Part 1 can be found here.
Art for this finale was provided by:
The always astonishing @FluffyChimera
and the bewilderingly brilliant @Julie
If you don’t follow these two talents, I’ll piss on your lawn at 3am.
The sun beat down and the sweat from within the mascot suit turned the sweltered garb more into a portable sauna. Mandy’s steps became more akin to an apathetic scraping against the dry earth and grass, her mouth ran dry, and her optimism for the day had utterly shrivelled to a charred speck; like a newborn chirpy on a summer time Arizona sidewalk.
“I feel sticky as shit…” she groaned.
“Am miss Mandeh stiww upseties?” Brandy asked softly.
“Just grumpy, I’ll get over it.” Mandy relented.
“Wat du naow?” the burnt orange coated mare asked.
“That’s a good questi-.”
THWACK
A hard and flat surface smacked her ass with enough force to shatter her tenuous sense of stability. In a sudden spike of frenzy she snapped around with all of the blood thirsty ire of a tail-tugged alligator.
“Oww! MOTHERFUCKER!” Mandy snapped.
Standing before her was pale fluffer with an oak hand paddle. Burned into the face of the instrument was a single word: ‘Yaoi’.
“The fuck is your problem, mate!?” Mandy growled with the fire of a tigress before the lunge.
“Heeheehee!” was the only reply the fluffsuiter gave before running off, vanishing into the crowd.
“I’m gonna kill that bi-” Mandy grumbled, before her ears pricked at the sounds of conflict.
She followed the noise, weaving through the crowd of visitors until she found herself back at the XXL pen. There it was where she beared witness to two more fluffers, locked in verbal combat as they screamed about the fuckffies, all of which were tucked into the far corner of their pen, shivering from the vicious verbal dress down.
“Goddamn subspecies. I’m sick of these fucking things. They pop up everywhere! I came here for fucking fluffies!” The fat one raved and ranted.
“You fucking retard. They ain’t even a subspecies. They’re like something completely different! God I hate them!” the thin one screamed in frustration.
“Oi!” Mandy called out as she stomped over. “Leave them alone! It’s not like I don’t disagree, but we got families here and you’re acting more inappropriate than they are!” The mascot suited veterinarian scolded as she pointed and compared them to the fuckffies of which they despised.
“Holy shit! It’s Ditsy Deacon!” the portly one grinned, only to get punched in the arm by his companion.
“Who gives a shit. Look, the suit, it’s clearly modelled on Ditsy Deacon the third: Hair is a more muted green, tail is too short, and the body is too dark a shade. Nobody gives a shit about DDIII!” the thin one said with a whining look that yet still glowed with tinges of smugness in his encyclopedic knowledge of the company mascot.
“Yeah, sorry bro, we ain’t interested in what you’re selling. Maybe get a better suit for the next fluffer meetup, then we’ll associate with you.” the rounder one said with a smugness equal to that of his companion.
“First of: I work here, retard.
Secondly: this is a mascot suit.
Lasty: I’m not your ‘bro’.” Mandy snapped back, squinting at the duo from beneath her mask.
“Holy shit, it’s a chick?” they chuckled.
“Damn, bitch! You’re tall as fuck. What do they feed you British girls?” the skinny one laughed.
“Miss Mandeh, memba nut tu wose tempew gain.” Brandy tried so desperately to sooth.
“I’m calm…” Mandy replied through gritted teeth.
“Yo, big butch, you ever been Eiffel towered?” the chubby one probed.
“WEAVE MISS MANDEH AWWON!” Brandy scolded with a furious snarl.
“Don’t talk for me.” Mandy requested-, no, ordered.
“…Fine…” Brandy grumbled, her eyes ever transfixed on the duo.
“Well, cunts. I’m flattered and all, really. You freaks really know how to make a girl feel welcome. With that being said, I’m afraid I’m going to have to politely decline.” Mandy audibly grinned.
“How’s abo-.” the thin one went to ask.
“I wasn’t done talking.” the redhead growled. “No means no, lads. It’s a lesson we drill into our fluffies here with the utmost seriousness. If you have any complaints, you can address them to the rather study bull whip that’s sitting in the company breakroom.” she giggled.
“Hahaha, yeah, sure bitch. Do YoU gOt A lOiCeNcE fOr ThAt?” the American fluffers japed and chortled.
Mandy couldn’t help but release a sigh of resentful defeat.
“Yeah… funny. Absolutely haven’t heard this kind of joke a thousand times already from you burger munching, school shooting, star spangled ding-dongs.” she snided with a tone of cynical disdain and apathetic vocal fry that only a 28 year old, unmarried woman dressed as a fluffy could muster.
“Oi, ThAt’S hAtEsPeEcH, tHaT iS!” they pressed further.
“Ha! ‘Hate’ is far too nice a word to describe how I feel about you fucking fluffer creeps. So here’s the deal: fuck off, or I’ll show you a goddamn hatecrime!” she threatened.
The two backed away, their body language instantly shifting from that of predators to shivering prey.
“That’s right, pussies. Piss all the way off.” she ordered.
“S-sorry bro, didn’t realise you had a claim on this one!” the fat one trembled, before the duo took off running-, well… waddling in submissive terror.
“What ‘claim’?.. The fuck you two on about?!” she called out to them.
“Oh, hewwo nyew fwuff-… Eww.” Brandy cringed.
Mandy turned to see who the little mare was talking to, only to find herself looking left to right, seeing nothing but the passing by crowds and fluff fair fast food trucks.
“Who are you talking to?” Mandy inquired as she held her flattened hand above her eyesight like a natural sun visor.
“Poopie smewwies fwuff wite hewe!”.
“Right whe-OH MY GOD!” The mascot suited vet screamed in utmost horror as she looked down, only to see a fluff suited dwarf, bent over on all fours, arse raised to the sky, displaying a heavily used and rancid diaper for inspection.
“Jesus, Joseph, and Mary on a three seat bicycle! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Mandy screeched in the purest of disgust.
“Muh namsie am Oopsy-Poopsy! Need licky cleanies pweas!” he said with a thick and high pitched irish accent.
“I think I’m gonna be sick!” Mandy gagged, “Why the fuck are you lot like this?” she asked as chunks of undigested cereal and fruit smoothy flavouring fought to evacuate her throat.
“Wike what?” the brown coated midget fluffer asked as he transitioned into a handstand.
There was a great and terrible silence as a wet sloshing of brown semi-liquid came oozing from the waistband of the pervert’s undergarment.
The discomforting and harrowing silence continued on as the borderline gelatinous semi-solid of waste trickled down his torso until resting squarely on the chin of his masks muzzle. He never broke his handstand, he never broke eye contact, he just continued to giggle as his home brewed biowaste flowed down his body and fell to the earthy ground in rhythmic drips.
“Miss Mandeh… Dis am gwoss, Bwandy nu feew pwetty…” the nurse mare commented, before falling to the ground and coating the patch of grass before her in a deluge of undigested Milky Mare’s Pro-lactation Kibble™️
“Oh shit! Brandy, you oka-.” Mandy went to ask.
THWACK
Mandy’s spiked anxiety turned her on a dime as she spun to face her attacker.
“Dick sucker!” she yelled as she rubbed her now brused ass cheeks.
“No wowwies, Bestest smarty Oopsy-Poopsy! Queen Spanky is gonna get hew nice and tendew for ya! Hehehe!” the same pale blue fluffer from before giggled.
“…Run…” Mandy ordered in a stern grunt.
“Hehehe, wha-?” Queen Spanky tried to ask.
“There are kids here… For their sake, you get ten seconds to run. If you’re still in my line of sight after that, I’m shoving that paddle up your rancid cunt. RUN!” she barked. And with that, the ice blue anal assaulter sprinted off into the distance, panting and wheezing for her life.
“Now… You.” Mandy growled.
“Am it licky cleanies time now?” the fecal leprechaun inquired as he waved his shit smeared ass into the air.
“Normally, I get pissy about needing help to deal with turds like you, but just this one, I’ll make an exception…
DAAAAAAAAVVVVE~!” Mandy called out, and after twelve seconds of silence, two dots drew closer and closer.
“No! Oopsy-Poopsy is smarty! Oopsy-Poopsy will give sorry poopsies!” the dwarf scatologist declared as he turned his putrid ass to the approaching security duo like a defensive skunk.
Mandy knew for a fact that she was going to puke if she caught a whiff of, or saw what was about to go down. She reached down and snatched Brandy up, who was already emptying her stomach and then sprinted in the opposite direction of the repugnant munchkin.
She ran, even as both black and French Dave drew closer towards the diminutive pervert behind her, she kept running, she dared not look back, even as the two security guards screamed and gagged as they were coated in a rich torrent of fecal material.
Two minutes of continuous running in a hefty suit had taken it’s burdensome toll. Mandy collapsed behind a hot dog truck, she groped her mask and tore it from her sweat drenched face.
“Am yew otay? Miss Mandeh?” Brandy wearily asked of the gasping vet.
Rasps and pants were all that her human chaperone could answer with.
“Bwandy gun be wite backsies. Jus wait wite hewe!” the burnt orange pegasus said, before sprinting off to seek human assistance.
Mandy sucked the air from betwixt her teeth and held her mitted hand to her thumping breast.
These people were sick: that dwarf, his cohorts. In a noble world, they’d have been dashed against the rocks at birth. But, it was not just the invasive perverts, no. Mandy’s whole life had been one violent roller coaster after another since that God forsaken incident at the shelter.
As a Catholic, Ms. MacFeely was hardly a believer in karmic retribution, but sin and penance, those, she knew quite well.
It all hinged on fluffies, it always had; and it all rode upon the part that the repugnant pig-hamsters played in the grand scheme of her sordid tale
Was she being punished for hating them, or was she paying the hefty wages for loving them? The two states were almost indistinguishable now. And all that remained was a sweaty, cynical, jaded little ginger bitch, roasting in a soggy mascot suit that her coworker had previously worn whilst having her colon rearranged.
If God levied the highest turbulence upon his most beloved children, Mandy ought to be the first woman to sit the papacy in Rome for her troubles.
“Miss Mandeh! Miss Mandeh! Bwandy bwing hewp!” the nurse mare declared as a short, dark silhouette turned the corner behind her.
“Oh, fucking great…” Mandy scoffed, “You here to tear into me again.” she said, looking up at the acquired help.
“No, I came to check on my best bitch.” Billie sighed with hands rested squarely upon her hips.
“Ya got harassed by another one of them fluffer pricks, I heard. Ya good?” she inquired as she strolled up beside the sitting Mandy.
“Today just isn’t my day, is it?” Mandy asked with a defeated, wonky smile and glazed over eyes, staring off into the green fielded yonder.
“Nah, it ain’t.” Billie responded as a matter of fact.
A long silence passed before Billie brought herself to speak again, and with a clearing of her throat, her back slide down against the side of the food truck’s exterior wall, as she sought to sit with her colleague and friend, level to level.
“Ya know that if I knew this shite’d happen, I’d of never let ya set foot in that suit, right?” Billie said in a calmness so unlike her public image.
“Pfft, yeah, alright.” Mandy scolded with a rolling of her emerald eyes.
“Do ya really think that? That I’d let ya get sexually assaulted for a fookin’ laugh?” Billie scowled, her head slowly turning to Mandy’s direction.
“Why the fuck not? You basically do that yourself, with all the sex talk and aggressive flirting… It’s weird. And I don’t know if you’ve realised yet, but I’m straight, and I’m happy that way.” the redhead growled.
“So’s skettie till it’s wet.” Billie tried to joke, in a desperate attempt to defuse her friend’s mounting anger.
“See! You’re no better than that lot out there!” Mandy snapped.
“Don’t say that, please.” Billie spoke in a wounded cadence, yet still battling to appear unfazed.
“No, it’s true. You’re a goddamn creep! Just be normal with me. I’m you’re ‘friend’, right? You don’t need to fuck your friends to keep them.” the veterinarian sighed.
The silence returned as Billie found herself without a thing to say: yes, Mandy was a bitch; sure, she was frigged grump; and yes, she was a spiteful cunt at the worst of times… Yet, none of that stopped her from being absolutely right.
“Miss Biwwie am yew ot-…”
SLAP!
“Don’t talk to me, shitrat! This is between humans. Fook off! I don’t wanna hear ya, see ya, or smell ya!
Chew some grass, fookin’ bury ya’self in a litterbox, or just go play in traffic for all I care!” Billie roared as she kicked her converse at the mare, who jumped after the initial slap, narrowly avoiding a foot the the head.
Brandy stood there, her face twisted to one of shock; pupils shrunken, eyes wetted; her hoof rested upon that fresh sting, that dismaying heat that emanated from her cheek.
Yes, the young mare had been physically disciplined before with the likes of cattle prod and sorry stick in her youth; like the rest of her kind at Deacon farms who talk back or push the buttons of authority.
This time felt painful, it felt spiteful and new, different: not the strike of a disappointed authority figure with punitive implement in hand, but the hateful and intimate open palm of a furious, wounded, and ever so flawed human being.
Brandy merely sat there, lost for words as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Bwandy… Gu way, den…” she mumbled before excusing herself. She climbed under the food truck to process in quiet, sobbing lightly as she did.
“Why are you taking your shit out on her?” Mandy asked with a squint.
“That’s what they’re for. Ya know that just as much as I do. Ya hate 'em too, that’s fine. I couldn’t give a shit, me’self. Fook 'em.” Billie said as she wiped the sweat from her face with her shirt.
“So, what now?” Mandy inquired with a defeated shrug, “We’ve got a festival to run, it’s full of perverts, we’re overwhelmed, and this fucking suit has been tugging at my crotch all day…” Mandy groaned.
“Explains the attitude.” Billie chuckled lightly, and in turn, forcing a small, involuntarily smirk from her friend.
“How do you cope, wearing this shit each year?” the redhead sighed.
“Easy… I wax.” Billie replied with a grin.
“No, I don’t mean the suit. I mean the stress. This gig has been nothing but murder.” Mandy corrected in a more serious tone.
Billie reached into her ripped jeans and withdrew a single pre-rolled cigarette and zippo. She popped it betwixt her lips as she mulled the question over.
“Remember what’cha said bout kids? Bout me havin’ a soft spot for 'em? Yeah, I do.” she admitted with a look of calm sureness.
“I mean, yeah, normal people do love kids, but, seeing the way you handled that boy back in the tent, there’s more to it. So tell me, what happened to you?” Mandy asked.
“I’ll tell ya for a kiss.” Billie half joked and yet fully deflected, as all the while staring into the grass before letting out the deepest of smoke rich exhales.
“No, none of that bollocks. The truth.” Mandy pressed.
“I… Didn’t have a good childhood…” Billie said as she leaned back against the truck.
Mandy looked her friend from head to toe: Choppy manic pixie bob; a face covered in piercings; way too much eye shadow; leather bracelets; black painted and chewed on nails; ripped black jeans, and converse sneakers that screamed daddy issues; and all of it thrown together with a faint smile, a thin vale to mask the wounded innocence of a woman who clearly never got to be a little girl.
“No shit…” Mandy replied softly, yet with not an ounce of cruelty,
“Didn’t need to be a shrink to tell that much. But, if you aren’t up to talking about it. I won’t press you.” she assured.
“Thanks…” Billie sighed as she dabbed the ash off of her cig against the rubbery bottom of her shoe.
“And you? Why are you on the rag 24/7?” Billie asked.
“You aren’t going to laugh at me, are you?” Mandy softly begged with a defensive chortle.
“Nah.” was the only reply.
“Well, I used to love fluffies, and I mean fucking LOVE the little shits. And I-… I worked in a shelter, made them happy, healthy, safe.
My dad… --God, I loved him–. Biggest, strongest, funniest man you could ever hope to meet. He had a stroke… back when covid hit, and the second one put him on life support.
He’d never outright admit it, because he just wasn’t that kind of man, but I was his favorite kid, and he was my favourite parent.” Mandy explained.
“Wouldn’t have pegged ya for a daddy’s girl.” Billie smiled.
“Yeah, he was a beautiful man, inside and out.
He-… he was a vegetable after the second stroke, and I knew him, I knew his pride couldn’t bear the thoughts of my mum, my little brother, and me, all seeing him, shrunken and weak in that hospital bed. So I pulled his plug. I watched him die.” Mandy said as her voice turned to a croak and a tear trailed down her freckled cheek.
“I’m sorry, Mandy.” Billie tried to console.
“I went into work at the shelter on the same day. I really needed the company of my little friends. I really thought that they were gonna help me pull myself back together.
Instead, they turned on me at my most vulnerable. They shit on me, literally. The fuckers laughed or outright ignored my suffering, all because they blamed me for one of the mare’s getting a hysterectomy the week before, and decided that I was their enemy, that I stole her baby making place, that I had somehow betrayed THEM for saving that mare’s life by cutting that cancer ridden sack out of her.” the wounded veterinarian sobbed through gritted teeth.
“I loved those little cunts. And they turned on me…” she added, “That was the day I inherited ‘the MacFeely curse’.” she scoffed with quotation marks.
“The what?” Billie asked, her brow cocked at such a silly statement.
“My dad was a pure blooded, ruby bearded, Gaelic giant of a man… Big spiritual type too. --Your superstitious Romani arse would have loved him–. He used to say that our family had a curse:
'One MacFeely per generation gets de anger in ‘em. Oh, aye, it swims te de surface like a great beast!’”. she said, quoting her dad as she tried her best to mimic his thick accent.
“So ya cursed? That’s pretty fookin’ sick.” Billie tried to joke.
“Doesn’t feel ‘sick’, I feel like a fucking mental case… I’m angry, all the goddamn time, and I’ve been taking it out on the things I love ever since.” Mandy admitted with a shoulder slumping sob as she buried her face into her knees.
“Miss Mandeh… Bwandy nu bwame yew for wat habin wid dose dummeh fwuffies.” the nurse mare finally interjected.
“Nu wus yew fauwt. Miss Mandeh was twying yew bestest.” Brandy said as she rested her head upon the mascot clad veterinarian’s thigh.
“Mandeh feew bad, su nuwse Bwandy am gun mayk heawt huwties gu way.” The orange mare assured as she hugged Mandy’s leg as tightly as a cat sized faux-equine could muster.
“T-thanks… Brandy…” she sobbed back, reaching down and running her mitt covered hand across the nurse mare’s auburn mane.
Brandy crawled up onto Mandy’s lap and rested there for as long as the veterinarian needed her to.
As Mandy was too caught up in her own emotions to notice, Billie looked down and her blood ran cold.
There was a frosted and spiteful glare in Brandy’s eyes. If looks could kill, Brandy’s stare would have punctured right through Billie’s head like a javelin wreathed in fire and hate.
The disciplinary and the nurse mare silently battled out their wills, judging one another, testing and probing with their eyes. Only when Billie’s phone went off did she pull herself up from the grass, dust the cigarette ash from her knees, stomp out the butt, and give her friend one last reassuring and soft punch on the arm before excusing herself with a swift “Oop, breaks over!”.
But even as she slowly turned the corner of the truck to step back into the fray, she could not help to turn back through the corner of her eye and still find the burnt orange mare’s eyes, still burning through her, still judging, still loathing.
After some time and a crash out recovery session. Mandy took a deep breath and pulled herself off the grass.
“Miss Mandeh?-.” Brandy went to ask.
“Just between you and me, you can call me Mandy… I’m not about that honorific shit.” the vet said.
“Oh, otay…” Brandy softly nodded, “Mandeh?”.
“Yeah?”.
“Yew can pu Bwandy downsies noaw.”.
“Oh, haha… Sorry.” Mandy chuckled awkwardly as she lowered the mare to the grass.
“Bwandy thinkie unastan naow.” the mare smiled.
“About what?” was the reply.
“Yew nu memba?”.
“Remember what?” Mandy inquired with a cocked brow.
“Bwandy askies whu huwties Mandeh… Bwandy thinkies dat Mandeh huwties Mandeh.” she concluded.
“You really are a smarty, aren’t you?” Mandy asked with a soft smile.
“Pwomis nu teww?” Brandy wearily begged.
“I’ll keep your secret… Smarty-pants.” Mandy assured as she pet Brandy’s soft back.
“Am yew feewin widdwe bettah?”.
“Yeah-, well, I think so… Let’s get out there and cut the crust off this shit sandwich of a fair.” Mandy smiled as she threw her mask on.
“OTAY!” Brandy cheered.
Half an hour later found Mandy and her little companion wondering about, hugging kids, giving out ballons, taking pictures, and all the other actions of saccharine sweetness the redhead’s heart craved. And for a time, she found her mood elevated.
She returned to the special order pen and noticed Adonis, forlorn as he sat and stared at his legs.
“Oi, remember me?” Mandy asked with a verbal smile.
“Oh nu, scawy big hoomin-mawe!” Adonis eeped.
“Hey, it’s all good. I’m feeling better, not mad anymore.” Mandy assured.
“O-otay…” Adonis submitted.
“So, what’s with the long face?” Mandy inquired.
“Am fwuffy. Facie am spose tu wook wike dat.” he said with a twinge of confusion.
“Sure didn’t breed you for your brains, did we?” She replied under her breath as she reached into the pen and stroked his glorious mane.
“But seriously, why so glum?” she added.
“Weww…” he sighed, looking down at his legs and whimpering with visible self doubt.
“Am Adonis tuu ‘nobwe’ wookin?” he inquired.
“Well, you are pretty damn handsome for a walking testament to man’s eternal greed and hubris.” Mandy shrugged.
“ID AM TWUE! AM TWUUUEEE! ADONIS AM TUU PWETTY!” he sobbed.
“Who the fuck said that?” the vet inquired.
“Meanie nu-fwuffy mistahs, dey wook wike yew.” he said.
“Of course the fluffers would have a problem with you.” she groaned.
“Listen, you’re a handsome little guy, and that’s exactly the way your owner wanted you to be. You really shouldn’t be fussed over a bunch of weirdos who are going to hate you, regardless of what you do. Just be a fabulous little fuck, alright? It’s your new daddy that you’ve got to impress, not the creeps, not me, not even the boss. Alright?” Mandy assured.
“Otay.” he sniffled.
“Based.” was her reply.
“Jus… Wun mowe thingie?” he requested.
“Very well, what is it?” Mandy said with hands rested upon her hips.
“Am Adonis weggies too wong?” he inquired with pleading eyes.
“You’ve got some serious body image issues… Don’t you?” she sighed.
“Wat dat meansie?” he asked, to Mandy’s chagrin.
“listen, mate, I’m a vet, not a therapist. Best I can do is arrange for you to get a quick shag with Coffee before the week is out, alright, will that cheer you up” she tried, rather awkwardly, to console.
“Speshew huggies wid pwetty owd poopie munstah mawe?!” Adonis gasped with glittering eyes.
“You sure have a way with words.” she chuckled, “I think she’ll just appreciate you calling her by her name.” she snorted with a ghost of a laugh.
“Am gun gib pwetty Cowffie AWW da bestest huggies an wub!” he gleefully wiggled on the spot with excitable tippy-taps.
“I’m sure you will.” Mandy smiled through the mesh her mask.
“Adonis?” Brandy interjected.
“Yeah, udda nuwse mawe?” was the replied.
“Wat yew thinkie bout hoomins?” she probed.
“Hmmmm.” he thought aloud to himself as he stroked his chin with his elegantly manicured hoof.
“Wub hoomins!” he concluded with a dopey nod.
“Eben da bad wuns dat hayt Adonis?” she asked, appearing to study him closely with focused eyes.
“Uhh, Adonis guessie su?” the mighty thoroughbred pondered, his confidence visibly shaken.
“Otay. Bwandy jus… checkin.” she smiled softly.
Mandy couldn’t see much through the meshen fabric of her mask’s visor, but her ears were still worth something. She could detect an expression in Brandy’s voice that felt inquisitive. It was clear to see for her now that the nurse mare was no dullard; smart as a whip and sharp as a tac. In an odd sort of way Mandy felt a strange kinship with this mare than she had ever yet to forge with the likes of her coworkers.
“Anyway-.” she interrupted with a clearing of her throat, “You stay brave for Mr Deacon and I’ll wingman on Coffee for you. 'Kay?”.
“Otay. Adonis gun du id fow Cowffie!” he smiled.
“Alright, cool.” she smiled awkwardly, “Well, I’ve got stuff to do, balloons to hand out, so I’m gonna hit the road. Stay safe, sparkle butt.” Mandy requested as she scratched behind his gilded ear and then made for the trail.
The smell of hotdog venders and sizzling burger vans still permeated the air in a rich and smokey miasma.
She walked about and did her requested duties of the day, but something was wrong now, something was off. The heckles upon her nape stood on their roots as she felt an oddity about her; the atmos was thick with trepidation and worry.
Mandy looked around and noticed the population, the demographics were concerning at best.
Earlier in the day, the loathsome fluff suited fetishists were a mere one to every seventy of the wholesome crowd, and yet now, there was a felt and fur coated, bipedal pervert for every twentieth patron.
A sea of technicoloured silhouettes, moans, groans and horribly executed fluffspeak was almost as loud as the concerned yelling of the parents, the shouting of the confused fluffies, and the wailing of freshly traumatised children.
“Jesus Christ…” Mandy grumbled. “Our reputation is fucked after today.”.
“Um, hel-, hello?” a meek voice inquired.
Suddenly, a hand touched her shoulder, and immediately she turned to lay a right hook into whoever was stupid enough to touch her, especially after today of all days, ‘face of the company’ be damned.
“AHH! NO-WAIT-DON’T!” the dishevelled, borderline homeless looking gentleman begged as he recoiled like a colt before the whip.
Mandy froze, her heart sank, her eyes blinked; she could not believe what she was seeing: Marcus, her sweet Marcus. Her boyfriend, --if she could even still call him that–, stood before her, clutching a fluffy in his arms.
He looked like shit, hell, he smelled like shit. His clean cut hair had devolved into a messy tangle of a mane, his clean shaven face was now adorned in a patchwork of stuble, and his regular clean cut attire was replaced with sweatpants and a poorly buttoned up shirt; both of which were adorned in a myriad of sweat and food stains.
Held tightly in the trembling and visibly exhausted grasp of her dear Marcus was a fluffy: a shivering runt of a stallion, with half an ear missing and a nasty trinity of parallel scars over his milky white eye.
Upon the stone washed blue unicorn’s torso was a yellow jacket, adorned in high visibility silver stripes, and upon it’s visible side, Mandy could make out a single trilogy of words:
“S.A.F.E: Therapy Fluffy.”.
Her heart broke at the sight of him, what he had become since their vacation in Wales together, the state he was in because of her choice to go there, and her failure to retain that innocence in him that she found so beautiful and intoxicating.
“Hey-… u-um… I’m looking for s-someone here.” he trembled.
Mandy wanted to speak, but as she went to, her lips quivered shut, her throat tightened, the words would never come. She just stood there, staring blankly through the eyes of the mask that obscured her.
“Her name is Mandy… Mandy MacFeely… She’s the veterinarian here.” he explained, “D-d-do you… Know her? Tall, red hair, freckles, beautiful green eyes. It’s… hard to miss her.” he said, utterly oblivious to his situation.
Mandy missed him so much. God, more than anything, she wanted to grab that sweet little dope of man and kiss him, hug him, tell him it’s her, and how scared she’s been without him in her life these passed few months; how she feared that he had ghosted her because he wanted to finally breakup. She would have done all of that if it wasn’t for the sudden fear that entered her mind, and the fear was as simple as it was plausible: what if he was here to make good on that fear and officially cut off their relationship?
She couldn’t bear it, not now, not today, not after everything she had seen, done, and been through. She couldn’t stomach the thought of him seeing her in that sweltering suit, knowing that she hid beneath this reeking and embarrassing garb: her sweaty hair, slicked with the greases of her own body, the tired bags under her eyes. She felt as terrible as he looked.
“W-, well? I need to talk to her.” he said.
“Gud, vewy gud, daddeh Mawcus. Yew am sociawizin su gud!” his therapy fluffy encouraged as it carefully stroked his forearm.
Mandy didn’t say a word as she raised up her shoulders, only to drop them in a sudden slump. Her silent shrug, it was all her breaking and fearful heart could muster.
“Oh, o-, okay. Thanks anyway…” he painfully smiled with a defeated slouch.
She watched him vanish into the crowd, forever looking for her, even as he was visibly crumbling at the seems.
She knew, deep in her heart that she did him a favour. She wasn’t worth the pain he was putting himself through.
“Mandeh?” Brandy asked.
“Yeah?” the vet mumbled in a semi-lucid state, eyes glazed and expression devoid of joy.
“Dat mistah smeww wowse den yew.” she stated plainly.
“Heh, yeah… he does.” Mandy replied with the wisping shade of a smile.
Suddenly, a loud and terrible scream came from just over yonder, dragging Mandy from her thoughts back into the waking world.
Without a word, she ran up to the encirclement of onlooking fluffers and visitors.
She pushed through, and smack dab in the center was a big, bulbous, horrific mass of yellow, with a ribbon and red mane upon the mask.
“Ooooooo! Id am cummin’! Uh, uhh, uhhhhh, uueee, ugghe! B-biggest…” the portly mass moaned as it squated over, stroking it’s cartoonishly large and inflated belly.
“Bigg-… est…” it continued as it reached down and unzipped a concealed opening at the crotch, creating the illusion of a dilating acropolis.
“BIGGEST POOPIEEEESSSS-ooooohhhh-yeeeeaaaaah!” they screamed as they pressed on the false belly sack within their suit.
Suddenly, a horrific stench of boiled piss and shit filled the air, accompanied worse off by the nose violating reek of proteins that had been left to soak and marinade in this concoction of Hell’s making.
The ‘womb’ emptied itself as a collection of chirpies in various states of decomposition as they violently hit the earthen ground with a putrid and soggy slap.
The look of fear and terror that sat emblazoned upon their tiny faces, partnered with the sewer-like funk of their bloated remains forced almost all in attendance to scream and disperse in abject horror.
Mandy looked around and saw a boy, tiny, no older than three or four. She reached down and picked him up as she ran from the gag inducing miasma.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay!” she tried to console the wide eyed and borderline catatonic child.
“Owen!? Where are you? Owen?!” his mother called out as she ran up to Mandy and wrestled him from her protective grasp.
“Pervert! You freaks in your fluffy costumes! Don’t touch my son again or I’ll use this!” she said, holding a can of mace up to Mandy.
“The fuck are you on about? I was trying to get him away from the perverts!” Mandy snapped back.
“Ha! Likely story, creep!” the boy’s mother squinted.
“No, seriously, look at the logo on the building, I’m here as a mascot, I’m not with these frea-AHHHHHH MOTHERFUCKING CUNT!” Mandy tried to explain, only to be rewarded with a face full of neon orange, oily gunk for her troubles.
She stumbled and gagged as she pulled away, trying to regain balance.
“That’s what you get, child snatcher!” the woman responded before landing a kick squarely between Mandy’s legs.
“FUUUUUCK! MY GODDAMN PUSSY!” Mandy gagged and screamed.
She blindly waddled about, as Brandy tried to console, but words fell on deaf ears, failing to compete with the screaming agony of a freshly booted minge and a face full of pepper spray.
“Brandy!.. I’m gonna… need your help!” Mandy begged through mucous thick coughs.
“Otay! Wat Mandeh need?” the mare asked.
“Ice-cream! Get me some fucking ice-cream!” Mandy wheezed.
“Uhhh, wy?”.
“DON’T ASK, JUST WALK TO THE ICE-CREAM TRUCK AND KEEP TALKING!” she ordered, “I can’t see, I need to follow you with my ears!” the gagging and groaning vet added.
After much bumping and tripping ass over tit, the sultry sounds of brandy’s voice finally led Mandy to the desired vehicle.
“Hey there, welcome, what can I get yo-.” The pizza faced teenager manning the ice-cream machine inquired.
“VANILLA MILKSHAKE AND A BAG OF ICE! NOW!” Mandy barked as she slammed a random assortment of cash onto the little counter inside of the truck’s window.
“O-… Okay…” was the only response.
The next twenty minutes, Mandy spent a good amount of time downing her milkshake and pouring it over her face as she stuffed the ice bag into the crotch of her suit.
“Umm, Mandeh?” Brandy inquired with a cocking of her head, “Am yew twyin tu git miwkie nummies aww obew yew facie?”.
“Yeah… The fat in the milk helps disperse the chemicals that are blinding me… I’ll wash my face with the hose when I’m done.” Mandy explained in a tone that seemed painfully too calm.
“Mandeh?” the nurse mare asked again.
“What?”.
“Am yew otay?” she fearfully questioned.
“Yeah, I’m fine… I’m fine…” she grinned crookedly, her eyes twitching with a looming state of delusion.
“I’m gonna go home, I’m gonna go on a nice date with marcus-… I’m gonna go to the gym with papa… It’s gonna be-… it’s gonna be perfect.” she said through a hollow grin as she wiped and rinsed the cream from her face.
“Bu… Mandeh… Yew daddeh am fowevah sweepies…” Brandy said with a terrified gulp.
“Ha-… Haha-… Hahahahahaha-HAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAA!” Mandy hollared manically!
“Mandeh! Yew am scawin Bwandy! P-Pweas stawp!” the rookie nurse mare cried as she slowly backed away.
“Oops! I forgot. Silly me~!” she smiled with a gallows bound glare as she got up and slid her now sodden and soggy mask over her face.
“Oh well! Back to the grindstone~!” she said giggled.
“Mandeh? Mandeh?!” Brandy tried to call out as she waddled after the clearly broken woman. “Yew am bein aww weiwd! Stawp! Mandeh nee west!” she begged.
“Nope! --HAHA-- No can do! It’s in the contract! Gotta work-work-work~!” she chimed back in a toned that noted how deep within the rabbit hole of her breakdown she was on.
“Mandeh! PWEAS WISTEN!” Brandy begged with tearful eyes and lump in her throat!
Mandy continued on she walked up to the mummah pen. She stood upon a turned over crate and called out to anyone who were still trying to find some good in this day of hardships.
“HEWWO EBEWY-WUN! AM DITSY DEE-KAN! AN IB YEW WOOK WITE OBEW HEWE! WE HAB DA NUMMAH PEN! FUWW OB BIG AN PWETTY MUMMAHS, AN CUTE WIDDWE BEBBEHS!” she announced.
“Shhh, it’s okay Kathy! I know the weird people are scary, but here, let’s look at some babies!” A mum tried to say to their child.
“Look C.J, ain’t they cute as hell?” a dad said to his little boy.
And so on and so forth until eventually the pen was surrounded by well intentioned parents, trying their damnedest to make the best out of a rotten day, and their children, who despite it all, just want to see some happy little fluffies.
She may have been losing her sanity in the moment, but if she could just keep a little patch of this festival unmolested by perversion and chaos, then she could walk away with something vaguely resembling a victory, even if just merely a Pyrrhic one.
Mandy stood upon her crate and continued in her state of hysterical ferver to entertain the people around. She looked around and could see it: dads with daughters, mothers with sons, families making the best of it, and she drank it all in.
For a moment, she felt as if she had a handle on the situation, like a captain loading the lifeboats for this innocent lot, lost in a sea of filth and corruption.
And then, just as she felt the twinging bud of something resembling hope for the day, the festival, her own bloody existence, the delusion of control shattered with a terrible noise.
THWACK
A familiar ripple bounced across her rear, forcing her footing to slide from the wooden box, and send her hurtling against the railing.
“Hehehehe!” was the only noise she heard behind her, before her face slammed into the railing, knocking the mask from her face and turning the world dark as midnight.
When she came to, she found herself laying exactly where she had landed, and by the looks of things, she had only been out for a few seconds.
“Mandeh? Am yew nee doctah?” Brandy wearily asked as she tried her hardest to help Mandy from the floor. “Was scawedies Mandeh was gun gu fowevah sweepies!” Brandy sobbed.
“I-, I’m good.”.
She looked around, and all eyes were locked upon her, especially the fluffies.
“What the hell are you lot staring at?” she groaned as she sat herself up, gripping the railing with her mitted hand. A sense of shock took Mandy.
“DEWE AM HOOMIN INSIDES FWUFFIES?!” one of the mare’s screamed in a shocked tone, a glimmer of gobsmacked revelation sparkling in her eyes.
“YAY! FWUFFIES AM HOOMINS!” they cheered.
“Am dat twue, hoomin-fwuffy wady?” A black and white mummah asked.
“…Fuckin’ what?..” a still delirious and potentially concussed Mandy replied.
“Wady sayd ‘YUS’!” another concluded, to which the hoard began rapidly attempting to replicate the magical transformation process, that they believed to have just taken place.
Mandy’s vision slowly returned to true as she looked about and witnessed horror beyond expectation.
Foals were tugged and twisted, writhing and screaming as their parents feverishly pulled head from torso; some partial, others fully with a clean snap and break. Manic screaming and bulged eyes focused as the living bean bags were torn open to ‘free’ the illusory tiny humans inside.
As the horrid frenzy continued in its entirety, one by one they started to realize how grave a mistake they had made. It was too late for them, the sunken cost of children’s blood was a wage payed in full.
The mothers began to panic as they madly rushed from foal to foal, litter to litter, as they begged them to have a miniscule treasure inside who could adopt them and take them far from this farm, to a true home.
Their childlike imaginations had run away with them, and innocent desire poisoned their actions. Mandy froze in horror as she witnessed a white and black mare, clearly bred to be modelled on Betty Boop, pining her final child by his tiny tail as she begged and cried for the collapsed skull of her freshly underhoof stomped second to last born to reveal his theoretical homunculus to save her.
“Pweas widdwe hoomins, com ou ob bebbehs, nu mowe hidies, pweas?” the monochromatic mare madly begged and choked through tears.
“Mummah nee yew tu gib gud homsies… huuuuu… pweas!”.
“EEEEeeeeeee! Nu-wan-nu-wan-NU-WAN! Huuuhuhuhuuuuuu!” her last surviving foal screamed as he clawed, dug in his tiny hooves, deep as they could into the earth as he tried in vain to free his tail from under his matriarch’s hoof.
Mandy turned away in shock, disgust, and horror. bile built itself in the pit of her stomach like a great leviathan, threatening to break the water’s surface.
She lurched and gagged, turning elsewhere, only to find herself tasting a new revulsion with her eyes:
A sparkly mare and her orange headed cohort sat in the center of the the pen, tugging on either side of the foal as they pulled it.
“EEEeee… EEEeeeeee! EEEEEEEE-!”
SNAP!
SQUELCH!
CRACK!
The body halved and organs flew near and far.
Mandy’s eyes darted madly, only to turn in the direction that beared nought but terrible and heart wrenching pleading. Her ears pricked and rang as the wails of a heart broken mother sliced through the noise about her.
“Pweas widdwe daddeh… hewp bebbeh!”
A beautiful beige mare with chocolate hued splotches begged, her bright and tear sodden eyes pleading through the length of her silver fringe towards a little boy on the other side of the railing.
“huggies nu hewpies!” she declared in a hyperventilating panic.
She held her child up high to be seen by all, but especially the boy.
The foal was a charming, grass green little scamp with a scarlet mane, its head had been wrenched and with its spinal cord up several notches. Horrific and overextended it was, and Mandy’s heart sank as her eyes studied the little boys expression. She knew, in her heart of hearts that he would never forget this day and he would never forget the wonky and dead-eyed stare of that foal.
She looked around in a panic, begging for any part of this pen with no foals in sight, no more infanticidal horror laid out before her tear soaked eyes; and Mandy was rewarded with two fluffies in the corner of the pen, fully grown mares, pulling at each other’s heads like the dopey fools they were.
“Huwwy, bestest fwend! EHH! Puww hawdew! EEEH! Wan be hoomin mummah- EEH! an gib gud homsies!” a light green and golden mare begged as her blue and orange counterpart yanked at her head with all the force that a living plushy could muster.
POP
“…Bestest fwend?..” the blue mare sobbed.
Mandy got up and tried to pull away, she looked around for an opening in the surrounding crowd of terrified and sobbing onlookers. As she turned away, the last thing she heard and saw was a mother gnaw open her own foal’s belly after she declared that this naughty bebbeh was hiding skettie in its tummy, before biting down and ripping out the offending intestines.
She ran, and Brandy followed. Pushing and shoving, applying her strength. She pulled her mask back on and threw herself against the door to the mill’s warehouse.
“DIS AM AWW MESSIED UPPIES! AWW DEM BEBBEHS! MISTAH DEE-KAN GUN BE SU ANGWIES! BWANDY NU WAN GU TU TOWEW!” the nurse mare begged and panicked.
"Sh-shut up! Mandy said as she fought for air.
“Wat gun du?!” Brandy cried.
“You won’t go to the tower, I promise y-.” she tried to console as she bent down, hands on knees to comfort the fearful nurse mare.
A sudden and sharp sensation hiked the already exhausted vet’s sweat sodden underwear up her crack, as she was pulled back by a rough tugging on her lower half.
The tail of her mascot suit was yanked and lifted, and she turned in horror to find a tall and imposing fluffer. His suit was a crimson red, with a mane of hellfire orange.
“Hey, bitch. Yew wan sum fuk?” he said in terrible fluffspeak.
Revolted shock and silence was his only answer.
“Yew a wetawd?” the fluffer asked with a snicker, “Daddeh Cwimson sayd: YEW. WAN. SUM. FUK?!”.
“Yew gun gib Daddeh Cwimson yew diwty widdwe cunt, ow yew gun get sowwy hoofsie.” he said as he yanked her towards him.
He reeked. The mouldy purification within his suit had seeped out into the aura around him, like a thick and miasmic funk that molested Mandy’s nostrils.
“WEAVE MISS MANDEH AWWON WITE NOAW!” the nurse mare roared. “BWANDY HAYT YEW! HAYT AWW YEW MUNSTAH NU-FWUFFY HOOMINS! WEAVE GUD HOOMINS AWWO-oough!” Brandy cried before she was sent flying with a kick to the gut, slamming into the steel sheet exterior wall of the mill. She was alive, in pain, unconscious, but alive. An expert veterinarian such as Mandy could tell suxh things from a glance; it did not settle the silently boiling rage in her gut, however.
“Daddeh Cwimson gonna fuk yew afta, widdwe swut. Jus wait yew turn!” he laughed.
“Okay then… Let’s go…” Mandy said in a monotone fashion.
She opened the door, grabbed the fluffer by his wrist and dragged him into the walkway; with the creep laughing to himself, all the while.
“Yew am a kinky bitch, Daddeh Cwimson can teww.” he giggled as he was dragged along.
“…Follow…” was her only reply.
She led the foaming pervert by his wrist, marching through the hall with a dead silence about her.
“So, du yew got a name tu go wid that perky ass?” he audibly drooled, “Haven’t seen yew wound da udda fwuffer gathewings, su yew must be nyew, wite?” the red coated sex pest pondered.
“…Yeah, sure…”.
“Why yew com hewe, tu dis gay ass hugbox festival, hosted by that pink tie wearing faggot?” he audibly seethed, so much so that he had forgotten to keep up his poorly acted fluff speak.
“…I work here…”.
“Heh, nice. I’m going to fuck one of Derek’s girls, right on the floof of his own mill. Serves him right; self righteous little cuckold.”.
“…Yeah, sure…”.
“I heard a rumour once, back when he was in high-school. ‘Dirty Derek’ they called him. They say that some dumb little ginger bitch wore a kilt with no knickers to school one day; and Derek, well, he was a wild shit back then. Hell, I might of even liked him at that age, he sounded fun.”.
“…I see…”.
“So, what they say is: Derek had a reputation back then. He loved to lift skirts, liked the pretty patterns and colours on the knickers, and the looks of fear and embarrassment on the girl’s faces. And that stupid little slut just so happened to cross his radar that day. You heard that story before?”.
“…I’m familiar…”.
“Whole assembly hall saw her little cunt. She got called ‘flame puss’ or some shit like that.”.
“…Fire crotch…”.
“Yeah, that sounds about right. You bet she still cries over it in shower, or when she stares at her ceiling in the early hours of the morning? Or do you think she got off to it? Dirty girl probably got an exhibitionism kink out of it.”.
“…No…”.
“No to the first, or second?”.
“…No…”.
“‘No’ what? You dumb cu-.”
“NO!”.
Suddenly, her grip tightened around his wrist like a vise, she kicked open the steel door to the room she had been marching towards, and dragged him inside.
The fluffer looked up the length of the tower of steel that he stood within. Boxes of metal with doors of iron bars; and each housed a pregnant mare. Their wailing was deafening, their screams were of agony. Weather or not it was from the misery of their existence or the fact that some of them were in labour, they screamed all the same.
At the center of the circular, cylindrical room was a high grade, custom industrial slow grinder, perfectly designed to sift and pulp, grind and mash the newborn foals that slid into it for kibble processing, and all from the many small polycarbonate slides; with each one connecting to a passage just under each cage.
“This is fucking kinky. You sick bitch. This is where you want me to pound you?” he questioned.
“No, this is where I want you to die.” Mandy muttered.
She shoved the creep against the railing and pressed his head over the edge.
Despite his apparent height, he was surprisingly weak. He screamed and pleaded, begged and whined.
“Oh god, please, no, I’m sorry, I’M SORRY! PLEASE LET ME GO! I’VE GOT MONEY! I’LL MAKE YOU A RICH WOMAN!” he blubbered and cried.
“You underestimated this farm! you underestimated my boss!, and you underestimated me!” she roared into the back of his head.
She pressed his face closer; close enough for the blades to begin shredding at the cheek of his mask. The bladed hookes ripped and pulled, yanked and tore until it unsheathed the mask from his head in a full and smooth motion.
Mandy’s fury was nowhere close to satisfied. She considered it, truly. After all she had been through today, and not just today: Every day since her dad died; every day since that damn incident at the shelter; every day since Derek publicly lifted her kilt when she was young; every moment of her goddamn life.
She was willing to, all she had to do was make the choice, grab his leg, and lift. It would complete how far her life had fallen, the long awaited rock bottom. To pour every drop of her most bitter tasting love, all of her hate, every wisp of sorrow, and every ounce of her rage.
Suddenly, the choice was taken from her.
A twin set of metallic crunches echoed throughout the room and the horror of reality struck her as she groped at her mask for fresh air, ripping it from her person. She let go, she stepped away, and felt the most arctic chill run through her veins. He dangled there, and panic set it, only for the girl to then look down and notice that he had one full foot of artificial height: the spring based stilts that the pervert had been standing upon had both collapsed from the unorthodox angle and pressure, on top of the fresh leg dribbled piss ruining the gyroscopes and locking mechanisms.
He pulled himself up and gasped for air, sweat dripped from his black, greasy mane of a haircut. He wiped the natural oils from his acne scar dappled cheeks; and luckily, that was the only scarring upon it.
“You c-c-crazy bitch! Y-you tried to k-kill me!” and turned to Mandy with a face of utter terror.
“YOU!” she screamed in revulsion. “You’re that fluffy fucker. Daniel Armitage’s kid!” Mandy damn near gagged at the sight of him.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, bi-.” he attempted to retort, before the sturdy right hook of a six foot one she-gael knocked him to the ground.
“My NOSE! You fucking psycho! The fuck did I do to deserve that!” he whined through his now blood drenched lips.
“Are you fucking serious?!” Mandy laughed, and yet simultaneously growled in disbelief.
“If this is about the whole ‘Bonniegate’ thing, I didn’t d-.” He tried to placate. Not out of any sense of care for her distress ridden state, but for his own self-preservation.
“Oh shut the fuck up, yes you did! We all saw the video… Censored, yes, but that was your fucking face and your fucking voice!” she snapped back. “And I’m not talking about that, you freak! I’m talking about all the shit you spouted, you and your little gang, attacking my boss, my mates! Fucking groping me, hitting me, touching me! You should all be shot!” she chastised.
“So why are you pissed at me!” he argued, trying to stand himself up, only to then trip on the broken stilts that dangled from his napoleonic lengthed legs. “What did I do that makes me worse?! And don’t say it’s because I’m Clive Armitage! You didn’t even know that!” he growled back.
Mandy simply glared down at the greasy little manlet, his retelling of her trauma, still fresh in her head.
“…Oh, I see…” he said, his anger turning to a vicious grin the moment the orange shimmer of her ginger hair came into his line of sight, “You’re that little bitch from the story! HA! You work for the prick that showed your cunt to your whole school! Does he still lift your skirt on occasion?” he cackled, “Tell me, did it make you tingle? Hearing that story agai-”
THUMP
One swift kick to the head, and he was out like a light.
She dragged the reprobate to the front door of the mill, dripping him face first in the grass. She stared at him, still seething about the memories now fished to the surface of her mind.
She looked around, police sirens painted the early spring evening with a deluge of blue and red, as fluff suited perverts were lined up and cuffed, before being shoved into cars and paddy wagons.
“Mandy! Mandy! Oh dear god!” Derek Deacon, her boss shouted and fretted as he ran up to her. “What happe-… Is that… Clive-FUCKING-Armitage?!” he winced.
“…Yes, Derek, yes it is…”.
“Mandy, did he hurt you? He’s a predator! I’ll have him thrown out immediately! I hope he didn’t do anything to upset yo-” he tried to console with hands reassuring the gripped around Mandy’s biceps.
“FUCKING THROW YOURSELF OUT TOO THEN!” Mandy snapped, ripping his hands from her person and pushing him back a good three feet.
“I-I beg your pardon.” Derek gasped.
“You fucking heard me!” Mandy growled, “You and him are the same! You’re just better at hiding it!” she said with a mouth full of fire.
“I-I… Is this about when he were kids?” he asked mournfully, “I am so sorry, I really am, and I also shouldn’t have put you in that suit.” he remorsefully lamented. “I know that I’ve not always been a good person, but I-…I am trying to be!” he tearfully exclaimed.
“Good people don’t need to try!” Mandy fired back.
“SO WHAT ABOUT YOU THEN?!” Derek roared at her, genuinely shaking Mandy to the core. As for all the years that she had known Derek as both a child and as a man, he had never once experienced his voice at any volume beyond what was necessary to be heard.
“You don’t even try to be good person!” he continued, “and I will live with the guilt, the trauma I put a thirteen-year-old girl through for the rest of my life! Just like you’ll live with what happened at that shelter… Yes, I knew, but I looked passed it because I BELIEVE THAT PEOPLE DESERVE SECOND CHANCES!” he shouted- no, cried, before taking off his hexagonal glasses and wiping at his pale and moistened eyes.
And there it was, the naked truth: they saw each other for what they truly were, eye to eye; and not as employer and employee, and not as adults, but as the two traumatised children that they had kept buried for a long time; one buried under a sea of liquor, pills, and therapy, and another buried within a chasm of beer, pot, and boiling rage.
“Derek… I want some changes…” she said.
“Name them.” he replied.
“First: I want a raise.”.
“Very well.” he accepted.
“Two: I want paid leave, for two months!” she demanded with a bark.
“One month.” he relented .
“Don’t haggle.” she sneered.
“Apologies, force of habit.” the businessman sighed. “Agreed.”
“Three: I want this cunt to suffer.” Mandy hissed, pounted her mint coloured mitt at the unconscious Clive.
“I’ll see to it.” Derek submitted.
And with that, Mandy stormed off to her motorcycle in the parking lot.
She got home, hopped into the hottest shower of her life, and scrubbed her skin bloody.
She was right, after all: today was one of those days, and it was a bridge too far for her troubles.
She got into her bed, fresh pajamas over her bruised and raw skin, and stared at the ceiling, and did all that there was left to do; she cried her little heart out.
-The End-
