“Babbeh…babbeh…! Nuuuu! Sowwy stick!” Exclaimed a fat pink and yellow mare sadly. Another scratch-off lottery ticket joined the growing pile of them. These scratch-offs were Fluffmart’s latest big scheme to make a lot of money. Hopeful fluffies would scrape away three little boxes in hopes of lining up three foals. What was the prize? BABBEHS. Allegedly.
Anyways, the mare with this hopeless gambling addiction happens to be named Jan. It’s a shitty name for a fluffy but she is a shitty fluffy. Also, she had babbehs already. Full grown ones. They were hers though. All of them living together here in an alley behind McDonalds Her babbehs were all kind of dumb. In fact, they were sensitib babbehs. Three of them. All fat. All purple. Each one inexplicably retarded. Mostly they just peeped or screeched for miwkies. How’d she provide enough for all of them? Hell I don’t fucking know. Anyways, she was pretty depressed and used everything she had to buy more lottery tickets and scratch ‘n sniff stickers. She’d lay there all day sniffing those stickers and be in a dazed chemical blueberry euphoria.
Forget her though. She’s not even the main character of this story. That’d be Nuggie. Nuggie happened to be the only child of normal intelligence that Jan had but boy did she treat him like shit. For one, he was brown. For two, she was racist for some reason. Also, she made him do everything around this joint.
“Nuggie, yew dummeh bwown poopie munstah. Gu git yew mummah ‘MO monies!” Jan said, slapping her son upside his fuzzy brown head with one hoof. He gave a sad ‘huu’.
“Buh! Buh mummah! Fwuffy nu hab GED!” He pronounced it ‘gehd’. Glaring at him, Jan spit right in his ear!
“NAOW!”
++++++
What could a poor, sad poopie fluffy do? Go out in front of McDonald’s and beg. There was a human daddeh out there begging. He said he was in a war. What was a war? He didn’t know but the people were giving him LOTS of money.
Getting out in front of the eatery, Nuggie put on his saddest expression. “Hewwo! Fwuffy was in da wah tuu! Sees bad stuffsies an’…nee’ monies.”
Nobody was giving him folding money. Or even shiny coins which he much preferred to paper because shiny=Better. They told him life would be like this when he came back from the war.
An especially pretty human mummah was coming up so he got up on his hind hooves and performed a neat lil dance for her. “Wook pwetty mummah! Am dancin’ fo monies! Pwease gib Nuggie!” He said in his happiest voice. Looking down to him, the lady shrieked.
“RAPE!” She exclaimed as if a horrible monster had just slithered toward him. Taking a canister of pepper spray from her purse, she doused him right in the eyes right the irritant. Shrieking, Nuggie dropped down like a sack of potatoes and wailed. The lady took the moment to bend down and also blast his tiny cock and balls with the pepper spray.
Well, this wasn’t a great start to his day. Nuggie was nothing if not a go-getter though. Though his eyes and genitals still burned, he eyed an especially impressive man with a briefcase walking by.
“Hewwo. Am Nuggie. Gib monies? Monies naow?” He asked, thinking better than to dance. Stopping in front of Nuggie, the man sneered down at the fluffy.
“Ohohoh. What is this? A fluffy? I’ll have you know, FLUFFY, I’m a very important man.” He indicated his briefcase as if to prove a point. Weirdly enough, Nuggie understood.
Sniffling a bit, Nuggie pushed his front hooves together. “Nee’ monies ‘fo mummah.”
The man leaned down. Flicked the poor stallion right on the snout. “Do you know who I am? My name is Charles Money and I own every bank. That’s right: Every bank in the entire world. What YOU need is a job.”
A job? Nuggie nodded. “Oh otay! Dank yew nice mistah! Fwuffy wiww hab jawb!”
++++
Nuggie sat upright on an uncomfortable folding chair, a polka bowtie tied around his neck. Why? Because he was professional and also handsome.
Opposite of him behind a desk, sitting in a chair far more comfortable than his own, was the boss man. John Cheeseburger. He was pretty sure this man invented hamburgers. All Nuggie had invented was getting beating up on the streets for no apparent reason.
“Hmm…ah yes…” John mumbled to himself while marveling over Nuggie’s application. It was all done in crayon. Instead of writing there were pretty pictures. Most impressively, one of a round circle with noodle legs flipping another round circle which could be a beef patty or a pile of shit.
Giving Nuggie a serious look, Mr. Hamburger nodded. “You’re hired. This is one of the best damn applications I’ve ever seen.”
Perking up a bit, the stallion gave a pleased giggle and a tail waggle. “Yay! Su eggcited! Wub yew Mistuh Cheezbuber!”
Steepling his fingers, John nodded. This was a typical response from minimum wage workers. They loved their bosses. “Now if ICE comes, I won’t be able protect you. You know. Because you’re a Mexican.”
Giving a tilt of his head, Nuggie blinked a bit. “Buh. Nuggie nu am Mezzy-can.”
John smirked. “You are now.”
++++
So Nuggie had a job now. Also, a new nationality. Life sure was going fast for our hero and it wasn’t going to start slowing down.
He hadn’t received any training. Mostly because his fellow employees didn’t speak English. Also, his scribbling on the application had clearly shown he knew what he was doing.
Nuggie didn’t know what he was doing. In fact, it was a miracle he could even stand up and breathe at the same time.
Despite all of this, he was mostly doing alright. Squirting tartar sauce all over filet-o-fish seemed to be his main job.
“Byyyeeee fishy!” The fluffy told each one cheerfully as they were wrapped up and sent on their way. Those sandwiches were mostly sauce after he was done with them and people didn’t even seem to care. They didn’t just love sauce. They needed it.
This was going all well and good until Bossman Cheeseburger came out of his office in a fury.
“Damn it, Nuggie! Someone SHITTED UP the bathroom! What are you doing? Get in there and clean it!” He yelled as his new employee was giving a wrapped fish sandwich bestest huggies so it’d taste better. Ears folding down, Nuggie gave a small ‘huuhuu’.
“Buh…buh…dun wan poopies. Suuuu nu pwetty.” This earned him a yank off the prep counter, being brought over to the men’s room. As the door was opened, Nuggie shook.
That entire room was covered in brown. It dripped from every surface. It looked as if a cyclone of diarrhea had happened up in here. You’ve heard of the Twilight Zone, this was the Poopies Zone and the twist to this story was there happened to be more crap than you might have previously expected. The only thing NOT covered in it was the toilet itself. Standing against the wall, it shone in porcelain brilliance as if it’d just come off the factory floor that morning.
“Well Nuggie, I see you have no hands. So you’re likely going to have to use your tongue. But this can’t be too different from living in Mexico, can it?”
Nuggie didn’t know what Mexico was. Still. He thought back to his two retard brothers and his mummah. They needed him.
Today he would graduate from poopie babbeh to poopie BIG BOY with equally big boy responsibities.
+++++++
After finishing up in the bathroom, Nuggie stood at his prep station with a somewhat shellshocked expression. Tartar sauce, huggies, tartar sauce, huggies. It was a comforting cycle after what had just transpired.
In his haze of wagie responsibilities he’d nearly screech as a red light started flashing and an incredibly loud alarm blared in the kitchen. People scrambled and either went to hide in the freezer or dove under objects.
“Wah am habbenin!? Hewp! Fwuffy nee’ hewp!” He called out just as an incredibly nefarious looking man in a striped suit and a rather slinky looking fedora burst into the area.
Punching Nuggie right in his stomach, he started filling up a giant sack with wrapped cheeseburgers. “Nuuhuu! Dat nu am yews! Dun takesies nummies pwease?” The only employee with any balls left to stand up to this intruder pleaded. Grabbed up by his tail, Nuggie found himself flung onto a grill. Sizzling for a moment, he screeched and rolled off it with the smell of seared flesh and burning fur in the air.
“Robble robble, motherfucker.” This antagnoist said in a low rumble, raising a fist as if to punch Nuggie again. He flinched in anticipation of an attack but the thief just left through the back door with his illicit goods in tow.
++++
“Nuggie! You just let the Hamburglar waltz in here and make off with all that product? Bad boy!” Bossman John was scolding him and only him. Why? He was the new guy that’s why. His fellow coworkers were just fine with letting him take the fall for it.
Sniffling a bit, Nuggie rubbed a hoof against the counter with shame in his eyes. “Nuggeh twy an’…an’…”
Slamming a fist against the wall, John shook his head. “Enough! Go home for the day. When I see you in here tomorrow, you’d better work twice as hard.”
Nodding a bit, he was about to leave but felt a tug on his tail. John held out a crumpled dollar, a few smashed up containers of nugget dipping sauce, and a cheeseburger wrapper with some of that precious cheese still sticking to it.
“Don’t spend it in one place, kid.” Bossman told him. Nuggie nodded and accepted his loot, shuffling out of the kitchen. Tomorrow would be better, surely.
Luckily his home was right outside in the alley. Mummah and bwuddahs would make everything better.
+++++
Scurrying out to the alley, Nuggie would find the area strewn with yellow crime scene tape. There was also lots of flashing lights. At first he thought they’d caught the Hamburglar but nope. It was, in fact, concerning his family.
Mummah was dead and bloated. A few police officers were kicking her corpse around like a soccer ball, rolling it around the alley with such force that her limbs went flying off at random.
One of the officers in charge stopped Nuggie short of running into the area in panic. “Whoa, kid! Watch it! That fluffy got ahold of some bad scratch n’ sniff fentanyl stickers from China. Ten of our officers had to go to the hospital.”
What? Mummah…nuuhuu…he had to help his bwuddahs!
Looking around for them, Nuggie began crying. “Bwuddahs? Nuggeh am hewe!” Then he found where they’d end up. Two different officers were busy shoving the fatass milkduds into evidence bags. They peeped and tried to suckle on their gloved fingers which provoked a few good punches to stuff them deeper into the bags.
“BWUDDAAHHHHSSS!” Nuggie shrieked, trying to reach up to them. It was no good though. They got thrown into the trunks of squad cars and soon enough the police presence began packing up.
Sniff. Huu. All he had now was the cardboard box and mummah’s body.
Flopping down in his cardboard box, Nuggie sadly peeled open a container of honey mussy sauce and flapped his tongue into it. Even though he was hoofdeep in sorrow, he had work tomorrow.
im surprised she didnt pop from getting kicked around.