Perfection Part 1 [by SilverOwl]
Patrick, a father walks with his 8 year old daughter up a corridor lined with fluffy kennels. He promised her a fluffy, but isn’t looking forward to taking care of it when his daughter spends most of her time at her mother’s. He hears a loud and happy yelp from his daughter who hops up and down excited in front of one of the kennels. Inside is this fat, pink unicorn babbling about “nu home noa!” Patrick hated it already, but knew he had to get it for his daughter.
On the drive home, his daughter and the creature were speaking to one another through the fluffy car crate. Suddenly the car smells rank. The ridiculous creature shit in its crate. Holy Jesus, that smells awful, Patrick thought. It cannot do this in my house, he thought. At one point, Patrick tried to have a dog, and be a normal person. Day 1 the puppy was in the house he hated it, and wanted to punt it out the front door into the path of fast moving car. Who knew puppies couldn’t hold their breath underwater? Patrick chuckled at the memory. He shook his head trying to grapple with the idea of not killing this disgusting creature by night fall…but his daughter. This is going to be a long weekend. Always plotting and scheming he realized he would just have to tough it out for a couple weeks, until she loses interest, and then he can say the fluffy “ran away”. Patrick parked the car and told his daughter to go inside, so he could deal with the fluffy and wash it.
He carried the crate into the garage, where the creature could sense his irritation and started spouting “fwuffy sowwy makie bad poopies wuz scaries poopies from vroom vroom munstah”. Patrick grabbed the babbling creature by the face and brought it close to him, “Listen carefully” Patrick allowed the darting eyes of the fluffy to settle on his cold gaze before continuing “If you make any kind of poopies in my house I will give you forever sleepies, do you understand?” The fluffy nodded and then started “Pwease nu daddey put fwuffy down bad upsies is bad fo tummy behbehs”. Patrick nearly dropped it in disgust. There will be more of these fucking things in my house, he thought. He tightened his grip and brought the creature closer, “If you say anything about tummy babies to my daughter you will have forever sleepies, do you understand me?” The fluffy too scared to speak shook its head yes.
The last day of the weekend went well, with the fluffy not mentioning the “tummy babies” out of fear of consequence. His daughter and the ridiculous created talked a lot, but never about “tummy bahbehs”. The creature would nervously look at Patrick’s cold scowl towards it once in a while. Via speaking his daughter and him learned the creatures named Cotton-Candy, although from the fluffy it sounded like “Cwotton Candee”. Jesus Christ, he hated this thing so much. Patrick gritted his teeth and tolerated the ridiculous songs and wants from the fluffy as his daughter played with it. Finally she went home to her mother’s and Patrick thought, “Now I need to deal with this liability to my clean home”.
His daughter gave no indication that she knew the fluffy was pregnant, which is what Patrick wanted. He wanted to be able to dispose of them, without his daughter wanting to keep them, giving Patrick 3 or 4 of the disgusting biotoys in the house. Patrick was not a doctor, but he had a vague understanding of what anatomy is like and thought, “time to play doctor I guess”.
Walking through the house, he listened for the fluffy, who was sitting in his daughters room singing a lulaby. “Mummah luvs babbehs, babbehs luv mummah” as she stroked her fat pink belly. The fluffy looked up nervously at Patrick, “nu daddeh fwuffy ne nummies for tummeh babbehs”. It took everything in him not to violently break a few of its bones in rage from it. He picked the fluffy up gently with a smile, as to avoid the thing voiding its bowls in fear all over his nice flooring. He even smiled at it and told it, “Lets go to the garage for sketties”. The fluffy lit up and smiled and started rambling about “sketties” as they walked to the garage.
Patrick stuffed the fluffy in a carrier on his work bench. The fluffy can’t cause any damage if its in the carrier, while I go to FluffyMart, Patrick thought. Getting in his car, ideas started flowing. He couldn’t have it walking around at will and messing up things. It had to be pillowed. The litterbox and the idea of fluffy shit flying against some wall from the soon to be pillowed fluffy, wasn’t an option. He would have to ask the FluffyMart employees about how to solve that. Oh yes, and the foals. He had some work to do.
