“Hewwo? Hewwo? Huuuuu nu can heaw…”
It was like this all over North Haverbrook. In alleys and parking lots across the city, a new craze had taken off that wreaked havoc on the local fluffy populations. A TikTok of a mummah panicking and breaking her own neck trying to flee whatever deafened her had gone so viral that the dipshittiest 30% or so of most American suburbs were probably going to deny it existed and then drink Preparation H.
Anything that fits would do it. Fluffy ear canals are designed, rather than the result of natural selection. In many ways, this is an asset for the fluffy. Their high intelligence (for an animal) is a direct result of this. But often, deisgns like the ear canal were de-emphasized to ensure the viability of more…marketable aspects.
In essence, most of the poor damned bastards had ear canals straighter than a gender reveal party catered by Chik Fil A. So “anything that fits” was a pretty broad list of things.
…
A terrified tuffy is scrambling back into the alley for help. He can’t hear bestest hewd! Can’t hear smarty! Can’t hear ANYTHING!
At the mouth of the alley, a teenager eats roasted peanuts, satisfied with how he used two of them.
…
A single mother just clocked out from Wendy’s. It is 4 AM, and her state re-legalized 24 hour restaurants. Two steps forward, twelve steps back. She arrives at her car to find a terrified unicorn shivering under the front bumper.
She sighs. She doesn’t have it in her to deny another one of these things basic necessities tonight. They look like cartoons, but they beg like children. Scream like them, too. She turns the key and the engine roars to life. She gives him a few seconds to skitter away, not really looking to see if he had. It’s late…or early? She doesn’t know, but she shifts into drive, pulls forward and-
HRNKKKKKKKK
…
All over town, chaos. Fluffies are a nuisance, but their saving grace is their predictability. They are limited in what damage they can cause because they obey pretty comprehensive rules dictated by their biology. All their instincts are strong and singular, they are rarely confused by their instincts. It’s everything else they fuck up.
In a park, a mare cries. She was a mummah this morning, but not anymore. She can’t hear the laughs of her children now.
Not that they’re laughing from inside her mangled ear canals.