Passport. (Turboencabulator)

Foreword (9/28/2021):

Hits dab rig

Awww shit, back at it again!

Apologies for the interlude, I had a bit of an RNG heavy section of the year and a whopping great dose of writer’s block.

We will now resume your normal broadcast of whatever the hell genre it is I write. Please, for
your delectation, I present:

The Passport.


The Passport

By: Turboencabulator


James, bags under his eyes but a weary smile on his face pulled his pickup into the driveway
and parked, setting his head back against the rest and sighing. Another long day of work and
dealing with two walls of adversity, the unions of contractors he was managing, and the
management above him who, despite his finest efforts of explanation, could not understand that
no matter how much they yell and threaten and wheedle, paint does not dry quicker, you can’t
weld faster, and buildings do not get renovated at speed.

But it was nearly done. Nearly done. Then he could move on.

After a minute he blinked as his phone buzzed in his chest pocket. Fishing it out he read the
text from his wife inside.

Arthur and Morgan are in their saferoom. Saw lots of groceries.

He put the phone back in his pocket and sighed a private thanks to the universe, then heaved
himself out of the cab of his truck and opened the tailgate, sending another silent word of
thanks skyward as none of the fragile goods had shifted, not an egg appeared broken. James
picked up the two large pumpkins and set them on the stoop, looking up as the door opened.

Win walked out of the house and picked up two bags, with a faint look of irritation and
bemusement.

“Arthur tried to mount a feral again.”

James sighed inwardly. “How’d it go?”

“Not sure it matters at this point, I put a round through the mare’s head before he could
finish.” She said.

“Jesus Win, you’re going to give him a complex.”

“Actually I gave him a Benadryl.” She said with a rogueish grin. “Probably doesn’t remember a
thing.”


Inside the house was spacious and softly lit, and Win sat at the kitchen table, a large service
pistol and suppressor disassembled in front of her in mid-cleaning. James put away groceries
and winced as his joints clicked on occasion. A breeze rattled the window over the sink, a
cascade of red-orange leaves blowing past.

“So how’s the new class?” James asked, taking a beer out of the fridge door and opening it.

Win leaned back and rubbed her face with a groan. “I swear to god they look more like children
every year. You’d think boot would age them a bit but nope.”

She glanced down at the beer James was holding and made a gimme-motion with one hand. James cracked another can
and handed it over to her.

“Thanks.” She said, sitting up and chugging.

“That promising, huh?”

Win held up one finger, continuing to drain the pint can, before crushing it on her forehead
and belching.

“She is beauty, she is grace…” James muttered, sipping his own beer, and giggling a bit as
two middle fingers were displayed in his direction.

“Oh,” He said, fishing through a plastic bag. “I was over at the uh, you know that strip mall
with the Kroger and the really awful pizza place?”

Win nodded, continuing to clean her pistol.

“There’s a fluff-mart that just opened there.”

“Oh god James not another one.”

“No no, hold on.” He said, taking out a rectangular case. “This is a fluff-mart ‘Extras’
store. It’s weird products that don’t always sell well in some places, so they put them on
consignment at these places.”

Win leaned over the table a bit, peering at the box in his hand. “Is that a fucking VHS?”

James opened the case, setting it on the table. The cassette had a large soft pad built into
the bottom edge of the case, colorful plastic, and pictures of broomsticks and flowers on the
label.

“Turns out,” James said, sitting opposite and finishing his own can. “Disney is re-releasing
some of their old classics in modified VHS cases. Fluffy-safe, they can pick them up with that
pad, works in original players.”

She picked up the cassette, looking at the label. “And pictograms so the fluffies know what the
film is. Nice. How old is Fantasia?”

“Forties, I think.” James said, sliding the case over. “I thought it’d be a nice change. If we
can find a tape that isn’t too scary we can have a Halloween party with the two squirts.”

“It does see-”

SCREEEEEEE

James and Win looked at each other, and sighed.

She held out a fist. “I’m evens.”


Win grumbled to herself, opening the door to the safe-room and leaning in, looking around. She
was greeted by the sight of a short, watery blast of feces against a wall, and the sound
of one fluffy sobbing and the other giggling, both in hiding.

A white rump with soggy brown stains was poking out from under a pillow and quivering in time
with the huu-huus.

It took a moment before Win turned on the Army Voice and stepped fully in the room.

“Both of you, out here, now.” She said.

The white backside backed out and turned, belonging to a rotund and well groomed white pegasus
mare, sporting a black eye and a trickle of blood from her nose.

An earthie stallion fluff carefully plodded out of a closet, head low, glancing up at Win. He
knew he was in trouble. He sat next to the white fluffy, squirming uncomfortably as Win’s glare
bore into him.

“Morgan, why do you have a boo-boo?” Win asked, trying not to grin from mixing the ‘I’m Not
Fucking Around’ attitude with the fluffy argot.

Morgan immediately puffed her cheeks and pointed at the other. “Awthuw bein meanie an gib
bad-hoofies an big scawwies. Twy say is joke.”

Win watched the stallion, the squirming making his chestnut fluff ripple and shimmer. “Well,
Arthur?”

After a moment, Arthur looked up at Win and blew a raspberry.


James was mixing cocktails when he heard the tell-tale sound of a fluffy getting a
spanking. Not a light tapping with a hollow plastic ‘sorry stick’ from the mall, but the length
of acrylic Win had cut from the old window blinds. After a few minutes Win re-appeared with
Morgan.

“Bathtime. Arthur was bullying her again and scared a … squirt… out of her.”

James passed her a whiskey and took Morgan. “What’s up with Arthur?”

“I don’t know.” Win said, sighing. “I know he’s fixed but he’s behaving like he’s got the smart
of starty syndrome.”

A beat passed and Win caught James was staring at her. “What?”

“The smart of starty syndrome?”

“Shut up I’m tired. I’m going to go watch Arthur clean up the poop and then he’s getting an
hour in the sorry box.” Win said, turning and heading back towards the playroom.

“Daddeh?” Morgan asked, “Can hab baftime nao?”

James carried her through to the bath-tub. “Yes, Morgan, we can. You know you’re the only
fluffy I’ve ever met that likes being bathed?”

Morgan giggled. “Weawwy? Dat su siwwies. Gud housie-wawa make itchies go 'way, an hab bestest
bubbew-funsies, an is wawm in da cowd-times!”

“Darn straight.” James said, then stood up with a wince as his back popped. “Hold on a minute
Morgan, I’m going to go grab my drink and then we’ll get you clean again.”


Morgan was in the fluffy play-corner, a section of the living room set aside with low walls for
the fluffies to enjoy, and a few floor-height windows. She was plopped on her favorite
sidewalk-watching cushion.

“Go on now.” Win said from down the hall. “Go make amends and we can start the movie.”

James watched from the couch as Arthur padded past, making little piff-paff sounds as his soft
hooves tapped against the hardwood floor. He watched as the stallion went through the open gate
into the carpeted play corner and quietly spoke with Morgan. After a moment the two hugged and
rolled around giggling, before James put two spare beds on the coffee table and set the ramp
up.

“Alright you two. We’re watching the same film tonight, together. It’s an old one.” James said as he set
a VCR down on the floor.

Arthur trotted over, curious about the box. “Wut dat daddy? Wook wike wetta-bawks.”

James chuckled soft. “This is what we had before blu-ray and streaming. The movies were on
here.” James held up the VHS. “Why don’t you put it in? The red side goes in, and the colorful
side goes up.”

Arthur gingerly took the VHS in his mouth, then with a moment of fussing, got the front edge
lined up and mostly pushed in. He nosed the tape in the rest of the way, and looked up at the
TV. Nothing happened, and Arthur looked at James with confusion.

“It’s ok, bud. You just need to push the play button. It’s one triangle.”

Arthur turned back and looked at the controls on the VCR, scanning the symbols and trying to
work out the correct one. After a minute he pressed the correct button and jumped as the screen
flashed bright blue, then went to black.

Everyone assembled themselves in place and the opening commercials rolled.

Then James and Win both stared in creeping horror as their two fluffies were enraptured in an
advertisement for a new theme park. Disney: Fluffy Adventures.


They never got to Fantasia. Arthur demanded a trip, Morgan excited but asking insistently
instead. The film was stopped, and after a sorry-poopies, a chase, and discovering Arthur had
climbed up on the office desk and left a massive, steaming soupy display of his displeasure on
James’ vintage Underwood typewriter, Arthur was put in the Very Sorry Box, a small cage
suspended from the roof of the back porch, with a tightly strapped muzzle and a very empty
stomach.

James sat at a table in the bedroom, listening to Arthur sniffle, feeling the cool autumn
breeze rattle the old iron gate and make Arthur have a little panic. He carefully rolled a
cigarette, his calloused fingers still as dexterous as they were eight months ago, when he went
on sabbatical, and lit it, leaning out the window, chin on his forearms, resting on the sill.

“Morgan’s out like a light.” Win said, taking the cig from his lips and drawing a lungful. “She
seems to sleep better when Arthur isn’t around.”

“What happened with that little shit, anyways?” James asked, taking the cigarette back gently
for a puff. “Hell we never even taught him the word ‘smarty’.”

“It’s something in their wiring.” Win said, undressing. “Though, you are going back to
teaching, that would make taking care of just Morgan easier.”

“It’d feel weird. We got Arthur to keep her company when I took the time off. Getting rid of
him when that isn’t needed anymore feels… I don’t know. Like he’s disposable. I mean, all
fluffies matter, right?”

There was dead silence, and he turned, trying to hide a grin, to see Win looking at him,
deadpan.

“I swear to god James.”


Dawn barely cracked the horizon and Win was up, padding nearly silently in stocking’d feet down
to the kitchen, just in time to hear the coffee maker turn itself off from its timed brew
cycle. She sipped a mugful a minute later, standing at one of the windows opening upon the back
of the house. Arthur was asleep in the Very Sorry Box, curled up and shivering, his nose just
tucked under the big poofy tail he was so proud of.

James yawned quietly behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, pressing into her from
behind. She grinned as she felt his forehead lightly bonk into the back of her head as he
leaned lightly on her.

“Morning. Tried not to wake you.”

“Murn. Uh. Fn.” James said, elucidating his thoughts in a manner befit an educated man.

“We need to de-scale the coffee maker.” Win muttered, looking with displeasure down at her
mug.

“Neh.”

“No?”

James grumbled and went over to the coffee maker, unplugging it and setting the carafe aside,
before tossing the whole unit into the garage with a muffled crunch.

Win just watched, with growing surprise, as James went into a closet and hauled out a large,
brand new espresso machine with a bow on top and set it on the counter.

“Hap 'nivs.” James said, sitting heavily at the table, blinking slowly. “I think.”

After grabbing James and planting a heavy kiss on him, Win turned and began setting it up. “Oh
god you know this is going to make me intolerable for a while. I love it.”

Then, she looked back out the window. “James, we really need to do something about Arthur. If
he has one more outburst he might really go full smarty. I might not give a shit but Morgan
would if we had to get rid of him.”

Silence. Win turned back and saw James quietly sleeping at the table. With a deeply ingrained
stealth, she set her mug down and crept around to his side, slowly guiding his head and
shoulders down to rest.

Then she sat next to him, gently groped his rear once with a grin, then went back to staring
out the window at Arthur. An eagle screamed in the morning, and Arthur scrambled awake, only
getting in his own way as he thrashed to try and get upright, covering himself in his own feces
and urine as fear made him release everything at once.

Win sighed internally. He had to learn this lesson, or he had to go.

And they needed A Plan.


After taking the time to produce herself a passable attempt at a latte, Win lightly punched
James in the arm, slipped him his own mug, and went outside, looking at Arthur, now awake,
snorting in displeasure through the muzzle at his own filth.

Win turned the hose on him, trying not to show her amusement as Arthur spluttered and thrashed
around in the cage.

“Morning. Arthur, have you learned your lesson?”

Arthur nodded dejectedly, and sniffled once, shivering from the sudden soaking.

“Right. Let’s get you back inside and some food.”

After a brisk toweling off, Win set him down in front of a bowl of food and watched as he
devoured it.

“Alright. Saferoom time, Arthur. Get some decent sleep.” Win said, opening the door to the
saferoom and watching as Arthur tiredly dragged himself in. She glanced inside, spotting Morgan
curled up on her pad with a soft toy. She stared at the toy, a little stuffed doll from an old
French comic book series of all things, for a brief second.

Arthur stopped at his bed, got most of his front half up on it, and faceplanted, sawing wood
immediately.

Win closed the door quietly with a sigh. Then she thought back on the doll, and wandered over
to the office. James was in his armchair, going through emails. Win glanced around at the
grouping of diplomas and smattering of academic awards before she nudged him.

“You still have those old comics you used to read Morgan?”

James thought for a moment, then blinked. “The Asterix stuff?”

“Yeah, any of those in English?”

“Uh, some. What are you looking for?”

“An idea.” She said, with a grin. “The one you showed them on that screwed up old tape had
something in it that w-”

“The Place That Sends You Mad.” James said, staring off into the distance.

“Yes!” Win said, clapping once. “Just take that and tweak it so Arthur learns some humility.”

“Yes, now we just need a large building, staff, fake paperwork, and a guy taking a bath while
being carried through the streets.”

James went back to his laptop, before Win slipped down, putting him in a headlock and moving
the laptop aside, half sitting on his lap. “No, these are fluffies, they’re dumber than a
rock that got dropped on its head as a pebble.”

After a perfunctory struggle, she let James’ head go and settled on him a bit more, leaning
back against him. “We can do it alone, but we do need a fairly big building. One that’s empty.”
She said, then glanced sideways at him with big eyes. “One that looks official.”

James stared at her for a moment, then facepalmed and sighed. “You want me to let us in to the
renovation at the old city hall don’t you.”

“Yes.”

There was a long, quiet pause as James thought on it.

Then he sighed again, and Win kissed him on the cheek and giggled.


Later in the morning, Morgan and Arthur were playing in their playroom when James opened the
door.

“Come on you two, we need to have a family talk.” He said.

Morgan and Arthur looked at each other. Both remembered the bad behavior last night, though
they evaluated each other’s differently. Morgan worried she was in trouble for being so
insistent. Arthur was wondering if he was going to get his way, quietly trying to figure out
what he did last night to convince them.

So he could do it whenever he wanted something, of course.

Arthur charged ahead, Morgan following behind, as James sat down with Win in the living room.

“Alright you two. We looked at the Disney thing.”

Both fluffies stiffened up, tails poofing in anticipation.

“We might be able to go when it gets warm again.”

The quivering of energy and excitement began, Arthur crouching to buck and prance.

“First, though.” Win said, “Arthur, you don’t have a passport.”

The fluffies looked at each other, the energy immediately short-circuited.

“Watta pa… pass-powt?” Morgan asked. “Du Mowgan hab passpowt?”

James nodded, taking out a hastily put together cardboard and sharpie passport, Morgan’s
shelter photo taped in place. “Here’s yours. But Arthur didn’t have one when we adopted him.”

Arthur started to poof his cheeks, and one stomp came out before Win booped him on the
nose. “Settle. We just need to take you to get one.”

With a squeak Arthur jumped up. “Wets go get passpawt NAO!” he shouted, charging over to the
closet the carriers were in.

James was up and scooped Arthur up with a laugh. “Hold on there Art, they’re not open right
now. We need to go in when they’re open.”

Arthur stopped running in mid-air. “Oh. Otay. When open?” He asked, wiggling in excitement as
he was set down again.

“Ten tonight.” Win said, grinning, reviewing a text message. “Now, Arthur. I know you like to
be a bit pushy about things you want.”

With a little smirk Arthur put his chest out a little bit. Morgan noticed James and Win’s
expressions falter just a little. Arthur did not.

Win continued. “However, the people at the building are not us. They might not even be nice to
strangers. So you need to be on your best behavior while you’re there.”

“Or the evil Spoont will get you.” James said, looking off into the distance, an expression of
mock concern coming over him.

There was a dead silence, for just a minute. Then Morgan let out a squeaker and Arthur jumped a
bit, before settling down with a giggle. “Dat a siwwy name. Nu can be ebiw.” He said.

“Oh it’s evil.” James said, pretending a memory was coming over him. “So evil. The Spoont waits
for people who are… uh… rude to civil servants?”

He glanced at Win, catching her expression of confusion and amusement, before she jumped and
put on a serious face to continue the story. “Right, yes. It waits until someone is a meanie in
this building and they uh… wake up in a shadowy version of the place they were. And the
… Spoont… chases them down and eats their FEET!” She finishes, in a sudden crescendo.

“NUUU NU WAN WOSE HOOFSIES!” Morgan shouted, curling up and trying to hug her own
hindlegs. “WUB HABIN WUNNIES!”

James stepped over to her and gave her a soft scritching. “Don’t worry, Arthur is the one going
to the building. And you both are nice and good fluffies, so no hoofsies will be lost.”

Win got up and went into the bathroom. “Hold on you two.”

Morgan shifted around, nervous. Evil things were going to be near her mummy and daddy and
adoptive brother. She worried, even if Arthur was a stupid meanie head sometimes.

Arthur, for his part, was plotting. The gears were turning, and ill-fit and under-powered as
they were for a fluffy, he was generating ideas.

Win wandered back out with two gelcaps wrapped in peanut butter. “Here. You know how good for
your coat this is.”

Arthur and Morgan snaffled down the treats and in a minute were out like a light. James carried
them back into the playroom and set them on their beds, before going out and leaning against
the closed bedroom door with a sigh. “Think this’ll work?”

Creeping closer, Win pressed against James and kissed his chin. “If not, we can just toss him
off a bridge. Then it’s down to just one well behaved, calm fluffy.”

She took his hands, before shifting her grip down to his wrists and pinning him against the
wall. “And then we can get out the stuff in the locked suitcases and have some fun again.”

James grinned, and she returned it, then planted a deep kiss on him before letting him go and
wandering off into the house.

After a minute, James straightened his glasses and adjusted his trousers to accomodate himself,
before going into his study and trying to focus on work.


Arthur woke up fuzzy-headed, feeling the world shift and bump under him. After carefully sitting
up on his posterior and kneading the crandles out of his eyes, he looked around, finding
himself in his carrier.

“Hewwo?” He called.

“Hey there.” Win said, turning off the radio. “Thought you were gunna sleep all the way there.”

Arthur poked his nose against the front door, sniffing through the holes in the lexan. The
sedan always smelled like cleaner and coffee. He didn’t know what those were, but he liked the
smells. It was dark out, the cold blue light of LED street lights flashing past the sky he
could see through the windshield.

“We cwose?” Arthur asked, looking around. “Whewe Mowgan?”

“Morgan doesn’t need one, silly.” Win said. “She’s back at the house. You’re a big tough
stallion though, you can do this.”

“Dat wite.” Arthur said, at first hesitant, but growing in determination. “Am big, tuff, smawty
stawwion.”

If Arthur could see Win’s face, he probably wouldn’t understand the change in her
expression. Morgan would, and she would worry.

“So, you need to go get a passport. That needs form A-38. Got it?” Win asked.

“A-Thiwdyeit?”

“That’s right.” Win said, turning the radio back on low. “I left some food at the back for
you. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Arthur’s stomach rumbled in sympathy and he turned to see a pile of wet food in the bowl. He
chowed down immediately, noisily eating with little smacks and slop sounds. Win grimaced
quietly.

He ate fast enough the strange earthy taste completely evaded him, blending in with the dense
mushroom gravy James had mixed up with a hefty dose of senna pod powder.

“Right, we’re here.” Win said, pulling into a parking garage and shutting off the car.


Arthur stepped out of the carrier onto a shiny marble floor, looking around in wonder at the
stone and wrought iron building.

“Well, go on. Passport office is down there.” Win pointed, a single door open a crack at the
end of the third-floor hallway.

Arthur flipped his mane, puffed out his chest, and trotted down the hall towards the open
door, head held high. He was already imagining how he’d go in and find the silly human there
and make them give him a pass-whatever.

“And remember Arthur. Best behavior. Or the Spoont will get you.”

After a moment, Arthur settled, remembering the penalty if he failed. He slowed to a walk,
thinking about how he could both force the human’s hand and not get in trouble for it. He
approached the door, nosing it open, and pushing his way inside.

The door opened on a large cubicle farm, sporadically lit, but with music faintly playing
somewhere from a radio. Arthur pushed on, only momentarily grimacing at the start of an upset
stomach. He must’ve eaten too fast.

After many forevers walking through the cubicle farm, Arthur began to feel a bit strange. He
walked slower, his hind legs a bit tighter together as a very, very large poopie began to
announce its presence via a cramp and a gurgling of Arthur’s stomach.

In a slow, dawning moment of realization Arthur understood that if he made bad poopies here, he
definitely wouldn’t get his passport, and no trip to the Disney place. He could say he felt
ill, which would make his mommy and daddy not angry, but would it keep the Spoont from him?

As another gurgling cramp ripped through Arthur he stumbled a bit, his hind legs reflexively
crossing as he clenched down tight. He focused, head hung low and eyes squeezed shut tight as
he worked hard to keep it all in.

Eventually the pain subsided, though the pressure continued. It was enough Arthur could press
on, searching for the human worker.


Win and James watched Arthur search through the cubicles, silently moving walls around to
confuse the layout. James was peering around a corner just behind Arthur when the diminutive
horse released a knee-shaking fart, his undercarriage visibly deflating a little bit.

It took all of his effort not to gag as James covered his mouth and nose with the front of his
shirt and ducked back behind the corner of the cubicles. He looked up to see Win wearing a
gasmask and trying not to giggle too loudly.

“Meanie hoomin. WHEWE HOOMIN AT!?” Arthur shouted, before groaning and squirming in place a
bit, his legs crossing again. “Huu huu nuu nu wan bad poopies, nee’ passpowt, pwease nicey
poopies no weave Awthuw’s poopie-pwace?”

James went back to observing around the corner, eyes watering. Arthur was looking around, of course only directly in front of him, before squirming and groaning. “Huu nee’ make poopies. Mebbeh dewe wittabawks 'wound hewe?”

Arthur spotted something, and made his way into a cubicle. Win moved to observe him from the
shadows, watching as Arthur managed to use a series of small boxes and a ledge to get on a desk
covered in paperwork.

Arthur sniffed at an in-tray before turning around, lifting his tail, and relieving himself.

He began to whimper, then groan as his stool went from a liquid stream to a chunky, disgusting
blend firing out of the fluffy’s rear like hell’s garden hose. The cloth wall of the cubicle
was already ruined, a puddle of brown liquid spreading over the paperwork and dripping off the
edges of the desk.

The computer shorted out with a loud sparking sound, and Arthur jumped with a little
scree sound, and turning. The surprise prompted another jet of waste, spreading further
as he turned to look at what might have caused the sound.

Eventually his hind legs gave out, and he sat in a soggy pile of his own shit, panting. Eventually he looked down at the brown pool. With growing surprise he turned and accidentally stuck his nose in a mound of the handiwork he had produced, and promptly vomited from the smell. He looked himself over, and threw up again as he found how messy he had become. With an unsure, queasy step he slipped, fell on the office chair, and then onto the floor, leaving two brown splat marks.

“Huu huu huu meanie poopies, nu wan make bad-”

Then the lights went out. The only illumination was from the emergency spotlights. Win saw
James at the switch panel and she pulled on a pair of old model night vision goggles. The green
view made her twitch and a savage smile spread on her face. With clear vision she saw James
begin to creep around and change the walls, so a clear path out was made.

Win began making big stomping steps, shrugging her jacket up over her head and groaning.


The footsteps began. Arthur looked around, quaking in fear, listening to the sounds of what
could only be the Spoont grow closer. He was sure he had done bad, and if he lost his hoofsies
he’d definitely never go to Disney. Maybe if he got out he could apologize. He didn’t mean to
be bad.

This time.

In the dim half-light of the office he saw a giant, lumbering, lumpy shape with a black,
strange face come around a corner and turn to face him.

He screeched, and ran, slipping and skidding around as the feces dripping from him lubricated
his path. After sliding into a corner and banging his head, Arthur saw the open door and the
atrium down the hall. He charged for it, blood seeping down his forehead and getting in his
eyes, but his ears were full of the groaning, shouting sounds of the Spoont chasing him down
from behind. He only thought to run, trying to keep on a straight line, and put all his
strength into it.

James and Win watched as the fluffy left a trail of smelly brown hoofprints as he galloped at
full steam straight down the hall, between two posts holding up the railing around the atrium,
and off the edge.

A few seconds later, there was a very wet sounding crunch.

The duo looked over the edge, to see Arthur’s head pointing off at a disturbing angle, his
shoulders and arms caved into his ribcage, and one hind leg still twitching as a final runny
squirt of shit spluttered out of the fluffy, a brown-red pool spreading under him.

James and Win looked at each other.

“So,” Win said, turning to look back down at the dead fluffy. “how do we clean this up?”

“Don’t bother.” James said, putting his arm around Win’s waist and bumping hips with her. “We
get a feral in here every week. You took his collar off when he was asleep, right?”

Win nodded. James shrugged and made for the stairs.

“When we get home, keep the gasmask on hand.” James said.

“Why?” Win asked.

“It’s hot on you.”

26 Likes

It’s him! The man, the legend, the Turboencabulator!

6 Likes

I did not expect that ending because I still haven’t learned to read the tags so… wow… that was… holy heck! Good job. :smiley:

3 Likes

I fucking LOVE Asterix, and the house that sends you mad is my favourite part of any of those stories.

Great work! I hope to see more of this soon

2 Likes

You’re back!

EX-CELL-ENT!
guitar riff

1 Like