You woke up this morning and looked out the window to see a bunch of browning apple cores littering the grass around your apple tree. That, and several little piles of shit. Fluffies.
You look up toward your garden shed to see that the door had been left open. Or maybe it was pulled open. You really should have locked it, so this can’t be too surprising. Well, let’s go see what’s up.
Goddammit. It’s Fritter.
You told that bitch she wasn’t allowed to have babies and she ran away from home over a month ago. And now she’s back. Awesome. Most fluffies aren’t smart enough to find their way down a slide and yet here she was in all of her piss-stinking glory.
You notice that she also has four little crap-hamsters with her. She got exactly what she wanted, it seems. She’s singing to her brood and cradling a tiny blue lump which she rocks back and forth gently and keeps hugging to her chest fluff.
“Daddeh!” She finally noticed you.
She practically jumps up to greet you, obviously eager, and you watch her babies go tumbling across the rough concrete floor. They cry.
“Daddeh! Am Fwittah, membah? Fwittah am Mummah now!”
“Oh. I remember.” You grunt and glare down at her.
She has what looks like a fat blue beanbag resting over her arm. It’s that foal she was cradling while nursing the other foals. You know. Before she steamrolled over them.
“Babbehs came out ob Fwittah’s tummy jus’ wast dawkie-time! See? Daddeh hab tu meet Mummah’s nyu best fwen!”
New best friend, huh? Jesus. You roll your eyes and she takes the thing into her hooves and holds it up to you.
“Wook! Dis am Mummah’s bestest widdew babbeh! ” Fritter is showing you the fattest of the four newborns. There’s no way she actually picked her favourite based on anything but looks if these shitpiglets were actually only born last night. You know that for sure.
“Bestest, huh?” You can barely pretend to care.
“Yah! Him da cutiest, an’ da smawtiest, su he am Mummah’s fay-vo-wit!” So, is she pretending it has an actual personality? You guess so. You eye the blue foal and milky drool drips slowly from its gaping toothless mouth. Hearing her call it, ‘the smartiest,’ grinds your gears.
“Bestest Babbeh smeww su pwetty an’ am su soft fow huggies. ”
This is rotting your teeth.
“Daddeh wuv?”
You pause and remain silent for a second while you decide how to proceed.
(TO BE CONTINUED!)
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What happens next? What would you do now? Hmm…
Okay so fuck you guys, I’m uploading this before I felt like it was 100% done because I’ve been working on it for days while working full time and trying to have a home life and I can’t tweak it anymore! D: I was going to do a first slide that showed the shed with the open door and a trail of apple cores, and I might do that later, but my neck hurts and this is fine!