John’s Yard Part I
John’s Yard Part II
John’s Yard Part III
John dropped the hose, and shuffled over to the deck. He bent down, took a gulp from his drink, and picked up his pipe and lighter. He thought about enjoying his drink and his deck chair for a second, but the bleating fluffy from the yard dashed the idea to bits. He was nearly having second thoughts about messing with the dam, but her screeching and her [admittedly stupid and childish] insults were destroying the only thing John had wanted tonight: relaxation. He opened to door to the inside a crack, and flicked the switch for the porch lights. The sky was getting darker, but John’s night was just beginning.
John stepped of the deck and approached the fluffies, now bathed in the warm glow of his outside lights. The yellow stallion had waddled over to the dam as soon as John had dropped the hose, and was trying [in vain] to quiet her and calm her down. No matter how or where the stallion hugged her enormous body, no amount of huggies was helping her. She was weakly trying to swat him away, berating him as John came upon them.
“NU! Speciaw fwend nu hewp soon-mummah fwum bad wa-was! SCREEE!” The pregnant purple fluffy writhed and wriggled away from another hug attempt by her mate. He shifted and tried again, but the dam managed to jut out a fat front leg, her hoof pushing into the yellow stallion’s cheek. The stallion squealed and whined, stepped back and trundled around the dam in an attempt to hug her from her other side. She screamed the whole time, flailing her hooves so he couldn’t get closer.
The stallion made another squealing cry, tears cascading down his fluff. “N-nu, speciaw fwend,” he pleaded to her. “Fwuffy need cweansies tu sabe babbehs! Fwuffy am gud! Fwuffy gud soon-daddeh!” He went to hug her again, but the dam’s stubby leg caught the stallion in his chest, preventing him from moving forward. He whimpered, and strained, desperate for her affection.
The dam screamed in his face instead. “NU,” she screeched. “SPECIAW FWEN WOSTEST FWU-”
Her insults were cut short by John clamping her snout shut with his hand. “That’s enough,” John yelled. “God damn.” The dam was shrieking, although her shrill bleats were muffled with her mouth held closed. The purple fluffy tried wiggling her head out of John’s grasp, but he only needed to apply minimal force to assert his will over the creature. “Mama, you need to calm down. No one is pitching a fit but you.” John felt the yellow fluffy tap at his side, and he shooed the male away as he picked up and deposited the dam just in front of the deck by the chair. The dam’s hooves flailed at him, her eyes rolling crazily. John made a mental note to read up on potential pregnant fluffy mental disorders, and prepped himself.
“Mama, I’m going to let go, and you’re going to be quiet,” John instructed sternly. Her wriggling got more violent. He thought about threatening the fluffy, but she was determined to be an asshole it seemed. It didn’t matter what her reaction was; John still needed to two hands to light the pipe, and he was still following through with his plan. So, to John’s lack of surprise, the dam’s screeching started right back up after he removed his hand. “Here goes,” John quipped to himself.
“SCREEE!” The dam shrieked. “MEANIE MISTAH! GU WAY!” Her chunky legs swam through the air to no avail; she was too far along with her pregnancy to move anywhere on her own. It made John’s plan easier, especially with the fluffy taking such panicked breaths.
Gingerly kneeling next to the immobile dam, John lit his pipe and took an exaggerated hit. The smoke snaked through the pipe, filling John’s lungs until they burned. He covered the bowl with one hand to snuff out the embers, and reached out and grabbed the pregnant fluffy by the jaw, immobilizing her head.
The dam panicked and writhed, and John could hear and see the fluffy piss itself out of fear; the fluffy shook and kicked, urine steadily streaming down into its own fluff. So much for the baths, John thought. He brought his face down, closer to the pregnant fluffy’s. Her wide, insane eyes settled on his, and John smiled and slowly began exhaling smoke directly into The dam’s snout.
At first, the dam wasn’t paying attention to the cloudies in front of her; she was focused on the mean human. With her being too pregnant, and with her special friend being useless, the dam was dogged in her attempts to give this human bad hoofsies and sorry poopies. But then, the man kept blowing cloudies in her face. Meanie cloudies that made her see-places burn, and her insides get fuzzy.
John was motionless, blowing smoke out of his mouth. The pregnant fluffy in his hand couldn’t get away, despite all her thrashing. He watched her eyes become irritated, reddening and dying out with the thick fog around her head. Her breaths were ragged, and John began timing her breaths with his exhale. Every time she would breathe in, John blew more smoke into her face. After completely exhaling, John decided one hit would be enough to fuck with her, and stood up.
As he started backing away from the dam, John bent down and grabbed the yellow stallion by the scruff of his neck. The fluffy let out a screech, and John tucked the biomass under his arm. “Quiet,” he hissed at the fluffy. “She’ll be fine.” Truthfully, he had no idea the effect on marijuana smoke on fluffies; the stallion didn’t know that, and he didn’t want the little guy getting in the way of some possible entertainment.
“Speciaw fwend nu wike cwoudies,” the stallion protested, unable to flail under John’s arm. He wriggled his body as much as he could. “Sp-speciaw fwend see-pwaces haf huwties!” The stallion was confused and scared. This human said he would help the fluffies, but all he had done was give them bad wa-was and hurties. “P-pwease wet fwuffy gu! Nee hewp speciaw fwe-OOF!”
John plopped the yellow fluffy down next to his chair. “Calm down, bud,” he whispered. “She’ll be fine. Besides, you weren’t making any progress with her. She’s kind of a mean fluffy, man, no offense.” He raised the pipe, and flicked the lighter over the bowl.
The stallion had had enough. He was angry, and scared, and confused all at once. It was almost enough to fry his fluffy brain. He couldn’t understand why this human was saying he wanted to help, but kept hurting them with wa-was and cloudies. This munstah human might hurt his babies when they come, too! This drove the stallion into action, and he let out a shrill cry.
“SCREEE! Hoomin nu huwt speciaw fwend o’ babbehs! STAY WAY FROM SPECIAW FWEND!”
John, mid-hit, rolled his eyes. He didn’t pay too close attention to the stallion, who had begun waddling around John’s legs and stomping his hooves in an intimidation attempt. Ignoring the babbling at his feet, John inhaled slower this time to allow more of the bowl into his lungs.
The stallion snorted and huffed, John’s dismissal only angering him more. He thought about giving the human sorry poopies, but unfortunately the stallion had voided his bowels earlier. His only other option was sorry hoofsies, and the yellow fluffy charged. He reared up and kicked his front legs at John with all his might.
Fluffies have no real strength whatsoever, but the stallion managed to essentially force its body weight onto John’s bad right knee. Needles pierced through John’s leg and shot up his body. The knee gave out, and John nearly tumbled all the way to the ground. He managed to grab the armrest of the deck chair to catch himself, and awkwardly landed in a half-kneeling position right next to the stallion.
“FUCK,” John winced and cursed, his voice low and his mouth thick with smoke that billowed out. The stallion’s body was engulfed in the pungent fog, and it began panicking and breathing in deeply. Idiots, John thought to himself, easing himself into the deck chair and rubbing his knee. John didn’t have any problem with the little guy, and he supposed he was only doing the right thing by protecting his partner and future children; still, John knew his weekend of chores was now a weekend of icing and resting the knee, all thanks to these stupid little nuisances.
“Welp,” John muttered to himself, “it looks like we’re all gonna party tonight.” He grabbed his pipe to reload it, watching the previously enraged stallion nervously paw at the air and hack his little lungs away.
