Yeti mushed his way through the thick snow blanketing the early morning sidewalk, making tracks for the equally snowy street. He could’ve sworn the side-yard was a lot smaller than this, but he didn’t have time to argue with it. Good poopies go in the litterbox at the end of the side yard, and he REALLY needed to go.
He was making good progress across the deeply buried asphalt when a beep beep of seemingly no origin swerved violently away from the nearly invisible fluffalo, losing control on the unpacked, freshly fallen snow. Yeti watched, horrified, as the beep beep spun off of the buried street and into a steep ditch. Once still, the driver’s side door flung wide open and barfed its sole occupant facedown into the wintery fluff.
The enraged driver scrambled to his feet and sprinted toward the target of his ire, taking as many tries as he needed to stumble and slip his way through and across the snow in his office shoes. He could not tell at first, but as he drew closer, he could hear the little devil speak.
“Su sowwy nice mistuw,” it mooed as it made its way toward him, cleaving the heavy blanket of frost as it went. “Yeddeh nu mean to.”
It didn’t mean to? Well, he didn’t care. The livid businessman grabbed the fluffalo by both horns and failed to swing it free of the snow, falling facefirst into the stuff himself again.
“Su sowwy, mistuh,” God’s Mistake mooed at him.
Damn it all to hell. He righted himself, took a deep breath, and scooped the fluffalo out of its white encasement properly, as one would a large dog. It made no effort to resist–must be a runaway, he thought, carrying it to the trunk of his unfortunate car. Well, no matter. This “sorry” little beast was going to be the sorriest little beast alive, he would make certain of it.