A continuation of Prissy Ruins Christmas
Art was commissioned from @LaPonkisuwu you can check out their page here Emergency Commissions
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Prissy was being a very bad fluffy. She had just smashed the urn containing the ashes of her mummah’s mummah! “Dis Cwismas stoopi’! It am dummeh! Haechu!” She stuck her tongue out at Kathleen. All of this had gotten the attention of Kenneth though. All he wanted to do was enjoy the news and complain about WASHINGTON, but there was a retarded biotoy making a scene in the Earthly remains of his mother in-law.
“I’ve about had it up to here with her, Kathleen!” He got up from his chair and whipped around to face the two.
The mare was very rarely punished. More often than not, dummeh daddeh got angwy and all she had to do was plead to her mummah. Getting on her back hooves, she did a cutesy little danceh.
“Wook mummah! Pwissy dancies ‘fo bestest mummah!” She teehee’d and made cute little cooing noises. Kathleen’s expression softened slightly. “Mummah pwease wub Pwissy! Am omwy wittewst babbeh!”
“Nuh uh. Not this time. You’re not a goddamn baby, Prissy.” Kenneth marched up to the fluffy and grabbed her by the collar, began to drag her to the door. Kathleen followed, looking completely torn up by all of this.
“Oh Kenneth! What’ll we ever do? Our little angel has become a demon!” She told him, her husband flinging open the front door and shoving a slipper-clad foot to shoo Prissy outside. The fluffy looked shocked as she was forced out into the cold.
“N-Nuuuu…it am Cwismas…mummah, dun weab babbeh.”
Kathleen looked to the fluffy with tears in her eyes as the shut door was slammed shut. This, naturally, made the fluffy begin to freak out.
“NUUUU! Mummah! Mummmaahh! Dun weave Pwissy! Am babbeh Pwissy! ‘NEE MUMMAH!” She tip-tapped her hooves against the door. Nobody was answering it though. Nobody came out to help her from the cold! Which wasn’t nearly enough to kill a well-fed and taken care of fluffy in one night.
“Pwissy am num weafy-fing!” She threatened at the doorway, turning to face a well-maintained shrub nearby. Took a mouthful of leaves into her mouth and defiantly stared ahead to see who would stop her. Nobody did.
“…Pwissy am goan pway in vwoomy pwace!” The mare began to trot through the snow to the road. Slowly. Turning to see if anyone was going to show concern and stop her. Again, no response.
Up to the door again. “Hewp! HEWP! DERE IS MUNSTAH! Munstah am hab Pwissy! ‘Nee huggies! HEWWWWPPP!” She shrieked. Nothing at all was working. Beginning to cry, she sank down in front of the door. Why was this happening? She was mummah’s bestest fluffy ever.
Meanwhile, inside…
“Kenneth! Oh my God, what if a DOG has her?” She asked with a growing amount of concern in her eyes.
“She’d be screaming more, dear. Look. I’ve been considering a few of our options. I believe she needs behaviorial treatment. There’s quite an expensive option…” Kenneth drawled on, thinking of a brochure he had for a treatment center just for fluffies.
Kathleen sniffled a bit, feeling somewhat assured. “I see. If it’s expensive, it must work. I want my little darling to behave so badly!”
Meanwhile, outside, Prissy was in for a long night of cold wind and no warm bed. It was one of the first times she had ever experienced a consequence for her actions. It made her hate mummah and dummeh daddeh.
