After Doug had died, Roger had left home. The paramedics had collected the body, but had just snapped and kicked at Roger when they had seen him sniffing around the gurney. Pet or not, they had no interest in the fuzzy shitrats. At least half the emergencies they were called out for were caused by them anyway.
So Roger had wandered out into the streets, and for the first time in his 40 years of life… he was outside.
But Roger soon learned why the outside had been forbidden.
It was big, and loud, and scary.
Cars screamed past all the time, lots of angry people were on the streets, and there were no toys, no food, and no warm beds anywhere.
Roger wanted to go home, but he knew going home wasn’t an option.
‘Home’ didn’t exist anymore.
So he just kept on going.
The upside was, although he was hungry, he didn’t need to eat, as any malnutrition was staved off by his miraculous healing abilities. Roger didn’t fully understand it himself, and his stomach still growled uncomfortably every day, but at least he could still keep going.
He spent his nights sleeping wherever he could hide, and his days roaming looking for food, or for a nice person to give him a warm home… but he found neither.
So Roger kept walking, every day, looking for his new home in a world that had no more interest in him.
Finally, Roger made it to the outskirts of the city, past all the screaming cars and tall buildings and found the world gradually got greener as he walked. Hard concrete gave way to lush green grass, towering spires were replaced with dense trees, and the sound of honking horns became the babbling trickle of water.
Roger stopped at the edge of a river and slurped up some of the cool water, slaking his thirst for the first time in over a month. He was feeling quite happy, until he heard a twig snap behind him.
Roger spun around, his heart already pounding… but saw there was nothing to fear.
Because the source of the noise was a small group of fluffy ponies, just like himself!
“Hewwo!” Roger greeted them brightly.
“Shaddup.” One fluffy said, pushing his way to the front of the group. “Am Smawty, dis Smawty hewd wand, who yoo?!”
“A-am Wojah-”
“Shaddup dummeh!” The Smarty interrupted with a derisive snort. “Yoo nu speshul enuff to hab a namesy wike dat! So yoo namesy am DUMMEH nao!”
The group snickered and snorted.
“Hehe, hey Dummeh!”
“Wook! Wook at Dummeh!”
“Stoopid Dummeh! Hehe!”
Roger didn’t like the fluffies anymore.
“Yoo pawt of Smawty hewd nao!” Smarty declared. “Yoo hewp us fin’ nummies fow hewd! Owe get biggest owies!”
Roger figured the Smarty couldn’t actually ‘hurt’ him, thanks to his unique physiology, but also figured this was a good way of getting some food in his belly.
“Otay, Woja-”
“SHADDUP!” Smarty shrieked at him. “YOO NU HAB NAMESY! YOO NU SPESHUL FWUFFEH! SMAWTY ONWY SPESHUL FWUFFEH DEWE IS! YOO JUST DUMMEH! YOO NUFFIN BUT DUMMEH! UNNASTAN’ NAO, DUMMEH?!”
Roger fell silent. He didn’t know how life worked in the wild, maybe the Smarty knew what he was talking about…
So Roger set about helping the herd find food, using his teeth to pluc small berries off of various bushes and following the rest of the herd back to their den to deposit them in the ‘nummy pile’.
The den was actually a series of small tunnels, dug by some woodland critter some time ago, which were big enough for fluffies to walk through with ease. The tunnels were dark but Roger soon learned how to navigate them by feel and by smell. The nummy-pile smelled like nummies, so that was that way, and the sleepy-room smelled like fluffies, so that was that way…
And so life went on for the small herd. Smarty bullied the others into doing as he said, and the others, too scared to fight back, would listen and obey as best they could. But every day, Roger’s resentment towards the Smarty grew. Hearing him snort disgustedly any time another fluffy dared to try and have a good idea, the way he stomped his hooves on the ground when he didn’t get what he want, how he loudly called ‘DUMMEH’ any time he wanted Roger’s help with something, making sure the entire herd heard the name…
But it was a life. Not a good one, but at least a little better than what Roger had before.
Plus, he had at least one thing that made him happy.
At night, when the herd was asleep, Roger would go out of the herd’s den and look up at the sky through the gaps in the trees. He could see the dark-blue-black expanse stretching out for miles above him, the tiny white dots of stars, and the big round ball that was the moon.
He thought of Doug when he saw the moon.
It made him happy to remember him, but it mostly made him feel sad.
He missed his home, but more than that, he missedDoug.
Roger was out looking at the moon one night when he was suddenly startled by a squeaking sound.
“Nu! Nu wan speshul-huggies Smawty! Pwease, nu!”
“Dun’ cawe, dummeh mawe! Do as Smawty say! Wan ENFIES and wan NAO!”
“Buh am too widdwe, pwease Smawty, n- SCREE! OWIES!”
“SHADDUP DUMMEH MAWE! SMAWTY WAN ENFIES!”
Roger jumped up and scampered towards the source of the sound, making his way through the tunnel and finding the herd’s Smarty cornering a much smaller lilac-colored filly, who had backed into a corner and was desperately trying to back even furher into it, her hooves scraping against the slick earthen ground. She had some blood dripping her from nose, and Roger suddenly realised why she had yelped in pain.
“Dummeh mawe…” Smarty growled, glaring at her, raising his hoof again. “Gib enfies nao, owe Smawty huwt yoo… Smawty KIWW yoo, and hab enfies wit yoo ANYWAY!!!”
“Pwease! Pwease nu!” The filly squeaked, cowering in fear.
“DEN HAB BIGGEST OWIES!!!” Smarty roared, plunging his hoof downards…
…and finding it land on the dusty red coat of-
“DUMMEH?!” Smarty yelped as the red fluffy dove in front of the filly, taking the hit for her. “WHA YOO DOIN’?! GU BACK TO SWEEPIES, DUMMEH! OWE SMAWTY GIB YOO HUWTIES!!!”
Roger picked himself up, the dull ache in his side fading away.
Doug had told him he was special.
Time to use that to his advantage.
“Am nu Dummeh. Dat nu fwuffeh name.” Roger replied, panting for breath. “Am Wo-”
“DUN CAWE, DUMMEH! STOOPID DUMMEH STOOPID!!!” The Smarty barked at him. By now the rest of the herd were waking up, and coming to see what the commotion was.
“YOO DO AS SMAWTY SAY! GET OWDDA DAH WAY! SMAWTY WAN HAB ENFIES WIF DUMMEH MAWE!”
“Nu.” Roger replied, stamping a hoof on the ground. “Yoo gu 'way. Weabe widdwe fiwwies awone.”
Smarty looked like he was about to explode in rage.
“YOO SHADDUP DUMMEH! DAT’S AWW YOO AWE! A DUMMEH STOOPID DUMMEH FWUFFEH! TOO DUMMEH TO WISTEN TO SMAWTY! SMAWTY GUN’ MAKE YOO WISTEN!”
Roger glared at him, not a shred of fear in his eyes.
“Do it.” He said. Smarty snorted in mild surprise but bucked up quickly.
“S… SMAWTY WIWW! SMAWTY GIB YOO BIGGEST OWIES!”
“Do it.”
“SMAWTY… SMAWTY GUN’ HUWT YOU BAD! YOO NU WAN’ DAT!!!”
“Smawty wight!” The lilac filly squeaked in fear from behind Roger. “Gu! Wun 'way befowe yoo get big huwties! Pwease!”
Roger stood his ground.
“Do it, Smawty.” He said, staring the Smarty down. “Do it owe yoo a big dummeh scawedy babbeh.”
The entire herd gasped. Nobody had ever dared speak to Smarty like that.
Nobody until ‘Dummeh’.
“DAT’S IT!!!” Smarty roared, huffing and stamping his hooves on the ground. “SMAWTY GUN HUWT YOO BAD, DUMMEH! YOO GONNA WEGWET DIS!!!”
Smarty took off at run and tackled Roger to the ground, pounding his hooves into Roger’s red-fluffed belly and sides, hearing bones break and organs pop with every impact. Smarty actually began laughing, a high pitched cackle of mad rage as he lay hoof after hoof on Roger’s body, until finally he wore himself out.
Several minutes had passed, Smarty had worked up a sweat, and he was gasping for breath, but it was done. Roger was lying on the ground, completely still, covered in bruises and blood.
“SEE?!” Smarty yelled at the herd as he turned to face them. “SEE WHA HAPPEN WHEN YOO NU WISTEN TO SMAWTY?! YOO GET WHAT DUMMEH GET! BIGGEST OWIES, AND BIGGEST POO-”
Chomp.
Smarty froze for a split second, then shrieked in pain.
“SCREEE! OWIES! OWIE OWIE OWIESSS!!! HUWTIES IN NO-NOS! HUWTIES IN NO-NOS!!!”
As he flailed and thrashed, the rest of the herd saw what had hapepned.
Roger was, somehow, still alive. His bruises were gone, his blood had dried, and his broken bones were healed, enough so that he had been able to crane his head around and bite down hard on one of Smarty’s exposed testicles, bouncing around as he shouted abuse at his herd.
“WET GU! WET GU DUMMEH!” Smarty wailed, tears pouring from his eyes as Roger bit down harder on his testicle. Finally, with a sickening ‘pop’, the tiny orb exploded between Roger’s teeth. Smarty let out another ‘SCREEE’ before Roger finally let go, sending him staggering and tumbling onto his side, landing in a heap on the floor.
“Am nu Dummeh.” Roger said, picking himself up on newly healed legs, his broken bones reknitting themselves as he stood up proudly. “Dat nu namesy.”
“Dun cawe!” Smarty howled, tears pouring from his face as blood oozed out of his shredded scrotum. “Yoo j-jus’ a dummeh! A b-b-big dummeh!”
“Am nu Dummeh!” Roger snapped, stomping down on one of Smarty’s legs. “Nu Dummeh! Nebah Dummeh! DAT NU NAMESY!!!”
“D-dum-”
Roger stomped a hoof down on Smarty’s side and felt his organs burst inside his chest. The Smarty coughed up a spurt of blood and began to wheeze.
“AM NU DUMMEH! DAT NU NAMESY!”
“Duh… do- hurk! …dum…”
“AM NU ‘DUMMEH’! DAT NU NAMESY! FWUFFEH NAME AM WOJAH!!!”
With one final stomp, he felt the Smarty’s skull split in half and saw his lumps of brain-meat plop out onto the ground.
The Smarty was dead at last.
“Dum- …Wojah… Wojah gib Smawty owies.” One of the herd whispered, staring at Smarty’s broken body.
“Wojah a tuffie… bestest tuffie ebah…” Another whispered, looking at Roger’s immaculate body, without a single sign of injury left.
“WOJAH HEWO!!!” The lilac filly squealed, lanuching herself at Roger to give him a huge hug (well, as big as a tiny filly could give).
Slowly, the rest of the herd began to smile. Smarty was dead, and in his place, they had a new leader, the toughiest toughy who was ever tough, someone so strong NOTHING could hurt him!
And so life began anew.
Roger became the herd’s new leader, and spent every day protecting and helping them. He checked food for poison by taste-testing it first, he kept the herd safe from predators by fighting them off with his blunt hooves and his endless wellspring of life, and he made sure they worked together and never mistreated each other.
As time went on, the lilac filly grew older, and even became Roger’s special-friend… but to no avail.
Roger couldn’t reproduce, as was standard with all of the R&D team’s experimental fluffies. When his mother was dosed up, he and all of his siblings were chemically neutered. It prevented any failed experiments having offspring, and once they had perfected their formulas, then they’d start dosing up specific ‘breeding’ fluffies for mass production, with the neutering chemicals removed.
So the years went on, the herd grew with offspring and new ferals joining, and Roger resided proudly over his group.
Until the day finally came, two years after Roger had joined the herd.
His lilac special-friend had been getting slower, her fluff losing it’s color, and her health failing her. Her vision was darker, her hearing muffled, and she couldn’t walk correctly anymore. In a matter of days, her lfie began to fade, and Roger knew too well why.
He’d seen the same thing happen to Doug.
But he stayed with her the entire time, bringing her food and keeping her company, even when she stopped speaking entirely and was reduced to quiet wheezing breaths.
And then, without any alarm or fright, her breathing stopped.
Roger hadn’t aged a day.
