“You see that, shitrat? That’s what your future looks like.”
“Hphf hphf hphf…”
Let me paint you a word picture.
We’re currently in the barn, where I perform my craft.
On a large, sturdy workbench, which was dumped here before I was even born, there are two… items.
First, the purple stray is sobbing through his ball gag, in his cage on the workbench. He’ll be freed from the ball gag soon, but why give him something to look forward to? It’s just so I can feed him, then I’m gagging him again. Yes, I’m going to feed him. I don’t want him to starve to death before I’m through with him.
And second, the remains of the contents of one Foal-In-A-Can are splattered over the bench, and, unfortunately, my clothing. And I’m holding the hammer that did it, and wiping the blood off. The can is on the bench, and I promised the shitrat that I’d be finding out if I could fit it up his ass if he acts up.
Yeah, we’re already one foal down. And we’re just getting started, folks!
You are so, so, so scared right now!
The munstah hoomin grabbed you while you were distracted, trying to figure out what you were doing, and took you into this housie, and put you in a sorry box! He also put a magic ball in your mouth that stops you from saying anything, and you can’t get it out!
Then he picked you up in your sorry box, and put you down somewhere higher, and walked away.
He came back, and he was holding a round shiny thing, and you could just barely smell that there was a babbeh inside it!
He opened the thing and took the babbeh out, putting it down near your sorry box. He said that if you were a bad fluffy, the thing was going in your poopie place.
You tried to ask the hoomin if the babbeh was for you, because you had just remembered that you used to have a special friend and babbehs, but then they went forever sleepies when a metal munstah smooshed them.
But it just came out as “Mmmhmm fmm fmmhmm?” Meanie mouth ball! Why won’t it let you talk? Is it because you are a bad fluffy?
You started frantically waving a hoof, pointing at the babbeh, then at yourself, then back at the babbeh, then back at you.
The hoomin seemed to understand what you were trying to ask.
“Oh, you think this baby is for you?”
You nodded.
“Well, guess what?”
You tilted your head in curiosity.
SMOOSH
“It’s not. You see that, shitrat? That’s what your future looks like.”
At this point, you started sobbing through the magic ball.
As I finish cleaning my hammer, I get ready to remove the ball gag. I’m going to have to feed him if I want this to last my whole stay.
Before I open the cage, I lean down, making eye contact with the shitrat. Seeing the look on my face, he immediately shuts up. Good. I want him to actually listen to me.
“Listen very carefully, shitrat. I am about to open the cage. If you try to run, I will kill you. I am going to remove the ball gag. If you scream, I will kill you. I am going to give you food, and water to drink. If you complain about the food I give you, I will kill you. Do you understand? I said, do you understand?” I rap on the side of the cage. He finally nods. “First, let me show you something.”
I turn his cage, giving him a view of the remaining cans on a card table, the contents clearly visible. The foals chirp and peep like the disgusting baby shitrats they are.
I always wondered why they chirp like baby birds.
“Do you understand why I am showing you this?”
He shakes his stupid, brainless head.
Staring him in the eyes, those dull, stupid eyes, I speak in tones just loud enough for him to hear me.
“I am showing you this because I want you to know that you are expendable. That means you are worthless, to me, to anyone, and easily replaced. You have nothing that is of value to me that I couldn’t find in literally any other shitrat on the planet. You’re not an animal, you’re a man-made thing, a freak, a monster created in a lab, by humans, to do what humans want, pumped out of a factory like all you disgusting little shitrats. You still with me?”
A nod. At this point, he’s pissing himself in terror. He can stew in it.
“So do you understand that the only thing, the only thing keeping you alive, is you doing whatever I say, giving me no bullshit, and not pissing me off?”
Another nod. The tears are streaming, but he’s paying attention.
“Good. If you cross me just once, I’ll bash your brains in. Just I did to this foal, just so you know that it’s not an empty threat. If I kill you, there are other shitrats who can replace you. Your life is worthless and meaningless. Got it? Good. Now hold the fuck still.”
I walk over to another table, where I placed a couple of bowls, a bottle of water and some kibble earlier. It’s the cheapest kibble I could find and I’m sure its primary, and perhaps solitary ingredient is shitrats. I’ve got formula and a bottle for the ones in the cans, but it’s also cheap, and bitter, and I’m not even gonna bother warming it up for them.
They’re shitrats. They should be grateful they’re getting fed at all.