshoppers have a bad day.
They found Bob on his knees beside the barn, using a damp rag to scrub away months of caked-on shit stains from the walls, and making good progress. He had about fifteen feet of siding cleaned up and shining in the bright Summer sun. He was utterly nonplussed when he heard the herd coming back to challenge him.
Their irritated hoofbeats slowed and formed a semicircle at his back, as Bob continued his scrubbing, and occasionally peeling away the worst of the mess with a putty knife.
Roughly two dozen fluffs were gathered just behind him, huffing and pomfing and growling as best their little bodies could manage.
He nonchalantly turned around and gave his most winning grin to their leader.
“Well hey there Beefie! How are you doing? What can I do for you today?”
The red stallion huffed rapidly
“You gon gib us back aww dem Sketti Days! Fwuffies not WAWNA eat deh kibbwes ebwy bwite tiem, un ebwy dawk tiem.”
“Ohhh.” Bob turned back to the wall, dunking his rag in a bucket of soapy water and wiping the barn siding
He nodded “I had a feeling you wouldn’t be too happy about that.”
A long pause ensued as these angry fluffies watched Bob work.
Beef Supreme whipped his head around making his cowbell clang
“Weww!? Ib ebwy day gon’ be sketti day ugin? Ow duz fwuffies needsa gib dummeh fawmew wuwstes ouchies?”
Asparagus, the dull green stallion with a rubber band around his no-no places, ran to the newly cleaned wall and accentuated Beefie’s point by rearing up and spraying bad poopies as high as he could on the wall, before turning and glaring at Bob with a malign smile. He was pretty perturbed about how much hims no-no pwacies were hurting and changing colors. Since he couldn’t make enfies anymore, the only thing he looked forward to now was Sketti Day, and this old man was trying to take that away from him.
Rather than answer, Bob leaned over and caught Asparagus by the scruff. He held the little jackass over the water just long enough for it to guess what was going to happen next, and dunked him into the sudsy water and held him there for a moment.
“No, Beefie, I don’t think that’s going to happen”
he yanked a gasping, crying, dripping pile of fluffy out of the bucket, and pressed it to the wall where
it had sprayed the shit, swiping away those wet stains with vigor.
“Instead, you’re all going to eat kibble, and you’re going to like it.”
at this point he turned and presented Asparagus to the crowd, holding his shit-smeared face close enough for Beef Supreme to look him in the eyes
“Hewp, HEWP, mummah huuuuuuuuuuu!
he then dunked 'Gus into the bucket again, and shook him around, before going back to wiping off the wall
One of the colts in the back decided that it was time to run to the litter box with his tail between his legs.
Beefie puffed out his cheeks and bellowed “NUH! DIS GONNA BE SKETTI DAY FOWEBUS! YU NOT SCAWE BEEF SUPW”
Before he could finish saying his own name Bob wheeled and reached for the red fluffy, causing it to roll backward and bowl over two of his own compatriots.
“Oh, you’re not scared by me?
Bob started swiping Asparagus against the grain of the siding, which the damp little fluffy loudly protested.
Beefie had only gotten back to his feet when 'Gus let out a terrible screech of pain. A trail of boo-boo juice smeared the wall behind him.
“Oh! Would you look at that.”
'Gus’s little no-no bits had gotten pinched between a gap in the siding, and had torn away from his body. They were shriveled and blackened from the elastration band that Gus had worn for the past three days.
“I hadn’t expected those to fall off for another couple of days.” Bob pinched the shriveled little penis between his fingers and wiggled it out of the gap, before turning back to Beef Supreme and his cronies.
“Beefie, the way I see it, you have two choices” the farmer took a menacing step into the crowd. They scattered and trembled as though sky-daddy himself was stomping among them.
Bob’s voice was a low whisper now “either you turn around Right Now, go make some good poopies in the litter box, and then come to the barn tonight for your kibble, like a good fluffy,”
Bob regarded the sopping, sobbing, bleeding shitstain in his hand
“or tonight, you can have what Gus is having for dinner.”
he quickly jammed the withered remains of Asparagus’ Special Place into it’s mouth and closed his hand over the fluffy’s muzzle. He blew a puff of breath into it’s eyes and the biotoy involuntarily closed it’s eyes, held it’s breath… and swallowed.
Realization of what had just happened crept across Gus’s eyes and he fell slack in the farmer’s hand, quietly sobbing.
Bob let Gus fall to the ground, and roll over into a whimpering pile.
The farmer stared down the red stallion and raised one eyebrow
“So are we done here,
or is it your turn to help me clean my wall?”
Beefie wheeled to his crowd of supporters…to find that only he and Panini were left on the field of battle. All the rest of those brave fluffies were now scrambling over the wall of the litter box.
Beef Supreme tucked his tail between his legs, but it didn’t do him much good, the shit still came burbling out of him as he took off running. His front knees kicked the cowbell up to bounce off his chin with every stride, making a sound like
‘pomfpomfCLANGOW!pomfpomfCLANGOW!pomfpomfCLANGOW!’
Panini glanced back at Bob, then at Asparagus, and back at the farmer, on the verge of abject horror
“I know, Panini. I’m gonna take care of him. Gus isn’t going forever sleepies.”
Reassured, Panini wheeled and followed his herd.
With that done, Bob walked back to Asparagus’ poor little puddle, and knealt down beside him.
“C’mon, let’s get you fixed up. I’ve got a job for you to do.”
\
*When Bob recanted this story later on he referred to it as the “Charge of the Extremely Light Brigade”
