On the Hunt for Flubbies
Seal hunting, or sealing, or even seal clubbing (as sometimes happens) is a controversial practice and tradition here up in the Arctic circle.
The Inuits were the original seal hunters, and then the Canadians, Americans, Russians, those guys from Greenland and other countries close to the circle all took part in the hunt.
Why do they hunt seals?
Now you check that shit out on Wikipedia, but Seal Fur is pretty valuable as are its blubber and its oils, which can be used for lamp lighting up to cooking oil.
Their meat is also rich in fat and protein.
A traditional Inuit diet included seal.
You could call it “The Veal of the Ocean”.
Apparently it’s pretty gamey and not too dissimilar to organ meat and is pretty oily. Not bad in a pie though.
But each time they do a “harvest”, animal rights groups give them a lot of shit over it.
And it’s not hard to understand why.
Seals are fucking cute. And they’re intelligent too.
And then you get to see their brains splattered across the ice.
Governments had to put in regulations and hunting quotas and bans from preventing people from hunting less than year old seals.
But then when viral footage goes out of what the harvest actually looks like (especially when it’s not being done with a rifle) and the harvester is covered in blood and seal parts.
Well, all that good will and those quotas and bullshit don’t matter to people who’ve just seen a cute seal’s brain being exposed and blood spurting out of its body twitching and flailing.
The Canadian Sealers Association tried to keep a lid on things.
As Canada has the largest seal harvest, more focus was put on Canada than anywhere else (the Americans shrugged and didn’t GAF)
The Canadian Veterinary Medical Association found that the majority of all seals were being offed humanely, with only a few cases were seals were not being killed “efficiently”.
This did not stop Environmentalists and Animal Right Protesters from intervening and interrupting in harvests.
No PETA though……we all know why there.
Seal product sales were in rapid decline and the trade suffered a serious hit and sealers’ livelihoods were hit too.
The industry was in free fall, things didn’t look like they were recovering anytime soon.
And then a solution of sorts was found.
Well sort of.
And it was a meeting between one of the honchos at the FDO and Sealers Association who were discussing things over minced seal flipper pie and root vegetables (a delicacy in the east of Canada).
”Hey, what if we used fluffies instead of Seals? Would that work?”
Ultimately it didn’t (and they tried), the further north you go on the American continent, the less fluffies you see.
Particularly outdoors. Especially outdoors.
The only way a fluffy could survive up north, and up in the Arctic Circle, is in a warm, comfortable home in a room with plenty of thermal blankets and heat from central heating (never let your fluffy go near an actual fire. For reasons).
And never, ever being let outside. It’s just far too cold.
Especially at night when the temperature drops.
There has never been a fluffy who has survived the freezing exposure.
They looked at Russian fluffies and how they were able to adapt, however, no matter how you see it, a fluffy is not a seal and the products you lose from sealing you could never get from a fluffy.
”But what if a fluffy, could, be a seal?”
And that’s how Flubbies were created.
The perfect substitute to seals, the sealing industry could be saved from ruin.
Now when you look at Flubbies, they’re kind of like looking at regular fluffies.
If you’re looking at them from the front
A side view, and most especially looking at them from behind, will reveal they have no hind legs, only a large flipper similar to seals and walruses.
They’re fatter than regular fluffies, and possibly seals too, their blubber keeps them warm.
They’re as colourful as normal fluffies too. From the brightest colours to the shittiest of fur.
And you can even get those types that have wingies and types with horns.
There has been no recorded case of an alicorn flubby so far.
If I was to give you a direct comparison, they’re similar to the fish-like sea fluffies but are mammal class bio-toys instead.
They breed like regular fluffies too and you can expect a litter of flubby cubs in the same amount of time you would expect a litter of foals being produced by a dam.
Sealers have a particular nickname for Flubbies.
Like Fluffies are always referred to as shitrats, Flubbies are referred to as Beaters
The industrial breeding farm had opened and occupied space in Newfoundland.
Rudy was just happy he still had a job.
He would have to travel the same distance but he was glad he could travel for the work. Just because it was money, and his dad always told him to say yes to money no matter where it was from.
And to the one spot too.
He was glad that the job now had predictability.
Predictability is under-rated. Especially when you don’t know when your next paycheck is coming and the bills keep coming through the door.
I want to be paid all the time, I don’t want to find out I’m not being paid on the day I’m meant to.
These thoughts went through Ruby’s head. He felt the weight come off his shoulders.
And best of all, no interruptions from animal rights shitheads.
Rudy had thought that had stopped with the abolition of PETA, but then what about the other shitheads who would they go other than throwing ice and stones at him, calling him a baby killer (even though legislation and policies protected young seals from harvests, though seals are classed as adults after 12 days of age following abandonment by their mothers).
He was glad to see the back of them. Fucking fools, what did they do for humans rights?
He was glad to see regular money too. This was the most important thing.
His dad had did the work on and off, but had to wait until the next harvest to be invited back for more work.
His dad often went without money and took on any job that he could between seasons.
His dad would’ve loved this.
Now there were going to be more seasons all for more harvests.
“Flubbies what?” I’ll brain them good. He felt better knowing they weren’t natural.
More seasons equals more regular money.
Elaine would be happy with that, she’d at least see a regular payment towards the kids Rudy never saw often enough.
One of the guys said they were all going to be flubbers now and they’d be going flubbing instead and that the company should just change their name right away.
Rudy wondered why they just weren’t called beaters instead of the Flubbies, considering that’s what they were going to be doing to them.
He’d seen pictures of them, and what they looked like.
They looked colourful and dumb.
Particularly dumb.
They looked exactly like those fluffies down in the US and the south that were all the rage.
Except crossed with seals.
No way could they ever be real.
But a picture is proof as is.
Fluffies were too weak to survive up here anyway. The only fluffies that could be seen up north were pre-packaged and ready to cook in the fryer.
He noticed that all Flubbies had two stumpy legs on the front to drag themselves along instead of flippers.
Video footage indicated they could move slowly, and only on a slippery surface.
Anything else slowed them further. They didn’t like moving on anything that wasn’t smooth and soft and easy to glide across.
This seemed like it would be easy work after all.
Easy work and easy money.
And they had so many bright colours! How could these things not be pets up here in the cold?
And they talked too apparently. Though an order was put out to everyone not to interact with them.
Beyond with their clubs.
The farm had produced so many of these Flubbies and let them out into the ice fields.
They’d been fed one final meal of cheap kibble and sent out into the ice fields to find more nummies.
Purely for the sport of it. And to keep the farm clean.
There were no roads here and sea travel was the only way to get about. The ice fields were close to the sea.
Why drag all that weight that far to a boat to take them away?
Rudy and the party had left the boat. An instruction was given to them. “Follow your nose, and then follow the trail”
Pretty cryptic so far but okay.
Rudy was put in front to lead the party, another party with transport equipment would be following behind to help collect the harvest.
The first party would be administering the beatings.
It didn’t take long for Rudy to follow his nose. Within a half hour, he smelt something foul.
What the fuck was that revolting smell?!
One of the guys put his nose cover on, he couldn’t bear it.
Jesus was it awful. What the fuck did they actually feed them?! Surely they couldn’t be far from he-
Rudy felt something squishy under his feet.
Faeces
The faeces were slippery and slimy and the source of the revolting smell. They hadn’t even froze from the coldness.
Disgusting. It was just like slime.
Imagine how bad it would stink if it wasn’t cooled by the ice?
Rudy felt grossed out by that and shuddered.
A trail (of shit) skidded across the ice with markings from what looked like their flippers made a telltale trail, a literal road of shit that would lead the party straight to them.
Rudy covered his nose and began to lead the way.
Along the way he took a look at the surroundings. He could tell he was close, the wails and yelps of seals can be heard from afar.
These Flubbies were no different.
But it sounded more like……babble. Mindless babble. They could talk huh? What do they talk about or say to one another? In fact what was the point of them talking?
Such a ridiculous idea……giving them the gift of the gab seemed utterly pointless.
The babble was getting louder.
More audible to the ear. Was that crying? What are nummies? Food? There seemed to be a lot of shouting. Was that chirping? Singing?
They sounded kind of like cartoons. Like kids from cartoons or something. It was kind of grating.
Along the way the party had taken a look at the ground.
The shit also shown something else.
Blood. Carcasses. Tiny carcasses. Tiny Flubbies littered the ground along the way.
Some had been chewed up. Squished. Some even look like they had broken bones.
Rudy picked one up, it was kind of like a guppy. He dangled it by the arm and looked at it closer.
Was this their youngest? They didn’t seem appropriate to be hunted.
No quota. No restrictions. All were game. These things being clubbed would just squish them up into a puddle of blood and gore. Rudy carried it in his hand, it was like holding a doll and had as much weight as one.
He was curious what the bulls and the adult Flubbies were like.
And he found out soon enough.
A large rainbow sheet of colour could be seen across the ice.
That was were the sounds came from.
The babbling. Their inane and ridiculous voices.
They stood out like an eye sore. And an ear sore.
An ice sore if you will, Bobby made an I saw the eye sore joke.
Rudy just cringed. Some of the other guys did too.
The “rainbow” was blotches of multicolours both bright and dark. They barely moved but flopped and writhed. A few voices could be heard complaining about the cold and trying to make a “fluffpile”.
Rudy looked at the “Flubby Foal” in his hands. It was a dark brown colour, blotches of red from its wounds could be seen.
It looked a pretty sorry sight.
A thing like this would make for a cute pet, especially up here in the Circle.
His kids really wanted a fluffy. But up here? They’re not cheap to keep nor do they last long here. The kids cried. And where Elaine would normally have Rudy by the balls, she actually agreed that owning a fluffy was a bad idea.
The few times they agreed since they split.
Elaine mostly didn’t like shit though. And fluffies pump it out like slush.
The party stopped after a while.
They hadn’t been on their journey long and no great effort was made.
The hardest part of the journey was the cold, putting up with it and making sure they hadn’t lost track. Sure enough they were actually on schedule.
They could even make out the breeding farm.
They had been released a day previously.
They hadn’t exactly come far.
They continued to babble and sing. It was quite loud. Deafening. They were just like seals. And it felt like they were sealing. The closer they got to the flubbies, the louder they got.
They’re louder than even fluffies are!
And then a Flubby turned around and noticed the party.
”Nyu Daddeh?”
And then more turned around.
And more.
“Nyu daddeh?! Daddeh!!”
The babbling stopped and distinctive words could be heard.
“Daddeh!” “Nyu daddeh?” “Pway” “huggies” “upsies” “bestest babbeh” “poopies” “Nyu home?”
”sketties?”
Marty nudged Rudy and said that they sounded exactly like Fluffies do and act like them. Just somehow louder. The party looked out and surveyed how many were here.
Roughly 3000.
Give or take.
And there was more to be released out too.
None of them were older than 4 months.
The adults were all older than a month.
They all looked pretty fat. Obese little bastards even fatter than walruses.
The very large herd began to move forward, albeit slowly shuffling. Seals were quicker than this.
They looked up happily and expressed a joyful look. They cheered and cooed and were talking as if they were kids. Like fat kids.
They were happy to see us? Rudy pondered. Had they actually even seen a human? They must have back at the plant where they grew. But this happy to see the group?
Fuck it almost felt like it would be cruel.
Rudy began to think about the seals.
They were never happy to see them.
Was this a bizarre defence mechanism?
Be cute to avoid being clubbed?
Based on what they were asking for, “nummies”, they sounded hungry too.
Some of them had blood around their mouths. What had they been eating?
And then there was a bustling and shouting from the large herd.
A very fat Flubby waddled it’s way forward flanked by two other fat ones.
Whatever this one was its expression wasn’t cute.
It looked like it deserved its skull taken out of its head.
It looked surly and it puffed out air as if it was exhausted from its movement. The herd remained unswayed until he barged his way to the front.
“Giv smawty an hewd nummies nao Dummeh ow smawty an tuffie as gib Dummeh humans hewties an sowwy poopies”
It looked at Rudy in a threatening manner, putting his head low glowering back up with his eyes. It puffed his cheeks out.
Rudy examined it more.
“Smarty?”
He could kind of see partly why fluffies are said to resemble horses. All of their heads except for the tiny guppy like foals had manes. They more resembled pigs though and were fatter too.
The “smarty”, “bull”, whatever had noticed the dead foal in Rudy’s hand.
“Giv smawty babbeh Dummeh nao!! Babbeh am nummies fo smawty!!”
Rudy raised his eyebrow.
They have given the power of speech to such an unpleasant and entitled piece of shit eh?
He had noticed some of the Flubbies cowering close to the Smarty Flubby.
Hurties eh?
Rudy, out of curiosity, decided to give it what it wanted.
He threw the dead Flubby foal towards the fat little bastard.
The thing had no grace and didn’t even say thank you. It practically swallowed the dead foal whole, barely chewing, making disgusting sounds as it was eating and swallowing.
Fuck this thing.
Rudy and the others had looked around more. Some even took pictures. The pictures would be used for research, to check the viability of this venture and the results.
They could see now why some of the Flubbies had blood on their mouths.
They had begun to cannibalise their young.
When were these things cute again?
It looked like the youngest and smallest travelled on their mothers’ backs.
Easy pickings for food for smart predators. How did they stay on there?
The Flubbies around any female who had foals were very vulnerable and he could see the Flubbies snapping the young foals from their backs.
It looked too easy. They seemed so easy just to pick up and eat. It’s not like the females put up a fight beyond a loud wail.
He could see bigger foals at their mothers’ sides but they could do little to protect the other Flubbies from stealing and eating their younger siblings.
So they just eat each other with no other food available?
Yeah……these things ain’t cute.
The mothers couldn’t even defend them, there was barely any effort either. They just cried out “nu hewt babbehs!! Nu hewt!! Babbehs am nu nummies!!”
Rudy shrugged.
He had learnt after all that only humans find cannibalism as abhorrent especially when observing the natural world, but then realised it wasn’t like humans weren’t capable of it either.
What else was there to eat here?
I guess they’re just being sensible and obeying the natural law up here.
Despite not being natural.
Speaking of eating, the smarty had begun to pester Rudy for more.
And began to threaten him with “poopies”.
Rudy had heard enough. He was surprised he didn’t ask sooner.
He asked for his club to be passed to him.
The smarty on sight of this club began to cry out. He was smart enough to recognise what it was used for.
“Pwee mistah!! Nu gib smawty sowwy stick!! Wi be gud do Daddeh!! Wi be-“
^splat
Rudy had brought the club down clean on the smarty flubby’s skull.
Its head exploded outward and it’s brains and eyeballs went all over.
It felt really good to do that.
Rudy remembered his first seal hunt.
He struggled to bring his club down on the seals’ heads.
His dad had done it like a pro.
His dad would’ve had a good time here. Fuck he’d already be swinging.
Rudy had no such problem here.
That smarty sure knows how to make you not feel bad about it.
The other Flubbies wailed out in horror and began to spasm and flail about as if they were fish trying to escape.
This was the quickest Rudy had seen them move. Nothing like death and danger to get something moving.
“Let’s beat these bastards dead!!” Rudy yelled out.
The party began to spread out and bash some skulls.
A lot of them were rooted to the spot cowering and shitting.
There was a lot of shit.
And then blood and brains.
This was easy.
Rudy gave an order not to bash the youngest, the tiniest of the flubby foals.
Quite simply, it would’ve been a waste of time. He just asked for them to be bagged up. If they had survived the bashing and being squished from their dead mothers’ bodies. There weren’t that many that survived intact.
^splat
^splat
^splat
^splat
Their heads made no crunching sounds.
It was like bashing a more soft watermelon or a blood balloon or something. There was barely any resistance or sickening thud of crack.
These things popped.
It was getting tiring too but a lot of work had been done already. The fields were covered in Flubby carcasses.
They die pretty quickly.
Colourful bodies with heads splattered were strewn across the ice.
The blood was turning the ice pink.
The shit that expelled out of their bodies was making the icy murkier and less pink.
It resembled mud. And was slippery too.
It stunk horribly.
A few of the Flubbies had tried to escape and move away flailing.
Unfortunately for them, the thin ice they had moved onto broke beneath them.
They entered the ice cold water.
Rudy raised his eyebrow as he saw them flailing and panicking in the water.
They really weren’t like seals at all.
“Wawa bad fo Fwubbies!!! Wawa bad!!! Wawa bad!!”
The Flubbies that entered the water drowned. And quickly too.
So they can’t swim? These things really are just waiting to die aren’t they?
Rudy asked a few of the guys to fish their bodies out as he took a break from swinging his club.
It felt like short work was being made of these guys. It didn’t even take multiple hits to kill them.
A true one-shot type kill. To the head.
Job done
Rudy decided to radio in the boat to send for equipment to collect their harvest.
There would be more to harvest tomorrow.