Once Pistol had put Red back down, Red had taken another look at his siblings. They were happily chatting, mostly comparing “yu su pwetty” to “yu pwetty too” with the occasional “Babbeh faww down” added in. Looking at the five alicorns acting like regular fluffy babbehs, Red experienced a novel feeling, as if he had been not-right about something and he nearly wished he could take back his action of calling the alicorns munstas. He didn’t like this feeling, not at all. Then he shook his head and blinked a few times. He was being silly; everyone knows that smarties are always right, and since he was the smartiest smarty, of course he had been right. He looked at the pure white alicorn filly and she was so pretty, but he also felt it again- a primal terror from memories that were not his, born from wiping up coffee spilled on a keyboard, accidentally changing ‘and/or’ to just ‘or’ in some obscure part of some buried coding, late at night in a genetics lab, long ago. But the feeling of terror was not the all-encompassing, deafening call to arms it had been earlier. Now it was barely a whisper in his head. But he was a smarty, he couldn’t have been wrong, because smarties weren’t ever wrong, so they must be munstas. But the white filly was so pretty.
Red stood there for a long time, his brain blazing away at terrifying speed until Pistol gently booped his nose. “Am Wed okay? Yu nu move fow many siwent fowevews.”
Red was so confused, and he didn’t like it, but didn’t want to tell dummeh-Pistol about it. So he came up with a lie right quick, and for a fluffy (a smarty, no less) it was an astoundingly good lie. “Wed wus tinken 'bout tinken, bu den Wed hab tinkies 'bout tinken ‘bout tinken an’ den da tinkies had dey own tinkies, bu den Pistow-daddeh gib Wed wakies, and den it am nowsies. Wed tink dat tinken-tinkie-tinkies mi be tuu wisky.” Red said, almost accidentally trapping himself in the dilemma he was lying about having had.
“Weww,” Pistol said, looking around briefly, “If Wed am suwe… den dat okay. Eidah way, it am miwkies time, Wed pwowwy hab tummy-hewties by nowsies.”
Gasp! “Yu am wight, Wed nee miwkies!” Red said as he waddled over to Sally, having forgot that Pistol could also feed him. He had also not noticed Pistol sitting down, ready to offer Red milk, as Red was very busy heading over to Sally for milk. The five alicorns were closer to Pistol than Sally, and so two of them latched onto Pistol while the others babbles while they waited patiently.
After Red finished nursing, he promptly fell asleep for a few hours, only awoken by some chirpy foals making wan-miwkies chirps, which prompted Red to notice he was also hungry. This time, after having his fill, he tried to walk in a circle for a bit, an advanced maneuver requiring intense concentration, until he bumped into the brown unicorn who had just latched onto Sally, and was peacefully nursing. Red saw red. “NUUUUUU” Red shouted, using his front legs and all his might to shove the filly sideways, away from the nipple. She rolled several inches to the side, coming to a stop lying on her side, and when Red ran after her, he accidentally stomped on Sally’s now unoccupied nipple, causing Sally to clutch her breast and fall over backwards in pain. As the brown babbeh was opening her mouth to start crying from pain, hunger, and confusion, Red yelled into her face, “POOPIE BABBEH NU DWINK MIWKIES!” He slapped her across the face as Pistol jumped to his feet to intervene. “WHA DUMMIE-POOPIE-DUMMIE NU UNDASTAN?” He struck her again. “DUMMEH-POOPIES ONWY NUM POOPIES!” He stomped on one of her front legs, breaking it. “DUMMEH-POOPIES NEBAH GIT MIWKIES!” He kicked her hard in the belly, still screaming into her face. “DUMMEH-POOPIES NEBAH GIT HUGGIES!” Another kick. Pistol had covered half the distance to Red. “NEBAH GIT WUB!” Kick, a rib audibly breaking. “DUMMEH-POOPIES AM DEWE FO ENFIES!” He stomped on her broken leg again. “DUMMEH-POOPIE-DUMMEHS AM GIT NUMMED BY MUNSTAS WHIWE HEWD WUN AWAY!” Another stomp on her shattered leg. “POOPIE BABBEH AM WUCKY WED WET YU WIVE.” Red spun around and stomped on the filly’s mangled leg with his back left hoof while blasting her face with sorry poopies as hard as he could.
Pistol leapt over the prone filly and tackled Red.
