“Bye wastest babbeh! Be nicies tu yu nu mummah!” Pistol said as he and Sally waved at the last of their foals to be adopted.
Life was good now. They lived with Dave, who had all the time in the world to play with them, and who loved them both dearly. By this point, Dave was deeply embarrassed about how he had treated them earlier, and was adamant that Pistol and Sally live the richest, fullest lives any fluffy ever had.
Dave’s money simplified things, and at least once a month they would be out somewhere on vacation, just a man with his two fluffies… and ten suit and tie bodyguards surrounding him, with twenty more in plain clothes forming a perimeter, which was topped by drone surveillance and sniper cover. NOBODY would ever get the drop on Dave again, not that they didn’t try. Dave’s favorite was the man who had tried to throw boiling fry oil on him, only to slip and dump the oil down the front of his own pants.
Pistol and Sally loved the travel and adventure, delighting at Earth’s natural wonders and the beautiful follies of man, with particular interest paid to the seemingly infinite varieties of pasta that all needed to be ‘safety tasted’ as Sally cheekily put it.
Alison and Eric stayed in the PI business, despite Dave’s $10 million fee meaning that they could retire whenever they wanted, they genuinely enjoyed the work, and so they kept at it. Since the story of the seemingly miraculous recovery of Dave’s family of fluffies was headline news for the entirety of what just happened to be a very slow news week, ‘Alison’s Private Dicks’ gained international recognition and, with more cases then they could hope to solve, they started outsourcing the excess to other agencies that ‘met our high standards’ or whatever other BS the person on the phone told the latest person whose fluffy had run away after not being allowed babies or a special friend, or sketti, or because it was Tuesday.
Kendall was buried in Arlington next to his wife, Temperance, an army nurse, with all the bells and whistles due a Marine Corps Captain. Three bronze stars and two silver stars decorated his casket as the old guard fired the rifle salute.
Kendall’s folded flag was presented to his granddaughter, Shane’s twin sister, Evelyn Evans, MD. Shane had tricked her into believing that Kendall had been dead for years and she was very surprised when the Marine Corps Commandant telephoned her about Kendall’s funeral.
Nobody ever saw Shane again, with his last reported sighting being inside the ambulance as the doors closed.
Alison had called some of Dave’s ‘associates’ on their way to the Evans residence, and three men in fake EMT uniforms had answered the call for an ambulance. They had bluffed their way past the Sheriff and his men, had loaded Shane into their ambulance, and had whisked Shane away, but not to a hospital.
Shane had been driven to an abandoned office block, where Dave was waiting for him. After castrating Shane with a ball point pen, Dave had pulled out some salt and began pouring it on the floor.
Troppus Motus was asleep when she heard shouting. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she stumbled out of her bedroom in her frilly, long nightgown to find Dave at the gate to her fence, along with someone else she did not recognize.
“Dave!” She excitedly greeted him, “It’s been years! Come in! Come in!”
“I wish I could visit more, but I know you’re always on the clock so I don’t want to bother you if I can help it.” Dave said as he shoved Shane into Troppus’s living room before kicking him to the ground, and standing there with his foot firmly on the small of Shane’s back.
“Then why are you here if you don’t want to bother me?” Troppus asked, looking closely at Shane, who just groaned and tried to get up by use of hands that weren’t there anymore.
“I’d like to ask something of you. I’d like you to set it up so that this man.” Dave pulled Shane’s head up by his hair, “Whenever he dies, he is instantly reincarnated into a newborn fluffy pony, for all of eternity.”
“That’s a lot of magic, and Eternity is another level beyond even that. What did he do that makes you wish that fate upon him? And what’s in it for me if I make it happen?”
“Well, I’ll tell you a story, and by the time it’s done, I’m pretty sure you’ll do me this favor for free.”
The End
Keep an eye out for the up coming ‘Shane the Fluffy’ short stories, and feel free to write your own Shane the fluffy story- he’s a fluffy for all of eternity, so plenty of room for everyone to enjoy some nice ‘abuse Shane as a Fluffy’ therapy.
