Bruno glared at Turtle. There was no way he’d let this little wimp pull one over him.
“Bwuno show dummeh!” The smarty lifted up the die which had been cast to his hooves, spitting it out forcefully. It flew through the air and smacked the fluffy right on the head and clattering to the floor. Neither one of them really knew what numbers were, but Sketti Dave was there to announce the results from his place in the shadows.
“Six. The highest number, Turtle. I think you’ve lost before you’ve began.” He snapped his fingers and the anvil swinging above the foals he’d taken hostage drooped lower. They all gave a terrified ‘nuuuu!’ and Turtle would shake his head.
“Am Tuwtel tuwn! Am pway gamesie!” Which caused Sketti Dave to laugh. Fluffies really could be defiant against everything, couldn’t they? They were so stupid they had no way of knowing they’d lost everthing.
“Fine, fine. I’ll humor you. Go ahead, take your turn.” So the stallion would take the die into his mouth. He had to try really really hard if he wanted to beat Bruno. Maybe thinking about why he wanted to win would help.
Daddeh really deserved to have a Turtle stuffy-friend. That’s what this was all about, even before saving the foals had come into this equation. Frederick, his daddeh, was his best friend too. Ever since he had gone to the shelter and rescued him. He gave him lots of food, and love, and had forgiven him when he’d accidentally pooped on the bed one time. The die rolled back and fourth in his mouth.
“Babbeh am scawed? Bwuno bestest at gamesies!” The meanie smarty stuck his tongue out at Turtle, but he didn’t have to think about that right now.
“Make your move, kid!” Sketti Dave demanded, and Turtle would. With a look of pure golden determination, the stallion spit the die from his mouth. Spittle flew.
“My God! I can’t believe it!” The pasta man himself murmured at the results that lay in front of the green & brown fluffy. All the while Turtle had kept the die in his mouth, he’d been chewing it because that’s usually what happened to stuff that went in there. The game piece had been split in two by the incessant chewing as he thought about his daddeh, had landed in two different pieces. A five and a two.
“Turtle…has seized victory from the jaws of defeat.” Sketti Dave said with a great amount of disappointment in his voice. The anvil was yanked out from above the talkie-babbehs, who cheered in unison at not being crushed to death. Bruno charged slightly at him, stamping his foot down a bit.
“Nu faiw! Tuwtel am cheat! Nu faiw!” Stamp stamp stamp! He’d also noisily shit himself in pure outrage at the fact that he wouldn’t be winning.
“SILENCE, FOOL.” Sketti Dave snapped his fingers and two employees in mascot uniforms walked into the room and seized Bruno, dragging him off. “Put him into the sketti sauce! We’ve got no room for losers here.”
Bruno squealed. “Nu wan be sauce! Nuuuuuu! Bwuno am win! Wan mawe! Nuuuu!” That wouldn’t stop him from, presumably, being taken off to the kitchen to be ground up and turned into sauce. Finally, the attention was on Turtle again.
Another employee in a mascot costume would march up and slip an armband back on Turtle.
“You’ll be able to select any prize from the counter you wish. Choose wisely.” Sketti Dave mentioned, Turtle watching as the foals were finally freed from their bonds and led out of the room. “Ah, and have the mare too. If you wish. After all, I’ve never been so impressed.”
Turtle marched up to the mare which had been promised to Bruno. She looked to him stupidly. “Speciaw huggies?” The mare asked him, Turtle just giving her cheek a friendly lick.
“Bye pwetty mawe. Bye Sketti Dabe. Tuwtel ‘nee see daddeh naow!” With that he’d scamper up the stairs from the basement.
The stallion raced through the funzone, not getting distracted by all the bells and whistles in the place. All the way up to the prize counter, where the staff member nodded down to him. “I’ve been informed of your winnings. Choose the item of your heart’s desire.”
He didn’t want the various things in the case. There were actually insane things in there such as the keys to a brand new car, or tickets to an all-expenses paid vacation to some tropical island. He was a fluffy though and knew that daddeh already had jingly-janglies, and he couldn’t read so the paid vacation just looked like a scrap of paper.
“Wan dat!” Clicking a hoof toward the turtle stuffy-friend enshrined behind the glass. The staff member unlocked the case, taking out the treasure object and pressing it over to him. It was just an incredibly cheaply made turtle plushie with googly eyes, something you could find at any carnival game booth or dollar store. Still it was the most important thing ever to the fluffy, who held onto it carefully with his mouth and trotted off to find his daddeh.
Frederick’s phone was just about to run out of battery by the time his bud came over to find him. The fluffy wagged his tail excitedly after dropping off the little turtle plush on his lap. “Tuwtel win dis ‘fo daddeh! An see Sketti Dabe! An pway big gamesie! Gib pwetty mawe kissie! Sabe all ‘da babbehs!”
The little guy had clearly played to his heart’s content, and for only $20 too. Maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all. Fred smiled, scooping Turtle up. “Thanks, bud. I love it. C’mon, I’ll carry you outside. You look like you’re about to fall asleep while standing up.” So he’d carry the good stallion outside, genuinely touched that he’d been given a prize. Cheap as it was, it clearly meant a lot to Turtle.
(END)
