Micro Aggressions
A Pride Month Story by Za
Gary was, by most metrics, your average middle-aged man. He enjoyed a lucrative career as a database administrator, owned a lovely home in the suburbs of Indiana, and lived with his husband of ten years, Lawrence.
His neighbor, Jude, was far from average. Jude was the kind of kid that made you wonder about the state of the American educational system. The kind that makes you wish Bush vetoed NCLB because frankly, some kids need to be left behind.
See, Jude didn’t like Gary, nor Lawrence. He hated how they’d always wave at him from the porch. He wished they would get the hell out of his neighborhood. Or better yet, the whole country.
One day, on his walk home from school, Jude saw the house across the street getting tented and fumigated. Out front, a sign.
DO NOT ENTER. MICROFLUFFY INFESTATION. POISON GAS INSIDE.
And next to that, another sign.
FOR SALE BY OWNER.
And Jude felt an evil idea form in his mind. He knew exactly how to get rid of those fucking queers.
After school the next day, Jude stopped in at the FluffMart and picked up a whole bin of 1,000 microfluffies for fifty bucks and some change. Micros were more often than not used as food for reptiles, or kept in Nutri-Gel terrariums. But not this time. No, Jude had a more sinister plan indeed.
He absconded to his room, dumping the fluffies into a box on his desk. The fluffies tumbled out with a collective “eep!” and rolled around, getting their bearings. One looked up to Jude, then another, then scores more as if revering their God.
“NYU DADDEH?!” they spoke, as a chorus. Jude smiled down at his army, retrieving a book from the shelf and sitting on his bed. Their little eyes peeked over the wall of the box, enraptured by Jude’s every movement. And so, he opened the book, and he began to teach them.
“Genesis 1:1… in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.”
Days passed, then a week, as Jude lectured his microfluffy army upon the teachings of the Lord, our God. He spoke to them of the death of Christ, His only begotten Son. He spoke of Job and the trials that God bestowed upon him. He spoke of the liberation of the Israelites and their pilgrimage to the Promised Land. He spoke, at length, of the sins and destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. The fluffies hung on every word, listening, truly understanding. Jude would teach them, as they asked questions. He would expound upon his own personal experiences, and how God had helped him through his own struggles.
Then, their penultimate test. He showed them Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ.” They danced, they pointed at the screen as they recognized events, they wept for the crucifixion and rejoiced for His resurrection.
The fluffies were so overcome by God’s love that they wept for the rest of the day. And the very next morning, Jude felt they were ready.
“Good morning, my disciples!” he laughed, slicking back his greasy brown hair as he crawled out of bed. The box erupted in peeps and chirps of all kinds as the micros peered over the wall of their box.
“Gud mownin daddeh! Da Wowd twuwy hab bwessed us!”
Jude smiled, reaching down to pet the speaking fluffy with the pad of his finger.
“He surely has. Are you ready to fulfill your purpose for the Lord?”
Jude dumped a whole Clif bar into the box, watching them swarm and devour it in mere seconds.
“Yus daddeh! Wuh fwuffies gon do fow bestest Sky Daddeh?”
Jude threw his fist into the air, raising his voice to rally his micro army.
“My horde, the time has come for us to spread His gospel!”
“Huwwaaaaaay!”
“TO WORK IN SERVICE TO OUR LORD!”
“HUWWAAAAAAAAAAAY!”
“TO FINALLY RID OUR NEIGHBORHOOD OF GAY PEOPLE!”
“…”
The fluffies blinked up at him, their expressions frozen with a mingling of confusion and concern.
“Wuh?”
Jude’s devilish smile faded and his arm fell limply by his side.
“I mean… it’s a sin. You guys paid attention to the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, right? Come on, I spent extra time on that book!”
One fluffy, a small pink earthie, stepped forward and cleared his throat.
“Daddeh Jude, it am easy to misconstwue da wessons ob Sky Daddeh. Viowence nu am da answew, now shaww we find da answew in hatwed. Da Wowd teww us to wub an gib bestest huggies to thy neighbow.”
Another micro, a green unicorn, stepped forward and smiled up at Jude.
“Membah dat Sky Daddeh so wubbed da wowwd dat He gib us His onwy Babbeh! An Jeebus gu fowebah sweepies fow ouw meanies!”
Jude sighed, grabbing the box and frisbeeing it out his bedroom window.
He could swear he heard a slight “eeeeeeee!” as the box clattered onto the front lawn.
And so, to spare you the finer details, Jude bought some new micros and repeated the exact same process using 4chan posts and a Gypsy Crusader video.
And after two long weeks… his fluffies had one last trial to endure. As sunrise crept over the horizon, so too did Jude over the side of the box.
“Good morning, my legion!” he sang. The micros stirred, standing at attention.
“Gud mownin, daddeh!” they responded in unison, bouncing around in their enclosure with excitement.
“Today is the day you prove your worth! Let’s get some practice in before we drive out the sodomites.”
Jude scooped the fluffies into his backpack and headed off to school. As he hopped off the bus, he saw his classmate Xander in the parking lot. Xander had every mark of a true fag: neopronouns, bright blue hair, ear gauges you could fit your hand through, etc.
“Good morning, Xander!” he said, unzipping his bag. Xander turned to him with a look of disgust.
“Erm, ackshually, my name is Zoe, bigot. I’m a demiqueer fluxgirl and I go by pup/pupself pronouns and-”
“SODUHMITE!”
Xander, or Zoe, or whatever, froze and looked down at Jude’s bag.
“Did… your bag just call m-”
“FAGGET!”
Jude placed the bag down and all 1,000 micros came swarming out, pooling around Xan-Zoe-whatever’s feet and screaming up at… him, her, pup, whatever, fuck neopronouns.
“FAGGET! QUEEW! BWOO-HAIW WETAWD SOYBABBEH CUCK!”
Xander just stared in terror at the sea of micros at their feet.
“Watch your step, crushing these dudes wouldn’t be very hugbox of y-”
STOMP!
“REEEEEEE! FWUFFY HAB BEEN SMITTEN BY DA BIG DIVINE SHOESIES FOW FWUFFY HUBWIS! WUN, BABBEHS!”
The micros scampered away, avoiding stomp after stomp as well as they could (which wasn’t very well at all, they’re tiny and slow).
“FUCKING BIGOTS! NAZIS! I’M BEING GENOCIDEEEEEED!”
Jude shoved Xander back, scooping the remaining micros into his bag.
“Woah, what the FUCK dude?! You’re a hugboxer, why are you stomping them?”
“ANYONE WHO SAYS MEAN THINGS IS LITERALLY HITLER AND DESERVES TO DIEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
Jude corralled the last straggling fluffies into his bag and zipped it up, keeping Xander at bay.
“You retarded fucking hypocrite! You think just because people disagree with you they deserve to die?”
“NAZIIIIIIII! REEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Xander ran from the parking lot and was promptly hit by a Kia Sorento. He survived.
Jude, despite the unexpected events, felt his plan would work perfectly on Gary and Lawrence now. So he went on about the school day, waiting for the final bell so he could enact his vengeance upon his neighbors.
School let out and Jude began his jaunt home. Meanwhile, inside the bag, the micros were snacking on a bag of M&M Minis and discussing the sociopolitical implications of their bigotry.
“So, uh… wai fwuffies nu wike faggies 'gain?” asked a timid blue pegasus, wrestling with an M&M.
“Cuz daddeh say so,” a similarly-hued unicorn replied, lounging on an unopened textbook. He wrapped his leg around his female special friend, glad he wasn’t a sodomite.
“Fwuffy hab… (kaff) bad espewience wif a faggie…” a small pink female, crushed and bloodied from Xander’s shoe, piped up in a raspy wheeze. She then promptly died and settled to the bottom of the bag.
“Cuz dey am scawy,” chirped a meek green earthie from inside a pencil case. “Fwuffy nu wan be enfed in da poopie pwace, dat am gwoss… am nasty… fwuffy heaw faggies enf babbehs tuu.”
“Who teww ou dat?” the blue pegasus from earlier queried, leaning forward.
“…ou did.”
“Oh. Dat am wite.”
“…”
And then, the bag unzipped. The fluffies formed rank and file… or, their best approximation of it, and marched forward towards the goal in front of them. They’d seen this house in pictures from Daddeh Jude many times. This was their ultimate goal.
“TAKE DA SODUHMITE HOUSIE! MAKE HOUSIE MICWO HOUSIE!”
“REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
And the micro legion galloped forward, not so spectacularly due to their small stature, towards the front door. A wave of technicolor lurched up the front step and under the crack in the door.
Jude simply cackled, walking to his house next door.
…
“Hey babe, what do you want for dinner?” Lawrence called from the kitchen. Gary stirred, pausing his DVR-taped episode of That 70’s Show.
“Spaghetti would be nice. Maybe carbonara if you’re feeling fancy?”
Lawrence chuckled, retrieving a box of pasta from the cupboard and setting the water to boil.
“Probably just regular spaghetti today. Work wiped me right out.”
Meanwhile, the micros scaled the couch like Mt. Everest. No, really. They had to leave several corpses to mark the way back down or they’d get lost.
Gary returned to watching TV, when suddenly, right in his ear…
“QUEEW!”
Gary could’ve leapt out of his skin, confused by the voice that was so clearly not his husband’s.
Staring at him was a fluffy, smaller than he’d ever seen. No, a dozen. Two, three, five dozen.
And as he looked along the back of the couch, along the floor, still trailing in the door.
Nearly a thousand.
“GU WAY! DIS NU AM NU DUMMEH FAGGIE NEIGHBOWHOOD!”
Gary couldn’t help but crack a smile.
“Holy shit. Lawrence, honey, come meet the new neighbors.”
Lawrence rounded the corner, his eyes widening as he laid eyes on the sea of technicolor autism upon the floor of his living room.
“Well, I’ll be a-”
“FAGGIT!”
“Woaaaah, okay then.”
Lawrence had been subjected to harassment for his race, sexuality, many things, many times. But never at the hands… hooves? At the hooves of a fluffy. Much less a thousand microfluffies.
“Where did y’all learn those kinds of words, huh? You know those can hurt people.”
One little red alicorn fluffy, standing apart, scratched his little mane.
“Uh… dat am da point, fwuffy fink.”
“Well, why would you intentionally want to hurt people?”
“Uh… cuz dey am weawwy annoying. Dey am aww up in fwuffy face wif dey… dey uh…”
The speaking fluffy turned to whisper to the crowd behind him.
“Wif dey ideowogy!” he said, having finally recalled the word. “Dey pushin dey bewiefs on fwuffy!”
“YEAH!” came a roar from the micro herd.
Gary piped up.
“Well, Lawrence and I ain’t doing anything to hurt ya. You came into our house, trying to push your beliefs on us.”
“Uh… weww fwuffy fink dat-”
“SKETTI!”
Every head turned to a small Pegasus hopping around at the edge of the couch.
“FWUFFY SMEWW BESTEST SKETTIES! WAN NUM! WAN NAO!”
The pegasus leapt from the couch, its little wings buzzing as fast as they could.
“FWUFFY COMIN, SKETTIIIIIIIIIII…”
And that particular micro was never seen again.
Lawrence held out his hand, inviting the remaining micros to climb on.
“How about we talk things over during dinner? I’ll make you guys your own bowl of spaghetti.”
The micros all began an uproarious cheer, climbing into his hand as he carried them to the kitchen.
…
“So, how are you guys liking your spaghetti?” Lawrence asked, wiping a small dab of pasta sauce from the corner of his smile. Surprisingly, he hadn’t been very fazed by the micros despite being called a slur by them. Gary also seemed to be delighting in their company, finding their odd worldview to be intriguing.
“Dis am bestest sketti fwuffy ebah hab!” hollered a yellow earthie from the middle of the pack. The rest of the pack seemed to murmur agreements between mouthfuls.
“Yeah, Lawrence worked for an Italian bistro when we were in college. He makes the best pasta, but I think he’s tired of me asking for it.”
Lawrence grinned, twirling some more spaghetti around his fork.
“I think you’re trying to kill me is what’s happening. You’re jealous and you wanna destroy my waistline.”
“Twink death got you fifteen years ago, dear.”
Lawrence wrapped an arm around Gary, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he stood to fix another bowl.
“You little fellas need more pasta?”
Indistinct whispers, and then an answer.
“Nu fanks, fwuffies am tuu fuww. Fank ou fow bestest nummies, nice mistahs!”
Gary nudged Lawrence in the shoulder as he sat back down, giving him a smile and a glance over the rim of his glasses.
“Hear that? We’re nice misters, now.”
The micros kind of glanced around at each other, all making eye contact but never really considering the situation.
“What happened to all the things you were saying before? All those unkind words?”
“Uh… weww…”
“Come on, you guys are sweet. You shouldn’t have all of this hate in your heart.”
“Weww… fwuffies do wike Mistah Gawy an Mistah Wawwence… buh fwuffies nu wike Xandew!”
“Dat am wite! Xandew am nasty dummeh meanie soduhmite!”
Gary looked at Lawrence.
“Xander?”
Lawrence’s eyes lit up for a moment as he recognized who they were talking about.
“I think they’re talking about Kelly’s boy. The odd one with the colorful hair who likes dressing up as a wolf and gets mad when you call him a boy?”
“Oh. Yuck. I’d hate gay people too if he was my first introduction.”
The micros all beamed up at the two as they spoke.
“Nice mistahs… nu wike dummeh Xandew?”
“Nah, not particularly. People like that are always gonna exist, and they give normal LGBT people like Gary and me a bad name.”
“…so nu aww gay mistahs am nasty?”
Gary spit out his drink laughing, and Lawrence couldn’t hide the amusement in his expression.
“Nah, mostly just the ones like Xander.”
The micros looked from Gary to Lawrence and back again. Their eyes welled up with tears and they wept.
“FWUFFIES SU SOWWYYYYYY HUUHUUHUUUUUUUUU!”
They all hugged each other, or sobbed into their hooves, blowing tiny little snot bubbles as they bawled.
“FWUFFIES W-WIKE NICE MISTAHS, WAN BE FWENS! FWUFFIES (sniff) ONWY MEANIES BECAUSE DADDEH JUDE SAY GAY MISTAHS AM BAD MISTAHS!”
Gary leaned forward, folding his face in his hands with a deep exhale.
“The neighbor kid? Sandra’s son?” Lawrence asked, taken aback. Jude had always seemed like such a good kid. He wasn’t very chatty, but he’d never given them a reason to think that he hated them.
The micros, meanwhile, were still a sobbing, babbling mess. They formed an enormous huggie pile, which Lawrence reached down to gently stroke in some kind of attempt to calm them.
“Well, I don’t think he’s a bad person,” Lawrence started. “Lots of people are full of misguided anger, driven by lies and misconceptions. Today’s youth most of all.”
One fluffy sniffled, her mane still being petted by the pad of Lawrence’s fingertip.
“Wut dat mean?” she asked, gazing up at him with watery puppy dog eyes.
Gary and Lawrence exchanged a thoughtful glance.
“We’re saying,” Gary sighed, “maybe since Jude’s your owner or your dad or whatever you like to call him, you could go back home and tell him what you’ve learned here today.”
Lawrence nodded along. “Maybe we can invite him and Sandy over to sort this mess out. He’s a good kid, and evidently bright if he was able to organize a bunch of little micros like this. You’ve gotta admit, they’re awfully orderly for a herd of their size.”
The fluffies hopped and skipped around their empty bowl, dancing and playing and cheeping and chirping.
“Daddeh an nicest gay mistahs am gon be fwens! Yay! Fwuffies hab bigges heawt happies! Peep!”
…
As the micros made their treacherous journey home (aided significantly by Gary dropping them off at the front door), they had a lot to think about. Why were they raised to feel this way? Why did their daddeh feel that way? Why would anyone be so mean to others? Except Xander, who was a freak.
Once they crawled under the door, marched through the jungle of carpeted floor (19 killed, 84 injured), and emerged in Jude’s room, they scaled his desk. His eyes flickered away from whatever gacha slop he was playing as the micros massed near his mouse.
“What are you doing back here?” he asked, spam-clicking the roll button so he could unlock Autismodeus the Hentai Space Princess. “You were supposed to stay there and have their house condemned.”
“DADDEH JUDE AM MEANIE!”
Jude paused his game and turned slowly to the small herd.
“…what did you say to me?”
“OU AM BIG MEANIE!” spoke one micro, stomping her hoof. “GIB NICEST GAY MISTAHS HEAWT HUWTIES!”
A small rainbow of tiny micros stepped forward to voice their own grievances.
“AN DEY STIWW WAN BE FWENS WIF DADDEH JUDE!”
“AND DEY GIB FWUFFIES BESTEST SKETTIES!”
“DADDEH JUDE OWNWY GIB FWUFFIES HAWF-NUMMIED TWIX BAWS AN POWITICAW PWOPAGANDA FWOM DUMMEH NU-MAWE MISTAHS ON DA INNEWNET!”
“AN DA TWIX WAS WITE TWIX! FWUFFY WAN WEFT TWIX!”
“…do Twix eben do da weft an wite gimmick anymowe?”
“Uhhhh… fwuffy nu kno. Dis stowy nu am pawticuwawwy timewy now topicaw.”
“BUH DA POINT FWUFFIES WAN MAKE AM DAT DADDEH MADE FWUFFIES MEANIES! FWUFFIES NU WAN BE MEANIES! FWUFFIES WAN GIB FWENS WUB AN HUGGIES!”
“DAT WITE! WAI DADDEH NU WAN MAKE FWENS WIF DA NICE MISTAHS?”
“DADDEH GIB MISTAH GAWY AN MISTAH WAWWENCE HEAWT HUWTIES! DEY JUS WAN BE FWENS! DEY AM NICE MISTAHS AN FINK DADDEH AM AWSO NICE MISTAH!”
“An fwuffies… stiww wub daddeh. Fwuffies just hab wowstest maddies an saddies.”
“Fwuffies wan make daddeh happies. Buh fwuffies wan daddeh to be nice an make fwens. Nu mowe meanies.”
“…pwease?”
And Jude… started to feel bad. He hurt two people. Two good, kind people who weren’t hurting anybody. It occurred to him that just because there were enormous faggot retards like Xander in the world, perhaps that didn’t mean everyone of a similar group would be enormous faggot retards.
“They… still think I’m a good person? After all that? Shit…”
He stood up and grabbed his Bible, tucking it under his arm.
“Alright. Look, you guys, I’ve gotta go do some soul-searching. I’ll stop by their house and apologize on the way home.”
He smiled weakly down at the herd on his desk as they all shined bright smiles and loving gazes into his own eyes.
“Thank you, little dudes. I can’t promise results but I’m at least gonna give this some thought. Try to pray on it, and maybe see what my pastor has to say.”
He creaked the door to his bedroom open, turning back to the fluffies once again before leaving.
“I’ll bring you guys more spaghetti home, alright?”
Jude clicked the door shut as cheers of excitement for sketti, and pride in their daddeh, erupted from within the room. He smiled, knowing that despite everything that’s led him here, he could make it right. He could change and grow.
So, Jude went to the church. He thought maybe he could relearn the good book, figure out how to truly love his neighbor.
DO NOT ENTER. MICROFLUFFY INFESTATION. POISON GAS INSIDE.
…oh, so that’s where the first group went.
