Ah, Saturday morning. A middle-aged fellow by the name of Jay started all mornings on this particular day the same way: Sitting in front of the television for hours while scratching his ass and thinking about what would always be the perfect thing to make the most of this thrilling day off. One of his only days off. He always came to the same conclusion too. Eventually he’d feel a grumbly in his tummy and get up to fetch some Mcdonald’s breakfast right before they closed. Not once had he gotten there late enough for it to switch over to lunch even though he always played fast and loose with the clock.
Waddling outside to his pick-up truck and diving into the cab while kicking various trash out of the way, he’d twist the key into the ignition and listen as the radio crackled to life. Backing out of his driveway while singing along to Eddie Rabbitt’s ‘I Love a Rainy Night’, he nearly backed right up into a car. No. Multiple cars. A whole goddamn procession of them.
“What in the name of Judas? Did the president die? Come on! I need my Mcgriddle!” He said helplessly. There was SOME time to waste. Not much. It was cutting it real thin. Twisting helplessly in his seat, he got eyes on the cars passing. They all had tiny little pennants on their antennas. Rainbow colors. Well at first he thought it could be a funeral procession, but rainbow? Maybe it was a gay parade. He didn’t care what people did in the privacy of their own bedroom or the bathroom of some seedy club downtown but if he didn’t get three hashbrowns down his throat, he was going to be upset.
“Come on…come on…” He looked down to the digital clock on the radio helplessly. Now the cars were stopped. Why were they stopped? Why in the name of all that was holy were they stopped right in front of his driveway!? WHY WAS THIS HAPPENING TO HIM? Staring out his side window, he watched a small group of fluffies just standing in the middle of the road. A mummah and her foals. The mummah was holding up what had to be her bestest babbeh to the car which had stopped for her, perhaps cooing about how special it was and asking for nummies. Dancing. The other babbehs were dancing around. They were dancing carefree while at this very moment the fine folks over at McDonald’s were getting ready to switch menus. No more greasy sausage patties or eggs.
Falling out of his truck and popping back up, Jay began flapping his arms around wildly at the cars. “RUN THEM OVER OH MY GOD PLEASE WHAT THE FUCK AHHHHHHH!” Staring into the cars which were stuck outside his driveway, he saw that a fair many of contained fluffies. The drivers watched his outburst and then looked straight ahead, perhaps stewing in their shame at costing a man his fast food breakfast. Jay walked back to his truck, slumped over the wheel helplessly.
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The reason for all of this was indeed a funeral procession and not a gay parade. Once the fleet of cars began to move again, they would continue on to a novelty in the town: A somewhat new cemetery just for fluffies. Some people weren’t content to just throw away their biotoy or bury them in a vacuum cleaner box out in the backyard. No, they needed more pomp and circumstance.
A shallow hole dug out into the Earth, a tiny pink plastic casket covered in rainbow and flower decals. There was already a cheap headstone present which bore the name ‘Sprinkles’, presumably the name of the little freak getting planted in the dirt today.
There were flower wreaths and a blown-up picture of the fluffy of honor today, showing a pink and purple mare with a face covered in sketti sauce. Guests began to arrive, many of them with fluffies of their own in tow. None of them wore black as would be appropriate for a human funeral as the fluffies didn’t think that was very fun and nobody wanted to upset them. The concept of death was a strong thing for a fluffy to understand after all.
Once everyone had arrived, the caretaker of this little cemetery and local entrepreneur stood in front of the casket. She was a a meek older woman with heavily-rimmed glasses, wearing a puffy sweater with two fluffies hugging a big heart on the front. Giving a kindly smile, she addressed the funeral goers in a calm tone.
“Thank you for joining the Chalmers family today. Sprinkles was an honored member of their family, and I know many of you got to see how special and beloved she was at the Fluffpark.”
The Chalmers themselves sat tearfully nearby. They were the only ones sitting awkwardly on aluminum folding chairs, perhaps too deep in their bereavement for standing. Their blue & yellow stallion, Dunlap, stood with his babbehs.
“It am otay babbehs.” He said, trying to give each of them huggies. Fowebbah sweepies was a big thing but he didn’t want them to have saddies. One of the babbehs trotted up to the casket and began to perform a sad little jig, bouncing around like a spastic to appeal to it’s departed mummah.
“Wook mummah! Babbeh am dancies ‘fo yew! Pwease nu be fowebbah sweepies!” He begged woefully which caused Mrs Chalmers to erupt in a series of fresh sobs.
Looking down to the babbeh trying to dance his mummah back to life, the speaker for this retarded little funeral waited a moment for him to tire out and flop down to the sod before continuing.
“As you can see, Sprinkles has a family which misses her very much. This sadness comes only because of the deep love they had, no, have for her. And…”
Something distracted her from the speech. A sound which was getting closer and closer. A revving engine music she couldn’t quite discern at first. Everyone turned in shock, stared without being unable to move for a moment.
A bright red pick-up truck had just crested one of the gently sloping hills in this place, slamming down onto one of the shitty balsa wood gravemarkers that poked up around this place. It snapped like a popsicle stick against it’s big ‘ol wheels, suspension bouncing as it tore through the cemetery and mowed down more gravemarkers as it charged straight toward them.
The humans were quick enough to move out of the way but not before catching a cyclone of scaredy-poopies from the small mob of fluffies there. Liquid feces exploded out of anuses with such force that it looked like the funeral procession looked as if they had just been witness to a mass brown dye bomb. Did these poor innocent hugboxers try to grab their fluffies? Fuck no, they didn’t want to be in the way of Detroit rolling iron.
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Jay punched his steering horn, wheel blaring out in rapid succession. ‘Kickstart My Heart’ blared through the stereo as he rammed through fluffies who couldn’t get their weggies moving quickly enough to move out of the way. Some small bodies were crushed under his wheel with tiny splats, others were knocked into the air and rolled across his hood with bloody smears. A brown stallion got stuck right on his windshield wiper, tiny pecker caught up it in caused the unfortunate fucker to dangle with screams before it finally tore right off his body. Said pecker stayed right between the wiper and flapped morbidly in the wind like a flag.
Smacking right into the pink plastic casket set up on a card table for display, he caused the vessel to sail through the air with several twists and spins. It’s lid came undone while in midair, flapping open with a squeak and depositing it’s contents out with a slurry. Sprinkles, beloved as she was, had been put into the coffin in chunks. That dumb little bitch had decided to chase a ball under an active lawnmower and had come out in a whole mess that her owners had collected as best they could to bury. These pieces rained through the air and mostly came down with sloppy splats onto Mrs Chalmers herself, the woman screeching and passing right out as her once loved mare’s disembodied head fell right onto her lap and looked up with dead eyes as if to ask ‘Mummah, why?’
Clutching the wheel and digging in, Jay took a sharp turn and made for another pass that fanned right through more fluffies who were attempting to escape the vehicular assault. One brown smarty managed to stand his ground and get out a forceful ‘dummeh!’ before a wheel split him clean in half. It didn’t kill him and instead he lay there on the grass, screaming while looking at his own spill of intestines. “Mummah! MUMMAH! HEWP SHEWDON!” He wailed out before the pick-up truck stopped abruptly and backed right over his head.
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The driver’s door opened and Jay popped out of his truck which was left to idle. This was a fat man but he was moving quickly. With determination. This was a poor, innocent man who didn’t get to have what he wanted most in life all because of a fluffy funeral. Bounding over to where Sprinkle’s babbeh laid, the one that had been dancing to try and get her to come back to life, he would reach down with a sick chuckle.
“Nu huwt babbeh!” It pleaded with him. All the dancies in the world wouldn’t be able to guarantee it from it’s fate though, the man opening his mouth and slotting the fluffy’s delicate little head between his yellowing teeth. Squeezing down, he yanked and twisted before pulling head and body apart. Spitting the head out, tossed the body away over his shoulder.
Glaring with wild eyes to the group of shit covered hugboxers who were trembling and watching this madman do whatever he wanted, Jay made an exaggerated gesture to each of them.
“I work in a pork processing plant! Six days a week! Every day! My hours don’t allow me to get McDonald’s breakfast! I LOVE MCGRIDDLES! I LOVE THAT FROM CONCENTRATE ORANGE JUICE! YOU RUINED IT! ALL WEEK I WAS WAITING FOR THIS, YOU MONSTERS RUINED IT!”
Going over to a pretty pink mare with flowers woven into her mane, Jay kicked her onto her back with boot. Unbuckled his pants, bent down over the poor fluffy.
“Honey, save Cherry!” A young woman wailed to her husband who looked like he posted on Reddit. The man, who happened to be carrying a canister of pepper spray on his belt loop in case a rapist attacked, timidly approached the obese pork factory lunatic.
“Y-You made me do this!” He screeched like a girl like all hugboxers were wont to do. Jay looked up from his squatting position over the mare, grinning with an expression like a Halloween Jack-o-lantern.
“NIGGER!” Was all he shouted, causing the hugboxer to gasp and lose control of what was doing. Wheeling on his feet and spraying everywhere BUT at his fluffy’s attacker, this little stringbean of a man managed to mace a collection of pillows who had been arranged on a blanket before the funeral began. Due to their laws of the fluffy universe, each of them got eyefuls of pepper spray and began to choke and cry over the noxious attack.
“This is what happens! This is what happens when you push a man too far! HE SHITS!” Jay exclaimed to the funeral goers. No, the world. This was a declaration to the planet. That you couldn’t just go take a man’s breakfast so a fluffy could have a funeral. It’s not what America was built on. It wasn’t justice. Guts churning, he filled the mare’s mouth with diarrhea. She choked, coughed, breathed in shit and vomited. With a few squeals and kicks of her back hooves, she too crapped herself and passed from this world. Taking a random foal and wiping his ass with the flailing babbeh, Jay flicked it into the already dug hole and hitched up his pants. Nobody stopped him. Nobody could.
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Later, Jay sat in the McDonald’s parking lot. Three filet-o-fish boxes littered the floor under his boots, the man starting on his fourth. Globs of tartar sauce smeared his beard.
A filet-o-fish was just about as good as breakfast and maybe all of that wasn’t necessary.
