The key rattled noisily in the lock, the door was thrown open with a bang and in staggered Bruce, stumbling into his pitch-black apartment at exactly 1:21am.
He fumbled for the light-switch, slapping his open hand against the wall several times before remembering, in his drink-addled state, that the light-switch was on the other wall.
The lights snapped and Bruce staggered further into his home, barely remembering to close the door behind him as his jelly-like legs struggled to make their way across the room.
Meanwhile, in the safe room, his fluffy pony Daisy blinked herself awake, having become familiar with the process.
Every Saturday, her daddy went through the same process. Heâd fill her bowl for dinner, then once she was done eating, put her in the safe room with her toys, a night-light and, most recently, her four foals. Heâd remind her that he wouldnât be home until late, because he was going out âdrinkingâ with âthe guysâ.
Daisy, being a very good fluffy pony, would listen and nod and smile and promise to be good while he was gone. Sheâd make all her poopies in the litter-box (even if it was a little harder to find with only the night-light to see by), and would make sure her babies had plenty of milk before they all went to sleep.
And, same as every week, when daddy got home there was a lot of banging and clattering, sometimes a bit of swearing, and then suddenly the safe room door would burst open as daddy came to say goodnight to Daisy.
âDa-a-ay-zee!â He sang as the safe room door opened and all four of her foals were sharply awakened. âDaddyâs ho-o-ome!â
âHewwo daddeh.â Daisy replied with a yawn. She was happy to see him, of course, but she had been having the most wonderful dream about shapesâŚ
âIâm back!â He said, redundantly. âHowâs my lazy little Daisy-waisy?â
âDaisy am swee-â
âAnd what about the babies?!â Daddy sang, leaning against the doorframe as he smiled with blurry eyes at the four tiny chirping lumps.
âBabbehs aww gud!â Daisy replied, waking herself up more in order to talk about her favorite thing: her babies. âEspecially bestest babbeh!â
âHey, Daisy, cut that shit out.â Bruce replied before suddenly belching. âI told you once, I told you twice, I told you⌠fuckinâ, I donât even know how many times. No âbestest babyâ shit, alright? None of that. Theyâre all your fuckinâ babies, theyâre all equally good. Got it?â
âS-sowwy, daddehâŚâ Daisy replied, her ears flattening against her head. Sheâd forgotten daddy didnât like her calling her bestest baby the bestest baby⌠even if it was true! He was white, just like his mama, with a yellow mane, just like his mama. Daddy had even given him a special name: Fried Egg! How could he not be the bestest baby?!
âOkay, thatâs better.â Bruce said, with a slight hiccup. âAnyway, you all go back to sleep, Iâm gonna⌠gonna go make a snack, then Iâll do the same.â He said, muttering to himself at the end.
âOtay daddeh!â Daisy said, curling back up in her bed. As she heard daddy staggering away into the apartment, she leaned extra close to Fried Egg, and whispered into his ear.
âNu wisten to dummeh daddeh⌠yoo bestest babbeh⌠oddahs jusâ stoopid dummeh babbehs. Fwied Egg bestest babbeh ebahâŚâ
The three other foals, not quite sure of what all those words meant, suddenly felt sadness and pain in their hearts, and began mewling and chirping. Fried Egg, meanwhile, squeaked proudly. He really was the bestest!
Mere seconds later, mama Daisy had fallen asleep, and her three crying babies were tired enough to start dropping off too. Before long they were all asleep⌠all except for Fried Egg.
Because Fried Egg was special. The other stupid dummy babies hadnât opened their eyes yet, but Fried Egg had. Heâd done it earlier that day, while daddy was out âdrinkingâ. Of course, it was dark so his stupid mama hadnât noticed, but Fried Egg didnât care. Heâd spent several hours taking in the world around him⌠but it had gotten pretty boring pretty fast. All heâd been able to see was a lot of darkness, a dim glowing bulb attached to a wall socket (which was what mama and daddy called a ânightlightâ), and the vague shapes of stuff near it, like a ball and once or twice, one of his stupid siblings.
Thus, when daddy burst into the safe room and the door flew open, spilling brilliant blinding light into the room, Fried Egg was enraptured with the possibility that, just the door, there lay more things to look at with his brand new eyes!
Heâd made a promise to himself that, the moment he could, heâd go out and explore the rest of the âworldâ they lived in. His brain kept wanting him to say that he was a âsplowin babbehâ, for some reason, but he couldnât say anything anyway, all he could do was chirp, so he kept those thoughts to himself.
And, as daddy left to make his âsnackâ, Fried Egg looked⌠and saw that the door had been left ever-so-slightly ajar.
With his tiny, near-vestigial limbs, Fried Egg hauled himself out of bed, away from his stupid mother and his worthless siblings. He waddle-crawled across the safe room floor, his soft white fluff slipping smoothly across the carpet underneath him, as he made his way towards the door.
Before long heâd reached it, and peered out through the crack in the door, his eyes taking in all the amazing sights, like⌠a grubby couch, and a pockmarked wooden table⌠and not a lot else.
Fried Egg finally wriggled himself through the gap in the door and emerged from the safe room at last. He turned, eager to look back into the safe room so he could have a chirpy laugh at how pathetic the rest of his family was⌠but in doing so, his rear bumped against the door. He briefly thought about crying to get some attention, but figured he could save that for later, when it would be more useful.
He turned back to continue âsplowinâ, and never noticed the door gently closing behind him, pushed shut by the gentle impact of the foalâs rear. With a quiet âclickâ the door shut completely.
Fried Egg continued to wriggle his way across the carpet, heading by instinct towards another room which had no door. The light was on, the floor was covered in smooth tiles, and Fried Egg could hear daddy inside the room muttering to himself and making some sounds. Things were being knocked against each other, there was a sound of glass being moved, intercut with daddy swearing under his breath.
âCâmon, gotta be fuckinâ something in this damn flatâŚâ He hissed to himself as Fried Egg dragged his tiny body into the apartmentâs kitchen. Bruce had opened every cupboard and every drawer, and hadnât been able to find anything worth eating. Heâd finally staggered his way over to the fridge and yanked the door open.
Fried Egg peered up from his position on the kitchen floor and gazed in astonishment. The inside of the fridge was stuffed with all sorts of things! Big red pieces of meat, lots of green leafy veggies, and some dark green bottles full of liquid (there were a lot of those!)
Daddy stuck his head and arm into the fridge and, after a few seconds, let out a yell.
âAh-ha! Thought you could fuckinâ hide, didâja?!â
He emerged again a moment later, clutching something in his hand. It was a rectangular cardboard box with the âQUIK-SNAXâ brand smeared across it, advertising that it contained one (x1) microwavable breakfast wrap, containing chunks of sausage, chunks of egg, chunks of bacon, and some baked beans.
âAinât much, but itâll have to do.â Bruce muttered, fumbling with the package, trying to find the perforated tab to hook his fingernail under. Fried Egg, meanwhile, simply watched, wondering if he should make himself known. He was hungry, of course. Fluffy ponies were always hungry. But would daddy be willing to share his snack? That is, he should, since Fried Egg was the bestest baby to ever live, but daddy certainly didnât think of it that wayâŚ
âAhhh SHIT!â
With a sudden tearing sound, the cardboard package was ripped open length-ways, spilling out the contents all over the floor. Fried Egg took cover, hiding under his hooves, as cold lumps of meat and solidified protein rained down around him. Before long, Bruce was left holding nothing but a tortilla wrap smeared in a thin coating of sauce from the beans.
âFuckinâ⌠cocksuckinâ⌠fuckâŚâ He muttered, dropping to his knees to begin picking up the scattered contents of his food. Fried Egg, meanwhile, had noticed how some of the food had landed near him, and was wasting no time in biting into the rubbery lumps of sausage meat with his still-forming teeth, gnawing and chewing and biting at it, determined to eat as much as he could before daddy stole it away.
âGotta get that, and that, and thatâŚâ Bruce muttered to himself, blinking with his blurry eyes, as he tried to focus on the bukkake of ingredients that were spread all across his kitchen floor. There was a lump of egg there, and a chunk of sausage there⌠and a handful of watery beans, a strip of paper-thin bacon, another lump of sausageâŚ
Fried Egg was still dutifully gnawing away at his hard-won prize, when he suddenly felt a hand grasp him tightly. He tried to let out a chirp, but his mouth was stuffed full of half-chewed sausage, so not a single noise escaped his grease-smeared lips.
He felt himself lifted and put down again, feeling something cold and wet against his pristine white fluff. But before he could complain, Fried Egg felt himself being poked and pushed and jabbed at, feeling the world constricting around him as he was forced into a slim, wet tube of some sort.
Meanwhile, Bruce was stuffing the ingredients back into his wrap, grabbing them by the fistful and cramming them into the half-rolled tortilla heâd managed to hold onto. He just got done stuffing in a handful of egg and sausage meat, then he scooped up some beans, then some more sausage, then some baconâŚ
Fried Egg, inside the wrap, was as terrified as he was angry. This was no way for a bestest baby like him to be treated! Didnât that idiot daddy know what he was doing?! Fried Egg wasnât food, he wasnât some kind of⌠of EGG or something! He was a fluffy pony!
Any further thoughts were drowned out as a heap of watery beans slapped into Fried Eggâs face, soaking his fluff with pale orange-y juices. With another jab, the light was blocked out by another lump of meat, and the tortilla was fully wrapped up. Fried Egg wriggled and writhed as best he could, but his tiny limbs were too weak to tear through the thin, damp tortilla.
Bruce stood up, his legs wobbling beneath him, and carried his resurrected tortilla over to the microwave. He dumped it on a plate, opened the door, put the pile of food inside and slammed the door shut again.
Fried Egg, insid the wrap, was beyond confused! He kept being moved around, he could feel himself being carried somewhere, but also kept rolling from side to side, trapped inside the stupid wrappy thing. Then he heared a click, he stopped moving, and then there was a loud slamming sound.
He faintly heard something beeping⌠then something started to hum.
Bruce leaned back against his kitchen counter, boredly staring at the microwave as it started up, the wrap and itâs plate slowly rotating around inside as the waves of radiation poured into the cheap food product.
Meanwhile, inside the cheap food product, Fried Egg was starting to get scared.
Everything around him was making that buzzy humming sound, he could feel himself moving around and around, but he still couldnât get out of the wrappy thing. It was like the worst kind of blanket ever, it just wouldnât let him go!
Not only that, but⌠the wrappy thing was starting to get warm. No, not warm⌠hot.
Fried Egg was starting to sweat as he felt the lumps of meat and bean juice around him begin to warm up. He wriggled and thrashed and struggled as best he could, but it was no use, he was packed into the wrap too tightly. There was simply not enough room for him to fight his way out. He was completely trapped inside of the tortilla, which continued to slowly spin as it was warmed throughout.
Fried Egg opened his mouth and tried to scream, but his mouth was still full of stolen sausage meat. He could feel the hot bean juice starting to burn his tender skin, but couldnât do anything to escape from it. On all sides he was being squashed and held in place, as the heat increased and he felt himself being burned from the outside inwards.
After roughly one minute of the microwaveâs heat, Fried Egg let out a strangulated shriek as, one after another, his eyeballs popped. His delicate fluff had been singed off, and his fleshy body was turning a crispy dark red, as he continued to slowly spin, trapped inside the wrap.
Meanwhile, Bruce just watched as the microwave counted down the second minute, only one remaining. He just wanted to go to sleep, but, with the infernal logic of a person who was too drunk to realise how drunk they were, he knew he couldnât go to bed until heâd had something to eat⌠so that was what he was gonna do.
Finally, the third minute was up, and with a âdingâ the microwave stopped.
Bruce pulled the door open and grabbed the warm plate from the microwave, letting itâs door swing shut behind him as he walked towards his bedroom, already lifting the wrap to his mouth. He bit down hard, tearing off a chunk of moist tortilla, warm sausage, soggy beans and chewy egg. All in all it wasnât great, but hey, it was food, thatâs all that mattered.
Fried Egg, inside the wrap, was still alive, against all odds. He was barely able to breathe, badly burned all over and in constant pain, but he was alive. Maybe now, if daddy was done being stupid (ha, as if that would ever happen), heâd realise Fried Egg was in the wrap, and let him go, and give him new toys and lots of sketties and new siblings and a new mama that isnât so dum-
CHOMP
Pain. Blinding pain was all that Fried Egg could process anymore. His entire world was nothing but agony and suffering⌠because his entire rear half had been torn off, leaving only the roasted foalâs front half, still buried inside the wrap, still unable to speak or move⌠only able to exist, trapped in a ceaseless frenzy of pain on all sides. Pain from his burns, pain from his exploded eyes, pain from his missing rear halfâŚ
âUrgh, what the fuck?â Bruce mumbled around a mouthful of half-chewed meat. âTastes fuckinâ awful!â
He turned and spit the mouthful into the kitchen trash, then, after a moment of thought, up-ended the plate towards it, tipping the rest of the wrap into the trash.
âMustâve been out of dateâŚâ He muttered to himself as he dumped the plate on the counter.
He was ready at last to go to sleep, but paused, feeling an all too familiar sensation rising in his throat.
Bruce had just enough time to turn and plunge his head into the bin before he violently vomited, chucking up some half-digested mouthfuls of the wrap, a chunk of donner kebab, some scraps of paper that his mate Danny had bet him to eat (which proved the old rule true: never bet Bruce to do anything), and lastly a whole lot of cheap beer.
Bruce looked into the bin and grimaced. Heâd been fortunate that it had all stayed inside the bin, but it was going to need to be emptied immediately⌠in the morning.
Bruce paused just before heading into his own bedroom, shrugging off his drunkenness just long enough to do what he always did before going to bed: check the safe room door was definitely closed.
He looked it up and down, and put his hand on it, gently pushing against the wood to ensure it was completely shut tight⌠and it absolutely was.
He mentally shrugged. He was sure heâd closed it anyway after saying goodnight to Daisy, just like he did every night, and so went to bed to sleep off as much of his night out as he could before the inevitable hangover came to beat at his skull.
Inside the safe room, Daisy slept on, blissfully contented with her foals nestled against her warm, fluffy belly. Neither she, nor Bruce, nor her three remaining foals realised that one of their group was suddenly missing.
"Daddeh, hewp! Daisy nu can finâ bestes- uh, Fwied Egg!"
Bruce blinked himself awake the next morning. His head hurt a little, but it was actually better than usual, so he considered that at least something of a success.
âWh⌠what?â He muttered, hauling himself out of bed. He staggered around to the safe room and threw the door open, finding Daisy standing right in the doorway, her three remaining foals chirping noisily in their bed.
âWhatâs the matter?â He asked.
âDaddeh, Daisy wakey-upsy, buh⌠buh bestest babbeh nu hewe! Uh⌠uh⌠Fwied Egg nu hewe!â
Bruce looked around the safe room, confused. There was only so many places a foal could hide in such a small room with such sparse decoration. There was the bed, the litter-box, a few toys, two bowls (for water and food respectively)⌠but that was it. The food bowl was empty, the water bowl was halfway there, the litter-box was occupied only by gravel and turds, the toys were too small for even something as small as a foal to hide behind⌠that only left the bed.
Bruce shut the door behind himself and gingerly lifted out each of the three remaining foals, handing them over to Daisy to silently urge her to take care of the brats before they starved, while he carefully sifted through the bedding.
Daisyâs bed was a standard dog bed with some blankets and an old pillow thrown together, which sheâd fussed around with until sheâd made a suitable ânestâ for herself. That nest was promptly destroyed as Bruce looked through every crease in the blankets, all inside the pillow-case, feeling with his hands and listening hard with his ears for any slight chirp of distress.
But he found nothing.
ââŚI donât know what to tell you.â He said to Daisy. âI canât find him anywhere. He was definitely there when you went to sleep?â
âYUS DADDEH!â Daisy wailed, openly crying at the prospect of losing her âbestestâ.
âAnd you definitely didnât do anything to himâŚ?â Bruce asked cautiously, but Daisy violently shook her head no.
âNU DADDEH! Daisy wub bestest babbeh Fwied Egg! Nu wan ebah huwties bestest!â
Bruce looked around the safe room again.
âWell heâs got to be around here somewhere.â Bruce replied with a sigh. If Fried Egg was dead, theyâd be able to smell him rotting. If he was trapped somewhere, they could hear him chirping and crying for help (and also probably smell him shitting himself in panic). Neither Bruce nor Daisy could pick up on either sound nor smell, therefore logic dictated he was still alive and relatively safe somewhere in the apartment. Plus, the safe room door had been closed all night, Bruce had checked it before he went to bed, same as ever.
So clearly Fried Egg couldnât have gotten that far away from Daisy.
âLook, you keep searching, Iâll go and take out the trash.â Bruce said, departing the safe room as Daisy once again ignored her three remaining foals to hunt for her spoiled âbestestâ.
Bruce carried the entire bin out of the apartment, feeling it sloshing uncomfortably with every step. He carried it all the way to the dumpster and, lifting the lid with one hand, he emptied the trash bin into it with the other, watching as the torrent of vomit poured out, along with the half-eaten remains of the wrap.
Sparing it no extra thought he closed the dumpster and walked back to the apartment, deep in thought.
Just what the fuck had happened to Fried Egg, anyway�
