Frank sighed. He had just signed on for the night shift at the Grandma Jeanie Fluffy Shelter, and he knew it was going to be a long night. To begin with, he had a knew employee, Phil, who would need to be shown the ropes, and apart from that, a whole bunch of new fluffies had been handed in that evening, and would need to be sorted out.
Frank sipped his coffee, and decided to make a start. Maybe Phil would be a blessing in disguise, as he really needed help in sorting through the new batch of abandoned fluffies.
“Okay Phil, come with me, we’ve got work to do.”
Frank led Phil to the back room, behind the counter at the customer end of the shelter. There were two sides to Grandma Jeanie’s shelter, the customer end, which was seen by exasperated fluffy owners, who couldn’t cope with the little shit-rats any more, and the hidden part, where the fluffies were actually kept. Technically there was another side, which was visited by people who wanted to adopt abandoned fluffies, but Frank just thought of the front end and the back end.
“Set that box of fluffies down there. No, not there, over there. OK.” Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, “Let me explain how things work around here.”
Phil was an intern, fresh out of college and desperate for work. Frank felt sorry for the kid, probably up to his eyeballs in debt and with a worthless degree, the only job he could get was working in this Fluffy shelter. For free. It was that or working for some fast food joint, and at least they’d pay. Frank decided to take good care of the kid.
“Okay, so night shift is normally when folks show up with boxes of unwanted fluffies, and animal control show up with cages of ferals. Grandma Jeanie’s has got a strict sorting method, and that’s what we follow to try and give every fluffy the best chance it can get,” Frank nearly believed his own bullshit. There was a time when he did believe it, but now he new that about half of the fluffies who turned up here, or maybe more, were snake-food from day one.
“There’s a complicated sorting protocol to follow. It’s hard to get your head around at first, but just follow the protocol, check the color guide, and check each pen, that way, you can’t fail to sort the fluffies.”
Phil was a quiet kid with a stupid haircut. Frank had grown up in the 80s and 90s, and remembered mohawks and mullets. In spite of this, he couldn’t believe the crap haircuts of the current generation. It was like they had intentionally chosen to look retarded.
“Here’s the protocol, and the color chart is on the wall. Each pen has the sorting rules written above it as well, but there’s one thing that’s not written in there.” Frank looked at Phil, impressing on him the importance of the unwritten rule. “If you do find an A+ fluffy amongst the rejects and ferals, DON’T call a supervisor, talk to me instead, and I’ll cut you in on whatever we get for it. Some of those rare ones are worth big bucks.”
Phil looked at the protocol that Frank handed him. It was long and complicated:
Fluffy sorting protocol:
A grade fluffies
A+++ Alicorns - Place in A+++ cage (with foals if present) and contact supervisor IMMEDIATELY
A++ Unicorns, Pegasi with Desirable coloration (see color chart) - Place in A++ cage (with foals if present)
A+ Earthy with desirable coloration (see color chart) - Place in A+ cage (with foals if present)
B - Any non-alicorn fluffy without desirable coloration that were raised as domestic fluffies (see domestic test). Place in holding pen A, separating males into male holding pen A. Keep foals with mothers in female holding pen A. If any foals are in A+++, A++ or A+ place mother and foals in suitable cage. 1 month waiting list until euthanasia.
B+ Litterbox trained - Litterbox trained pen
B Not litterbox trained - Non litterbox trained pen
C - Any non-alicorns fluffy that were born as feral fluffies or have gone totally feral:
Place in holding pen B, separating males into male holding pen B. Keep foals with mothers in female holding pen A. If any foals are in A+++, A++ or A+ place mother and foals in suitable cage. 1 month waiting list until euthanasia.
D - Pillowfluffs - Place in Pillowfluff Pen (D)
Female Pillowfluffs with foals - Potential breeders or 1 month waiting list until euthanasia.
Female Pillowfluffs without foals - Potential milkbags 1 month waiting list until euthanasia.
Male Pillowfluffs - Potential organ donation or 1 month waiting list until euthanasia.
E - Fluffies crippled by abusers:
Females without foals and too poor condition for breeding or milkbagging - Organ donation then mincer (after euthanisation)
Males - Organ donation then mincer (after euthanisation)
F - Violent and/or Cannibal fluffies - Harm or kill other fluffies (beyond standard nose bops or “sorry hoofies”)
Amputate all legs then sort as D above (after using anaesthetic)
All fluffies in grade E, F and male grade D can also be considered for snake/reptile food, as can foals of non A grade mares nursing A grade babies.
“Dude!” said Phil, after he had read the protocol. “That is really complicated, how the fuck do you do this properly?”
“Yeah,” agreed Frank, taking a long drag on his cigarette. “Its a bitch, but when you go through it step by step, it makes total sense. Lets have a look at our fluffies, and you’ll see what I mean.”
Frank opened up one of the travel boxes, and looked at the fluffy inside. It was legless, nearly bald and covered in scars. Frank was jaded from years of work at the shelter, but he could never understand why people took such satisfaction in torturing fluffies.
“What’s your name little fluffy?” Frank asked
The bald legless fluffy eventually answered “Fwuffy am cawwed Poopsmeaw… pwease nu huwtie… pwease nu buwnie…”
Frank looked at the poor fluffy with pity. “This is one that our vets will want to look at first. As you can see, her owner must have been an abuser. They’ve amputated her legs, cut and burned her, and ripped out most of her fluff. She’s a pillowfluff at best, and probably snake-food, but we’ll see what the vets think. That’s the protocol for any fluffies with injuries.” Frank took the poor little beast and placed it in a plastic box labelled “medical examination” and moved on.
The next box contained a little grey baby fluffy with two legs. Frank just knew it would be a day for amputations, and reached into the box, gently picking up the fluffy. “What’s your name little fluffy?”
“Nu hav name, am onwy wittew babbeh fwuffy, yu am nyu daddeh? Giv fwuffy huggies and wuv?”
Frank sighed again. “We get a lot of ferals like this Phil, rejected by their mothers, or orphaned when a rat or cat or bird of prey eats their mother. This little reject doesn’t stand a chance. Maybe Margaret will rear him by hand. Ordinarily foals on their own go to a foster mother, if we can find one. Lets hope for the best. Open up the next box.”
Phil opened the top of a cardboard box. Immediately the smell of fluffy shit and piss hit them both. At least Frank was used to it. Inside was a fat red house fluffy, which Phil picked up.
“What’s your name little fluffy?” Phil asked, taking his cue from Frank.
“Fwuffy am called Jewwy,” the fluffy replied.
“Do you have a mumma or dadda?” asked Frank.
“Es. Mummah am cawwed Mummah-Cwaire” the fluffy told them.
“This one is a house fluffy, it has a name and knows who its mumma or dadda is. Ferals can’t answer that question.” Frank explained. “Its a red earthy, which is nothing special, but its also got a red Unicorn foal with it. Its important to keep the mothers and foals together, it helps them adjust and not get too stressed. Its a B grade fluffy, so it goes in one of the B pens. Make sure you don’t put a female in with the stallions, or all hell will break lose. Tell me little fluffy, where do good fluffies make poopies?”
Jelly looked at him for a moment, and then answered “Gud fwuffies make poopies in da witterbox, gud fwuffies get hugs and wuv, bad poopies no smeww gud, on dadda’s cawpet…”
“Okay, okay, you don’t have to sing me the whole song,” Frank said, cutting off the little fluffy. This one is B grade and litterbox trained, so it goes in the Female Litterbox B pen. We might find someone to adopt it. Its worth about $5 to $10."
Phil carried the fluffy to its new home, and dumped the fluffy and its foal into the Litterbox B Pen.
The strange hoomins had grabbed Jelly, asked her questions about her name, mummah and pooping, and then dumped her and Red Conan in a large room with sawdust on the floor, full of other fluffies. Jelly made sure that Red Conan was in sight, and once she had him, she lifted him up and put him on her back. Now that her other babies were gone, Red Conan was bestest babbeh.
The pen she was in was a scene of fluffy horror. It was overrun with scared Fluffies, smelling of piss, poop and fear, and filled with the sounds of fluffy distress. The first fluffy Jelly saw was a big blue mare, older and more fully grown than Jelly, with tears running down her face.
“Whewe am babbehs? Mummah need find babbehs! Dey owny wittew babbehs, need miwkies an wuv… whewe babbehs?” The mare kept asking, looking behind Jelly and Red Conan, before pushing past some other fluffies and continuing her search.
The next fluffies Jelly saw were fighting. A puke green fluffy was being held down by a yellow mare with a red mane, and was being given sorry bities.
“Buttewscotch am bestest! Wime am stinky-poopie mawe! Nu eat Buttewscotch nummies!” The mare then cemented her victory by turning around and pooping all over the face of Lime, who cried and begged her to stop.
Jelly quickly trotted away from the larger mares, worried that Butterscotch might give her sorry hoofies, or worse, if she got in her way. She past two scared looking fluffies, huddled together with babies on their backs, who looked up at Jelly with fear in their eyes. Carrying on, Jelly passed another mare, younger than she was, covered in poop and bleeding from her nose.
“Wan die… wan die… wan die…” the mare was saying, over and over, having given up on any chance of happiness in this life.
Jelly knew that she was in serious trouble. She saw several other mares fighting, and quickly ran away from them, until she found a wall of four big mares, staring right at her.
“Who dis dummeh wed filly?” Asked a sturdy looking blue mare.
“Fwuffy am cawwed Jewwy. Jewwy am mawe. Dis am Wed Conan, he am bestest babbeh.” Jelly explained with pride in her voice.
The blue mare looked at her cream coloured friend and laughed.
“Dis fwuffy fink she sumfing speciaw, Jewwy am gonna be nummies fow snake. Dat fow suwe,” the mare laughed.
Jelly looked at them indignantly, she didn’t know what a snake was, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to be nummies for anyone. Jelly stared at the mares and puffed up her cheeks.
“DIS AM JEWWY WAND NOW. JEWWY AM SMARTEH. YU GIV JEWWY AN JEWWY-BABBEHS BESTEST NUMMIES, OW GET WOWSTEST OWWIES AN SOWWY-HOOFIES, YU MUS…”
Before Jelly could finish her smarty rant, the big blue mare rammed into her, knocking her off her feet. Before Jelly could react, the Mare had hoofed her in the face, cutting her just above her right eye. Jelly tried to get on her feet, but the mare had pinned her down. Jelly tried to wriggle free, but the mare had her held fast. Then the mare released a torrent of poop all over Jelly’s face. Jelly screamed and tried to turn away, but only succeeded in getting poop in her eyes and mouth.
“Yuck, pteff… uck, spthyth…” said Jelly, spitting poop out of her mouth. The mares just laughed and rejoined the others. Jelly could see that their herd had claimed a corner of the pen for themselves, and put the biggest and strongest mares at the outside, whilst younger mares and those with babies were on the inside. Beyond the wall of mares, there was a litterbox, water bowl and a few worn out looking toys. Nursing mares guarded their babies, who were mostly on their backs, too afraid to run and play, and the big mares stood guard, not letting anyone else in. Afraid that she might get more sorry hooves or poops, Jelly ran back the way she came, with Red Conan back on top of her fluff.
“Jewwy nu wike,” Jelly said, as she passed lost and abandoned mares, and orphaned babies crying for their mummahs. She saw at least one mare that might have been forever sleepies, and quickly found herself by the pair of quivering mother mares with their backs to the wall, whom she had passed earlier.
“Nu huwtie!” said one mare to Jelly.
“Nu have nummies!” said the other, clearly terrified of Jelly.
Jelly looked at them, realising they were afraid, and decided that even a pair of dummeh-stoopid mares were better than no friends at all.
“Jewwy nu huwt mawes, if mawes hewp Jewwy,” she began. “Jewwy am smarty, weader of hewd. Mawes be safe if do wat Jewwy say,” she explained, carefully sitting down next to them.
“Jewwy,” one mare nodded. “Am Pinky, " she said, which made sense given her pink fluff and red mane, and dis am Wou Wou.” Jelly looked at the pale blue filly sitting next to Pinky. Both had three or four babies sitting on their backs, desperately trying to hide in their mother’s fluff.
“Wat am dis pwace cawwed?” Asked Jelly.
“Dis am gud fwuffy pen,” said Pinky, which alarmed Jelly somewhat. “Ovew dewe am da poopy pen, fow fwuffies dat not use wittaboxes, an bewow us am piwwowfwuff pen, fow fwuffies wiv nu weggies.”
Jelly looked around her, and up above. The room she was in was massive, with a ceiling higher than she had ever seen. Surrounding her were walls too high for her to climb, but not as high as a hoomin. Within those walls was a floor of sawdust, and more fluffies than she could count, running around, wandering aimlessly, or grouped together in mini herds for protection. There were numerous litterboxes, mostly full to overflowing with poop, but lots of fluffies were pooping on the floor or on each other. Jelly couldn’t see any nests or nummies anywhere, but some fluffies were huddled together in fluff piles, though most were to afraid to sleep.
Carefully, Jelly stood on her hind legs, and just about managed to peer over the edge of the wall to the pen. Below was another pen, similar to the one she was in, but with far less fluffies. None of the fluffies in the pen below had any weggies! She could see that they were all sitting on puffed up nesties, and that one or two of them had babies, either sat on their backs, or playing, close to their mothers. These fluffies had waterbowls and nummies right next to them, but also had big piles of poop, right behind them.
Jelly realised her new home was a scary bad place.
