You’re sitting on your front porch, enjoying a beer; this seems to be the favorite pasttime of most men in your neighborhood. Not that there’s a lot else to do in a small town in an isolated region of the north that turns into a frozen wasteland half the year. You nod to your neighbor as he lets the four Stooges, as everyone calls them, out of his backyard to roam around. You’ve heard feral fluffies are a serious nuisance, even devastating, down south, but the Stooges and that dumbass Smarty are the only ones you’ve ever seen. The Stooges are pretty well behaved, and you guess they don’t really count as feral now that your neighbor claimed them, and Smarty… he’s an asshole, but on his own he’s harmless. You can see how a whole herd that behaved like him- knocking over trash cans, devouring gardens, shitting everywhere, harassing people- could be a real problem, but all by himself? He can’t do any damage. So everyone tolerates him. No idea how he’s going to survive winter since he’s pretty much burned all his bridges, but the Stooges at least found themselves a home.
You’re watching the Stooges, Larry, Curly, Moe, and Shemp (you have no idea which is which, and don’t much care) romp around in the neighbor’s yard when something catches their attention and they all stand and face the same direction. That means one of two things, and since you don’t hear the ice cream truck…
Yep, here comes that little asshole Smarty. You’d recognize that ball of brown and orange anywhere. He’s soaking wet and leaving the direction of Mrs. Watson’s yard; probably tried to annex her land AGAIN and got his ass kicked AGAIN. He tries this shit every single day, and it never works. You’d think he’d catch on, or at least try a different approach, but from what you’ve read on the internet and seen in the news, this sort of behavior is probably hardwired into him.
Oh great. The little shithead is detouring into your driveway and has his eye on you. You sigh in disgust, set your beer down, and get up to intercept him. You don’t want him shitting on your porch again. Speaking of which… you grab a pair of rubber gloves, like the ones your wife uses to wash dishes. You keep them on the porch just for dealing with Smarty.
You’re not putting up with his stupidity and arrogance today. Before he gets a word in, you stomp your foot on your driveway, startling him, puff your cheeks up in the same asinine way he always does, and shout, “DUMMY FLUFFY! THIS IS MY LAND NOW! YOU GO AWAY, OR YOU’LL GET BIGGEST OWIES!”
The Stooges, watching with interest, are cracking up. One of them is literally laughing so hard he pissed himself and it’s all over the sidewalk.
Smarty looks bewildered for a second, then pissed. He stomps his little hoof and puffs his cheeks up.
“NU, DUMMEH HOOMIN! DIS SMAWTY WAND NAO! WEAVE OW GET BIGGES OWIES!”
“No, this is MY land! You leave or get biggest owies!”
“Whu- awe… awe yoo copyin smawty?”
“Whu- are… are you copying smarty?”
“NU! NU NU NU!”
“No! No no no!”
You stop and dance around with your cheeks puffed up the same way he is; he’s so enraged with your mockery of him that he’s spitting and making incoherent noises now. The Stooges are all leaning on each other and laughing.
“Stawp! Stawp! Cuwwy nu can take mowe! Wibbies huwt!”
Smarty finally runs out of breath and just stands there grinding his teeth and making a hissing noise through his nose. Then he looks up at you and snarls, “Yoo ask fow dis! Yoo get bigges owies!”
“Interesting. Allow me to retort.”
You kick him in the ribs and he goes flying down the sidewalk, landing near the Stooges. He makes “buh” noises and pained grunts while struggling to his feet. One of the Stooges reaches over with a hoof and gently tips him over again; they crack up again. Man, usually they just sit there and watch, but today they’re really laughing it up.
Smarty eventually gets to his feet, glaring at the other fluffies, then decides to ignore them and stomps his way down the sidewalk toward you again.
“Otay, nu mowe nice smawty!”
Wait- when was he ever nice?
“Yoo take smawty sewiouswy nao! Gif sowwy poopies!”
Aaaaaaand THAT is why you brought the gloves. Smarty turns to point his ass at you and you grab him by the tail and yank him up into the air.
You hold him over the trash can and shake him a few times.
“Owies! Taiw huwties! Wet smawty gu!”
“You still gonna give me sorry poopies?”
“Oh yeh… SOWWY POOPIES, DUMMEH!”
The shit runs out his ass and directly down his torso.
“NUUUUU! WHY GIF SMAWTY SOWWY POOPIES?! Huuhuuu… Why be meanie tu smawty?”
“You gave yourself sorry poopies, dumbass.”
“Yoo am meanie dummeh! Wet smawty gu!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that. What?”
“PUHT. SMAWTY. DOWN. NAO!”
You let go of his tail and he falls into your empty trash can headfirst.
“Owies! Huuhuuhuuuu, why gif smawty head huwties? Huuuuu…”
Serves him right. The trash can is empty, you were gonna bring it up to the house, but now that Smarty is in it and covered in shit…
Oh, you magnificent bastard.
“Hey guys, c’mere a second!”
The Stooges all look at each other, shrug, and trot over to see what you want. You pick up the closest one, which makes the others back up nervously, wondering what you’re up to. You hold him over the trash can and squeeze his gut.
He looks up just time for you to squeeze a bunch of fluffy shit out and land it directly into his face with a wet PLOP.
The Stooge in your arms cracks up laughing and pisses all over Smarty too. As soon as his stream of piss trails off, you set him down and gesture for another to come over. He giggles and lets you pick him up; this one you don’t have to squeeze, he takes an enthusiastic dump all over Smarty and then pisses like a fire hose.
“AAGHBLABUGH! NU! IT IN SMAWTY MOUF! IN IN SMAWTY NOSIE! IT IN SMAWTY SEE-PWACES! IT EFEWYWHEWE! NUUUUUUUUUU!”
A third Stooge is lifted over the trash can, where he takes a gleeful shit right on top of Smarty’s ass while the fluffy frantically spins in circles in the trash can trying to escape.
“SHIT FROM ABOVE!” you laugh. The Stooge in your arms doesn’t piss, and he holds his forelegs out in a very human expression of sheepishness and says, “Nu nee tinkwe, made peepees on sidewawk aweady.”
You set him down and the fourth Stooge eagerly hops into your arms and unleashes his ass all over Smarty like the others. Then he looks down and says, “Wait fow it… wait fow it… nao!”
Smarty is dumb enough to look up to see what he’s talking about, mouth open to spit out shit, and the stream of piss goes directly into his mouth.
You set the last Stooge on the sidewalk and they all four retreat to their yard, laughing uncontrollably. You look into the trash can and see Smarty standing miserably in a blob of shit and piss that comes up to his belly.
“Huuuu… whu? Whu meanie hoomin wan?”
“How do you like your martinis?”
“Stirred… or shaken?”
You put the lid on the trash can, snap the latches so it doesn’t come off, then pick it up and shake it up and down vigorously.
You open the lid so Smarty doesn’t suffocate; he’s completely and thoroughly soaked through with shit, piss, and vomit. He’s incapable of speech now and is making sobbing, hiccuping noises of sheer misery.
“You still want my yard?”
You leave him in the trash can to stew for a while, listening to him sobbing, and return to your porch, tossing the gloves and retrieving your beer. You’ve only got two beers left; you’ll kick the can over and let him out when you’re done drinking.
Ah, beer! It tastes like… VICTORY.