Alternate title, “Fwufftobuh day 9: unsettling” or “Shameless Fanboying”. Seriously, thanks @Karn for allowing me to use your characters. Everyone else, if you haven’t read it already, I seriously recommend checking out the story below (and all the rest of the gallery, you’ll surely find something to tickle your fancy).
Spike was abruptly awoken from his restless slumber by someone calling his name and giving him a good shake.
“Wha… whewe am Spike? Wut happen?”
Brushing his eyes with his hooves, he saw Gigi and Flash standing over him, both fluffies having a worried look on their faces.
“Spike hab bad sweepie-pictuwe? ‘Ou caww Gee’gee an’ Fwash namesies an’ make saddie-wawas…”
Spike realized his face was indeed wet with tears, but he couldn’t quite remember what he had been dreaming about during his afternoon nap.
Something about… many other foals? They were trapped somewhere, with monsters maybe? Then a thunderstorm, fire and lots of… boo boo juice?
The gray earthie shrugged. There was no point in trying to remember these horrible details. He was simply glad to be back at the daycare with his friends. Trotting over to the water dispenser, he quenched his thirst and dried himself off in one of the blankies laid around for napping foals. Once done, the called him over.
“Spike! Gee’gee an’ Fwash go pway bwockies! Fwash nu fink Gee’gee can make fibe bwockie towah! 'Ou come tuu?”
“Suwe, Spike wan see Gee’gee du it.”
With that, the trio headed towards the playroom once more.
On the other side of the city, in a much less happy place, a man was sulking in his prison cell. Unlike his cellmate, he had been denied his “outside time”. Of course, unlike him, his cellmate had not just blinded a fluffy pony, before shoving the latter’s wings into his anus during an appeal examination.
Douglas massaged his broken nose. Those fucking guards had literally slammed him face first into a column while they were dragging him back to his cell after the little show he’d put up.
"Fallen down while trying to escape my arse. Pricks."
Even worse, his moronic attorney had dropped him after the accident, so there was nothing he could do to them. Figures. Like the rest of his ilk. Parasites who leeched off hard working guys like himself. Huh, come to think of it, just like fluffies do. Only way smarter.
He settled on reading a book about various pirates of the Caribbean while lazing on his bunk. Not like he had much else to do to kill time. For once, he seriously missed fluffies. And alcohol
After a while, the inmates started trickling back in. That’s when he heard something deeply unsettling.
"So, ya sure 'bout that? Guy’s a freak?"
"Well, 's far ‘s I think, butcherin’ talking pig-horses who act and think like toddlers ain’t much better than killing an actual one, ya dig?"
"Don’t really care 'bout the things, but I get ya. Folks like him start with animals, end with kids, tell you what."
"I heard the news got to Bulldog real quick. The big man ain’t pleased, I can promise you that."
"Glad I got nabbed for drug dealing then. Wouldn’t want to have a ‘small chat’ with him, if ya know what I mean."
The men’s laughter got weaker and weaker as they walked away, but it rung loud and clear throughout Douglas’ nightmares that night. Who was this “Bulldog” and what could he possibly want from him?