His name was Frank and he was the last guy you’d think who would own a fluffy. A greying soon-to-be retiree with muscles gained working in a pulp mill for years. Frank was the kind of ‘feller who worked himself to the bone all week, spent Friday and Saturday piss drunk at the local gin mill, and Sunday snoozing the day away. He had his old hound, a daughter out in California, and…the fluffy.
The fluffy’s name was Willie. A gift from his daughter, named by her too. Bright red with a bit of blue scruff. Bit heavy on the eyes, he’d always thought. Why not a plain brown one? But he wasn’t one to complain, especially since she thought she was doing him good after the death of her mother.
Frank gave the fluffy just about all it ever wanted or needed. That fancy branded litterbox because it refused to shit in anything else. The pricy kibble. Hasbio brand ‘sketti that somehow cost twice as much as the regular stuff and seemed a quarter of the quality. And to his credit, Willie seemed just fine too. Going on two years now and he seemed sweet as pie and tried to do well.
That was, until the tablet.
“Daddeh! Daddeh! Wiwwie hav it!?” The stallion asked one day, the old man dozing in and out in front of the television one lazy Sunday afternoon. FluffTV, though his attention had been centered on a radio playing a baseball game on the table beside them. Frank’s eyes opened, stared at the television, saw one of the many ad breaks. A violet-furred mare babbling while pressing it’s hooves down on one of those little tablet computer things. Not thinking about it, the old man gave a nod and put it into the random bank of things in his head for later. He dozed back to sleep while the good little pony slid down to the floor, doing dancies for an audience of none.
The tablet had cost $200. Not exactly money he had been wanting to fork over but that damn pony had been a gift from his daughter and Hell if he could fight over the guilt of not trying to provide for it. The box was garish pink, covered with sparkles, and billed the device within as being ‘stomp-proof, waste-proof, educational AND fun!’. He didn’t know anything about all that. What kind of a goddamn animal were they marketing these things toward?
Setting up the device had been somewhat difficult for an old timer though with help from his daughter over the phone, he was guided through the process.
“The goddang thing needs my credit card.” He grumbled over the phone, poking at the display awkwardly while Willie chirped and rambled about how excited he was.
“Everything needs your credit card these days, dad! Don’t worry. It’s not like anyone can steal it. Hasbio is a big company, they wouldn’t let something like that happen.” His daughter reassured him over the line, and he felt his worries sort of wash away. Yup, he thought. He’d seen all sorts of news stories about how cyberhacker criminals intercepted your Internets and made off with your life savings.
“Here ya go, Chilly-Willie.” Frank said with a small sound of satisfaction in his voice, passing over the tablet which came preinstalled with apps. Hunkering down next to the fluffy, he watched as the little guy pressed his hooves down to explore what it had to offer. One was a livestream of FluffTV, promising exclusive content. Another was some kind of a sing-along program game where the player could earn points by attempting to keep along. Simple stuff. But what the stallion was most interested was some kind of an adventure game, Skettiquest. Frank couldn’t make heads nor tails of it but boy, Willie sure seemed to take off. “Wook daddeh! Wiwwy am save maresies!” He said, plapping his hoof down on the screen as a pony in knight armor did battle with a brown-furred pony in a wizard’s hat. Frank didn’t know what was going on and it seemed like the ‘ol boy was barely contributing anything but he could still have a chuckle over it.
The changes were subtle at first. Hell, it was hard to even notice for all the relative quiet he had now. Willie was glued to the tablet at nearly all hours for the coming weeks and would hardly even get up to have his supper. Usually he’d come scampering in as soon as the whir of the can opener started on the spaghetti but now he’d have to call him in.
“Willie! Willie boy come on in here and stuff yer face!” Frank called out the kitchen, setting the bowl down. It took a moment but he finally came waddling in. Jesus wept, for how long it took him to get to his food it sure didn’t matter when it come to his weight. The stallion was puffing up like someone had been slipping him lard in his sleep. “Wan play skettiquest! Feed Wiwwy while play skettiquest!” The stallion demanded in a voice the old man had never heard.
“…Scuse me?” He asked, too dumbstruck to even feel angry at the moment. Willie pranced around the room, rapping his hooves on the floor with rapid clicks. “Dummeh daddeh! Need gib sowwy-hoofsies ‘an foreva-sleepsies to baddest poopies!”
The fuck. He’d never heard him talk like this and he wasn’t about to let it start now. His fingers curled in, hand reflexively forming a fist before relaxing. He was a grown man and this was an animal. The anger ebbed and quieted down. Leaving the kitchen, he’d reach the living room where the tablet had been left on the floor. Feeling an urge to chuck it directly into a wall, he’d instead deposit it on a tall shelf. No way was he going to be out $200 because someone had copped an attitude.
While this was happening, he’d heard Willie absolutely wrecking the ‘sketti in the other room. It sounded like a pig at slop and it nearly made him chuck his cookies. Wheezing, sauce dripping down his face, the stallion would charge back into the living room to play his game once more. Looking around stupidly, Frank would let in on him before he had a chance. “Put’cha vidyer game up, Will!” He said, the pony blinking stupidly. The stupidity glazed over to something…was it rage? Could these things feel rage?
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Frank winced back. “Wan game! Wan game! Hatechu daddeh! Wiwwy hatechu!” The old man felt the anger come back up. He’d had a daughter. Dealing with tantrums could be tricky but some alone time, a bit to chew over, could do wonders for anyone. A solid line of thinking until the most odorous, foul stream of diarrhea exploded from the back of Willie’s ass and painted the entire wall behind him in a river of clumpy brown chunks. “Take sowwy-poopies!” The stallion seemed to sneer at him. “Gib game naow or more poopies!”
He was now being threatened by something which had been forced onto him. Something which had been forced onto him and despite having done everything in his power to make right by, had somehow been turned into a shit-possessed demon. Feeling as if he were about to snap it’s spine, the old man barely managed to control himself and wrap it’s tail around his fist. Covered in feces or not, he didn’t give a fuck. Winding his arm and snapping the tail away from his body, he sent the pony sailing into the hall bathroom with several thumps and a clatter. Slamming the door closed, he’d figure out what to do tomorrow.
“Wiwwy sowwy! No wan meanies anymore! Nu wan! Daddeh, sowwy!” He’d hear all night long, or derivations thereof. Along with patters of hooves on the bathroom door. The stallion cried and wept, and despite having to clean up a giant pile of shit for upwards of an hour Frank would feel pity for it. Jesus loved all the little critters, and surely too even the ones that would shit on your wall sometimes. Yeah he was a good guy.
Frank drifted off to sleep with hopes of a better day tomorrow. He was blissfully unaware of the concept of in-game transactions and the credit card statement in the mailbox saying he owed Hasbio Games a grand sum $5,000. Yeah, tomorrow would be a new day for him and Willie.
