Once again, I am outside. I love outside. Partly because it smells good and the air is fresh where I live but also because of the local feral fluffy population.
After walking out of my house for not even 5 minutes I come across one. Scrappy, frail and smaller than average, this fluffy will be my next target. And the best part is that nobody is going to care; everyone else where I’m from does exactly what I do recreationally. At this point it’s part of the local culture.
“Hey little dude, wanna come with me?”
“mnng… mng… euh…”
“Sorry, can you repeat that?”
“da… dadah… daddeh… wuv… pease…”
I’ve heard stories about similar cases, but I haven’t actually seen something like this in real life yet. Some smarties are actually born less intelligent than normal, if you could believe that. And this one seems to have been discarded by its mother, abandoned and left to die. I almost feel bad for it, but these things are pests no matter how you look at it and just being slightly slow doesn’t make that any different.
I pick him up by his forest green fur, a likely evolved adaptation from his kind living in this woodland region for around 50 years. I am not careful in handling his body as I make the short walk back inside my house and out to my backyard. I gaze upon the remains of my latest victim, unrecognizable as fluffy remains unless I told you what you were looking at.
“WUN… PWAY… PWAYY…”
“Sure thing.”
I pry his mouth open with my left hand, and I fetch a rock from the ground with my right. I force the rock into his tiny maw and let go. The fluffy doesn’t fight or try to expel the foreign object from inside his mouth. I ball my hand into a fist, and strike down on top of the fluffies skull.
SPLAT.
Every single tooth in his mouth shatters on impact. It gags and twitches in response, but it does not screech. I pick up his body and turn his skull towards me. I hold his shattered jaw open with both of my hands, and pull. I pull as hard as I possibly can.
RIP.
I viciously tear his jaw from his muzzle. Blood and bone debris begin to fall out of his face as his eyes glaze over. As it begins gurgling terribly, I produce a blade from my coat pocket. I make a deep incision in his abdomen, gushing blood in a torrent of pain. I toss him onto the concrete just outside my back door, and kick him as hard as I can into the wall. Organs and viscera fall out of his torn abdomen like an overstuffed burrito, as the bloody splat on my door begins to drip.
“Nuu. nuuu… nuuuuu. nuuu…”
It suddenly begins softly chanting “Nu” at me. Even with its non functional brain he can still sense that he is facing his end. I pick up his body, and with both hands I toss him as high as I can into the air, creating a spray of organs and red mist across the sky. It lands with a wet slap onto the dirt below. It’s neck snapped on impact with the ground, doing him in.
I neglect to clean up the damage this time, knowing I never have people over. Over the next week I watch from my back window the progress of decomposition until nothing remains of the fluffy but a badly damaged skeleton and some fluff lying limply in the middle of my backyard. Once the process is finished I stomp the skeleton into the dirt until it is nothing but fine ash.
Immediately following this, I prepare for my next hunting session. I wonder what my next victim will look like as I walk out my front door.