Skeleton under the litter (“Сломанная Игрушка”, “Мир Сио”) (ChaosCrash13)

  • Te-he! Daddeh wook! Sausagy wuny! - a golden fluffy squealed happily as he and the other bio-toys ran through the grass of the public park. His white mane and tail fluttered in the wind, and his tiny wings flapped with delight.

  • Hey, Ngama, why the fuck do you need this little shit? - chewing gum, a teenager sitting on the back of a bench asked his black friend.

  • I don’t need him for fuck’s sake, Vovan. Only my sister went to Asia, and my parents said that now this is my pet, - his young companion gave the impression of a man who was terribly late for something, but, alas, was handcuffed to the bench on which both teenagers were sitting, - I’d rather be playing DroTa right now than walking this overgrown fucking hamster.

  • Listen, let’s lose him… - one young blockhead jumped off the back, and whispered conspiratorially in the ear of the second, - Let’s go to the Plaza right now, and tell your folks that the shitrat has escaped.

  • Vovan, will it work? - his black companion hesitated.

  • What, you fucking scared? Don’t worry, Ngama! I’ve done it a thousand times, I swear! - the young instigator gave him a friendly shove on the shoulder, - Let’s go to the Plaza.

  • Well, okay… - the black teen hesitated. But then his voice hardened, - “Sausage ran for the street fluffies. We searched for him all day later, but we didn’t find him…” Let’s go.

Chuckling to themselves and elbowing each other, the two teenagers got up from the bench and quietly left. When they disappeared into the next alley, there was a cheerful laugh and the rapid patter of two pairs of sneakers. None of this was noticed by the golden fluffy, who was playing carelessly with his kin.

  • Daddeh wook! Sausagy jumpy! - golden fluffy squealed in delight as he leapfrogged over another fluffy.

Alas, of all the ungulates, whether created by ruthless natural selection or constructed by the pragmatic “crown of creation,” the fluffies were the most incapable of jumping. So the graceful leap that can be seen in the performance of thoroughbred horses at the weekly equestrian competitions in the Green Sector did not work out. Just as the daily racing in the Grey Sector by authorship of their intelligent synthetic relatives-ponies, who again missed their bus and now with terrible force rush to work on their four. Instead, the fluffy animal named Sausage turned out to be a battering ram. Although even that was so-so. No sea of fire, explosions, and figures in Feldgrau running away from the blazing Panzer. Just snot and whimper from the silver fluffy bruised by the Sausage’s carcass.

  • Mummah, Pwety hab huwties! Bad fwuffy gib sowwie hoofsies tu Pwety! - the silvery one, lying on its back, began to wail, uselessly swinging its short legs in the air.

  • Hush, baby, don’t cry, - immediately, with words of consolation, one of the land whales who were walking their pets in the park jumped up to silver. Hugging the whimpering pet to her, she began to look around belligerently, - Who offended my Pretty?! Who set his beast on my loveliness?!

None of the present owners of the fluffy did not answer: neither the ladies who looked like mountains of animated green jello, nor the teenage girls who were buried in phones and tablets, nor the faggot hipsters of all colors and sorts, nor the only synthetic pony walking her alicorn (wow, what a surprise!) pet.

  • For the last time, whose beast is this?! - the owner of the battering ram victim shook all her chins angrily.

There was no answer.

  • He’s also a stray! Shoo! Shoo, monster! - the lady screamed in a deep voice, her powerful body shielding her pet from the Sausage, - Somebody take this flea-ridden abomination away!

In response, almost all the house fluffies who had hitherto played on the grass all shat themselves, the hipsters deftly (like trained megamarines) hid behind the obese ladies, the ladies began to chatter, discussing worthless thieves from the municipality and useless modern youth who could not even cope with some shaggy parasites, and the younger generation aimed the lenses of their devices at the troublemakers, every second sending hundreds of frames to the network.

Something practical was done only by two tomboys and a pony.

  • Ouwwy! Huwties! Daddeh, sabe Sausagy! - Sausage whimpered as a much larger hoof pinned down his tail, and then a prehensile hand grabbed the fur on the back of his neck.

  • I’m sorry, I can’t take you in my mouth. Who knows what dirt you have on you? - apologized to the bio-toy pony by taking her hoof off his tail, - Girls, don’t make your kick-jokes! Just put the fluffy on the ground somewhere in the bushes. Don’t let me down in your mother’s eyes!

  • Come on, aunt Spoon, we’re not skinners, - one of the girls giggled, the one who had just grabbed fluffy by the scruff of the neck. The second one busily wrapped the freed tail around her fist, and pulled it up, aligning the animal’s rump with its head. What erupted from his throat heart-rending “Screee! Taiwwy huwties!”.

  • And who blew up the hamster in the microwave? - quadrupedal babysitter glared at the two girls, each much taller than she.

  • We dried it after bathing. Who knew it would burst, - the first one shrugged. Which movement, quite logically, was also transmitted to fluffy, whose tail was securely fixed by sister speaker - the howl from the side of Sausage increased proportionally.

The transfer of the pet caught by the girls from the class of pets to the class of urban parasites ended in the bushes near the park lawn, where fluffy was walking (now there are a lot of not too happy people and synths were cleaning up, ahem, biological waste after the recent incident). Of course, Sausage was not happy about his new status, and therefore made the most active efforts to get back to respectable human pets. Alas, this only became an occasion for a fun competition between two girls, who were fervently using straps from their satchels on the nose of fluffy trying to get out of the bushes. He in response asked “Fo’ wa’?!”, begged “daddeh” to come to his aid, informed others about his feelings and just a lot of "hu-hu-huu"ing. The pony, who was “walking” the daughters of the former owner (and their pets – the two active girls were clearly not up to their fluffy pets), did not like this performance at all. But, in the opinion of the four-legged synth, for a stray animal this was the best outcome possible.

After a while, the day ended and the evening began. That is, the fluffy owners, along with their pets, began to go home, the park began to fill with cute couples and cheerful young companies, and a miserable, tired and hungry Sausage finally managed to crawl out of the bushes.

Climbing out onto the now empty lawn and looking around, Sausage made a plan. But since he was a spoiled house fluffy, and not a real street “version 1.1” improved by aliens, or an initially smart wing-horned bio-toy, the plan consisted of only one point: “Sausagy wan nummies”. That, however, in no way prevented the Sausage from starting to implement the plan… in the usual way.

  • Nice mistah, Sausagy hab tummy hewties, - running up to the nearest young couple sitting on the bench, Sausage made a begging face.

The lovers didn’t react to fluffy (and why would they?). So, after another half-minute of futile hesitation, the Sausage headed for the next bench. On it, a young man with the help of two small sticks tried to put something in the mouth of the girl who closed her eyes.

  • Hewwo, nice mistah. Sausagy hab tummy hurties. Give Sausagy nummies, pweasy, - Sausage looked at him in the eye with large puppy eyes

  • Ah! - startled, the man dropped his chopsticks along with the weight he was holding.

  • Sausagy says tank ‘ou, nice mistah, - Sausage immediately ran to the black cylinder that had fallen to the ground, and began to eat the white-and-red core.

  • Oh, you!.. - the man who had just been so unceremoniously deprived of the opportunity to romantically court a lady began to boil.

  • Oh! Does he really eat it? - his companion already opened her eyes and was now watching fluffy with interest, - Mish, throw him another roll. The one with more rice.

  • Whatever you say, Svetik, - cheered by the fact that the situation had turned for the better, the man took another black cylinder from the box on the bench and tossed it to fluffy.

  • Tank ‘ou, nice mistah. Sausagy wike ‘ou, - Sausage started on the second portion.

  • He really eat it! No sauce, no drink! - the girl squealed with happiness, - Mish, a couple more!

Man, expelling a ‘Hmph’, threw in fluffiga another two cylinders. Soon both of them joined their predecessors, leaving only black "skins"on the park path.

  • Nyu daddeh? - after finishing the rolls, Sausage sat on his ass and invitingly pulled his front paws to the man, while looking at him with the big and honest eyes of a professional crook.

  • Svet? - the man hesitated, clearly not knowing what to do.

  • No! No! No! No fluffies! We fed you, you thanked us – now get out of here. Shoo, shoo, shoo! - the girl waved her hands at the Sausage, - Michael, never give in to the feeling of the beggars! For them, it’s just business!

Sausage didn’t object: his stomach was full now, and since the new owner hadn’t worked out… it hadn’t worked out. On the fluffy soul at this particular moment in time, it was good and fun, and for the foreseeable future, there was already a new plan: “Fin’ owd daddah”. What even better, its impossibility did not in any way spoil the mood of the bio-toy. Fluffy had no idea of the vastness of the European Gigapolis, and the fifteen minutes on the maglev (traveling at 720 kilometers per hour) that separated the decent block of Gray where Ngama lived from the decent public park where Sausage now lived was in no way associated with distance in the tiny head. In general, the golden fluffy boldly stomped along the park path wherever you look.

And then he got thirsty…

In fact, fluffies drink a lot and often. By corporate bioengineers, once badly burned by the excessive independence of intelligent synthetic ponies, this was done intentionally: bio-toys should not have even a shadow of a chance to survive without the care of the owner. Of course, later alien geneticists solved this “problem”, and Gigapolises were flooded with unkillable fluffy pests - “version 1.1”. But, alas for him, Sausage was the purest of purebred fluffies: his metabolism was set up to live in the here and now, without worrying about stocks and reserves. That’s why golden fluffy, who had eaten 150 grams of dry rice, was now desperately thirsty. Well, if there is an urgent problem, then any living organism immediately begins to search for its solution.

Sausage looked around – there was no drinking bowl anywhere. This confused the Sausage a little. However, not for long – with the arrival of dusk, which sharply reduced the viewing radius of the unfit fluffy eyes, the animal’s nose became significantly more acute. The nose was telling that there was water nearby. And Sausage was very thirsty. So fluffy trusted his nose and turned off the park path into the bushes.

Wading through the bushes was not nearly as much fun as running across a sunny lawn: the bushes whipped fluffy on the muzzle and clung to its down with a strong grip, smearing it with sticky juice, something constantly rustled around, scaring the pet almost to “scawedy poopies”, and it also got pretty cold. Sausage even thought about going back to the parkway a couple of times. But the thirst wouldn’t let go. So he continued on his way to the water.

  • Huwwah! Sausagy foundy good wawa! - Sausage squealed happily as he climbed out of the bushes onto the bank of a quiet pond, just between an old-fashioned gazebo and a bench.

  • Su dah Thicken knew! Hewwo, bad Sausagy, - a vaguely familiar lisping voice came from behind the Sausage.

Sausage’s nerves, already exhausted by the journey through the bushes, could not stand it – fluffy gave a thin squeal and made “scawedy poopies”…

  • Huwties! Poopie pwace huwties! Daddeh, hewp! - Sausage whined, rolling his ass up. Alas, the previously eaten rice made “scawedy poopies” a non-trivial task for the gut of a fluffy adventurer.

  • Cowawd an’ shitbag, - the lisping voice came from behind again, but now it was filled with contempt, - Tuwn to dah Thicken, 'ou cowawdwy Sausagy. Thicken wants to wook into dah bad see-pwaces of bad fwuffie!

  • Munstah, nu huwties! Sausagy am good fwaffy! - wailed Sausage, whose mental balance was completely destroyed by the pain in his pointlessly straining butt and cramped tummy.

  • Sausagy am bad fwuffie! Sausagy wied to mummah! - the invisible interlocutor clearly began to circle the Sausage. Which really scared fluffy and made him cover his eyes with his legs, - Mummah stopped wobin’ Thicken! An’ nao dah Thicken wibes hewe! An’ aww 'cos of dah wies of dah Sausagy!

In the memory of Sausage vague images of another pet that lived with him in those blessed times when “mummah” was still around began to appear. His name was Chicken. And he was very bad: he was stealing “mummah’s” love from Susage! “Mummah” squeezed filthy Chicken, played with him with a bow, and even took him with her at night! This Sausage could not stand!…

  • Open youw see-pwaces, meaty. Thicken wants to take one wastes’ wook at dah bad see-pwaces of dah bad Sausagy, - suddenly the lisping voice was terribly calm.

In spite of himself, fluffy had a memory of fighting the ugly Chicken. Sausage, when Chicken was asleep, shook his “poopie” out of the tray, threw it all over the room, and then ran to complain to “mummah”. Sometimes it happened that “hoomins” forgot things on the table in the “safe woom”. Then it would take only a few minutes and a few hoofbeats - the human thing would fall to the floor. If she made “crack”, then Sausage could safely run to complain to “mummah” about the Chicken. Of course, sometimes Chicken caught Sausage for his righteous cause and… But soon Sausage realized that, although the pain was very, very bad for fluffy, but, on the whole, good for Sausage – for a scratch on the golden skin Chicken was especially hard hited by “mummah”. The fight was long and hard, but once Sausage won…

  • Open youw see-pwaces ow dah Thicken wiww open them by thikensewf, - the voice was still calm, but it sounded much closer now, - Bettah nu open. Thicken wants to scwatch out dah see-pwaces of bad Sausagy

Sausage remembered the day when “mummah” was very angry at Chicken for beating Sausage. True, that day Chicken saw fluffy making “sneaky pee pees” in his feed… but that doesn’t excuse bad and cruel Chicken! She took Chicken by the scruff of the neck and, after telling the other “hoomins” that she had gone for a walk in the park, left. “Mummah” only came back in the evening, and without Chicken. Sausage never saw Chicken again… At this thought, fluffy decided to open his eyes.

  • Cowawd, - before Sausage appeared Chicken in person. Blue puffy (a miniature griffin that went into the series after the commercially successful fluffy) looked at the shivering Sausage with a mixture of contempt, disgust, and ill-concealed joy, - Thicken wiww stiww wip dah sketties out of dah tummy of bad Sausagy.

  • Sausagy nu hab sketties in tummy, - stuttering and backing away Sausage began to look for ways to escape, - Sausagy nu num nummies… Sausagy sweaw…

  • Wie! Aww fwuffies hab! - the griffin didn’t give Sausage a chance to escape. He leaped at the fleeing fluffy, knocking him down and pinning his legs to the ground with his clawed paws, - Thicken wiww show Sausagy what fwaffie hab in tummy! Nao Thicken hab to num dis instead of dewicious kibblies!

With these words, the griffin jumped over Sausage so that his rump rested on fluffy’s chest, his hind legs were on hissides, and his front paws with powerful “eagle” claws rested on the golden “guest’s” crotch. And then they sank into his flesh. Sausage howled, and Chicken, sinking his claws deeper into foe, pulled hard, revealing fluffy’s steaming innards to the world. Sausage wet himself from the pain. Which only added to his misery: the urine poured in an acrid stream into his open belly. The chimera jumped off fluffy’s chest, grabbed the insides of the bio-toy with his claws, and began to shove them into Sausage’s mouth.

  • Num, 'ou bad Sausagy! Num sketties! Nu teww wies, ‘ou wiaw! Thicken nao awways num it! - the Chicken was frantically shoving Sausage’s own intestines into the fluffy’s mouth, not paying the slightest attention to the fact that they were spreading out in rags and streams of excrement in his claws, - Now Thicken has nu mummah, nu kibblies, nu toysies, nu wawm housy! An’ bad Sausagy wiww nu hab eithew! Dewe wiww onwy be fowevew sweepies!

Sausage tried to yell in pain, but only wheezed through the guts and shit that the griffin was inexorably hammering down his throat. However, fluffy didn’t have to suffer for very long. The Chicken was so wrapped up in old resentment that he did not notice how he let out a war cry and plunged his beak into the neck of the hated acquaintance. Created against the much more tenacious “version 1.1” weapons easily penetrated the trachea, severed the vascular bundles and broke the spine of the fluffy. Sausage wheezed, bulged his eyes, and died a few moments later. His body was still convulsing, responding to the residual pulse of his spinal cord and pouring blood all over the grass around him. Two pairs of eyes, hidden under the roof of the gazebo, looked at this wastefulness with genuine annoyance.

The Chicken didn’t notice any of this. He hissed and spat with rage, clawed at the head of the already dead Sausage, and finally pecked out its eyes and tongue. When the griffin saw the work of his claws - fluffy’s skull turned into a ragged, bloody ball, he stopped, sniffed at the disfigured carcass of the enemy, and then urinated on it. Then, with an air of triumph, he disappeared into the bushes.

A couple of minutes later another pair of puffy griffins appeared from under the roof of the gazebo. Jumping down to the ground and carefully sniffing the remains of the Sausage, the miniature predators exchanged glances.

  • What’s dah mattah wiff Thicken, huntew? Why nu did puffy num dah pwey? - one of them (the smaller one) asked the other, puzzled.

  • Huntew nu know, - the second blinked in response, - Not to waste dah nummies?

  • Nu, we nu can wet dah nummies go to waste, - the first puffy-griffin agreed with him, - We nee’ to num befowe dah bawky huntews come.

That was the end of the conversation, and a couple of griffins began to eat the fat body of the Sausage. They couldn’t eat all of the fat homemade fluffy, so they only tore off the most delicious pieces until their bellies were full. Then it was time for the griffins to leave the stage. The next character of the theater of the empty park and the moon was quite an ordinary cat, who took the baton from the artificial ones, but, ah! dangerous chimeras. But she couldn’t eat the Sausage clean, either. So, when the cat was full and left to walk by itself, a couple of those “version 1.1” appeared from the bushes: dirty-green fluffy males without horns or wings. Apparently, they were foragers of the local herd. At least one of them immediately began to pluck from the remains of the Sausage everything that his non-specialized teeth were able to handle, and put it on the back of the second one (judging by the flat tangle, this was not new to him). It is a pity that they did not have time to finish their work: there was a barking sound from the side, causing fluffies to scurry away. Following the barking, a small pack of three stray dogs came to the abandoned remains. Their teeth were already capable of handling anything. So the last character of the play, the cleaning robot, got only a puddle of dried blood from the Sausage.

  • Ngama, hi. Well, we’ll play again tomorrow. I’ll beat you so fucking hard that you’ll go crying to your dead mom! - Vovan’s smiling face appeared in the communication window.

  • Vova, I can’t. I’m fucked, - Ngama sighed, opening the forwarded video of their today’s game in the Plaza.

  • What up? - Vovan was surprised, but immediately broke into a satisfied smile, - Understood. For the shitrat. Well, you’re a sucker, Ngama!

Ngama’s face grew visibly sad.

  • All right, let’s go to DroTa. Carrier is mine! Take the hiller - will support me, - Vovan ordered, - And fucking talk like a tough guy. Your parents won’t hear you online.

This is a translation from Russian. Many thanks to users dragon_not_found and Mr_Owl for it.
Now, about the clowning that’s going on in the text:

  1. The events take place within the framework of the quite MLP-universes “The Broken Toy” and “World of Thio”.
  2. Therefore, events occur in the future. In the European Gigapolis - a huge city that occupies a significant part of Europe.
  3. Fluffies in this world are divided into two varieties:
    “version 1.0” - pets created under the HasBio brand. They are vulnerable and gentle creatures.
    “version 1.1” - street pests, secretly created by aliens on the basis of “version 1.0”. These are the alleyfluffies. These creatures are tenacious, omnivorous and very difficult to kill completely.