Mandy was a bitch and she knew it.
She wasn’t particularly rude or aggressive (unless pushed around), she wasn’t spiteful or vindictive (unless necessary), she just had the infamous MacFeely temper. A temper as fiery as her curly hair and as numerous in appearances as the freckles across her face.
Mandy was a young lady of 26 years, with no job, no boyfriend, living with her mum and brother after dear old papa MacFeely stroked out in 2020 and croaked in 2023 from a second stroke. Mandy missed him, she missed him something fierce. Papa was the only one who really got her, her mum didn’t have the streak in her and neither did her little brother. Both were big old softies and Mandy thought she was too. That was until papa died. Her temper emerging was partially down to losing dad, the salty old bastard’s blood pressure was high as a goddamn kite from the boozing and cigars and especially the fighting, always fighting in the family pub down by the water, he loved a good punch up. But back to Mandy… She used to work in a fluffy shelter where she was the biggest goddamn hugboxer of them all. She loved all fluffies. From micros, to XXLs, to fluffalows, to sea fluffies, to those weird designer sausage fluffs.
The day Mandy got the news about dad’s passing put her through the loop, shattered that little girl inside of her. Her mum used to say “don’t bottle it, deary, ya papa bottled it and look at him now” everytime Mandy tried to bury the fire deep in her belly. One hammer to the thumb, one bad breakup, one more big fat bill for veterinary school… Every time she’d bury it with a smile, just like papa showed her.
When she went in to the shelter that day she sought the comfort of her favourite fluffies. First there was sweet little Strawberry, her ruby red dancie friend. Mandy went to see her but she wasn’t in the mood to dance and didn’t want to talk either. Strawberry had just figured out that she had been fixed after egging the stallions in the playpen to run a train on her. But alas, no tummeh bebbehs, just tears and a swollen, infected speshew pwace. “huhuhu, stwabewy bwoken, nu few pwetty, nu hab bebbehs…” she sobbed into her hoofs. Mandy tried to open her cage to give her a consoling hug but her hand was immediately met with the dul, soft tickle of fluffy teeth. “yew bwoke stwabewy! Stwabewy memba! Munstah wady tayk Stwabewy an weab wib bad docta munsta! Huuhuuhuuuuuuu!” she accused.
“come on girl, I really don’t need this today, please, i just lost my ‘daddeh’ and I’m feeling really s-”, “STWABEWY NU CAWE!” she interrupted.
“YEW STEAW SPESHEW PWACE, NU EBA BE MUMMAH, YEW AM MUNSTA, STWABEWY FOT YEW WUZ BESTES FWEN! STWABEWY NU WUB YEW NU MOWE!” she said, punctuated by a blown raspberry before closing her own cage and turning her back to Mandy.
“Jeez, fuck… Ok then” Mandy said, biting her bottom lip and walking off with hands held in the air disarmingly. “guess I’ll just eat shit then”.
“whatever, it’s okay, I’ve always got my little buddy” Mandy said before running over to little Grumble, a blue-grey micro with the biggest, most empathetic heart, surely he’d be a source of comfort.
“wait… Where are yo-” she said as she opened his seemingly empty cage and looked inside. “tayk dat!” the sneaky little pinball squeaked as he shot up from his paper shaving nest and released a perfectly aimed stream of liquid shit into Mandy’s mouth. “dems sowwy poopies fow makin stwabewy bwoken!” he declared with puffed out cheeks.
Mandy gagged and tried to fight back the rising puke as she ran to a sink. “oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck” she gagged while trying to hold the puke in. “I got this!” she throught but alas she was dead wrong. Only two foot from the sink before she vomited shit and half digested Fluffy-Os onto the floor.
She ashamedly washed her mouth out with the hand sanitizer in the sink and gargled in a desperate attempt to get the lingering taste of fluffy crap and stomach acid out of her throat.
Just as she spat, a horrid realisation hit her.
“bollocks! The cage!” she said as she bolted back. And of course, Grumble was gone. Mandy would spend the next hour and a half turning the shelter upside down, looking for Grumble. Now if you’ve ever lost a gerbil then you know only a 10th of how aggravating it would be to lose a micro. Imagine a gerbil that could go out of its way to spite you. That was what Mandy was chasing. All the while the miniature menace pooped and pissed and screamed so loud he woke up every goddamn fluffy in A-block. Mandy just couldn’t take it anymore and fell to her knees. If this where just any other day then it wouldn’t be a big deal, she’s big girl, she’s handled bad fluffies, and she’d have her friends and co-workers to back her up, she’d have Dad to call if she had a bad day, but she didn’t. Mandy pulled out her phone and looked at a picture of Papa from before the stroke, back when the world made sense. She kissed it and hugged her legs while all the fluffies looked on, some weeping alongside her and others weeping in fear of her, some screaming abuse and others pressing their asses against the front of their cages and letting their bowels rip in retaliation for her perceived betrayal of Strawberry.
Mandy looked at her phone, “1 voice mail” it said and she clicked. Mandy couldn’t give a shit who it was right now. It could be her brother, a scam caller, prankster, miss dial or even the fucking ghost of Christmas past, she didn’t care, she just needed to hear a voice that wasn’t a fluffy’s. “hello deary-” her mother’s voice rang out with that ever so needed warmth right now, “remember, love, if ya feeling it’s too much today ya can always call the day off, don’t treat today like any other…” as her mother continued on, Mandy felt a light tapping by her leg. Kicking at her knee in a fit of petulant, futile rage was Grumble, pawing at her jeans with murderous intent. “hatchu, Gwumbw hatchu!” he screamed with the tiniest of war cries. Then as Mandy looked at the little shitrat her eyes locked like a dog on the hunt. Her hand twitched before striking like a cobra and then squeezed around the little fuckstick with all the hate of the last ten years. “-and remember deary, don’t bottle it up, ya don’t want to end up like ya papa” Mandy’s mum said with a croaky and heartfelt voice before she gave a big kiss through the phone… and then the message ended.
“you heard her, shitcunt, don’t bottle it UP!” Mandy roared as she stuck her finger into the little vermin’s mouth and felt around with reckless abandon. “fuck with me will you? I’ll make you regret that!” she added as she hooked her finger and scraped her nail into his innards and reaped upwards like the bloodiest of harvests. The little gremlin gagged and screached, his body went into convulsions as bile and blood came flying out of his mouth in equal speed to the piss flying from his dirty little “nu-nu stick”.
“feels good letting it out, right?” Mandy said as she flicked his speshew lumps again and again until they visibly ruptured and the sack split like rice paper. “SCRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEE! NUUUUUU PWEAAASE, AM SOWWWWWYYYYYYYY” he begged between pain fuelled seizures until Mandy got madder. She picked him up, took out a safety pin from her white coat and then rammed that fucker right over one of his eyeballs. He shook and chirped and went still. Alive… But still.
Mandy pulled out the pin and marched the little derp to Strawberry’s cage. Strawberry herself, of course, was frozen in utter mortal terror… She had seen everything. “you still want a baby?” Mandy said coldly before throwing the dribbling lobotomite at Strawberry, who immediately began crying, hugging and cradling the abomination. “enjoy it while it lasts, cunt” Mandy said with a frosty glare before she wrote “scheduled for termination in 1 day” on strawberrie’s medical clip board before throwing off her coat and her nametag under the reception desk and stormed out through the front door.
Mandy was a bitch and she knew it.
