Hewwo fwiends! I’m back and hoping to post more regularly now. As always, constructive criticism is always appreciated, and I hope you enjoy. I wanted to have some art for this, but I’ve been feeling weird about my art. Hopefully I’ll get over it soon.
–Hedgehog
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! The alarm clock bleats at the lump in the blankets next to it. The green digits read 7:00 a.m. and the sun peeking through the curtains of the room confirm this. The lump stirs as an arm reaches out and smacks the clock, silencing it. With a groan John sits up, the covers falling down into his waist. He yawns and gets out of bed, taking a shower and readying for the day. With some effort he manages to get his long brown hair brushed and his stubbles cheeks shaved, bags under his dark brown eyes.
He fixes coffee and grabs a stale bagel on the way out the door of the decaying two story farm house, carrying a duffle bag over his shoulder. He gets into a beat up Civic, tossing the bag in the passenger seat and the coffee cup going into the cupholder. He backs out the long drive way of the small inherited farm that was dragging him under. An hour and a half later he was pulling into the parking lot of an industrial looking building. A black and white sign on top of the building read ‘Stevenson Fluffy Breeder.’ With a grunt, the man pulled himself out of the car and shouldered his bag again, stepping through the front doors after swiping his ID badge.
Down the white, sterile looking hallway he went, eventually ending up in a locker room. He stripped out of his t-shirt and jeans and hung them up before pulling out a grey jump suit with the same logo as the outside of the building. Next came a pair of rubber boots, and rubber gloves. The gloves went into a front pocket, along with an ink pen, and what looked like a big label maker hung from the belt of the jump suit. John cracked his neck and left the locker room, heading into the back. Swiping his ID again, he entered a large room with a few desks and a large window that overlooked the work floor. He went to one desk with a name plate that read ‘Johnathon McCoy.’ He booted up his computer and clocked in. After a quick glance through his emails, he printed off his rounds sheet. It was a schedule for the day, detailing which rows he was responsible for that day.
See, John is a Quality Assurance Agent at this fluffy mill. He inspects foals as they are born, and assigns them value, as well as updating the profile of the dam that birthed them. He hates it, but hardly anywhere was hiring and without a degree, his options were limited. With his sheet printed and on a clip board he stood, locking his terminal. A gave a wave to Michelle, the cute blond that he worked with in the QA department. They had become friends recently, and he was wondering if he should ask her out. For now though, he had a job to do.
M5123-4, or Soda as she liked to refer to herself in secret, opened her see places slowly, the meanie not sunsie lights making her eyes ache, which was not fun because her special place was still aching from her tummy babbehs becoming chirpy babbehs last night. She looked around her nestie and let out a huff, her attention immediately drawn to the four babbehs in her fluff as they chirped and peeped loudly. She got such big heart saddies looking at them. They were good babbehs, and Mistah John always say that all babies are good babies, but some babies are not pretty. Soda thought they were pretty, with brown fluff like hers. One little babbeh had wingies and a white mane just like her.
“Babbehs wan miwkies? Mummah hab miwkies fow babbehs.” She rolled over and lifted her leggie leaving her milky place exposed . She moved the first two in place and let them nurse as she sang and cuddled the other two. “Mummah wub babbehs…huu…babbehs wub mummah…dwin…sniff…dwink mummah miwkies to gwow big an stwong…huuu huuu…” Soda couldn’t even get through her beloved mummah song without sobbing these days. She didn’t know how many babbehs had been taken since she ended up here, but it was at least one and one and one and…counting made her head hurt and her heart have bigger saddies.
Soon all her babbehs were fed and sleeping in her fluff, and Soda went and made good poopies in the litter tray in the back of the cage. She poked around her kibble miserably waiting for her babbehs to be taken away again.
“Bwuddah! Nee keep wunnin fwom munstah hoomin!” The brown foal yelled at his blue brother. The blue foal had his leg stuck in a crack, the limb twisted at an odd angle. They were both very young, with the brown foal being much smaller. They were both crying and dirty, their rears caked in scardie poopies.
“Owies! Huuuu…bwown bwuddah nee wun! Nu wan munstah ow wostest mummah tu find ‘ou. Wun!”
The little brown foal did run, but couldn’t help but look back at his brother one more time. His heart felt like it was being ripped out of his chest as he left him behind. Despite the rumbling of his already malnourished tummy, he kept going, his soft, fresh hoof pads cracking and bleeding as he ran.
“Bwuddah! Nee keep wunnin fwom munstah hoomin!” The brown foal yelled at his blue brother. The blue foal had his leg stuck in a crack, the limb twisted at an odd angle. They were both very young, with the brown foal being much smaller. They were both crying and dirty, their rears caked in scardie poopies.
“Owies! Huuuu…bwown bwuddah nee wun! Nu wan munstah ow wostest mummah tu find ‘ou. Wun!”
The little brown foal did run, but couldn’t help but look back at his brother one more time. His heart felt like it was being ripped out of his chest as he left him behind. Despite the rumbling of his already malnourished tummy, he kept going, his soft, fresh hoof pads cracking and bleeding as he ran.
John stopped in front of the next cage in row 23 and looked at the clipboard hanging over the door. M1323-3 was a cotton candy pink unicorn mare with a yellow mane. She had given birth in the night, her first litter here according to her paperwork.
“Good morning M1323-3, I see you had your babies last night.”
“Yus! Am pwetty babbehs! Mummah gib aw da miwkies an wub!” She bubbled and pointed at each of the three foals happily, babbling about them. John wasn’t really listening. He took her chart of the hook and grabbed the first foal without warning. It peeped and chirped in distress as it smelled unfamiliar hands and not its precious mummah.
“Nu! Babbeh am tu widdew fow uppsies! Nee mummah, Pwease nice mistah!”
John ignored her as he examined the foal. A pink Pegasus. They wouldn’t know the mane color for a bit, but the fluff was good. He checked the year and found it to be a colt. No deformities or visible issues. Healthy sounding lungs. He added up the points for their ranking system and punched it into the machine on his belt. It printed out an ear tag with a pin in it. It was temporary, and the foal would get a permanent one if it became a stud, or it would be removed when it went to the Fluffmart. He placed the foal back in the cage and took the next one.
This one was a dark grey earthy colt. He added up the points and the foal didn’t make the cut. He lowered it so the mother couldn’t see, and snapped its neck and dropped it in the bucket beneath the cage. He repeated the process with the next one. It was brown and an earthy. It too went to the bucket. He filled out her chart and recommended the mare for a different stud next time. He closed the cage and left the now mother of one with her foal.
John was excited for the next cage, his favorite was on deck. He slid over to the next cage and looked at the mare. M5123-4, or as he liked to call her, Soda. It was heavily against the rules to name or be affectionate with the stock, but he couldn’t help it. Soda had been so sweet and loving, and still was after five litters. His heart sank however, when he saw all her foals were brown. He put on a brave face and smiled at her.
“Good morning Soda. I see you had some more babies. May I look at them?”
She had been crying, and sniffled as she nodded. “Yus, Mistah John…babbehs am gud babbehs but nu am pwetty. Huu…Soda am wostes mummah eba.”
“No, you are a wonderful mother. Don’t talk like that. If you are good for the rest of the day, I’ll sneak you a treat.”
All her foals went into the bucket. She barely reacted, just quietly cried into her front hooves as she curled up. John looked around and saw that Michelle was far away. He reached in and scratched the top of Soda’s mane. She practically melted at his affectionate touch, cooing despite her grief. Then the cage was closed and he moved on. On her chart had been written: Recommend New Stud pairing. Technically, she should have been recommended for termination, but John couldn’t bring himself to do it.
John finished up his rounds and went back to his desk finally. He filled out his paperwork for his rounds and answered a few emails. He was surprised when he glanced at the clock and saw that it was already noon. He headed for the break room to eat and watch something on his phone for lunch, still trying to forget about Soda’s despair.
Worstes mummah ever. The worst. All babies go away because mummah is the worstest mummah ever. These thoughts rattled around Soda’s mind as she lay in her cage, alone and grieving. She made herself num some kibble and went to sleep, hoping for good sleepy time pictures.
She didn’t get long and was woken up by the sound of her cage door being opened. “Mistah John? Soda am su…nu am Mistah John…” The blond haired woman wearing the same clothes as John looked down at her.
“I knew it…he named you and everything. Come on girl. Let’s get you to the goodbye box.”
Soda wasn’t positive what the goodbye box was(an incinerator) but she had been around enough to know it wasn’t good. “Nuuuuuu!!! Soda am gud mummah! Nu put in sowwy goodbye box! Pwease! Mistah John! Sabe Soda! Mummah!! Sabe Soda!” She thrashed and tried to run as Michelle picked her up heaving her onto the cart she was rolling.
Soda found herself face to face with her recently killed foals. For a moment, she made no sounds…then the screaming truly started. It wouldn’t last long, but the last few moments of Soda’s life were horrific and painful. Michelle hadn’t even bothered to kill her first, and she screamed the entire time.
John returned to his desk and clocked back in from lunch before going back out on the floor. The rest of his day would be spent wheeling his cart around his rows, dumping the buckets of dead foals into one bin, placing the good foals into another bin, and taking the mare’s marked for termination to the incinerator. He had made sure to grab a sketti treat to give to Soda to help her get through the day.
He went up and down his row until he stopped in front of Soda’s cage. Her paperwork was gone, the foal bucket was emptied, and she wasn’t in there. There was a large puddle of piss and shit though, and she never had accidents. He rushed through the rest of his rounds, quickly putting everything away and going back to his desk.
John pulled up Soda’s profile and saw she had been terminated. His recommendation had been overruled. He sat back in his chair for a moment, unable to process. He shook his head and emailed his boss, telling him he was done for the day but wasn’t feeling well and headed home. May not be in tomorrow. He didn’t wait for a reply and clocked out and headed for the locker room. Michelle was coming back into the office as he opened the door, her blond hair in a bun and smile on her face.
“Hey Jon Boy, some friends and I are going out for drinks after…”
“Not feeling well. Maybe next time.”
She frowned as John hurried past her to the locker room, stripping out of his soiled work clothes and back into his street clothes. He pushed out of the building and took a deep breath. He hadn’t realized how close to Soda he had become. They were just toys though…right? She had emotions though…every time he took those foals away she got sad, and she was always happy to see him…
It made his head hurt. He began walking to his car, the afternoon sun hanging low in the air. He almost didn’t notice, but as he turned to the corner into the big parking lot, he heard something. He stopped and listened. He heard it again.
“Huu huu…peep…bwuddah…chirp…wan daddeh…” He looked down and saw a brown lump huddled under one of the cars next to his. It was a fluffy foal, with brown fluff. Almost the exact same shade as Soda, though a little darker.
“Hey little guy, you okay?”
“Eee! Chirp chirp peeeeeeep!!! Scawy! Nu huwt babbeh, am onwy widdew babbeh! Chirp cheep!”
John shushed the terrified creature, cradling him gently in his hand. It slowly calmed down to just peeping and chirping, shivering in his grip. He stroked along its back, noting that he has actually never seen a developing foal. Only newborns and fully grown fluffies. This little one was able to talk, could probably walk, and had its eyes open. The tail was starting to grown in, and was a deep brown, darker than the fluff. The foal was also a colt.
“Where is your mom? And was it your brother you were crying for?”
He sniffled and nodded, shoving a bleeding front hoof into his mouth and sucking on it.
“Alright, let me get you home little guy, I’ll feed you and get you cleaned up while I figure out what to do with you.”
Sniff…”N…nyu housie, peep? Am nyu daddeh fow babbeh?”
John looked into his big, watery green eyes and nodded, know in that moment he would never be able to get rid of the little foal. He hugged him close to his chest, and he felt little limbs hug him back. The foal drifted off to sleep in his hand as he got in the car, and he was left to snooze in his passenger seat, thinking about what the hell he was getting himself into.