John’s Yard Part I
John’s Yard Part II
John raised his arm, took aim, and squeezed the handle to the hose. He prepared his ears for the inevitable cacophony as he felt the hose tension tremble his wrist.
At least, John thought he prepared himself.
The old hose jumped a bit in John’s hand as it unleashed its pent-up contents; John forgot how much he turned the valve, but its stream had him assume it was on full-bore. The spray was concentrated; the setting could have been used to blast the paint off John’s old deck chairs. He thought he may have overdone it with the pressure and depressed the handle, but it was too late to turn back now.
The initial quick stream first connected with the yellow stallion’s front left leg, pushing the leg roughly out from under the fluffy. The stallion yelped, his front legs collapsing under him. The fluffy’s drop propelled him forward, shoving his snout further into his special friend’s nethers…eliciting more shrieks. The male finally slid to the ground, his face dragging against the dam’s backside, landing him right in a growing soup of vomit, feces, water, and grass.
John winced, and chuckled. “Well, at least the ass-eating has stopped.” He looked down and began fiddling with the settings. “Hey, little man,” John called out to the stallion, over the dam’s screeching. “You still with us?”
FSSS. The hose produced a mist.
John looked up, and saw that while the stallion was not responding, he was shivering and softly sobbing. Well, he’s alive.
STHH. John shot the hose away from the fluffies, a flat line of water erupting from it. “Nah.”
The dam was in her own perceived hell, screaming seemingly to herself and for herself. The outside world, including John’s cycling of the handle settings, were out of her mind entirely.
PSHH. Steady stream, not too rough, not too soft. “There we go.” John smirked, and took aim.
“SCREEEEEEE-”
PSHH.
The shot hit the dam square in the face, the water striking her just below her eye. To John, the pressure felt like nothing. To the fluffy, that water was as rough as a fist to the cheek. The blow whipped her head to the right, and shut her mouth quickly. She laid there, newly drenched face frozen in shock. Her eyes were wide, blinking rapidly and darting about.
“SCREEEE-”
PSHH. PSHH.
The dam had tried to scream again, and again she was blasted. Twice. The first was a hit to the shoulder, turning the fluffy, but a follow-up sprayed the dam’s backside. The water blasted her purple rear, sending caked mud and shit flying off…some splattering on her special friend still sprawled out behind her. The dam, sputtering and catching her breath, kept frantically scanning her environment [what little she could].
John shook his head and smiled. They really are that stupid, he thought. The hose streams were so abrupt that the dam had no idea what was attacking her.
“HUUUU! GO WAY MEANIE WA-WAAAUGH-”
PSHH.
“HEY,” John shouted, following with aiming two quick spurts from the hose closer to him. The dam followed the sound, saw John with the hose, and was about to scream again when John wagged the hose in his hand. “No no. No more screaming, or you get the hose again.” Her mouth clamped shut, but the dam’s wide eyes narrowed to slits, and John sensed her trembling was in due to both the cold water and her growing, burning rage. He shifted his attention back to the male fluffy.
“Little man,” John called to the yellow stallion. The shaking male fluffy raised a hoof, peeking his eye out underneath. He had gone back to the standard fluffy defense of covering his eyes, with his ass in the air. “I’m not trying to hurt you, bud,” John continued. “Sorry for the rough treatment.”
“M-meanie wa-was n-nu gud fo fwuffies.”
John shrugged. “Well, I’m sorry it was mean, but you two are just covered in gross.”
“Wut am gwoss?” the yellow fluffy asked.
The dam noticed an opportunity. “SCREEE-”
PSHH.
John pursed his lips at the dam, and turned his attention back to the stallion. “It means you’re dirty.” The yellow fluffy still seemed confused; John realized he needed to take a brick to the head of this conversation and dumb things down. “Uh, not clean?” The fluffy’s expression changed. Finally got though, John thought.
“Fwuffies wan cweanies!” The yellow fluffy perked up, and then lowered his ears to his head. “Nu wa-wa. Wa-wa nu gud fo fwuffies,” the stallion stated, unable to make four out of two and two. John sighed.
“C’mere, little man,” John said, motioning for the fluffy. It didn’t move, eyes changing back and forth between John and the dam. “Dude,” John continued, “you smell bad and I don’t want to punt you two out of my yard. So, get over here or you’re gone.”
“NU!” The stallion bolted up, not wanting to be evicted from the yard; unfortunately, the mess he was laying in made it difficult to find footing. The yellow fluffy tried galloping over to John, but only succeeded in repeated slips and trips in the sewage under his hooves. John watched in amusement as the fluffy finally stumbled over to him with all the grace of a blind newborn giraffe. He finally made it to John’s feet, panting and covered in all manner of funk. John grunted, slowly bending his knees to get closer to the fluffy.
“Ok,” John said gently. “I’m gonna wash you off.” The fluffy began shaking. “I know you don’t like the water, but being dir…not clean, is worse. You could get your friend or babies sick.” The fluffy’s eyes widened, and hesitantly turned to his side. John knew he had his cooperation.
“Huuu,” the yellow stallion cried quietly, as John sprayed him with a gentler stream in short bursts. Its fluff began to brighten even in the waning hours of light, as the new and old waste dripped off and onto the grass. John kept the bursts short, occasionally gently maneuvering the stallion to get better coverage. The stallion sobbed, but complied and made minimal fuss. The dam, however, felt emboldened as John’s attention was diverted.
“NU! Meanie mistah nu giv speciaw fwe-”
PSHH.
John rolled his eyes, and turned the hose back to the stallion after spritzing the dam’s face. “Your friend is making me rethink you staying here, little man.”
The male whined. “Fwuffies sowwy! S-speciaw fwend am gud fwuffy, nee nummies fo tummeh babbehs!”
John snorted. “My co-worker is pregnant, and she doesn’t use that as an excuse to be a huge bitch.”
“Wuh?”
John laughed again. “Nevermind.” He turned to the dam, whose aggressive gaze never left him. “You can glare at me all you want, just no more screeching.” He wasn’t lying; John couldn’t care less if the dam hated him or not. To him, these fluffies were glass toddlers: annoying and fragile. John couldn’t find it within himself to be overtly violent with these creatures, but had to admit it felt nice to shut the dam up repeatedly.
Her eyes burned, never taking them off John. He laughed, which prompted her to puff out her cheeks.
John smiled. “Well, that’s one down.” He raised his arm.
The dam’s narrowed eyes opened to the size of dinner plates.
“One to go.”
PSHH.
The dam squealed, and tried escaping the quick spray. Her rotund body, and the slippery ground, made it impossible. The only thing the dam was succeeding in was impersonating a fat panicking skydiver: legs spastically wiggling in the air, her breath short and quick. John stepped cautiously over the soaked male fluffy, who also noticed his special friend’s fear. As if to notice, John told the stallion to stay put over his shoulder; the fluffy, mid-step, sat on his haunches and shivered. The hose and the human, and the threat of expulsion from the yard, kept the yellow stallion from its desire to protect its special friend.
John moseyed over to the pregnant fluffy; partially to get a better angle, John really wanted to lift her out of the small fetid pond forming underneath her. He didn’t want to hurt her, but also did not want to touch the filthy creature more than he had to. Ultimately deciding grabbing her by the scruff of the neck was best, John reached his hand down.
“NU! Bad upsies!” the dam shouted, as John grabbed her by the scruff.
“You need to chill the fuck out, mama,” he reacted. He carried her a few feet from the fecal/vomit crime scene, and gently placed her back down on the grass. The dam, sensing her recovered freedom, craned her head towards John’s hand, desperate to bite it. “Jesus,” John muttered. He had planned on going slower with the dam when it came to cleaning; it was clear to John now that this was more of a get-it-the-fuck-over type situation.
“Nu wan! Am soon-mummah! Onwy wan bestest nummies for bab-”
PSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
John unleashed the soft but steady stream onto the dam, and with the unrelenting torrent not stopping, the dam decided her silence was no longer necessary. She sputtered, screamed, and blubbered her way through the whole ordeal. John could only shake his head; the scene reminded him of an old comedy he liked as a teen. He didn’t blame her for being protective, as a pregnant animal should want to protect her babies. This one, though, John thought, is a little neurotic.
The dam continued bleating out shrieks, her obese body getting drenched and cleansed. John would occasionally move the stream back to her mouth, but only to break up the noise; he heard of fluffies drowning themselves, and John didn’t want a dead, pregnant fluffy stinking up his trashcan until garbage day. It took a little longer than the yellow stallion, but soon the dam was devoid of debris.
And, as soon as John stopped spraying, the dam went right back to screaming at him. “Dummeh mistah! Gu way!” Her legs pistoned out, but found no traction. It didn’t stop her from expelling more energy trying, and the dam continued her tirade of screeching, calling John names, and ranting about her babies.
John, dumbfounded, could not believe how irrationally combative this fluffy was being. He’d heard of smarties, but was this dam a smarty? Perhaps her brain is just wired to be more aggressive when pregnant. Whatever the case, John thought, she needs to relax.
A light bulb clicked on, and John grew a wicked smile. Yeah, he mused. She just needs to relax. John dropped the hose, quietly chuckling to himself as he made his way to the deck…to his lighter and pipe.
John gonna have to be a heavy hands on this one. Rude and saying nasty thing to the person allowed them to stay? Ohh bitch your gonna get it soon.
while the guy thank John.