La Mercat Fluffueria, the bazaar of organic dining
The creation of fluffies changed the world forever.
A lot of people will say for the worse.
Some people still remember the days when they were first introduced, and thought how cute they were.
But then remember every street corner was covered in their faeces, the abandoned fluffies begged for food when their owners got bored of them.
And who can forget Cleveland?!
But what about the good? Is there good?
In a sense, interestingly yes. But not for fluffies of course.
Fluffies brought about a disaster for the farming industry.
Crops were eaten by feral, overbreeding fluffies and that led to food shortages that people are still bitter about.
But then people realised that fluffy meat is edible.
And that they breed really quickly and are always breeding.
They literally pump out more fluffies like they pump out their shit.
Their meat is pretty sweet, undemanding and easy to process.
A constant food source that can be sustained cheaply and treated whatever way you wanted.
This led to them being the “animal” that was used for food produce.
Their meat was cheap to produce and quick to put onto the table.
They’re not animals really after all, they’re “bio-toys” whatever the fuck that is, and there’s very little regulation in using them for food.
They’ll always be a substitute for the real thing, purists hate them for it but why would anyone care when they’re only a few bucks and can feed a family.
Fluffies aren’t even legally recognised as sentient beings. They merely mimic sentience as the law has put it
All of the fluffy can be used. From foals to adults. A wide variety of cuts.
Who’d have thought that world hunger could be solved by eating fluffies? They’re finally useful!
This also led to more environmentally sound farming practices and real animals being treated a whole lot better.
Real animal meat became an expensive treat.
Barely anyone wanted veal anymore though.
And so many of the practices became limited and became a niche market in itself, due to fluffy meat flooding the market.
The slaughterhouses were used to process the fluffy into meat and then into an affordable meal for the family and for everyone.
Why have a cow man?
But this led to an over-commercialisation and over-familiarity, a contemptible feeling towards having to eat fluffies as a way of life.
Especially ignoring local traditions and food practices around the world.
Fluffy foods and meats were practically treated as American food and treated as suspicious by some countries.
It decimated traditional food industries such as butchery as you all well know. Some butchers quit out of disgust, others couldn’t make a profit from the cheap fluffy meat.
Especially when you’re competing against fucking Walmart!! How do you make any dollars from that?!
The “animal” has already been processed; you don’t need to do anything else to it now. And it’s all pre-package too!!
And butchers became a more niche market practice. They sold all the meats that weren’t popular anymore.
Some people just don’t trust eating fluffies though, but they didn’t flip to eating meat still.
Not wanting to eat shitrats was the number one reason for turning vegetarian or vegan.
To typically process a fluffy, they’re normally given hormone treated foods to make them grow fatter.
The unsanitary conditions they’re usually kept in (and create for themselves) mean that they also need to be chlorinated.
This is why the cheapest fluffy meat can be pale.
And on top of that, they’re treated with antibiotics as they’re known to eat shit and carry diseases; the processing also means that they can still have shards of bone and fluff in there too.
Delicious no?
No one cared how they were treated, just that they were treated that way appeared to make them unclean to eat.
A lot of fluffies were viewed as unsanitary anyway and most people thought that they just shit and fucked each other.
shitrats will shit and fuck no matter how foul their conditions are so what do you expect? They’re more dirty than pigs!!”
But knowing all of this, people still wanted to eat them.
They just thought they could do it their way. And their way is so much better.
Groups that traditionally opposed GMO crops, wanted strictly organic food, untreated by the corporate food industry soon developed and thrived in areas opposing fluffy meat imperialism and what they considered unsafe practices poisoning our bodies.
Unofficial food markets, Bazaars, spread throughout the world. Some more open than others. Advertising all the meats you could want.
Shark fin, veal, balut, duck and goose foie gras (and not the foal gras replacement either), sopa Macao, bat meat (a lot of people steer clear from this one for some reason).
And organic fluffy meat. Which was always in supply. Without chemicals and drugs pumped into it and treated right. Free-range fluffies they say.
A popular meal is being prepared by the chef.
Newborn foals. A very popular meal.
They’ve had their first (and last) taste of milk. Their mother had birthed them freshly and had licked them clean and then gave them their milkies.
She didn’t resist when they were taken. All of her Babbehs were taken. She was a bad Mummeh. Her Daddeh would give her a new toy or some sweet treats after she had given him the good Babbehs. She missed all of her good babbehs.
Their bodies are squeezed to remove any excess faeces. Always a problem with all fluffies but easier to extract from foals but a problem if you don’t know how to do it gently.
It comes out like purée from all of them.
They peep and chirp just exactly like newborn chicks.
None of them can say a word. They’re far too fresh. And if they did, they’d be far too old for this meal.
A hot pan of oil is prepared and placed on the table on a hot plate heater just like you see in Korean restaurants.
The family gathered around the table includes two young girls and a youngish mother and oldish father. Everyone is smartly dressed as if they’ve been to church.
The parents are excited that they’ll get their first taste of real, organic food without any of that autism causing crap pumped into it.
Organic Food!! And nothing unnatural included.
A lot of people ironically forget that fluffies are not of nature to begin with.
A bespectacled man with a friendly face talks to the girls about what they’re about to eat and how to prepare it, fry it, eat it.
The girls look on fascinated and at the basket with its peeps and chirps. The father prepares his phone to take videos. The mother prepares some tissues.
The newborns are brought out peeping and chirping in a small basket. A plate of thin leaves as well as a spicy paste are also included with the basket.
A newborn is picked up. It’s body is smeared with the paste. It’s spicy and it can feel the tingle through its fur.
It is then wrapped with the leaf.
The foal believes it’s being hugged and tries to move its arms in a position to hug back.
A firm grip prevents this, they have been known to slip out and make a mess.
It is then skewered alive.
It peeps and chirps loudly and in pain, it’s the worst feeling it’s felt in it’s new, short life.
It is then put into the boiling oil.
Pop, pop, pop.
And then it’s ready to take out! 3 pops and it’s ready to eat!!
(It is better to not fry it for long otherwise the foal meat will be ruined and rubbery.)
In some cases, the foal is still alive but it’s lack of movement causes no issues to eating.
The girls are apprehensive at first, their mother eggs them on and the father films it ready to upload online. They’ll be the talk of the parent forum!
The girls both skewer the foals in their hands alive and squirm as they hear the piercing chirp. It is through their mother’s encouragement that they put the foals into the oil.
And then pull them out after 3 pops.
An awkward smile is shared by both girls. There is sour cream on the table too to kill the spice. Though apprehensive and tense, the girls take a bite with their foals covered in sour cream.
And enjoy it!
They slowly prepare themselves for the squealing. They each quickly skewer their foals and dump the foal in the oil before it can squeal and make a sound.
They wish it was pre-prepared. A noise like that is off-putting.
The father puts the phone away and wants his fill of the delicious smelling meal. The mother decides to go online to check what photos have been posted and criticise his camera skills.
Across from the family, a college guy and his buddy from his home town were catching up.
His buddy had wanted to come to one of these markets but they’re pretty hard to get into. And they give off a kind of unfriendly vibe at first.
They had a kind of hipster vibe to them, elitist too. But that’s no guarantee that he’d be warmly accepted. Both were from a pretty blue collar town. You could only come with an invite to the bazaar.
Thank god for Groupon. They had a special ticket offer to come here
The college guy reassured his buddy. He hadn’t been to one either but this place was pretty nice. He’d heard the food here was healthier and better for your health compared to the crap that they ate.
He loved the low lighting and the low music. Just good to talk in. And drink too. The smell of cooking and spices in the air was a lovely touch.
Ambience
On the way into this part of the bazaar, they’d encountered all sorts of the weirder meats and the unmentionables.
None of the really weird meats looked all too appealing so they decided to stick with something they trusted and knew they could digest.
Fluffy meat of course. It’s cheap too. The cheapest in this joint!!
A pillowfluff was brought out to their table.
It couldn’t even struggle from the large plate it was brought out on. It could only do a mini shuffle that jiggled it’s body. The amputation was so well done, you could not see it’s stumps, or any stumps, at all.
It cried for its leggies and for huggies. It hadn’t been able to move at all.
It had also wanted to make poopies, it was too scary without leggies, but it couldn’t. It had been cleaned and plugged up.
It had been freshly massaged and squeezed out hours ago. And hadn’t been fed. It was so hungry.
It’s body had been shaven and none of it’s gloriously golden fur was left. The fluffy missed its fur as well as its leggies. It was so cold.
It was thankful it still had its wingies but it really, really wanted its leggies to run away and for huggies.
It was so cold. Would the Daddehs give Huggies? Maybe nummies? The scary Daddehs were bringing him to some new Daddehs. He began to feel optimistic.
Would they save him?
This was the cheapest meal on the menu. Pillowfluffs are the second most cheapest fluffies (bait foals being the cheapest). The men were aiming low on price for food to spend on booze. Pillowfluffs get fat from inactivity and are pretty big.
That’s called bang for buck, value for money back home.
Other than being shaved and squeezed, no special preparation was put into it.
The only thing was this was an organic meal. No chemical crap had been pumped into it.
Which was allegedly good. The pillowfluff even smelt good too. Clean and fresh and not a dirty mark on it.
The hometown guy had read online about how harmful chemicals could be to the body and it was best to go organic with everything.
He wondered if this was why his asthma was so bad.
And then he read more about corn syrup and GMOs. He thought about how far his brother had been and how ill his dad had been with diabetes.
He was determined that the food industry was some kind of conspiracy. He would eat none of their crap.
The men were each given special forks and an instruction was given.
Twist the special fork into the body. Push. And then pull and the meat will come out. Dip it in again for the blood and eat as is.
This fluffy has been prepared to eat raw. Safe for consumption and a traditional technique.
Upon seeing the forks, the fluffy began to wail. It had seen the implements that had taken its leggies and the forks looked like they could take the leggies again too.
They looked like they could give a lot of hurties!!!
The fluffy began to tear up and begged the men for no hurties. To stop and he would be a good fluffy.
The college guy had a feeling he should’ve paid extra to sew it’s mouth up but he had a feeling this would be a once only place.
Why not do it cheaply?
And that money saved goes towards beer!!
The fluffy wailed out and shrieked as the forks bore into its body and tore chunks of its meat out.
The plate was designed to catch the fluffy’s boo-boo juice but this was a pretty messy meal.
Blood oozed out of its body slowly. Fluffies aren’t known squirters.
The men bore their forks and chewed the fat for hours on end. Both figuratively and literally. The fluffy suffered for hours and wanted to die.
The wailing and cries bothered barely anybody. This was the sort of place you’d eat things alive so this was practically normal.
Inside the kitchen, a chef was preparing the most expensive fluffy meal on the menu.
The night before, a TV journalist had ordered his meal and had booked his time slot for his meal.
The chef was preparing a specialty in advance.
A weaned foal had been prepared for the meal. It was talky and eating regular food. It was in its adolescent stage, but not yet fully grown or able to produce its own young just yet. Age is everything with a meal, it can determine the quality and texture of the meat.
It would’ve been a very good companion for a child if it wasn’t going to be served up.
These were hand raised and were playful creatures and always sang and wanted huggies.
They had all been raised on an organic diet to fatten them rather than keeping them healthy.
That time passed so quickly. The expense was more down to the care given than the actual foal itself. Foals and fluffies don’t tend to last here. You’re paying extra for the care and love that goes into the food.
The food used to feed the foal was a similar food used to make foals fat for making high end Foal Gras.
Except these fluffies were “free range” and had no metal tubes rammed down their throats constantly feeding them.
Good quality production improves the ingredient quality.
And the foal’s day had come at last. It hadn’t been away from its Mummeh for long.
The chef had picked him and the foal had said goodbye to its Mummeh and sissies and bruddas.
The foal had been examined and weighed before it was picked. The chef did his checks on the foal.
Perfect. Simply perfect
The foal was washed and it’s poopies had been massaged out of its body. Everyone who worked the kitchen here knew how to do this and to do so without being rough.
Fluffy flesh is so delicate and bizarre, even scars still pulse and their skin barely has calluses except on their soft, leather like hooves.
The chef was skilled enough to apply the right pressure without making the meat go tough too. He was an experienced hand and had cooked many an animal, from real to fluffy, in his many years in the trade.
The foal had looked up and complained that water was bad for fluffies. The water was lukewarm but not boiling and not even cold. Why damage its flesh before we get started? The foal didn’t like the smell of its own crap either.
Neither did the chef. The kitchen hand came in and got rid of the foal’s dump very quickly.
The foal began to shiver and was dried off with a handy towel kept nearby. It had complained that it felt cold and its tummy had hurties. It looked up and asked the chef for nummies.
If only the foal knew what was to come next
The chef would now begin the real work. He hated prep work but it came with the trade.
The foal’s weak body was applied with an oil and, with a cut-throat razor, the foal was held down with the lightest of pressure and its body was shaved without a single hair left on it.
The foal began to cry out that it was even more cold and its skin had hurties and it was hungry and he wanted his Mummeh and Huggies and Daddeh was a meanie.
The foal was washed over again but this time with a warm towel. The pores needed to be kept open after all.
The chef poured brandy over the foal to allow it to deep into its pores.
The foal let out a sharp scream. The bad water burned all over his poor body.
The implements at the side were ready.
The chef had done this many times with hens in the past, and countless more times with foals.
He was prepared and ready to go. The mix of mushrooms, fava beans, garlic, herbs and spices had been prepared and cut and had been fermenting nicely for hours.
Ready to stuff.
What an exquisite flavour it would be!!
And with swift cuts the heart of the fluffy was removed from its body, kept outside of the body still beating but still attached by the arteries.
The foal let out a shrill scream. It begged for no more hurties. It was only a little babbeh!!
The chef wouldn’t have selected him if he wasn’t ready, and the foal was certainly no baby. Not by fluffy standards that is.
The foal then asked for some nummies for its heart hurties and owies.
He wasn’t done yet.
And the foal world be getting what he asked for.
The chef applied the knife surgically and slit the foal’s belly and stomach open. It hadn’t eaten in hours before he had picked it up, no waste inside.
Perfect. A clean cavity
The foal was then stuffed with the mushroom mix. Stuffed and stuffed and then it’s belly was stitched back up and it’s belly swelled out.
The foal cried and cried and that it was the worst nummies ever and that it gave him bad tummy owies!!! It shrieked out in pain from being given too many nummies. It couldn’t make poopies to get rid of them.
Words could barely be formed after a few more seconds.
The foal was then hung up over night with it’s heart hung up separately by its body.
For something so weak they are very durable and better to use than the bird they replaced.
The foal made no attempt at struggling, its weight was too much and it was too weak to struggle to begin with.
Instead it cried and cried throughout the night before, begging for the hurties to stop. Blood rushed to it’s head and it began to swell up from being hung upside down.
It couldn’t poop out anything, the chef had sealed up its asshole to prevent seepage.
The ingredients could ferment inside the foal now with the stomach acids doing their work overnight.
And then the time came to put it out of its misery.
The chef unhooked the foal from where it had been hung. The foal still had enough energy in itself to let out one more, final scream.
It begged Daddeh for Huggies and that he was a good fluffy and that fluffies were for hugs and love.
The chef then cut the aorta and the heart was finally detached from the foal completely and the foal was then placed in boiling brandy for the final seconds of its short and miserable life.
A perfect meal.
It would take an hour to cook, ready in time for the celebrity to get comfortable and have starters.
The foal heart would be perfect in another recipe. The chef kept it to the side.
And the meal was brought out, stuffed boiled foal and was placed on the celebrity’s table.
The celebrity had been very curious about these sort of places and the whole movement behind organic cooking and eating of fluffies, and how they were prepared and how much love and effort went into the process.
Certainly has soul. The soul was missing from mass market fluffy meat production.
The celebrity had a fresh health scare and he had been tested for bowel cancer.
Thankfully, the cancerous polyps were detected and removed and he was given a clean bill of health.
His diet had been awful and had finally caught up with him. He should’ve known better than to trust the companies with the poisonous crap that goes in food these days.
He had decided to clean up his diet and only clean eating would do. And his diet had been cleaned up immensely and he became interested in the organic fluffy movement.
They had been derided as crackpots and as bad as the new agers and anti-vax mob.
But he was still very curious.
He wanted to do a feature on one of these places. Why not try it out?
He cut into the foal flesh and into the foal’s body and………it was the best fluffy meal he had ever eaten.
Maybe the best food he had ever eaten.
All natural with no shit in it.
The stuffed belly was lovely and marinated inside of the fluffy. It was exquisite and luxurious and melted beautifully in his mouth.
It was just like french cuisine. It reminded him exactly of something his mom had told him about.
The celebrity asked the maitre’d to bring the chef out. He wanted to thank him personally. It was a beautiful meal.
And the chef was brought out and the guy really gushed his heart out to him. The chef did his best not to blush. He didn’t normally get compliments personally.
The celebrity slipped a card in his pocket. He was interested in eating this meal again and if the guy was ever interested in appearing on a show to talk about cooking and showing everyone how to make better and more healthy food.
The chef thanked the celebrity for his gratitude and complimented him on his fine choice of meal and it was his most favourite meal to cook.
The chef pardoned himself and went back to the kitchen.
More meals were needing to be cooked for the patrons attending later on and the night was still young.