Margaret woke at the crack of dawn, quickly brushing her teeth, brewing a pot of coffee, and heading out to the old wicker chair she had moved onto the backyard deck. Though her eyesight may be failing, her ears were as sharp as ever, able to pick up the snoring fluffpiles from the deck. Margaret slowly sipped her coffee as the sky began to change colors.
As she listened to the soft snoring, Margaret slowly surveyed the garden, smiling at the obvious progress. As the sun rose higher into the sky, the fluffies began to stir, slowly emerging from their huts and stretching out in the sun. Victoriaâs foals, now too big to comfortably ride her back, trotted behind he in a single file as the tiny ponies made their way to the compost pile for their morning movements.
The young fluffies were all developing normally, with the exception of a certain red unicorn. None of Victoriaâs foals had displayed any physical or developmental defect, and though they had some emotional issues with Victoriaâs lack of any sort of verbal praise, Archibald had managed to explain to them that she still loved them, even if she didnât sing the songs that Clementine and Bullet did.
Clementineâs brood had grown up big and strong, the tiny white nubs of teeth just beginning to poke out enough for the orange mare to begin complaining about hurties when feeding them. Margaret could tell she would need to up the morning rations very soon, but that was not going to be a problem at all.
The garden was in full bloom once again, but completely differently. While before peonies, lavender, and marigolds had been the dominant flowers, they had been replaced by rows of yellow tomato flowers, purple eggplant blooms, and the tiny white flowers of the bell peppers speckled the garden like a miniature green galaxy. The pumpkins had begun to grow rampant, Thomas having created a sharpened hoof mounted implement that was edged enough to trim back the errant feelers, but not so sharp to pose any threat to a living creature. A new daily chore for the workers was created, the fluffies trimming back the feelers to keep the pumpkin restricted to the patch, and away from the large unplanted tract of the garden. But that wouldnât be the case for much longer.
Margaret had an extra special plan for todayâs dinner. She had made a trip into the larger town twenty miles away and picked out a load of different produce. Cucumbers, turnips, yams, potatoes, melon, squash, parsnips, a host of different beans, cabbage, peas, and a large variety of squash, as well as beets, spinach, celery, and turnips. All fresh and juicy, and easily grown in the temperate Kansas climate, a veritable salad bar of fresh produce. She also picked out a package of cheap plastic poker chip coasters. It was never too early or too late to teach the democratic process.
Margaret hauled herself out of her chair with a grunt, walking back inside and filling a tray with oats, apples, and pickled radishes, adding a dash of yogurt, briefly wondering if she could possibly make her own out of fluffy milk before retching in her mouth at the thought. Mares only produced just enough milk for their foals, mares with larger litters not even having enough for all the foals at one time, instead needing to either stagger the feedings or let foals starve, more often the latter for the less intelligent ferals. She had heard of a special mare called a milk-bag, supposedly unrivaled in milk production, but had no idea how a person would get one of them, and judging by Thomas and Jimâs reaction when she brought them up, she had no desire to find out.
Margaret picked up the tray and carried it out onto the deck. âLINE UP!â The old woman smiled as the herd immediately stopped what they were doing, obediently lining up and sitting at attention. âAlright dears, you know the drill, mummahs first.â The mares trotted up happily, eating their fill and laying back on their rears as the foals clamored around them, running off to play as they finished drinking their fill.
Antoinette, Clementineâs sole daughter, finished suckling and trotted off into the tall (by fluffy standards) tomato stalks. The other foals were more into playing and sleeping, however Antoinette was different. She was a splorinâ babbeh! She loved trotting through the rows of vegetables, sniffing the random wildflowers that sprouted here and there, and watching as the morning sun glistened through the layer of dew on the plants, casting prismatic lights that only she could see.
Antoinette traipsed through the some what uneven rows of plants, stopping near an unusual leaf. While the filly was familiar with the ornate, many pointed leaves on most of the plants, having stopped to talk to them many times, this leaf was different, almost ghost-like, the soft green of the leaf gone, only the pale green venation remaining intact. Antoinette watched in surprise as a shiny brown beetle crawled across the skeletonized leaf to nibble lazily on a small spot he missed.
âHewwo nyu fwiend!â Antoinette squeaked at the bug, nudging the leaf. The beetle tumbled down onto her nose, legs flailing in the air before getting tangled into the short fluff of the fillyâs snout. Antoinette giggled. âSiwwy buggy fwiend!â She hugged the beetle to her nose, the insect flailing indignantly against the soft hoofpads.
Trotting out from the field, Antoinette walked over to proudly show off her new buggie friend to mummah Margaret, tugging on the hem of the old womanâs pant leg as she carried the emptied breakfast tray back towards the house. âMUMMAH! WOOK!â
Margaret turned around to see the small filly hopping from side to side excitedly. âWook mummah! Antwanet make nyu fwiend!â The foal pointed a hoof towards her nose where a shiny beetle struggled to free itself from her snouts fur. Margaret felt her heart drop. âReally dear? Let me take a closer look.â
Untangling the beetle from the snout fur, the thoughts of tonightâs dinner vote were blown from her mind. Shiny copper colored wings, a bright green head, and the characteristic white spots down the side. Japanese beetles.
Margaret forced a smile as she turned to face the excited yellow filly. âDearie, can you please go play with your brothers? I need to have a chat with your new friend.â Antoinette nodded happily and raced off back to her brothers, quickly forgetting her new six-legged friend. Margaret crushed the beetle in her fingers and quickly walked her way over to the field. Where there was one beetle, there were many to follow.
Margaret could see many beetles crawling across the plants, leaves patchy and torn from the invaders. She cursed quietly. She should have been adding insecticide to the watering cart but had been neglecting too. Hopefully it wasnât too late.
Making her way inside, Margaret made her way to the chemical cabinet, undoing the child safety lock with some difficulty. Grabbing a bottle of insecticide at random, she poured it into her largest measuring jug. Half a gallon of bug killer. Doing some quick calculations on a note pad, she grabbed a smaller measuring cup to ration the insecticide out for each row. Walking outside with both measuring cups, Margaret set them on the deck table and wheeled the watering rig from where she had it stored.
âAlright dearies, time to work!â The workers quickly lined up in order of name, Archibald stepping his way into the harness and wheeling the rig over to the spigot. Margaret measured out the insecticide, pouring it into the reservoir, filling the tank the rest of the way using the hose.
The silver unicorn wheeled the cart down to the last row and began to pull it through, turning on the sprinkler and spraying the insecticide laden mixture onto the plants. The work went quickly, each fluffy subbing out for each other after two rows. Before long Margaret could see the beetles begin to move slower, and then stop completely. Whatever was in that bottle was highly effective.
The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky when the fluffies finished the pesticide application. Margaret brought the toys out to the ponies tiny cheers as she went back inside to prepare the nightâs dinner.
Cider skulked in the corner, furiously suckling his hoof as the rest of the herd played. He tasted the metallic tang of blood as his suckling drew blood from the chapped skin around the hoof, the sour, acrid taste filling his mouth. The rest of the herd had tried to get him to stop his hoof sucking with no success. Dummy old Clementine and Bullet had told him stupid old mummah stories about how it was bad, and Archibald had told him of a fluffy who got hit by a metal munstah because he only had three leggies to run from it with.
Stupid dummeh fluffies, the whole lot of them. Couldnt they understand that Cider HAD to do this? Telling him to stop sucking his hoof was like telling Victoria to stop being a dummy stupid no talkie fluffy, or telling his dummy daddeh to stop being a dummy stupid meanie fluffy.
Sure he had tried to stop. He really wanted to make Mummah Margaret happy. But then he met Apple.
Apple told him the truth. She told him that if he stopped sucking his hoof the roses would win. The roses his daddeh guarded would finally grow big and strong enough to attack the herd. Their pretty flowers were just a clever disguise. But when he sucked his hoof the roses got scared. He knew now because Apple told him.
Apple told him that his daddeh was working with the flowers to get rid of Mummah Margaret and the rest of the fluffies. It why his daddeh wouldnât let any of the other fluffies near the roses, because they would realize they were monsters. Itâs why his daddeh would hit him when he sucked his hoof. It was all becoming clear to him now.
Cider sucked his hoof harder as Apple pranced through the air around him. âFwuffy neeâ get wid of dummeh daddeh.â The red pegasus said, coming to a stop in front of the colt with a toss of her green mane. The young pony turned to look at the pegasus. âFwuffy know dat, buh fwuffy nu know why dummeh daddeh hate fwuffy.â
The mare rolled her eyes. âDummeh Bumbwah hatechu becaws dummeh Bumbwah hate AWW da fwuffies.â She sat back on her haunches. âBumbwah use be big hewd smarteh, buh den mummah Mawgawet become hewd weada. Mummah took his hown, Took his dummeh spechul fwiend.â
Cider looked at her with confusion. âBuh daddeh hate dummeh spechul fwiend mummah?â Apple shook her head condescendingly. âOnwy do dat to sabe fwuffyâs sewf.â She sidled up to the side of the colt, whispering in his ear. âFwuffy neeâ get wid of dummeh Bumbwah. Woses get biggah ebery bwight time.â Cider listened quietly as she whispered a plan into his hearie place.
Margaret hummed quietly to herself as she began chopping up vegetables and putting water on to boil. Melons and cucumber were simply diced up into cubes and placed into dishes in the fridge to keep them cold and fresh. The potatoes and yams went into pots of cold water, then brought to a fast boil on the stove top as the squash was roasted in the oven along with the turnips and parsnips. Each vegetable was expertly cooked and seasoned with just a touch of salt to bring out the flavor.
Margaret walked out to the yard and collected the toys, tuning out the disappointed huffing of the younger foals. âLINE UP!â
The herd made its way into formation as Margaret walked inside and retrieved a permanent marker and the package of cheap poker chips, setting both on the deck next to her as she took a seat on the steps. âAlright dearies, tonightâs dinner will be a bit different than usual!â Buttonâs hoof shot up. âYes dear? What is your question?â
Button cocked his head to the side. âHow dinnah be diffewent mummah?â Margaret smiled. âGreat question dear. Tonight, we will decide what else to plant in the garden!â The old woman continued. âTonightâs dinner will be a bunch of special vegetables you have never eaten before!â Margaret smiled. âAfter dinner, we will have a vote.â Multiple hooves shot up. âA vote is where each of you will have an opportunity to say which vegetable you like the most.â The hooves went down as quickly as they shot up.
Margaret went inside and began retrieving bowls of each of the fruits and vegetables, carrying them out and placing them in two neat rows, separating out a piece of each option on a plate for Bullet. âNow dears, I want you to eat only ONE PIECE of each of these. I want you to taste them all, so I will have you go in line order and each have a single bite, alright?â
Margaret smiled at the chorus of âYes Mummah!â as she carried the plate of cubed fruits and veggies to Bullet. âHere dear, so you donât have to roll all the way.â The mare smiled and cooed at Margaret through a mouthful of drool. âTank âou mummah!â Margaret planted a kiss on the giggling ponies forehead before retreating to the deck and beginning to write each of the ponies names on a novelty poker chip drink coasters, big enough to pose no choking risk to a fluffy, at least as long as they were being supervised.
Slowly, the line of ponies snaked their way around the bowls, each fluffy excitedly trying out the alien foodstuffs, the crunching and munching only occasionally interrupted by a âdis am good nummie!â or the like. Once the ponies had each eaten their fill and made their way back to their spot in formation, Margaret walked around and handed each pony their personal poker chip, their names written on them in big blocky letters.
âAlright dearies, I want you to take these chips and place them at your favorite vegetable of the night!â The fluffies all quickly made a beeline towards the melon, a stack of coasters quickly stacking up in front of the melon. Margaret gave a short laugh. âIâm glad you are all in agreement!â Jackson rocked back and forth happily. âFwuffy wuv sweet wed nummies!â
Margaret clapped her hands together. âThen its decided! Tomorrow we will plant some melon!â The fluffies cheered as Margaret began to gather the remaining bowls of vegetables and beginning to carry them to the kitchen. Unfortunately one broke when she dropped the stack of bowls to respond to the sudden screams of pain coming from the garden.
