This is a short one 
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John was laying in his deathbed. Everyone knew it. The old man had battled with lung cancer for a long time and there was nothing stopping him from ducking out for a long while now. A shitty hospital room stinking of disinfectant and his own bodily waste. There was a collection of colorful get-well cards and bouquets of flowers. He didn’t want his family here to see him. No, not the withered little toothpick of a man he had become. There was just one special little soul he wanted in here.
A nurse brought said soul into the room. This was a little thing that had been worked out with the hospital. A sort of feel-good thing you read about on the news sometimes, like when a person gets to see their beloved dog for the last time. This wasn’t a dog, no, it was a fluffy. Brown with an orange mane and tail. A stallion who seemed incredibly nervous to be here.
“Here’s your buddy, Mr. Farthing.” The young woman gave John an incredibly warm smile, and he tried his best to return it. Papery blue lips pressing up painfully. She left the room and the old man turned his gaunt eyes to the fluffy, who was sitting beside him on the bed.
“Hey, Dodo.” He gave an incredibly raspy cough, the force seeming to tear a piece of lung out. He hacked, spit up a clot of blood into a tissue. Dodo gave a small tremor.
“H-Hewwo daddeh. Yew nu am fowebba sweepies? S-Su happies…” The stallion was not happy. It was evident on his face. Someone had told him that his owner was dead. This would be the closest thing to seeing a ghost a fluffy would experience.
“No. I’m not. Yet.” John reached a hand up, tremoring, ran a hand down against some of the healed wounds and welts of scar tissue on the fluffy’s body. He’d put this little asshole through so much that it was by some surprise he hadn’t keeled over. They could die from drowning in a puddle yet sustain a beating like no other. God truly did hate them.
“Doodoo wub yew…” The fluffy said. John had chosen his name on purpose, of course. Just another small slight on a mountain of greater offenses. He was telling a lie though. An obvious lie. They weren’t great at telling them. His eyes shifted and he couldn’t look at him.
John smiled. “Oh, you do, huh? Which part you like most? When I waterboarded you? How about when I took you off the streets with your mom, stomped her to death, and made ya watch?” More coughing. This was far more talking than he should be able to do at the moment. Rasping, going for his oxygen mask, he took in a great few pulls. Dodo sat beside him on the bed.
“…Doodoo nu am hab daddeh anymowe. Daddeh am hab fowebba sweepies. Doodoo am be happeh with nyu mummah.” He was referring to John’s sister. His sister was a sweet woman, but there was something the fluffy was forgetting. It obviously meant a lot for him to stand up to his abuser for once in his life, but it didn’t mean a whit.
“Yeah?” John wheezed out after taking off his oxygen mask. Grabbed the fluffy by his ear, pinched down as hard as he could, dragged him in close. The stallion was forced to have the breath of someone who was already decaying wash over him.
“Think again, asshole.”
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The gathering for John Farthing’s funeral was modest. He had always been an asshole. He had a core group of friends and family but that was it. The man had done nothing notable in his life, had nothing much to say about him. Once they planted him down in a hole in front of an unassuming gravestone, people left without even lingering around to gossip. There was one left to stay for the long haul, though.
Dodo was crammed into the casket with his owner. John was dead but Dodo, unmercifully, was still quite alive. The man had taken care of his own burial needs. Embalming? Who needed it. He was going right into the dirt and nobody would be viewing him. Oh, and he wanted one piece of his property put in with him. That would be his ever faithful fluffy, Dodo.
The stallion was crammed in next to the corpse of his daddeh. The stiff, cold body took up most of the casket. Darkness and the stench of death surrounded him.
“Y-Yew fo’get Doodoo, nyu mummah. Nu wike smewwy sowwy-box. Huuu…Doodoo be gud. Am gud fwuffy. Pwease. Nuuuuu….”
