John grunted as he swungs his legs out, and climbed up out of his car. His right knee always gave him trouble after long shifts; but an Aleve, a bowl, and a good foot soak would set him right. John smiled at the thought, relishing in the week off that lay ahead of him. A week of rest and relaxation, off his feet and out of his steel-toed boots. He reached back through the car and heaved his travel bag off the passenger seat, shutting the door afterwards and making the short walk from his garage to his back door.
It wasn’t much, but John’s small ranch house was his sanctuary. He’d led a rough life, had started over in his late twenties, and the last few years were paying off. He managed to find a well-paying blue collar job working a warehouse, eventually getting promoted to maintenance manager for the drivers. Years of saving and side-jobs bought this wonderful work-in-progress. Most of the work was done; all that was left for John to do was powerwash the brick, replace a few shutters, and fix the hole in the fence in the far corner.
John stopped. There wasn’t a hole in the fence before.
“Damn it,” he muttered to himself. The wood slats were splintered and the nails were warped; nothing a trip to a hardware store couldn’t fix. What John was more annoyed with was the possibility of its cause. The three broken slats were bent away from one another, forming an ‘A’ shape. The bottoms were heavily splintered, and-yep. “Damn ittt,” John hissed. Clumps of purple fluff were caught in the slivers of wood. He approached the hole slowly; John hadn’t seen or heard the fluffies in the yard yet, but they could still be around. It was when he stepped on a twig a few feet from the fence, that John heard them.
“HUUUUU! Munstah am hewe!”
“Nu tawkies, speciaw fwend! Munstah nu find fwuffies hewe!”
John quietly snorted to himself. While some feral fluffies were good at hiding from humans, it was apparent John wasn’t working with the varsity squad. Rather than find an actual hiding spot, John’s intruders “hid” themselves next to his garbage cans, with their hooves over their eyes. In plain view of John.
“These little things really are that stupid, huh,” John mused to himself.
The fluffies, hearing the monster speak, quickly lifted their hooves and stared upward.
“Nice mistah? Nyu daddeh?”
“Pwease hewp fwuffies, nice mistah! Am soon-mummeh!”
John arched an eyebrow, and bent down a little to get a better look at these creatures.
It was a pair of fluffies, a chubby stallion and a very pregnant dam. The stallion had yellow fluff with a green mane and tail, from what could be seen under layers of dirt and caked-on feces. The dam was a purple pegasus with a lavender mane and tail. John figured the stallion must have shoved her fat ass through his already-loose fence.
Fluffies weren’t much of a concern to John. They came on the scene just as John was getting his life back on track. In his youth John loved whiskey and the trouble that came with it, which he led him down some of the darker alleys people walk in life. He saw lives get taken, intentionally or by the nature of the lifestyle. His hands have met bone, offered blood and breaks. He was a hard man, come back from a war within.
John had no real hatred for the things. He looked around, and didn’t see any damage done other than the fence. They hadn’t even evacuated themselves out of fear. He bent down, carefully, steadying his right knee. “Hello, fluffies.”
“Hewwo, nice mistah,” the stallion squeaked. “Be nyu daddeh?”
“Nah, little man. I couldn’t afford one fluffy, much less a whole family. Sorry.”
“Huuuuuu, why mistah no wuv fwuffies?” the dam whined. “Soon-mummah nee nummies for tummeh babbehs.” The pegasus closes her eyes, quietly humming in between sobs.
John sighed and shook his head. “Look, you guys are welcome to chill here for the night. Help yourself to the grass. Sleep in the bushes. Just poop in that corner there,” John said, pointing so the fluffies could see, “but in the morning you’re gone, ok?”
The fluffies grew more excited with John’s every passing word. When they realized John was letting them stay the night, the dam clapped her hooves and squealed, while the stallion bucked his stubby legs in the air and charged at John. “FANK OU, NICE MISTAH! NICE MISTAH HEWP FWUFFIES!” He toddled forward, reaching his front legs out for a hug. John palmed his face.
“No hugs, bud. You’re filthy.” John scratched by the stallions ear as a consolation, and the fluffy closed his eyes and cooed. That is pretty adorable, John thought. “Do you have names?” he asked the fluffies.
“Fwuffies nu hav namesies,” The stallion said. The pegasus was too busy loudly stuffing her face with grass to hear John’s question.
“No names? So ferals,” John muttered.
The stallion wagged his tail. “Nice mistah giv namesies?”
John chuckled, standing upright and repositioning the strap of his bag. “I’ll think about it. I’m going inside to rinse this week off, but I’ll come back out and see how you’re doing. Remember, don’t wreck shit and poop in that corner.” He waved, turned, and headed into the house.
The stallion slowly turned back to his special friend, who was eating such huge mouthfuls of grass she was gasping for air in between chews. He trotted over, smiling wide, and threw his front legs around her in a hug. “Speciaw fwend gun hav bestest nummies for tummeh babbehs nao!” He nuzzled into the pegasus’ neck, who barely registered his presence.
The purple pegasus scarfed more, her eyes closed and her mouth contorted in a messy grin. Half-eaten grass drooled out of her maw with each labored breath. The stallion was happy, but she was in heaven: all the food she could have! She was sure to have the bestest babies now! The dam swallowed mouthful after mouthful of overgrown grass, while the stallion cuddled up beside her.