Colgate heard a lot of banging outside his sorry box. The mean man with the mask and cold hands opened the door once a day to feed him. It was up to him to ration his own food to not go to bed hungry. After being hosed down and left soaking wet in the dark, he remembered well not to poop anywhere but the grate in the back. He wanted to shout demands at the man but was choked out the second he raised his voice.
The door opened. Before he could speak up the hand scruffed him and unceremoniously dropped him in a small wooden box and slammed the lid shut. He figured out what the banging was. âWet Smawty out!â BANG a fist slammed down on the lid and the sound shut him up. He heard crying fluffies to either side of him.
He heard more banging. âWet Smawty out!â BANG âWet Smawty out!â BANG The process repeated a few more times. The other fluffies were idiots. How could they be Smarty? He was Smarty! He felt the box he was in start moving.
The researcher had collected all the smarties in a long cart he constructed from plywood. Rolled them to the freight elevator and took them down to the basement where his plan would commence. He scooped each out one at a time dropping them in new boxes like the ones they had just been in before returning upstairs to repeat the process with another twenty.
He constructed a large pen in the basement, each wall of the pen was twenty-five boxes with mechanically controlled doors. They opened into a ramp into the communal area. A 40x40 ft pen with a collection of plywood structures that looked vaguely like a skatepark. A gray coat of waterproof paint was roughly applied everywhere to make cleaning easier. In total, each fluffy would have about sixteen square feet each, excluding their pen. For now, all they had was their small pens.
Colgate waited anxiously as he heard the researcher return followed by more slamming of doors. He was very angry on top of being scared. The meanie didnât worship the very ground he walked on like he should. No skettis, no enfs, no herd, no fun! Finally, he heard the meanie shout, âOk now, Iâm leaving forever! Bye!â
âNuu weave! Wet Smawty Out! Neeâ nummies! Nu wan gu foweba sweepies in sowwy box!â The words escaped him before he could act tough. He heard the same sort of phrase yelled from all around him. How many other âsmartiesâ were there? The shouting died down and was replaced with crying, then finally silence. The lights in the room that shed faint light through the cracks in their boxes dimmed until they were in complete darkness. The screaming returned until they were too exhausted and fell asleep.
Colgate was woken by a loud mechanical clanging. The door of his pen swung open. Happy to be free, he ran out and tumbled down the ramp into the common area. He looked around. All the other fluffies must have been freed at the same time as he saw them rushing out of their pens as well. He took it all in, at eye level it was a much more imposing landscape than from a humanâs vantage.
He wanted to impose his rule over them all, but he heard his stomach grumble. âSmawty huwgwy! Nee nummies!â he exclaimed. As had become the usual, all the other fluffies echoed his sentiment. They began pushing and shoving to look around the plywood wasteland that was their new home.
In the middle was a trough shaped like a plus. In the middle was a grate like the poop hole in their old sorry boxes. To either side was a large shallow water tray and kibble tray. One of the smarties, a snow white one, climbed into the water tray to wash off the poopies he had made in his pen. âPoopies am make Smawty nu pwetty!â while sticking his head over into the kibble tray to eat.
They all congregated around the food pens. There wasnât enough room for all of them to eat at the same time, and even if there was, a smarty wasnât one to share. âAm smawties yucky kibbles! Nuu shawe! Wif poopie!â A red oneâs hoof connected with a brown oneâs face and a brawl quickly broke out. Colgate was smarty. âSmawty nu nee fite dummies!â he said to himself and went to eat while the other were preoccupied.
As he ate, he noticed another smarty had the same idea as him. He was a purple unicorn. He sized him up as he ate in case he tried to pick a fight, the horn was a problem, he could go for his wumps. Were were his wumps? His eyes widened! He ran over to the purple unicorn, she was a mare, not a stallion. âDummy mawe! Gib enfies nao!â She laughed. âSmawty nu gib enfies dummeh! Nu am speshiaw fwen!â
He stomped his hoof impotently âSmawty nu am cawe! Aww Mawe am fow enfies!â He took a step towards her but was headbutted by one of the smarties that escaped the brawl. âDummie fwuffy! Mawe am fow smawtie enfies! Nu dummie enfies!â More took note of this and began to fight now, not for kibble but for poon-tang.
The purple smarty, originally named Violet retreated from the critical mass of sorry hooves and began to climb one of the steep plateaus the dotted the pen. As she reached the top and backed away from a bloodied smarty that reached reached up for her, she felt her rear bump into something that felt like another fluffy. She jumped in fear. Turning to look, she saw it was another mare. This one was green with a yellow mane.
âDis am Smawty wand!â the former feral Dandelion announced to Violet, puffing up in the process. She looked over the purple mare and saw swarm of Smarty stallions at the base of the plateau making a 21-sausage salute. She quickly decided she didnât want to risk getting knocked down. âbuh yuu awowd tu stayâŚâ Together they were able to fend off any stallion that managed to climb up.
They saw another yellow pegasus mare on top of another taller tower a few feet away. They called out to her. âSmawty mawes am wowk tugevah! Nu get wowstest enfies!â They didnât know how they would get together, but they would figure out a plan.
The researcher watched as this all played out. In all honesty he wasnât anticipating female smarties to be mailed to him they were rare and almost a novelty to adopt, these ones must have been extra problematic. There were five mares in the pen, the grey one ran back to her pen and was hoping to blend in with the paint to prevent being noticed, a brown one was being raped out of sight from the herd. A red unicorn smarty-toughie had shanked another two fluffies for her bringing the count in the pen down to ninety-eight. He would make this interesting. As would the purple mare.
