Pretty Flower is a feral mummah, and not a good one by any reasonable definition. The word “reasonable” is key here, because if you ask her…
"Shaddup dummeh poopy babbeh! Pwetty Fwowah am bestest mummah ebba! Poopy babbeh am meanie babbeh! Am bad babbeh! Mummah nu am bad meanie, onwy ugwy poopy babbeh!"
As she reached her final words, she struck Poopy so hard his eye almost popped out of its socket. Unfortunately, it didn’t go all the way back in, and this was having some ill effects on his vision as he tried to skitter away to avoid another of mummah’s beatings.
His siblings taunted him as he went. “Dummeh poopy! Nu am bwudda! Nu wan dummeh nu gud poopy babbeh in big fun hewd babbehs gunna make!”
"Das wite! Goobai, dummeh Poopy! Bestest Smawty Babbeh aweddy nu memba ou dummeh facie!"
Well he’d made a decision. He had teeth, he could eat real nummies. He’d even snuck out to the sidewalk the night before to try and eat some grass, and he kept it down this time! It hadn’t given him worstest mouthie hurties, and it even tasted kinda nummy now! No more abuse. No more fear.
“Babbeh nu gunna num poopies nebba gain! Mummah posed tu wub babbeh! Gif babbeh miwkies fow gwow big! Gib babbeh wicky kweanies! Babbeh nu be poopy fow dummeh meanie famiwy! Babbeh weabe nao!”
As he turned and strutted towards the mouth of the alley, he knew they wouldn’t try to convince him to stay. He knew they wouldn’t miss him, that’s not what the yelling was for. He just wanted them to know what they’re sorry for if they ever regret this.
Which is why his mom giving him worstest tail upsies was such a surprise.
"Nu wike! Wet babbeh gu! Babbeh nu wan nuffin fwum mummah! Jus wan weabe!" Pretty Flower carried Poopy over to the Bad Nummies pile, the pile of nummies that used to smell or taste prettier than they do now. She dropped him next to it and started kicking him over and over.
She wasn’t kicking him hard, but it was adding up. He was getting bruises and hairline fractures all over. “Screeee! Huwties! Wai gib wowstest kicky owwies fow wittew babbeh? Babbeh du nuffin wong! Onwy wan weabe!”
She eventually stopped kicking him and knelt down to get face to face with her least favorite child. “Poopy bettew wissen nao.” He lifted his head and leaned back, with great effort considering how bad his neck hurt. He said nothing, afraid both of reprisal and of overexerting himself.
“Ou nu gunna weabe. Babbehs weabe wen dey big fwuffies. Aww mummah babbehs am wittew babbehs. Dey nu weabe, wai ou shud get tu weabe?” She paused waiting for a response. After a few seconds her son had worked up the nerve and energy to do so.
“B…babb-”
“Shaddap!” She knocked him over backwards, legs in the air. “Nu cawe wat Poopy fink. Ou am poopies, hafta num poopies in piwe. Das wat Poopy am posed tu du!” Poor Poopy was sobbing while trying desperately not to offend his raging mother.
"Poopy need gu in poopy pwace ow am bad poopies!" She bent down and bit his left rear leg off.
"Screeeeeee! Nuuuuuu! Weggyyyyyyyyyy! Nu wan owwies! Onwy wan weabe! Ou nu need babbeh tu num poopies! Nubuddy hafta num poopies! Mummah, dey poopies! Wai babbeh num poopies at aww?"
Her response was, of course, to pick him up by his left front leg, in her teeth. He protested as she sauntered over to the poopie pile where he’d spent most of his life so far. “Nuuu! Babbeh nu wan be in poopies! Onwy wan tu weabe! Nu twickies ow nuffin! Babbeh nu wan boddew gud mummah nu mowe! Babbeh sowwy am bad babbeh, babbeh gunna weabe an gu be udda fwuffy pwobwem! Mummah nebba hafta fink bout babbeh gain!” Mummah shook her head just slightly to shut him up. As she reached the three inch deep goopy mound of fluffy shit created by eating literal garbage, she held him over the center where it was thickest.
Then she bit down and took his other left weggy.
“Nuuuuuu! Owwies ouchy huwty owwies! Weggy huwties! Nu wike!” He tried to scramble to his feat but the thick mud of the shitpile frustrated his movements. But, once he’d freed his side, he realized what had happened.
He only had weggies on one side now.
He’d never be able to leave. Never escape. Fluffies with two legs are basically helpless, and you’re even worse than most! A huggy fluffy has both front weggies. He can pull himself along slowly, but in a straight line. Similarly, the so called “Enfie Pal” can scoot while resting thick neck fluff in the ground to skid.
But two legs on the same side? He didn’t know. He hoped he could figure out a way, but even if he did, he couldn’t get far. Ferals who lose more than one limb overwhelmingly die in any environment but a forest where they have a community to care for them. Just from the wear and tear from dragging and scooting.
So that’s it. This is life. He fucked up and missed his one chance, and now mummah had made sure he could never even try to leave again. No more tears to cry, the foal sighed. His eyes stared glazed and empty into nothing at all. He closed his eyes and took a bite. He threw up later, but he didn’t starve.
Every night for years he’d think back to this day. The last day he felt something other than exhaustion. The last day he felt like the future might get better.
He had this thought every night for two years. Then, one day, his thoughts ceased entirely.
“Tee hee! Wook mummah, dummeh Poopy bwudda am weaw poopy nao!”
“Das wite! Smawty gunna gif dummeh Poopy smawty poopy!”
“Coooo, mummah wub aww hew babbehs suuuu muchies! Nao Poopy weawwy bewong in poopy piwe!”