You stare down at your fluffy.
“Wha daddeh doing?”
Suddenly, a wave of guilt rushes over you. If you leave this world now, Fireball will die as well. He’ll starve without your help if he doesn’t kill himself first when he realizes you’re not coming back.
You shake your head.
“Wha?”
You can’t leave yet. Not like this.
“I’m just… cleaning up in here. Real mess…”
“Why daddeh awways hab saddies? Saddies am wike munstah. Nee foweba sweepies wif huggies.”
That makes you giggle.
“Well come here then”, you say and smile when Fireball jumps into your arms, cooing happily.
“Daddeh pwomise be happeh nao?”
“I’ll try”
That seems to satisfy Fireball and you stroke his fluff, carrying him back to his saferoom.
Turdball, as you named the mare, is cooing to herself in her nest when you come in. At first you think she’s asleep but then she perks her head up.
“Hewwo daddeh!”
You clap your hands, grinning at her.
“Da- Daddeh? NUUUUU! Wowstest thinkie-pwace nu make bad daddeh! Pwease…”
“Oh come on!”
“Hu… Wha?”
“Look at that!”
You point to Turdballs business, deposited right in the litterbox.
“You made bad poopies!”
"Wah? Buh poopies am in wittew- " SKREEEEEEEE
You snatch her up off the ground.
“Good poopies”, you hold Turdball over the litterbox, “go in the LITTERBOX!”
Then you press down on her sides as hard as you can, squeezing a stream of shit out that splatters into, and all around the litterbox.
“Now look at what you’ve done!”
You show her the litterbox that looks like a bomb had gone off in the middle of it.
“Tuwdbaww sowwy buh tummeh nu wa-” SMACK
“Don’t you blame that on your ‘tummeh’. You’re a bad fluffy and you know it!”
Before she can retort, you shove her into her own shit, watching as she flails her legs around. Just before she is forced to breathe in her poopies, you lift her up again.
She is now sobbing uncontrollably.
“Oh and now you’re all dirty. Well fucking done”
It is at that point that a part of you realizes that this is what you’ve needed your whole life. A stressball, a stress valve, whatever you want to call it, something that you can let your hate out on, your anger at life. You had a punching bag once but it was a cheap one that burst after 2 years.
Fluffies however provide the perfect stress relief. They’re loyal, completely dependant on you for everything and they look up to you no matter what. They’re also shaped like the perfect stressball. Who wouldn’t think of using a fluffy as a stressball at least briefly?
Turdball starts squirming in your grasp, grinding your train of thought to a screeching halt.
You look at her shit-smeared face.
“You, young lady, need a bath”
You carry her outside.
“baff?”
“That’s right. Lots of water for your ugly face”
“Nuuu! Wawa am bad fo’ fwuffy! Nu wan baff! Pwease nu wawa…”
Water is a primal fear in fluffies, for whatever reason, and Turdball starts flailing her legs again, this time coming close to dislocating her joints.
“Well tough. You need it.”
On your way up, you discreetly hit the light switch.
Turdball yelps in surprise.
“Huh? Where’d the light go?”
GROWL
SKREEEEE! MUNSTAH! SABE FWUFFY! DADDEH, SABE TUWDBAWW!
Still growling, you swing Turdball around and put him on a shelf.
Then, in a voice that’s as unrecognizable and monster-ish as possible, you say: “I’m heere to finish what I started…”, giving one of Turdballs legs a very light pinch.
SKREEEEEEEEE! SABE FWUFFY! NU TAKE MO’ WEGGIES! NEE FO’ WUN AN’ PWAY!
You can feel the cold floor underneath you get wet as you make bad pee pees but the munstah is just so scary! There’s nothing you can do about it.
Just then, it’s quiet for a moment and hope wells up inside of you that daddeh might’ve driven away the munstah.
He didn’t.
Owwies shoot up your rear legs and you can feel the munstah pulling on them. There’s nothing you can do but scream as it twists them and you feel something cracking. It’s an awful sound, escorted by even more owwies.
Suddenly it yanks on your legs hard, dragging you across the floor until, with a wave of hurties, your flesh finally gives in and your legs leave your body with an awful, wet sound. Immediately you can feel boo-boo juice flowing from the stumps and the exposed flesh that hadn’t been ripped off touches the dusty ground. All that culminates into the biggest hurties you’ve ever had. You pray to the big sky-daddeh to make the hurties go away. You can’t even move anymore with three of your leggies missing.
The sky-daddeh doesn’t seem to hear you though as you can feel the munstah’s hand on the hoof of your last remaining leg. It moves up to your torso slowly.
Closing your eyes, you grit your teefies and with your last reserves and a herculean effort, you kick the munstahs hand with your leg.
It jerks back, only to immediately come back and wrap around your leg. You scream and thrash at the foreign touch…
but it’s too late.
RRIIIPP
Your last leg is gone.
Sobbing, you let your head fall onto the ground, dizzy from all the hurties.
Why does your life have to be that way? Why does it have to be full of munstahs and bad-daddeh? Somewhere, deep down, you know that this isn’t what’s meant for you. That there’s others like you. Fluffies. And that these other fluffies have nice lives in nice housies. Why can’t your life be like that? No munstahs, no bad daddeh and sketties every day.
Why?
So many questions…
You only want huggies and toysies and love from daddeh.
Is that too much to ask for?
Instead, you get the meanest thinkie-place that keeps showing you the bad daddeh that gives you hurties and throws you around, laughing in the process.
You’re pretty sure it’s your thinkie-place and not daddeh himself because when he’s nice he’s sooo nice. He plays with you, he gives you the bestest nummies and even lets you watch that weird box he calls a ‘Teebee’!
No, it can’t be daddeh. It has to be your own meanie dummeh thinkie-place.
What did you ever do to deserve this?
Nothing! Absolutely NOTHING!
And then a new though pops into your mind. It’s the scariest thought yet and only consists of two words.
Wan die.
No.
No, as bad as life is right now, you don’t want to throw it away. As much as it hurts, as much as it stings, life can be absolutely wonderful and it would undoubtedly make Daddeh very, very sad if you gave yourself forever-sleepies.
Click
“Hey, Turdball look, the lights are ba- Oh. Ooh…”
“Munstah… wa hewe… gib… wowstest owwies… an’… take… weggies…”
“I… Yeesh, yeah I can see that. Well, that means you’ll just need even more of a bath, wont you?”
Turdball doesn’t answer.
That’s just as well.
Smiling, you pick your fluffy up, making sure to ‘accidentally’ press your fingers into the scabs on her leg stumps.
Man these shitrats really do heal fast.
In the bathroom you place your newly pillowed mare onto the toilet while you let water into the bathtub. You don’t let much in, only enough so that Turdball can sit in it with her head sticking out. And you make it warm, testing it with your finger.
At first, Turdball is afraid of the water, screaming and wiggling her stumps in vain but soon the warm water has a soothing effect, calming her down.
“Wawas… am su nice. Baff nu am bad. Wub baff!”
You ignore her and reach over her to turn on the tap, grinning deviously.
Turdball is puzzled as to why you’re making that face while letting in more of the water that she had checked off as harmless.
That is until she can feel it creeping up her neck. Soon she has to hold her head high to keep it above the waterline.
“Daddeh? DADDEH?! Fwuffy scawed! Bad wawas cummin to Tuwdbawws bweafie-pwace… Pwease nu mowe wawa… Tuwdbaww nu can move nu mowe”
Now she understands your expression but her screams are turned into gurgling chokes when the water finally reaches her mouth. Wiggling her stumps and flapping her wings hard (as far as thats possible underwater), she coughs and you quickly fish her out, fearing that she might breathe in water which would prove fatal for her as you have no medical knowledge whatsoever.
She takes a deep breath.
“Why meanie wawas gib huwties an’ no-bweafies tu Tuwdbaww? Tuwdbaww nu wub baff nu mo-”
You dunk her into the tub again, watching as she holds her breath this time.
Smiling at her as she looks at you with big, begging eyes, you completely forget what you’re doing and Turdball suddenly, instinctively opens her mouth.
You pull her out.
Shit!
She’s coughing and spluttering and you hope to god that you didn’t just kill her. She seems to be okay though and after a solid minute of coughing water out, your fluffy collapses onto the toilet, unmoving yet breathing steadily.
You sigh in relief.
In the interest of her survival you decide to stop intentionally drowning her and drain a bit of water from your tub.
Then you put Turdball back into the tub, who protests loudly.
“Nuuu! Wawa bad! Wawa gib wowstest owwies! Pwease gib outsies fwom bad wawas…”
Your mare has to strain to keep her head above the water and you take great pleasure in pushing it under with your finger, only to have her yank it out of the water again, breathing heavily.
You torture Turdball a bit more and towel her off afterwards, careful to avoid her ex-leg stumps.
Later, when you go to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat, you look out of your living room window and see the most perculiar thing.
A hole.
In your lawn.
Not a very big hole, about one meter in diameter but still very out of place.
As you approach your living room window, the ground starts to shake underneath you. Very mildly at first but growing in intensity.
Behind you, you hear Fireball galloping down the stairs.
“Daddeh? Wha am going on?”
Before you can answer, the earthquake suddenly stops completely and out of the hole climbs the most hideous… creature you’ve ever seen, worse than the ugliest poopie fluffy.
It has a barely recognizable head, necklessly merged with its big body.
3 Arms portrude from either side of its torso, all trying to heave the creature out of the unexplained hole in your back yard.
You hear Fireball shriek and exclaim that he must run from the munstah but something… something about that creature keeps you from looking away, mesmerizing you with an aura that resonates through every cell in your body.
“What is happening?”, you ask, though you’re not sure it’s truly you who’s asking. It’s like your voice is coming from outside, like you’re hearing it for the first time.
You feel like you’re… connected with this creature somehow, like your thoughts and emotions are linked to it, spilling into its mind and mixing with its own.
Then, not from the creature but from somewhere else, from your surroundings, from the very fabric of space and time comes an answer.
42
Although you don’t know why, that answer fills you with a deep sense of understanding, a deep sense of… knowledge, like it’s not just the answer to a simple question but rather the answer to all of the questions you’ve ever had and many more.
It is the answer to Life, the Universe and everything.
It answers every question, every concern that was ever on your mind, you feel like you know everything that there is to know but…
How is that possible?
It can’t be, there would be contradictions, paradoxes, inconsistensies… it wouldn’t work…
Yet somehow, it does.
Or does it?
You smile and close your eyes as space and time are torn to shreds and the entirety of the Universe is wiped out by the great big paradox that is…
omniscience.
THE END
Okay… what in the crying, shitting, spaghetti-eating fluff was that ending…
It’s not even an ending, it’s just a cork that I decided to put on the story then and there. I could’ve continued this story infinitely but I didn’t. I didn’t even plan it in the first place. I wrote it thought by thought, sentence by sentence, hell even word by word sometimes and somehow, be it through luck or random chance, I cobbled together a barely readable, barely understandable story.
So yeah, this is it I guess.
If there are any consistency errors because of my horrendous planning then I am deeply sorry but overall I think it’s been quite the trip I’ve had with this story. I’ve received a lot of positive reinforcement and a lot of love from you guys and I couldn’t be more thankful for that.
What am I saying?
I’m saying that I truly hope that this hasn’t been too big of a waste of time for you guys to read.
Adios.
