Parks and Retribution
Yes, this character is a parody of Ron Swanson from Parks and Rec. Ron Swanson is my spirit animal who I heavily channeled for this work. Ron would make no apologies and neither shall I. Thanks to @AmbitiousLeather8309 for use of his creation, Geldie.
Don Swenson was happy with his lot in life. He had worked a portion of his life keeping his own city government office from getting many functions done. He despised government intervention on all levels yet made a living off of working for it. After retiring from his own company a former associate got him a job working as a superintendent for the newly established national park. He spent most of his days in the woods, avoiding people as much as possible and making sure the land would be in great shape for hunting and fishing. It was his dream job.
Was. Then the fluffies came. What was thousands of acres of pristine woodland had now become a haven for these abominations of nature. Gone was the tranquil peace of the wilderness. It had been replaced by begging fluffies and constant turf wars between herds. At first it became an opportunity for unlicensed hunting; fluffies werenât legally animals thus hunting them wasnât regulated. It seemed like he was going to enjoy his job more; using the rifles that the hippies said he didnât need but had every right to own as an American with no known criminal record.
However, Don had underestimated the vegan hippies from the local co-op. They managed to come across a rare bowl fluffy in the park (or the commies planted it, who knows?). They then started a movement to make the park a refuge for feral fluffies to incorporate themselves into the ecosystem. How was Don supposed to know a bunch of unshaven patchouli-scented wooks could get anything passed? Before he could fully embrace his role as a fluffy exterminator the edict was out to recognize fluffies as a new member of the food chain. Killing them indiscriminately was now off the table.
At first, Don figured culling the herds would be easy. He started seeding parsley around the park, allowing it to grow wild. He figured that the stupid creatures would keep eating it and wouldnât be able to birth any new foals. That seemed to work in the short term, but new fluffies kept moving in and he simply wasnât able to seed the entire park. More drastic measures needed to be taken.
He had come across a humane neutering device called Geldie. It looked to be like something that no creature with the most basic sense of self-preservation would fall for. It was a perfect trap for fluffies. He hastily ordered one.
The day it arrived he tore into the box like a kid at Christmas. He plugged it in and the faux pink pegasus winked at him, giggling. He hadnât loaded the pheromone spray yet; he wanted to see it in action first. Earlier in the week he came across a lone stallion in the back of his station. He had been laying out some bowls of cheap canned spaghetti to keep it in the area. He knew that it was still around; fluffies couldnât be stealthy even when their lives depended on it. He brought Geldie out, laying her in a spot near a bowl of spaghetti. Don then went to hide behind a dumpster. The stallion was babbling about ground sketties. âWell, GeldieâŚ.â he said to himself, âLetâs see if you were worth the investmentâŚ.â
âSkettiesâŚâŚ whewe sketties?â The brown stallion said as it came out of the bushes. Geldie laughed, and suddenly caught his attention. His eyes lit up at the pretty pegasus so readily presenting herself. âPwetty mawe!!!â He yelled, running at her full tilt. Immediately he mounted Geldie, not even questioning why she was there and ready to begin with.
âEnf! Enf! Enf!â The stallion went with all his being, not even bothered that Geldie was still staring back and not reacting. âEnf?â It went as Geldieâs crotch tits opened to suck his balls in, immediately slicing them off and cauterizing with the built in heated blades.
âSkreeeeeeee!!!â The stallion screamed, running away with a fresh wound where his balls used to be. âMeanie mawe num wumps! Mawe is wump nummer! Skree!â
A smile curled on Donâs lips as he watched the entire scene. Not only was it quick and efficient but also highly entertaining. Time to set the trap properly. He gathered the necessary supplies to bait the nested area. He wrapped everything up and put it on the back of his ATV, setting out in the early morning darkness to set his plan in motion.
Before the sun came up he set up an emergency power supply in a bush, plugging Geldie right into it. He didnât bother covering up the cord. Many a man let his small head do the thinking which led to their downfall. Certainly a fluffy wouldnât fare any better. He found a tree with several low branches and climbed up it as he waited for the show.
The sun crept out over the trees, and Geldieâs arrhythmic humming pierced the quiet of the forest. In very little time some of the waking fluffies in the area would be up and scrounging for food. It was only a matter of time before one caught the scent of her pheromones. Don heard it before he saw it. A green earthie came out of some bushes, eyes darting around. Geldieâs hot pink fluff stood out from the surrounding foliage.
âPwetty mawe!â It announced, eyes bugging out just like Geldieâs first victim. He barreled towards the device, faster than the previous one as the pheromones were enflaming his mating sense. Don reached into his pocket and took out a piece of bacon jerky to chew, smiling in anticipation.
After the seventh âEnf!â, the telltale click announced that the stallion had been castrated. âSkreeee!â It screamed, running away. âMawe num my wumps!!â
Don snort-laughed at the sight, watching as the gelded stallion ran off screaming. In very little time, another stallion emerged. âWhy fwuffie so woud?â it asked, looking around. It immediately caught sight of Geldie, bolting towards her for his special hugs.
Don chuckled to himself, savoring the jerky as the scene played out again and again. The manual stated that Geldie could castrate a hundred stallions before needing to be emptied. Within a few hours he would probably have to unload her. He watched about fourteen stallions fall victim to Geldieâs whims. This was all going to be far too easy, he thought.
He didnât, however, plan on one of the victims coming back with his special friend. The third gelded stallion (or was it the fourth, who could keep track?) came back with a blue unicorn mare at his side. âDewe!!!â The gelding yelled. âDewe is da mawe dat nummed my wumps!!â
The blue mare stomped towards Geldie, fuming. âDummeh mawe! Give speshow fwiend back wumps!!â She said, stomping. Geldie only gave a âTee-hee!â in response, humming her song. The pink mare puffed her cheeks. âDummeh mawe!!! Take sowwy poopies!â
Don watched in disgust as his new toy was covered in the vile diarrhea that was sorry poopies. He sneered as the mare emptied what seemed to be the bowels of several beasts at Geldie. Geldieâs only response beneath her new coat of shit was her sultry inviting laugh.
This only served to antagonize the unicorn. âDummeh mawe!â she screamed. âDis nu funny! Take pointy hewties!â She lowered her head, ramming herself into the rear of Geldie. As luck would have it, her horn penetrated just beneath Geldieâs special place, sliding right into the ball collector. As it had not been triggered, the blades had stayed cool. They dug into the unicornâs horn, holding her in place.
âDummeh mawe! Wet speshow fwiend gu!â The gelding gave the Geldie another spray of sorry poopies, completely concealing the neutering tool. As his friend kept pulling, trying to free her horn from Geldie, the gelding started stomping at Geldie with his front hooves.
Donâs jaw went agape, dropping the jerky he was chewing as his eyes stared wide at the scene. He was so transfixed he didnât notice the new stallion that walked towards the scene just under him. It had been drawn by the pheromones that Geldie had been releasing, and itâs lumps were seriously hurting. Drawn in by itâs hormonal surge it walked up to the pair engaged in battle.
Itâs eyes darted between the gelding stomping on the poopies and the mare with her horn stuck in the poopies. His state of fluffy confusion was only dwarfed by the rush of hormones that the pheromones had induced. He looked to the blue unicorn, her head bowed down, her rear invitingly bucking back to beckon him.
âWan enfies!â he proclaimed, hopping on the unicornâs back and thrusting away.
âNu! Bad enfies! Nu wan!â the unicorn cried, now stuck between Geldie and the horny stallion. If she was mad before, she was enraged now. Her horn started to glow within the gelding mechanism, producing sparks. These sparks brushed against the fuzz of several sets of fluffy balls which only helped to highlight one of the major flaws of fluffy fur. Not only was it practically useless as an insulator, it was also incredibly flammable. The fluffy scrotums started smoldering within Geldieâs holding tank.
âGud feews!â The stallion proclaimed, giving the unicorn one more forceful thrust. This was the push that finally broke the unicornâs horn; snapping off within the gelding mechanism and falling forward into the holding tank. The unicornâs special friend had enough of this display, and started chasing the stallion away as the unicorn sat staring at the shit-caked pegasus in front of her, still beckoning stallions with her inviting laugh. The unicorn was too forlorn over itâs lost horn to notice the smoke coming from Geldieâs rear.
âHuâŚ. HuâŚâ she sobbed, âMawe num pwetty hownâŚ.â She didnât even notice that Don was approaching the scene with a fire extinguisher that he retrieved from the ATV. Out of nowhere she found herself sucking in a cloud of ammonium phosphate as Don preemptively kept Geldie from burning further. He emptied the entire extinguisher, not taking any chances.
Don dropped the extinguisher as the fluffy in front of him convulsed on the ground from suffocation. He took several deep breaths, looking at the destruction caused by fluffy stupidity. âPeople werenât satisfied with boundless human stupidityâŚ.â he said to himself, âthey had to create something worse.â
Don was now at his witâs end. It seemed that there was no measure he could take that would be immune from the destruction of abject fluffy stupidity. He wanted to take the extermination route but if he went out indiscriminately killing the creatures it would only lead to losing his job. Simply allowing these loud, annoying creatures to exist would cause a major disruption of the food chain and all of the fine hunting would become a memory. No, he had to find a way to get people on his side. He needed to make the fluffies into a common enemy. He once again smiled as he formed his next plan of action.
âŚâŚ.
A few weeks later, a large truck with a livestock wagon pulled into the parking lot of Mother Earth Co-op. Don got out after cutting the engine. He took a look at the place and sneered. He could swear he could see the patchouli fumes wafting from itâs doors. He had only entered the building once. Today would be the second, and hopefully, final time. He strutted back to the door of the wagon.
âAlright, troopsâŚ.â he said, looking inside, âare you ready to face the enemy?â Multiple fluffy eyes looked back at him, ready to emerge.
âWeady!â his ragtag herd yelled back at him. âNu wike commies! Nu wike hippies! Nu wike fake sketties!â Their stupid faces looked back at him with a strange degree of determination. Stupid but trainable. He would be giggling had he not had the discipline to hide his emotions. He nodded, opening the door. He walked up to the co-op at a brisk pace, taking note of the entrance. Good. The operators of Mother Earth wanted natural air inside so they left the doors open. The poor bastards decided not to embrace the joys of central air and would now see the errors of their ways.
Don preceded the fluffy herd at a brisk pace. He casually walked in, looking at some of the shelves as if he was going to buy this junk. Tempeh? Quinoa? Werenât there easier ways to say âI hate myself?â Through his corner vision he watched as the first few fluffies entered. He took out his phone, beginning to covertly record.
The unshaved manager approached with a smile. âHey, little guys!â he said, crouching down. âWhatcha doinâ here, fluffs? Arenât you a bit far from the woods?â
The lead fluffy, an orange smartie unicorn, stomped his hoof. âNu wike fowest! Wan wawm housies! Wan sketties!â He puffed his cheeks. âWan nao!â He stared the manager down with his oblivious overconfidence.
The manager tilted his head. âNo can do, man⌠but we might be able to give you some food that was about to be tossed. How about that, little guy?â He reached forward to scratch the smartyâs ears.
The smarty immediately jerked back. âNu wan fake sketties, yu nu smeww pwettie commie! Weal sketties need eggs an meat! Ou make poopie sketties!â He turned around, lifting his tail.
The bewildered manager stood up, backing away with his hands out in front of him. âNow hold on, little buââ his attempt to negotiate was cut off by a tidal wave of diarrhea projected from the smartieâs ass. The manager moved his head down as he looked at the aftermath, frozen in disbelief as he was now a sewer from the waist down. The other occupants of the store turned to see what the commotion was, staring incredulously at what had taken place.
Don silently chuckled to himself, having previously told the herd to save as much poopies as they could for the assault. The things fluffies would do for a few more cans of cheap spaghetti.
The smarty turned back around. âNu wan wive in poopie fowwest! Dis is smawtieâs housie nao! Hewd take housie fwom nu smeww pwetty hippies!!â The herd dispersed through the aisles, ready to cause chaos. Don started moving out of their way, heading towards the entrance as he watched.
Several shoppers bolted for the door not wanting to meet the same putrid fate of the poor clerk. The other employees eyes darted around the technicolor wave of mini horses dispersing throughout the co-op.
Two fluffies with a mission went towards the open air faux meat refrigerator. They had been shown the fake skettie meat by Don and were able to hone into it with the sense of smell that domesticated fluffies lacked. âTake sowwy poopies, wabbit food!â They yelled as they sprayed their shit towards the product. They didnât manage to get everything splattered, but they were satisfied they made their point.
âDis bettew dan gwassie nummies!â A yellow earthie mare announced, picking up produce from another refrigerated display and tossing bunches of kale down on the floor to the other waiting fluffies. A clerk stood back as she watched, not wanting a spray of poopies. She became even more confused when she started wondering exactly how the fluffy managed to get up there.
Many similar situations happened throughout the store, with the remaining clerks not sure what to do, lest they get attacked themselves. Meanwhile, the first worker to encounter the fluffies started coming to his senses. Once over the initial shock, he took a look around. He surveyed the scene before him. The bastion of organic, ethically sound food that he had worked to maintain was under attack. What wasnât being eaten was being defecated on. Getting certified as an organic, sustainable store was hard enough before; now it would be next to impossible to sanitize the place enough to recertify. His hands balled into tight fists. His teeth clenched. He eyed the broom next to him.
âFUCK YOU, YOU UNGRATEFUL FUCKING SHITRATS!â he bellowed, seizing the broom in both hands. In an adrenalin fueled rage he broke the broomstick over his knee, giving himself an improvised spear. He stomped towards the nearest fluffy and stabbed downwards into itâs body. The fluffy screamed in pain, tears flowing as it was held up, impaled.
âWhy huwt fwuffie? Fwuffie is good fwuffie!!!â It cried as the manager flung it into other members of itâs herd. They looked up at the manager, his eyes wide and red and veins bulging from his forehead. The manager moved forward, advancing on the nearest fluffy he could find to attack with his improvised weapon.
Don stopped recording as the manager began his rampage. He was amazed that the hippie clerk could become capable of such unhindered rage and violence. Don nodded his head, actually impressed that the natural food nut could attack such a situation like an actual man. He turned, strolling out of the store as he enjoyed the screams of the fluffy massacre behind him. As he drove away, he could see a few escaping fluffies in his rearview mirror, begging to be saved.
âŚ.
After uploading the video anonymously it went viral on the internet in the following week. Thanks to this attack it was now acknowledged that allowing fluffies to breed unhindered in the national park was a recipe for disaster as they would encroach further out. He watched the announcement live when the park service issued a fluffy kill-on-sight order to park rangers everywhere. The hippies didnât entirely concede, though. It was decided that using guns would be forbidden. That was just fine with Don Swenson. He strapped his collapsible baton into the holster at his waist and strolled out of his cabin. It was time to go to work.