An oldie but a goodie I distinctly remember from the Booru days. Reposted from deathproofpony’s tumblr (it’s very unintuitive to search for the stories through tumblr, lemme tell you!)
be Greg
your shore house - the one you grew up in - has been decimated by Hurricane Sandy
it’s a total loss. yeah, insurance will cover it but that’ll take months. and it won’t be the same.
you’ve spent the last week cleaning out sand, recovering mementos and any salvageable furniture
you just ran out of food, though… and no place around here that sells groceries is open, or even standing
that means having to drive two hours to get home… and you really need to get this finished before work tomorrow
you stomach starts to growl. you haven’t eaten since dinner last night. it’s almost noon.
sit on an old, battered kitchen chair on what’s left of the beach
goddamit. you really don’t want to have to go home and come back…
then you hear giggling and splashing. the hell is that?
there’s a small tide pool, maybe a foot deep and a ten feet in diameter right up the beach
there’s fluffy sea ponies it
looks like a mother and three foals
you’ve heard of these things but never saw them. the sharks usually keep them away from the Jersey shore
these are the “seal” kind… paddles for arms and legs, with a paddle for a tail, like a beaver’s
they swim about in the tide pool without a care in the world
the mother finally notices you. you’re only twenty feet away.
“dummy hooman! wan nummies!”
the fuck did she just call you?
“dummy hooman! fwuffy say bwing nummies naow!”
“Shut the fuck up, squid-for-brains.”
you stand up to head back into the house. after a minute of contemplation, the fluffy finally grasps your insult
“yu nu tell fwuffy shuddup! yu bwing nummies naow or get big huwties!”
did this thing… just threaten you?
you turn around. its paddles look soft, like they’re practically made of marshmallow. the thing has barely visibly teeth
“What’re you gonna do - gum me to death?”
“giff big huwties! bwing nummies NAOW!”
the three foals giggle and splash around their mother
you know what? fuck this shit. you just lost a house and this fucking bastard science lab experiment is giving you shit?
you feel rage building inside you. this thing is about to get all kinds of fucked up.
you take off your shoes and socks, then roll up your pant legs
“You’re gonna give me big hurties, bitch?”
“you start walking into the tide pool. you’re only about five six, but to a fluffy that’s huge.
up close you look a lot more intimidating. she immediately starts rethinking her strategy
"uhhhhhhh haff nummies? nice hooman haff nummies?”
“You said I was a dummy.”
“uhhhhhh fwuffy maybe wong…”
you smack the bitch in the face
“waggghhh! why huwt fwuffy?”
“Shut the fuck up… you insult me, you tell me you’re going to HURT me? I just lost my house, you fucking cunt!”
“well… well dummy hooman should giff nummies anyway! yu weave fwuffies awone an giff nummies!”
fucking one-track mind
the foals, still splashing around, oblivious to you arguing with their mother
you reach down and pluck a squirming foal from the tide pool. its tiny paddle legs flap uselessly
it calls for its mother, panicking, as a small spray of urine and a little jet of poop comes out its back end
“hewp! hewp! mumma! munsta got babeh! hewp!”
“nuuuu! giff babeh back! wan babeh!”
you smack the mare in the face again and walk out of the tide pool. let’s see how bad she wants the baby.
“Come get it.”
“nu wan weave wawa!”
“Oh… too bad.”
you start yanking on the foal’s little flippers. it screeches in pain
“nuuuuu! nu huwt babeh! mumma comin! giff huggies!”
the mare clumsily starts to crawl out of the tide pool and across the sand, her flippers barely propelling her
that’s the thing about see fluffies… paddle fluffies to be specific. it’s rare you see them near the ocean or open sea.
their flippers work reasonably well in the water but they’re not as fast as seahorse fluffies… and they can’t breathe underwater like their cousins do
paddle fluffies tend to stick to creeks and rivers. some of the clever ones will even make use of old beaver lodges or muskrat tunnels
on land, paddle fluffies can move, but slowly. seahorse fluffies are absolutely screwed if they get landlocked, though
the mare plods her way to you… already panting from exhaustion. who knew crawling ten feet would take so much out of them?
you notice the other two foals clinging to her back
“naow giff babeh back!”
“I have a better idea.”
quick as a flash, you grab the kitchen chair and slam it overtop the fluffy, pushing the legs deep into the sand, effectively pinning her down
her paddles spread out, she cannot move. the foals tumble off to her side and nuzzle in her fluff, trying to hide from you
that’ll do for now
you toss the third foal down with its siblings and head into your shambles of a house
let’s see… propane tank, metal grill, cooking pot, a gallon of fresh water, lighter and of course… the Old Bay seasoning
set up the propane and grill. the pot fits neatly on top of it. you usually use it for steaming crabs or lobsters at beach parties.
start heating the water. that’ll take a few minutes
you pluck a foal from its mother. she sobs, still unable to move her clumsy flippers while pinned under the chair
“pwease giff babeh! babeh need mumma!”
“You said you wanted nummies… so I’m making nummies.”
“nummies?”
her spirit immediately brightens. that won’t last long.
you squeeze the foal, spraying a small amount of crap and pee out of it
pour a little water on it to wash it clean
the foal, oblivious to its fate, wiggles its little flippers, enjoying its “bath”
take out your utility knife. the mare’s eyes widen
“nu…”
with one deft movement, you slice the foal down the back of its spine. its eyes widen and its mouth opens to scream but before it has a chance. you’ve pulled its skin down and off of it
its musculature now exposed, as well as its intestinal tract, only the head of the fluffy still has fluff on it
it gasps, its system unable to comprehend the sudden shock, then starts screaming bloody murder
you smile to yourself… it’s been a good ten years since you worked in a kitchen but you’ve still got the skills
you scoopy out the foal’s intestines and cauterize the hole coming from its stomach. a quick turn of the knife and you’ve removed its asshole as well
the foal is absolutely losing its mind. it screeches for its mother, howling and sobbing
dump some Old Bay on the foal and toss it into the pot
the spices react against its flesh, making it scream even louder
the water, already starting to steam, can’t be helping, either
you grab the second foal and skin it like its sibling. same operation… remove the intestines and anus, cauterize, spice, dump in the water
finally do the third one. you now have three screaming foals paddling helplessly in near-boiling water
remove the chair from the mare. she crawls over to the cooking pot, trying to eithe4r climb up to get the babies or trying to grab the pot itself
either way, bad move. the hot metal sears her flippers and the fluff on her chest and face
“waggggghhhhhhhhhh! why huwty fwuffy! wan babehs! wan babehs PWEASE!”
can’t have this thing knocking over your dinner. you grab her by her mane and slam her down onto the sand, cutting off her flippers
she howls, begging you to stop. punch her in the face
leave her flippers in a pile next to her. the mare’s face, stained with tears, watches helplessly as you stir the pot.
the water is boiling now. the foals are gagging, gasping, barely able to even cry
they finally go into shock and die as the boiling water cooks them
pour in a little more Old Bay
after a few minutes you serve the foals. the meat is tender and tasty, seasoned to perfection
whoops - don’t want to be a bad host. you cut the heads off the foals and put them on a plate in front of the mare
“BABEH! NUUUUUUUUUUUUU! BABEHS!”
she feebly flops across the sand towards them, weeping.
as you hungrily tear the flesh off one of the foals, you look down at the mare
“Eat them.”
“nuuuuu! nu eat babehs! babehs need huggies…”
“They’re DEAD, idiot. EAT THEM.”
“nuuuuu… huuuuuu… huuuuu… babehs…”
it’ll wait. you finish your meal. delicious… reminds you of a cross between veal and lobster
seems the mare hasn’t eaten yet. you’ll help her with that
now cooked, the skulls of the foals are extremely soft. you start shoving their heads in the mare’s mouth
she sobs and gags as she slowly chews and swallows them. one by one you force feed her the foal’s heads.
well, that was fun. you clean up your cooking apperatus and put it in your car
“Time to go back to sea, fluffy.”
you pick up the torso of the mare and fling her into the crashing waves
somehow she manages to stay afloat, using her tail to propel herself weakly
that won’t last. the fresh blood is already oozing into the water
you sit back and wait. the mare tries desperately to get back to the beach but the tide is going out
she can’t fight it… she’s stuck in the water
and… yep. there it is. only took ten minutes and you see a fin break the surface of the water
looks like an eight-footer. bull shark, too… those things are mean.
the bull circles the floundering fluffy briefly, then breaks the surface and tears into her with its razor sharp teeth
the mare screams, which is quickly reduced to gurgles as blood pours from her mouth and she is pulled under the water
the bull shark devours her
circle of life or something
sigh. back to cleaning out the house.
you hope you can find your Legos.