The man was driving home from work. It was a long shift, and he was tired. It was winter, so it was pitch black despite being only 7pm. He was tired, it was dark, and his headlights were only doing so much to light up the long road before him. All he could see was white and white and white, under an impenetrable sheet of the darkest black he could have imagined. Nothing but black, and white…
And pink.
His tired eyes snapped open as he registered a bright fuschia shape directly in front of his car, half buried in the snow, not moving but getting closer and closer every second. He slammed on the brakes and wrenched the wheel to the right, skidding and sliding but, by a miracle, turning just enough to avoid the shape half-buried in the snow.
The car slid to slippery stop. The man took a second to catch his breath, wiped a hand across his face, then got out of the car, his boots crunching in the deep snow. He shivered immediately, the cold wind was brutal tonight, and hurried his way over to the pink shape, which seemed to be almost glowing in his car’s headlights.
At first he thought it might be a person, some jogger or hitchhiker who’d gotten lost, maybe laid down for a moment, then simply never got back up. The pink looked like the fuzzy texture of a winter jacket, maybe something a child would wear…
“Oh god.” He whispered, stopping in his tracks, several feet from the pink shape.
What if it was a dead child?
What if some kid had gone out to play in the snow, gotten lost… and he was the one who had found them too late?
He took another step forward, shivering not from the cold, but from the mortal terror of what he might find if he got closer. As he neared, he saw more that the pink stuff was some kind of deep fuzzy material, ilke a shag carpet or a particularly thick wig.
Then it moved.
It wasn’t just nudged by the wind, it definitely MOVED. He saw it jerk slightly. Then he saw it again, in the other direction. It was alive, whatever it was.
He took another step, and lowered a hand to it, gently touching the damp, frosty fluff… at which point his hand descended into the soft mass for at least an inch, before finally touching cold, clammy skin underneath.
“What the fuck?” He asked quietly, still under the impression this was some kind of human body, until the heard it speak.
“EEP! NU M-MUNSTAH! P-P-PWEASE NU HUWT M-MUMMAH! BE G-GOOD MUMMAH! P-P-PWO-O-O-OMISE!!!”
The man stepped back, withdrawing his hand. Finally, the penny dropped.
A fluffy pony.
He’d seen them on TV, and in passing in the city, but he lived in the country, and had never seen one local before. He saw them in the news sometimes, causing bio-hazards from dying en-masse in public places, hell he’d seen a few in advertisements before, babbling in baby-talk about how ‘gweat’ the ‘pwoduct’ was (with fear in their eyes as if they’d been beaten before learning their lines).
He took a step towards it again, and began clearing some of the snow away, revealing more and more of it’s dense pink fuzz, which was all either soaked from the snow or already freezing in the cold air. After only a few minutes, he’d uncovered a pink furry blob about the size of a basketball, which was shivering slightly in the cold, and appeared to be curled up like a pretzel.
“Hey.” He said, unsure of how to talk to one of these things. Did they only respond to childish baby-talk? Or is that only how THEY spoke?
Sure enough, the pink creature looked up at him, with huge, wide, innocent eyes.
“M-munstah?!” It squeaked.
“What? No, I’m not a monster. I…” He paused. What WAS he exactly? These things latched on quick to virtually anyone who didn’t directly hurt them, it’s what made them such popular pets, they had a 100% success rate in loving their owners. If he wasn’t a monster, then-
“NYU DADDEH?!” The pony sqealed, wriggling around until the man realised it was trying to walk to him, but the snow was too deep.
“BABBEH! WAKE UP! NYU DADDEH HEWE!” The pink thing squeaked. So it was a parent.
Sure enough, a tiny blue head poked out from under the pink one’s stomach fuzz, looking up curiously.
“D-daddeh?” It peeped quietly. “M-mummah find nyu d-daddeh! Mummah b-bestest mummah!”
So the pink one was female.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” The man asked, already tired of standing in the cold. The mama puffed up it’s chest proudly.
“Mummah smawt! Mummah fink to cwoss woad! Get to oddah side fow nummies! But den… got wost…”
“You… got lost. Walking in a straight line, from one side to the next.”
“Woad BIIIIG!” The fluffy mama insisted. “No suwe whewe stawted…”
The man looked at both sides of the road. He couldn’t tell where the fluffy had begun either, but he couldn’t figure out why it had thought there would be food on either side. All he could see for miles was heavy snow.
But something was wrong. He’d seen stuff about these things online and on TV, when they were out in the wild they couldn’t possible survive on their own. Hell, they were practically designed to be incapable of it, as some kind of attempt to control the feral populations… which didn’t work, because they started forming ‘herds’.
“Don’t you have a herd?” The man asked.
“No hewd. Onwy mama and babbeh!” The mama said proudly.
He paused again. He was no expert in fluffy pony biology, but he saw these ugly things everywhere, they always had at least four brats clinging to them, seeing a mama with only ONE baby was a little strange.
“…only one foal?” He asked. The mama freezes.
“…YUS!” She squeaks after a long, long, LONG pause. “Yus! Onwy one babbeh! Nu oddahs! Nu! Onwy one! Bestest babbeh is ONWY babbeh!”
The lie wouldn’t have fooled a three year old, let alone a thirty-three year old.
“I don’t believe you. Where are your other foals?”
“Whu oddahs?!” The mama insisted, fear in her eyes. “Nu oddahs! None! Any oddah babbehs would be dummehs anyway! Cos dey not bestest babbeh!”
The snow was still falling. They might be in trouble. There was no time for this shit.
“WHERE ARE THEY?!” He yelled, accidentally slipping into a little Christian Bale territory. The shout was enough to terrify both the mother and baby, causing them both to release tiny squirts of brown liquid.
“…oddah babbehs…” The mama began, looking around shiftily. “…no hewe.”
“Then where are they?”
“…gone.”
“Gone where?!”
“Dey gone!” The mama snaps. “Stoopid babbehs aww gone! Took bestest babbeh’s miwk! STOOPID DUMMEH BABBEHS AWW GONE! MUMMAH GIB DEM BIGGEST OWIES AND FOWEVEW SWEEPIES!!!”
And then it hit him.
They were dead already.
The mother apparently made sure of that.
“You killed them.” He said.
“YUS!” The mama said with a proud snort. “Onwy babbeh is bestest babbeh!”
“They were all your babies.” He said, feeling his heart pounding rapidly in his chest.
“No! Onwy babbeh is BESTEST babbeh!” She said, inadvertantly thumping her hooves on her baby’s head.
“You killed all of your babies, just for THIS one?!” He yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the ungrateful runt that was nuzzling into her fur.
“YUS! BESTEST BABBEH BETTAH DAN AWW ODDAH BABBEHS! BESTEST BESTEST BESTEST!!!”
She began wailing and shrieking, but he had tuned it all out the moment she started talking.
He wasn’t thinking about taking them home anymore.
He was thinking how best he could hurt them.
“Alright then.” He hissed. “Let’s see just how ‘bestest’ he is.”
He snatched up the bitch and her brat and carried them to his car, holding them at arm’s length as they voided their copious bowels on the white snow below. By the time he reached the car they had been fully emptied, and he dumped the bitch in the trunk, carrying the run into the front of his car in his coat pocket.
“Mummah! Babbeh scawed!” The brat mewled from inside your coat, struggling to escape his pocket.
“Nu be scawed babbeh! We wawm and sabe! Go to new home!” She replied.
He smirked.
He wasn’t taking them home. He was taking them to the woodshed in the back yard.
He trudged into the woodshed, holding the mama under one arm, the baby still in his pocket, and dumped the mother on the hard wood workbench.
“Owie! Huwties!” She whined.
She had no idea what was in store.
He fetched everything he needed. A hacksaw. A blowtorch. A screwdriver.
And a length of old rope. That was the most important part.
He made sure to roughly yank the brat upright in his pocket, so his ugly little head was peeping over the edge of the fabric, able to look down at his mama on the bench below.
“Mummah!” He warbled, wriggling. “Babbeh scawed! Wan huggies!”
“It otay!” Mama replied, wiggling her stubby little legs at him. “We sabe n-”
He slammed her down on the bench, pinning her down easily with one hand.
“How many babies did you have?” He asked.
“Wuh-wuh-wone!” She replied. “Bestest babbeh!”
“STOP LYING TO ME!” He roared. “HOW MANY?!”
“Duh… duh…” The mama sobbed. “Dunno! Aww dummeh babbehs! Gabe fowevew sweepies!”
“You didn’t even count them. You just killed them. All to save this little rat.” He hissed, gripping the baby in his pocket with his free hand. The baby cheeped and chirbed and wailed, and the mama’s stubby limbs flailed in panic, but neither one could do anything.
He stopped listening to them again, and picked up the hacksaw, changing his grip to hold the mama’s leg.
And he started to saw.
And bestest babbeh watched it all, too horrified to close his eyes.
The first limb came off. The blowtorch hissed and roared, and heated the screwdriver until it was red, which was then scraped against the mama’s bleeding stump, viciously cauterising the wound.
Then he moved to the next leg. Rinse and repeat.
Bestest babbeh watched it all, blubbering and sobbing and wailing the entire time.
Finally, all four legs were gone. He yanked bestest babbeh out of his pocket and dumped it roughly on the table, ensuring it landed with a hard ‘thud’.
“OWIE!” The baby immediately wailed, having totally forgotten it’s mother’s predicament. “MAMMAH! BABBEH HUWTIES! NEE’ HUGGIES!”
Beside it, the mama flailed helplessly on her back, cauterised stumps unable to help her move even slightly. Of course, her own suffering was overridden by the wailing sobs of it’s mildly upset brat.
“Mummah hewe babbeh!” She cooed, twisting her neck to look at him. “Mummah hewe! It otay!”
The man grabbed the rope and roughly tied one end around the mama’s fat gut, cinching it tight and hearing her let out a pained ‘GLURK!’
Then he tied the other end around the still sobbing baby, cinching it just as tight resulting in a pathetic little ‘eep!’
With both tied securely to each other, with a foot of rope slack between them, he picked up the two of them and carried them outdoors.
They barely had time to babble a single word before he unceremoniously dropped them into the snow. It was thick and soft enough that it caused them no pain whatsoever, but it was frightening to fall so suddenly, and the shocking cold made them squeal in surprise.
“Wh-whu h-happen?!” Mama asked. “Why c-cowd?!”
“Mummah, whewe wawm go?!” The baby wailed.
“Listen up.” The man said, looking at them both. “Mama, this is your bestest baby, right?”
“YUS!” Mama said, proudly puffing up her cheeks and nodding with certainty. “Babbeh bestest babbeh!”
“And you, baby.” The man said, looking at the shivering foal. “You love your mama more than anything, right?”
“YUS!” The baby replied, nodding it’s head so fast it looked like it was about to fall off. “WUB MUMMAH!”
“Okay. Here’s the deal.”
He pointed vaguely in the distance to where there was nothing but miles of snow.
“Over there is a big nice house, with a mummy and daddy to take care of you both. With lots and lots of food, and milk, and blankets, and toys, and-”
“WAN HOUSE! WAN NUMMIES! WAN TOYSIES!” The mother began shrieking over the howling wind.
“Good.” The man said, no emotion in his voice. “Because mama can’t walk anymore.”
For the first time, both mama and baby seemed to properly realise that mama’s legs were gone.
“And that means baby is going to have to help mama get there.”
He waited a moment while the creatures processed the thought.
“OTAY!” The baby squeaked, shivering in the cold. “B-babbeh hewp m-mummah weach new h-h-housey!”
“Bestest babbeh!” Mama replied proudly. “Wub babbeh! Babbeh SU good!”
“Okay then.” The man said, taking a small step backwards. “It’s right over there!” He said, pointing into the distance again.
Immediately, the tiny baby began waddling through the snow, heading in the direction the man pointed… until the rope pulled taut, and the baby slipped on the snow and fell face-first into the cold powdery mess around it.
“Babbeh?!” Mama squeaked. “Whewe babbeh?!”
The baby stood up, shivering worse than before, and began waddling away again… but the rope pulled taut again. The baby didn’t fall this time, but it DID notice the rope was stopping it from moving.
Or rather, it’s much larger MOTHER was stopping it from moving.
“Mummah, hewp babbeh!” The baby wailed. “Can’t move yoo!”
“M-mummah c-can’t wawk, siwwy b-babbeh!” Mama replied, the bitter cold making her shiver harder. “Babbeh g-gotta puww mummah! P-p-puww mummah to n-new housey!”
The baby looked unsure and tried again, but again the rope pulled taut and mama didn’t move. The foal then had an idea, a rather smart one for a fluffy pony at least. It backed away, waddling all the way up to mama, and then taking off at a slippery stumbling sprint… but once again, the rope snapped taut and the foal flumped to the snowy ground again, it’s fur now soaked with ice-cold slush.
“M-m-mummah…” The baby whined. “C-c-can’t m-mov-”
“Babbeh!” Mama snapped. “M-mummah vewy c-c-cowd! Mummah NEED b-babbeh! Babbeh be g-good fow mummah! Be bestest babbeh! P-puww mummah out of c-c-c-COWD!!!”
The man could actually hear her teeth chattering together. The cold wasn’t letting up, and both ponies were completely soaked from the snow, their fur damp and heavy all over.
“Buh… buh babbeh too widdle!” The baby protested. “Mummah t-too big! Babbeh c-can’t puww-”
“BABBEH!” Mama snapped again. She was losing her patience. “Be b-bestest babbeh! Hewp m-mummah! SABE m-mummah!”
The baby looked around frantically, with tears in it’s eyes. It WAS the bestest baby, it had known so all it’s life! From the moment it was born, before it had even opened it’s eyes, mama had told it that it was the BESTEST of the bestest babies! So, if it was the bestest baby, then SURELY it should be able to save mama!
But… but it couldn’t! Mama was too big! Mama was too heavy! Baby was only small! Mama could carry baby, mama did it all the time! But… but baby couldn’t carry mama! Babies NEVER carried mamas! It was… some kind of not-at-all-possible, but baby didn’t know any words that long! Because he was only a baby!!!
“Mummah!” Baby wailed, tears now pouring down it’s frozen little face. “Babbeh too smaww! Too widdwe! Can’t cawwy mummah! Mummah hewp babbeh! PWEASE!”
And then mama’s patience ran out.
“STOOPID DUMMEH BABBEH, HEWP MUMMAH! SABE MUMMAH, DUMMEH BABBEH!” The mama screamed, thrashing in the freezing snow and slush, shaking the rope to the point that the baby couldn’t stand up anymore, every wild thrash knocking it down into the cold slush again.
“Huhuhu, mummeh scawy!” The baby wailed, shivering in the cold air.
“SHADDUP DUMMEH BABBEH! HEWP MUMMAH! MUMMAH COWD! HEWP MUMMAH, DUMMEH BABBEH!”
“Nu! Mummah meanie!” The baby cried, trying to run away from it’s mother… but the rope stopped it from making any progress whatsoever. “Nu wan hewp meanie mummah! Mummah wowstest mummah!”
That tore it.
“MUMMAH BESTEST MUMMAH! BABBEH WOWSTEST BABBEH!”
“Nu! Nu wowste-”
“WOWSTEST! WOWSTEST WOWSTEST WOWSTEST!! WOWSTEST BABBEH EVEH! WON’T EVEN SABE MUMMAH!!!”
“That’s enough!” The man said, snapping them both to attention. A second later, they began babbling towards him instead, begging for the man to save them.
“Pwease mistuh, hewp babbeh, babbeh cowd and hungwy!”
“HEWP MUMMAH! DUMMEH BABBEH AWW STOOPID AND DUMMEH! MUMMAH BESTEST MUMMAH! HEWP MUMMAH!”
“Nuu! Hewp babbeh! Babbeh nee’ huggies and wub an-”
“SHADDUP DUMMEH BABBEH!”
“Both of you shut up.” The man said. “I’m only going to help one of you. Do you understand what that means?” He said, looking at both of them in turn. “Baby, it means your mama is going to die if I save you. And mama, if I save you, your baby will die. Do you both understand that? If I save you, it means the other one will die. Now… who should I save?”
A second of silence passed, the only sound the man heard was the howl of the icy winter wind… and then the babbling started up again.
“SABE MUMMAH! MUMMAH BESTEST MUMMAH! KIWW BABBEH! WOWSTEST BABBEH DESEWVES BIGGEST OWIES!!!”
“SABE BABBEH! BABBEH WUB MISTAH! MUMMAH MEANIE! MUMMAH UGWY! MUMMAH STINKY! BABBEH HATE MUMMAH! KIWW MUMMAH! GIB FOWEVEW SWEEPIES TO MUMMAH!!!”
And that’s what it all came down to.
These hideous, colourful abominations… they could say cutesy words and form relationships and store memories, they even had their own societies and hierarchies, but at the end of the day, what it all boiled down to was that they were still nothing more than animals.
Wild, feral, twisted animals, which would happily murder each other if it meant they got to survive. This abhorrent bitch had killed her own children just to ensure the survival of her ‘best’ one, and then, when it was unable to help her, she was screaming abuse at it. When push came to shove, she was more than happy to leave her baby to die to save herself, and the baby was no better. It had been given nothing but love and adoration since birth, to the point that it’s siblings had been MURDERED to stop them taking any attention away from it… and it was ready to leave it’s mother in the snow and ice just to save itself.
They were just as bad as each other.
Oh sure, they had brains, biological computers programmed with wants and needs, loves and hates, but beyond all of that, beyond the garish technicolor coats and manes, beyond the cooing and baby talk and ‘wub babbeh, gib huggies’, beyond everything… they were still just animals.
Animals run on nothing but one pure instinct: the instinct to survive. To fight or take flight. To give chase or to starve. At their core, that’s all fluffy ponies were. Genetically engingeered, deliberately fucked up, basic, simple, savage ANIMALS.
Every word they spoke was just one pretty little lie after another, all designed to keep them alive. They’d say ANYTHING if they thought you’d help them.
The man looked at them both. Cold, wet, shivering, terrified, squeaking their little lungs out as they pleaded with him to kill the other, any illusions of love completely evaporated in the bitter cold of reality. These things didn’t feel real emotions, it was all just programming. They said ‘wub yoo’, and they maybe even THOUGHT they meant it, but they didn’t really. No fluffy pony ever did. There was no heart behind anything they said or did. Nothing but artificiality, programmed sayings spilling out of a genetically engineered mouth.
They were nothing but husks. Completely soulless and utterly worthless.
The man looked at them both one last time, hearing their pathetic pleas to save them and kill the other… and he turned and walked away, leaving them both behind in the bracing cold, still tied to one another. He walked back to his home, hearing their cries carried along by the wind, growing fainter with every crunching footstep.
By the time he was home, he couldn’t hear them anymore.
But he would think about them for the rest of his life.
Not out of shame for what he had done.
But out of hatred at the world for letting such evil creatures exist in the first place.