An especially loud growl emanates from your poor tummeh, startling you awake. You raise your head up, groggily looking around the wooden boxie that is your nestie. You hear your two talkie-babbehs quietly playing in the corner, and you see your pretty special friend sitting on her rump, watching them as they do, a small smile on her face in contrast to the obvious worry in her see-places.
“Pway! Wan wun wound boxie wif Happies, sissie?”
“Yus! Pwetty wuv wunnies! Wuv wunnies wif bwudda!”
You groan as you lift yourself up and off of the shredded up newspaper and miscellaneous little soft things that make your nestie up.
yawn “Bowt am wakies naow. Wai spechuw fwiend Cownfwowah wook saddies?”
You sit on your rump as well, shivering a little from the chill coming in from outside the boxie, before giving your special friend, Cornflower, some huggies. She’s a pretty earthie mare, with light blue fluff and a deep purple mane. Any fluffy would be lucky to be special friends with such a beauty, and that fluffy happened to be you, Bolt.
You are a wingie fluffy, with bright yellow fluff and a vibrant blue mane. You thought you looked very pretty, if you do say so yourself, and you guess Cornflower had agreed, considering how she was your special friend. She hugs and nuzzles you, before a loud grumble coming from a tummeh interrupts your happies…but this time, it’s coming from your special friend’s tummeh.
“Huu…Cownfwowah am su hungies, spechuw fwiend Bowt…Cownfwo - “
“Bowt am hungies tuu! Bowt am suuuu hungies, buh nu find nummies wast bwite-timesie! Spechuw fwiend am nu onwy fwuffy dat am hungies! Bowt am!”
You snap at Cornflower, making her shrink back a bit and huu. You avert your eyes from her, a sheepish look on your face. You didn’t mean to be so meanie to your special friend…you’re just really hungry and stressed! Your two babbehs stop playing for a moment, looking over at their mummah and daddeh. Your orange fluff and straw-colored mane wingie colt, Happies, gasps, excitement on his face.
“Daddeh! Daddeh am wakies! Happies am su happies! Wan pway wif Happies an’ sissie, Daddeh?”
He waddles up to you, nearly bouncing with excitement. His sister Pretty, an earthie filly with soft cream fluff and dark purple mane, follows right next to him, the two of them completely inseparable. Kind of like you and your sister, some forevers ago…you huuhuu a bit at the memory, before shaking your head.
sigh “Daddeh Bowt am sowwy, babbehs, buh nee’ wook fow mowe nummies fow famiwy. Wiww pway wen backsies.”
Your filly cries a bit and hugs you, sniffling. Her brother joins in, and you hug both of them back. Cornflower stays on her own, though, whimpering pathetically about her tummeh hurties.
“Huuhuu! Pwetty wan pway wif Daddeh naow! Pwetty an’ bwudda awweady num nummies! Nu nee’ mowe!”
You look over at Cornflower, a shocked look on your face. She pouts and shivers a bit, as both of your tummehs growl and grumble at the same time.
“Cownfwowah su sowwy, spechuw fwiend…Cownfwowah gib babbehs wastes’ nummies…Bowt nee’ find mowe, huuhuu! Pwease!”
Your mouthie hangs open, no talkies coming out, a combination of shock, anger, and anxiety all at once. You want to yell at Cornflower, and give her biggest heart-hurties as punishment. Last night, you still had a small pile of nummies stored up here in the nestie, and you had gone to sleep with dreams of numming them this morning…and now your dummeh special friend was telling you that she gave them ALL to the babbehs? You needed some of those, too!
But in the end, you just clench your teethies, and let a loud sigh hiss through them, a few tears dribbling down your cheeks. You don’t want to be a meanie in front of your babbehs, so all you can do is suck it up.
“Huu…Bowt nu cawe. Bowt gu find nummies, huu…”
You break away from your babbehs’ huggies, making them cry for a moment, before they remember that they were playing with each other moments before. You walk right past Cornflower, giving her an indignant ‘Hmmph!’ as you pass her.
“Huu…am su sowwy, spechuw fwiend Bowt…Cownfwowah hungies, an’ babbehs wiww be hungies tuu wif nu nummies!”
“Bowt KNU. Bowt gu find nummies, aftow make poopies.”
“Cownfwowah sowwy, spechuw fwiend! Wuv!”
“Bowt wuv Cownfwowah.”
Finally, you step outside the nestie box, and immediately, a frigid breeze ruffles your fluff, making your teethies chatter a bit. Though you’ve never had to deal with them before now, you already know that you hate the cold times. You waddle a little ways away from the boxie…before planting yourself down on your rump, allowing the tears to flow freely now. You sob and heave, shivering and shuddering.
“Nu faiw! Bowt nee’ nummies tuu! Su tiwed an’ hoofie huwties fwom nummie findin’! Nu wan nu mowe! Huuhuu! Wan sissie an’ Mummah backsies! Wan sketties ebewy dawk-timesie agin! Su hungies!”
While you do love your fluffy family, they’re just so, so much work. You’ve never had to nummie find so much before, and you’re still not all that accustomed to the big, scary outside world, especially now that it’s so cold out these days. No, you still feel like the place you belong is far away from here, far away from this upturned wooden boxie, filled with the sounds of happy, playful babbehs.
You lay your head down on the cold ground, trying to daydream and reminisce about your previous life as best as your poor fluffy memory can manage. You remember being taken home from the fluffy shop one day, alongside your best friend and sister, Gracie. You were adopted by a loving hoomin mummah, who showered the both of you with unending love and affection. It was the greatest gift any fluffy could ever ask for, and you got to share it with your favorite sister. It was paradise.
Most of the time, though, your hoomin mummah had to go somewhere called “skool”, so you would go some forevers without seeing her, which made the both of you pretty saddies…but whenever she was back home, she would always make the two of you sketties, every single dark-time. You remembered that part the best, your tummeh growling and mouthie watering as you imagine it. You missed sketties, above everything else.
Then, one day, your hoomin mummah’s daddeh had burst in, yelling at her about ‘disrespect’ and ‘irresponsibility’ and lots of other big words you didn’t understand. Hoomin mummah yelled back, then stormed out of the housie. Her daddeh then started yelling at you and Gracie, for no reason! You were good fluffies! Then the next thing you knew, he had scooped the two of you into a sorry box, took you into the vroom-vroom, and then tossed the two of you and the box out into a random alley. You never saw your hoomin mummah again. You’ve never had sketties again since then.
“Huu…miss sketties…miss sissie…”
You wish you could remember more about your sister, but you can’t even remember her fluff or mane color anymore at this point. All you remember when you think about Gracie now, is the way she went up to that one hoomin on the sidewalk, begging for his help to find your mummah. Then, a moment later, the hoomin’s foot came down, squashing your beloved sister in an instant…
You shake your head, crying harder now. That’s the one memory you wish you COULD forget.
You had run away, fleeing back into the alleyways, and lived your life as well as you could…which is to say, you almost starved to death before Cornflower, another lost fluffy, had found you. Together, the two of you had managed to gather enough nummies to survive, and even eventually thrive. And so it was that the two of you fell in love, and decided to be special friends, and once you found this cozy wooden boxie, next to a convenient drippy pipe for when you needed water, you had decided to have a family.
Cornflower had four beautiful babbehs…but two of them were already forever sleepies as soon as they came out of her, never letting out even a single chirp. It gave you both the biggest saddies. But then, you heard your colt making chirpies, which made you so happies! So you named him Happies! And then your filly was so pretty, so you named her Pretty! Two of the bestest babbeh names ever!
For a time, life was good again, and you were fairly content. You would play with your little babbehs, cuddle with your special friend, find plenty of nummies, though the memory of sketties always lingered in your mind. But nowadays…
Happies and Pretty were both teethie-babbehs now, and didn’t want to drink milkies anymore. They nummed nummies just like you and Cornflower now, which wouldn’t usually be an issue…except that the cold times seemed to be here. If not for the fact that there was luckily a vent in the wall next to your boxie that breathed out warm air on occasion, your nestie would be even more miserable. Worst of all, though…you‘ve barely found any nummies at all, anywhere.
So now, you were just tired, and stressed, and angry all the time. You were on the verge of a fluffy breakdown. This isn’t what you wanted, not at all. It’s not fair! You wanted to be happies, not hungry! You wanted to be warm again! You wanted sketties! All you wanted were sketties again! You wanted -
“S-Spechuw fwiend? Am otay? Nee’ huggies? Huu, Cownfwowah finked Bowt was gun’ find nummies…”
You jump a little, startled out of your stupor by Cornflower’s sudden appearance out of the boxie. Your special friend shivers in the cold breeze, looking at you pleadingly.
“Bowt am otay. Nee’ make poopies fiwst! Den nummies! Cownfwowah gu pway wif babbehs, pwease.”
“Huu, otay…”
Cornflower looks down before turning back around and into the nestie, as you get back up and trundle over to the poopie pile. You turn around and squat over it, puffing your cheeks out in exertion as you start to take care of business.
“Hrrrnnn!”
“D-daddeh…pwease nu mowe poopies…nu wan num nu mowe, huuhuu! Wowstes’ tummeh huwties!”
Oh, right. You guess Cornflower technically had FIVE babbehs, but you didn’t like to count poopie babbeh. He was far too not-pretty to ever live with the rest of your family, so he had been tossed into the poopie pile with his stillborn siblings the very first day. He had somehow managed to survive, probably off of your two good babbehs’ milky poopies, and now he just simply…existed, still surviving by consuming your family’s solid waste, which was absolutely disgusting in your opinion. Puke green fluff and brown mane…ew.
“Poopie babbeh shaddup. Nu wuv.”
You grunted, before unloading a massive pile of foul poopies right on top of him, much to his displeasure.
“Huuhuu, nuuu! Nu wan, nu wan!”
“Bowt teww poopie babbeh SHADDUP! Nu wike wisten tu poopie babbeh make tawkies. Nu am pwetty an’ nu smeww pwetty!”
“Huu…am su sowwy, daddeh…poopie babbeh knu…”
You roll your eyes, before trotting off into the crisscrossing alleyways, begrudgingly beginning your search for nummies. Although it was so much work, the constant grumbling in your tummeh reminded you that you really did need to find something, anything more than the crumbs you’ve so far managed to locate. It was terrible timing, Happies and Pretty being weaned right when the cold times had come…but you’d make something work, especially now that you were all out of nummies. Most importantly, maybe you could at least find something for yourself, first.
So far this bright-time, you’ve had the same luck as the several before it, not finding any sort of nummies anywhere. The cold asphalt of the alleyways digs into your soft hoofies the further you trek, making you wince every couple of steps. You’re so tired…why did this have to happen to you? You and your sister were always such good fluffies for your mummah! And you still were a good fluffy! You deserved sketties…if only you knew where to find them.
Then, as if some fluffy god was answering your prayers…you turned the corner around the alleyway, and stopped in your tracks…something very strange, yet tantalizing standing there before you.
“Put babbehs in boxie, an’ git sketties~!”
The voice of a fluffy appeared seemingly out of nowhere, making you flinch in fear. You looked all around, tail between your legs…yet you didn’t see any other fluffy. You were still cautious, though…you had been through this same alley just a bright-time or two ago, and this strange boxie standing against the wall wasn’t here then.
“Put babbehs in boxie, an’ git sketties~!”
There it was again! You jump again, startled, making scaredy-peepees all over the ground…but the wonder you were experiencing, marveling at this strange boxie, compelled you to stay. You inched closer to it, staring in awe at the picture plastered across it. A happy looking fluffy, and happy looking little babbehs, all eating a plate of…sketties…
“Put babbehs in boxie, an’ git sketties~!”
“H-Hewwo? Nyu fwiend? Nyu fwiend in boxie? Am sowwy boxie? Whewe am sketties? Huuhuu, Bowt wan sketties! Pwease!”
You slowly approach the boxie, looking up at the happy picture. The boxie itself…must be speaking to you! It sounds a little different than most fluffies, at least from what you can tell, but it’s definitely making talkies to you! And it keeps mentioning sketties, as it repeats its mantra once more.
“Pwease gib sketties, boxie-fwiend! Bowt wuv sketties! Bowt wiww du anyfing fow sketties! Am su hungies, an’ famiwy su hungies tuu! Nee’ gib babbehs nummies, an’ - “
“Put babbehs in boxie, an’ git sketties~!”
“Huuhuu, nu make tawkies wen Bowt am make tawkies! Nu be meanie!”
You sniffle and pout, before your attention is grabbed by the strange protrusion on the front of the machine. You inspect it, and it seems like a small chute, leading down into the boxie, a thin plastic flap separating the insides of the contraption from the outside world. Above the chute, painted on the boxie, is a small babbeh symbol, with an arrow pointing down towards the chute. Being a fluffy, you have no idea what any of this means. All you know is that you were big enough to easily look down at the chute, and crawl into it…but the hole into the boxie was far too small for you.
“Sketties am in dewe? Huu, buh am tuu smaww fow Bowt! Howe wook dawk an’ scawy, wike sowwy boxie! Pwease, boxie-fwiend! Nee’ sketties!”
“Put babbehs in boxie, an’ git sketties~!”
gasp “‘Ou am wite, boxie-fwiend! Babbehs am smaww an’ wiww fit in howe! Den babbeh bwing sketties out fow Bowt an’ famiwy! ‘Ou su smawty, boxie-fwiend! Buh, huu, sowwy howe wook dawk an’ scawedie…nu wan make gud babbehs gu in…”
Then, your tiny fluffy brain realizes something. Sure, you don’t want to have to force your good babbehs, Happies and Pretty, to crawl into that scary hole to look for sketties…but you don’t have to use one of your good babbehs. You have an ugly, stupid, worthless babbeh, a poopie babbeh, waiting for you back at the nestie.
A big smile breaks out on your face as you start to hop up and down in anticipation. Yes! You’ll make poopie babbeh crawl into the boxie-friend for the sketties! You’ll have to make sure he won’t be able to num any of them, of course, since he’s only allowed to num poopies…but you’re sure you’ll work something out, one way or the other.
“Put babbehs in boxie, an’ git sketties~!”
“Bowt wiww, boxie-fwiend! Fanku! Bowt wiww be backsies! Nu weave, nu weave! Wite backsies!”
You turn around, running back towards your nestie as fast as your little leggies can carry you, the pain in them from so much nummie-finding not so noticeable anymore. Your wingies buzz excitedly as well, everything suddenly looking up. If you can truly have sketties again, everything will be okay.
It doesn’t take long for you to get back to your boxie, as you actually didn’t really go very far at all, having just moped around and cried most of the time you were supposed to have been nummie-finding…but that wouldn’t be a problem anymore. Waddling up to the poopie pile, you looked down with disgust at the tiny little poopie babbeh, curled up within. He was easily half the size of your good babbehs, stick thin and covered with the wispiest, unhealthiest fluff you’ve ever seen. He’s so not pretty, you hate him so much. Nonetheless…better to have him go in the scary hole than the other babbehs.
Poopie babbeh doesn’t notice you, all curled up and sobbing as he is. He smushes himself further into the pile of poopie sludge, trying his best to keep his emaciated body warm from the freezing wind as he idly nums on the poopie pile. You reach a hoofie down, nudging him.
“SCREEE! Pwease, nu, daddeh! Nu mowe sowwy hoofies! Poopie am sowwy, am sowwy! Huuhuuhuuuu!”
“SHADDUP! Bowt…uh, Bowt nee’…ugh, Bowt nee’ poopie babbeh’s hewp. Hewp Bowt, an’, uh, Bowt wiww wuv.”
Poopie babbeh’s see-places light up, the first time in his short life hope has ever entered those eyes. He shakily gets up, a big smile spreading across his stupid face, his underdeveloped gums looking red and inflamed.
“Yus! Yus, daddeh! Poopie babbeh wuv! Poopie babbeh…su happies! Nebah be happies befow! Poopie wuv!”
You sneer at the disgusting sight, quickly turning around and beginning to walk back to the boxie-friend.
“Bowt nu cawe. Fowwow Bowt, poopie!”
As you waddle away, you hear something slap against the ground behind you, followed by desperate cries.
“Huuhuu! Daddeh! Poopie babbeh’s weggies nu wowk! Huu, pwease weggies, WOWK! Nee’ daddeh tu wuv! PWEASE!”
You let out an exasperated groan, rolling your eyes. You really do have to do everything around here, don’t you? You turn back around, stepping up to the pathetic little poopie, looking down at him. His little leggies are so scrawny, probably since he’s never left the poopie pile in his life. Even if he does manage to make his leggies work…it would take forever to get back to the boxie-friend. And you want sketties NOW.
“Bowt wiww…gib poopie upsies. Nu wuv ow huggies, buh upsies.”
“Dis…dis am bestes’ bwite-timesie ebah! Fanku, fanku Daddeh!”
Ignoring him, you brace yourself for what you have to do next. Trying your best not to breathe in too much, you lean down and bite down on the scruff of poopie babbeh’s neck…being none too gentle, of course.
“Owwies! Huuhuu, bad upsies! Wai Daddeh gib poopie babbeh huwties? Nu wuv? Huu!”
You grunt in response as you pick him up in your mouthie, gagging on his taste. You huuhuu a bit, he tastes so not-pretty! You hate this, you hate this so much! You bite down a little harder, tasting boo-boo juice as poopie babbeh screams out in pain. You don’t give him any more hurties after that, though…you still need him, as much as you’re loathe to admit it. You need to get those sketties. They’re the only thing keeping you going at this point, honestly.
The two of you set off, poopie babbeh seemingly happies to be spending time with his daddeh for the first time in his life…except for the fact that every time he tries to express this happiness, you bite down a little harder onto his back, making his scree and peep in pain each time. And yet, he always starts to talk about how happies he is again to be with you a few moments later, despite all the pain. He really is so DUMMEH. You hate him.
Soon enough, the two of you arrive at the boxie-friend, the same mechanical-sounding fluffy voice echoing into the alleyway.
“Put babbehs in boxie, an’ git sketties~!”
“Daddeh! Sketties! Poopie babbeh nu knu wha sketties am, buh wike namesie! Wha am sketties, Daddeh?”
You ignore him, trotting to the boxie-friend, right up to the chute. Without warning, you release poopie babbeh from your mouthie, watching him flail as he falls.
“SCREEE! Nu, Daddeh!”
Poopie babbeh clangs against the inside of the chute…but his weak little forelegs manage to hook onto the lip of it! His tiny body hangs on, facing up at you, tears in his crusty, pink-tinged see-places. He makes scaredy-poopies in fear, his putrid waste tumbling down the chute and into the boxie-friend. You don’t know how he wasn’t able to walk, yet is able to keep himself from sliding into the boxie-friend. Why is he making this so difficult?
“Nuuu! Nu wan gu in sowwy boxie! Pwease, Daddeh, sabe babbeh! Daddeh nu wuv babbeh nu mowe?”
“Bowt NEBAH wuv dummeh poopie babbeh. Sketties in boxie-fwiend, buh nee’ babbeh tu gu find sketties. Poopie babbeh find sketties fow Bowt, NAOW. An’ nu num sketties, ow Bowt gib fowevah sweepies tu dummeh!”
“Huuhuu, nuuu! Howe am dawk an’ scawy! Nu wan, nu wan!”
“DUMMEH POOPIE BABBEH GIT SKETTIES FOW BOWT, NAOW! NEE’ SKETTIES! NEE’ SKETTIES!”
“Nuhuuhuu! Sabe babbeh, Daddeh! PWEASE! Poopie babbeh wuv!”
You grit your teethies in frustration, pure hatred shining in your see-places as you stare down at poopie babbeh, as you rear up and slam your front hoofies down on top of poopie babbeh’s. With his forelegs hooked onto the metal lip of the chute, the force of your sorry hoofies slamming down onto his own shatters his weak little bones. The metal lip cuts up into his limbs, and along with the force of your blow, it ends up severing his leggies! With an ear-splitting screech of pain, he loses his grip, sliding right down the chute and past the plastic flap, boo-boo juice trailing after him.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEeeeeeee!”
And just like that…poopie babbeh is gone, disappeared behind the flap and into the bowels of the boxie-friend. His screams of pain disappear, and for a moment…silence.
Then, the boxie-friend starts to whirr and make loud, scary grinding noises! It startles you so much that you let out a terrified fart, before you tactically cover your see-places with your hoofies!
“EEP! Nu, boxie-fwiend! Nu huwt Bowt! Am gud fwuffy! Jus’ wan sketties, pwease! Huuhuu!”
Just as soon as it had started, though, the scary noises suddenly stop. You hesitantly uncover your see-places, looking up at the boxie-friend. Then, suddenly, a hatch on another spot of the boxie that you didn’t notice before pops open, and out slides…out slides…you don’t believe your see-places, but it’s real, and the boxie-friend confirms it.
“Fanku fow babbeh! Hab sketties~!”
Sketties.
A big fistful of steaming sketties, covered in a watery red sauce and some white powdery stuff, slide out of the hatch, splatting onto the dirty ground. You just stand there for a moment, staring at it. Drool drips from your mouthie, and your see-places fill to the brim with happy tears. You never thought you’d see sketties again. This is the most pretty sight you’ve ever seen.
“Bowt…hab su many heawt-happies…Bowt wuv boxie-fwiend, su muchies…fanku! Fanku fanku!”
You charge forwards, practically pouncing on top of the sketties. You jam as much of it into your mouthie as you can, giving yourself small burnie-hurties, but you don’t care at all. You slurp the delectable strands up, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. You wouldn’t know, but to hoomins, these were arguably the cheapest, crummiest low-quality noodles on the planet…but to you, it was fluffy ambrosia.
Every slurp, every num fills your being with nostalgia. Your hoomin mummah, making you and your sister sketties every single night…it was as if you were back there, in the safe room, giggling and playing and living the greatest fluffy life ever. As you munch on your feast, tears fall. You’re so happy again. You’re so happy. Everything is okay again. This. This is the feeling you’ve been chasing, ever since you were thrown out into this horrible world. Ever since you were forced to live out here, with Cornflower and the…
You stop, a noodle hanging out of your mouthie. You…almost forgot about your family. You sigh and huuhuu, knowing that you can’t eat all of this sketti on your own. Well, you obviously COULD, but you shouldn’t. Cornflower, she was so hungry, and the babbehs…they’ll be hungry too, after today. You have no nummies left at the nestie. It takes every ounce of your willpower to stop eating, but you do. You gather up the rest of the sketties, about half of it left, and stuff your cheeks with it, the excess hanging out of your mouth.
You begin the long walk back to your home, equal parts overjoyed and saddened. It’s so, so tempting to just eat the rest of it now…but you have to be a good daddeh. It’s the curse of having babbehs, you suppose. They’re so fun to play with and love and hug, but you’re forced to give up your precious sketties to them, too. But…you do love them. So bring them sketties, you shall.
As you return to the nestie box, stepping past the threshold from the outside and into the interior of the boxie, you’re greeted by Cornflower and the babbehs.
gasp “Spechuw fwiend…dat am…dat am sketties?! Bowt find sketties?! Yay! Yay! Babbehs, wook! Sketties, sketties! Cownfwowah wuv Bowt, su muchies!”
You spit out the sketties onto the floor, savoring the taste of it as Cornflower hops around, absolutely overjoyed. Like you, she also hasn’t had sketties in many forevers, ever since she had somehow gotten separated and lost from her hoomin mummah and daddeh when they were on a trip to this city.
Your pretty filly Pretty tentatively approaches the sketties, giving them a big sniff.
“Wha am sketties, Daddeh? Mmm, smeww su pwetty! Pwetty wuv!”
Your colt, Happies, waddles up by Pretty’s side, mimicking her actions, taking a big whiff of the sketties, before leaning in and taking a big bite, his little wingies buzzing with excitement as he does.
“Happies wuv pwetty smewws! Oo, tastes suuuu pwetty tuu! Wuv sketties! Wuv sketties!”
Your chest swells with pride, and you puff it out, your heart-happies still going strong as you pet Pretty’s mane.
“Heehee, sketties taste pwetty tuu, Pwetty! Daddeh bwing bestes’ nummies of aww fow famiwy! Bowt am bestes’ Daddeh!”
smack, slurp “Daddeh am wite! Bestes’ nummies ebah! Pwetty wuv!”
Cornflower runs up to you and gives you the biggest huggies ever, tears of joy in her see-places, prioritizing thanking you over digging in to the sketties, which Happies and Pretty have already started to do, loud smacks and snotty snorts coming from their unfettered gorging.
“Fanku su muchies, spechuw fwiend…Cownfwowah wuv! Cownfwowah num sketties aftow Bowt? Bowt du su gud, desewve sketties tuu!”
“Nu, Bowt awweady…um, yus! Fanku, Cownfwowah! Bowt am su hungies aftow nummie-findin’! Nee’ sketties!”
Your special friend nods, letting you past to get the first taste of sketties alongside your babbehs…or so she thinks. You feel kind of bad, lying to her about not having eaten yet, especially with how kind she always is to you…after today, you’ll be better, you swear. You won’t be so stressed anymore, and you won’t be so meanie to your special-friend.
You slurp down some more noodles, and another wave of bittersweet nostalgia hits you. Soon, you force yourself step away, letting Cornflower devour whatever meager leftovers you and the babbehs left. Happies and Pretty are both lying on their sides, breathing heavily, little babbeh tummehs distended from the sheer amount of pasta they packed away. They both have dazed, content little smiles on their faces. You loved them so much.
The rest of the day was spent with all of you cuddling cozily in a big, well-fed fluffpile, safe from the meanie cold winds outside. It was almost perfect. Later that dark-time, though, as you were trying to sleep, you suddenly had the worstest burnie hurties in your special lumps! It came out of nowhere, and you couldn’t do anything but cry for a bit. The same thing happened to Happies, too, as he curled up, shivering in pain. Cornflower and Pretty just had bad tummeh hurties for a bit, and nothing else, thankfully. Eventually, the weird hurties went away, and the lot of you managed to all fall asleep.
One thing is for sure…you’re definitely going back to your sketti boxie-friend, as soon as you can. Your nummie problems are over!
Or so you thought. The next day, you had gone back to your sketti-friend, and asked it nicely for more sketties.
“Hewwo, sketti-fwiend! Hab mowe nummies fow Bowt? Am hungies agin!”
“Put babbehs in boxie, an’ git sketties~!”
You cocked your head, confused. Babbehs in boxie…oh, right, duh. You trotted right up to the chute, before kicking it a few times and shouting down at the dark, scary hole.
“DUMMEH POOPIE BABBEH! Bowt am backsies! Git mowe sketti, ow Bowt gib ‘ou WOWSTES’ HUWTIES!”
And yet…nothing. No scary noises came from the sketti-boxie, making you really worried. What were you doing wrong? Why wasn’t poopie babbeh listening to you? He of all babbehs should know to listen to you, or else.
“Dummeh! Sketti, naow! NAOW!”
Still nothing. You were really starting to panic now. Why wasn’t anything happening? Where were your sketties? Oh no…did poopie babbeh num them all?
“Put babbehs in boxie, den git sketties~!”
“Bowt awweady heaw ‘ou, boxie-fwiend! Huu, wha Bowt du wong? Bowt put babbeh in boxie, den…den…”
Oh, wait. Put babbeh in boxie…you put poopie babbeh in the boxie…then…you got sketties! Which means, hmm…
Realization began to dawn on you, your tiny fluffy brain miraculously piecing things together as you stand there, your wingies absent-mindedly flap around. Your boxie-friend, it wanted babbehs. It wanted a babbeh, and in return…it gave you sketties! Babbehs for sketties! Sketties for babbehs! Yay! It all made sense now! You realize now that poopie babbeh never had anything to do with the sketties, thank goodness.
But, you had already given it a babbeh? You didn’t care at all about what happens to poopie babbeh, so your sketti-friend could do whatever it wanted with him. You cared about your other babbehs, though, and you didn’t think you could give those to your friend. That shouldn’t matter, though, since you had earned a lifetime supply of sketties in return…right?
“Huuhuu! Wai sketti boxie-fwiend nu gib Bowt mowe sketties? Wan sketties! Wan sketties! WAN SKETTIES!”
“Put babbehs in boxie, an’ git sketties~!”
“BOWT AWWEADY GIB ‘OU BABBEH, DUMMEH! ‘OU NU WISTEN TU BOWT! Huuhuu!”
Apparently not. This stupid sketti-friend was refusing to give you more sketties! It was cheating you! This wasn’t the deal you made with it! You just sat there, head pressed against the cold metal, sobbing and sobbing. You NEED more sketties. That warm, happy feeling in your heart…the bittersweet memories of your past life…you NEEDED that again. And, well, you were kind of expecting to never need to go nummie finding again. Unfortunately for you, that didn’t seem to be the case.
“Bowt am…am sowwy fow caww sketti-fwiend dummeh. Buh nu hab nu mowe bad babbehs fow sketties…onwy hab gud babbehs! An’ Bowt, huu, nu wan gib gud babbehs…buh sketties…huuhuu…”
With that, you left the sketti-friend, sobbing your fluffy heart out. Along the way, you had managed to gather up a couple of discarded sunflower seeds for nummies, but it was a pittance compared to the feast you had managed to bring home the day before. You brought the nummies back to the nestie, sniffling.
“Huu…am sowwy, Cownfwowah…Bowt onwy find wittow seedie nummies, nu sketties…”
Your special friend gives you another big hug, nuzzling you, pure love on her face.
“It otay, spechuw fwiend Bowt! Cownfwowah wike seedie nummies! Can find sketties 'nuddah timesie! Fanku fow nummies!”
“Bowt…miss sketties.”
You hunkered down for the rest of the dark-time, mindlessly munching on a little seed. It tasted…not pretty. It didn’t taste anything like sketties. You really wish you had more sketties. And as you went to sleep that night, your tummeh still grumbling a bit after the meager meal of the day…you really, REALLY wished you had sketties. That was the only thing on your mind the next day, too, as yet another bright-time passed with you finding barely any nummies. Only enough crumbs to stave off starvation…but not gnawing hunger itself. Even your babbehs were starting to get hungry, now, and it was only getting colder and colder out.
You tried to ignore it…but more than once, your see-places would glance over at your babbehs. You would always look away, feeling horrible for the thoughts your thinky-place was thinking. Every day, though, you’d look longer and longer…and your mouthie would start to water, with the knowledge you now possessed. Babbehs for sketties. Sketties. Your willpower was slowly breaking down…though, you had a plan. A completely foolproof plan, that you had been thinking up since your discovery.
A plan that you decided to finally put into action, one day when you woke up hungry, to the sounds of distress from Cornflower.
“EEEP! Bwankies am su cowd bwankies! Cownfwowah nu wike, nu wike! Huuhuu!”
You jolt upright, startled out of your sleep, looking over at the mouth of your boxie nest where all the commotion was coming from. Outside, you could see that a thick layer of snow had fallen overnight, looking like a big, white fluffy blankie covering the ground. You suppose that Cornflower thought that, too, seeing as how she had jumped right in. Now her fluff was covered with wet, cold stuff, tears flowing from her see-places as she sat there, wiggling her hoofies in a desperate attempt at huggies. Your babbehs are quick to answer the huggie call, though they complain about how wet and cold their mummah was now.
“Huuhuu! Su many cowd bwankies! Nu can weave nestie boxie naow, babbehs! Naow Cownfwowah an’ babbehs nee’ make poopies in boxie!”
Your foals cry in displeasure, scooting away from their mummah in fear of not pretty smells.
“Nuu! Come back, babbehs, nee’ make fwuffpiwe wif Mummah su be wawmsies agin, pwease!”
Upon seeing that you’ve waken up, Cornflower runs up to you, a pleading look on her face compounded by the familiar sounds of a growling tummeh.
“Spechuw fwiend Bowt! Nestie nu hab nummies nu mowe! Bigges’ hungies an’ bigges’ cowdies! Pwease, make cowdies gu ‘way, ow find nummies fow babbehs! Cownfwowah wuv, huuhuu!”
You groan and slowly get up, feeling quite hungry yourself. You step past your annoying special friend, ignoring her, before you look over at both your babbehs, the two of them hugging each other now and crying as loudly as they can.
“Huuhuu! Pwease, Daddeh! Pwetty hab wowstes’ tummeh huwties! Hungies, hungies, hungies!”
“Daddeh! Daddehhhh! How time tiww mowe sketties? Happies weawwy nee’ sketties, am su hungies!”
You look outside again, worry clear on your face. That’s a lot of snow…
“Bowt sowwy, babbehs…su many cowd bwankies ou’side! Nebah find nummies wite naow!”
“Nuuhuuhuuu!”
You grunt and try to cover your hear-places with your hoofies. Your special friend, your babbehs, all of them are crying and yelling and it’s all just so stressful and annoying…you clench your teethies, trying to think of better thoughts. Sketti thoughts. Sketties…your sketti-friend was the solution to this whole problem, once again. You just needed help again…from one of your good babbehs, this time.
“Famiwy! Wet Bowt make tawkies!”
“Huuhuu! Nu nummies! Tuu cowd! Poopies nu smeww pwetty, huuhuu! Wai meanie cowd bwankies nu wet Cownfwowah make gud poopies in poopie piwe?”
“Happies nee’ nummies! Huuhuu!”
“Pwetty wan - “
“Bowt teww famiwy, SHADDUP!”
Your special friend and two babbehs all fall quiet, shocked into silence by your outburst, their eyes shining with fear when they look at you, all their lips pouting and trembling. You sigh, not having wanted to have been so meanie to them…but they’re just so annoying, sometimes. You just want sketties, that’s all you want.
“Bowt knu whewe tu git sketties fow nummies. Buh Bowt nee’ hewp fwom babbehs. Happies, fowwow Daddeh, wiww gib hewp fow git sketties fow bestes’ nummies!”
Your wingie colt looks up at you with excitement, yet also apprehension. He had never gone with you on a nummie-finding adventure before!
“O-otay, Daddeh! Happies wiww be bestes’ nummie-findew!”
Then, suddenly, Cornflower runs in front of him, keeping Happies safe behind her as she looks at you pleasingly.
“Nu! Spechuw fwiend, Happies am onwy wittow babbeh! Nu gud ou’side nestie boxie! Huu, tuu cowd fow babbeh!”
You shake your head, putting your hoofie down. Your heart is pounding, you just noticed. Your entire body is tensed up with the excitement of getting sketties again. You can hardly wait, and you’re not going to let Cornflower get in the way of that!
“Happies WIWW come wif Bowt. Happies am teefie-babbeh, nums nummies, an’ is awmos’ big fwuffy naow. Happies nee’ weawn nummie-findin’, su Happies can hewp Bowt find aww da nummies fow famiwy! Ow ewse famiwy be hungies fowevah!”
Cornflower shrinks back and huuhuus, looking back and forth between you and Happies. Eventually, she relents, knowing that you’re speaking the truth. Your heart leaps with excitement as she steps aside, allowing Happies to run up to your side, wingies all abuzz.
“Otay, spechuw fwiend…Cownfwowah du wan aww da nummies, huu. Nu wan be hungies nu mowe. Huuhuu, Happies, fowwow Daddeh, an’ nu ‘spwowin! Nu git wost ow tuu cowdies, huu…”
“Nu wowwy, Mummah! Happies am bestes’ nummie-findew! Wiww bwing aww da sketties, mmm!”
Pretty steps forward, barely able to contain her tears as she gives her favorite brother a big huggie.
“Pwease nu be gone wong, bwudda! Pwetty nee’ Happies fow wun an’ pway an’ wuv! Huu!”
“Nu wowwy, sissie! Happies wuv!”
“Fowwow Bowt, Happies. Nee’ gu naow.”
The two of you step out of the nestie box, both of you huuing and shivering at how cold the snow is, frost crunching against your soft, sensitive hoofies. You’re worried at first that Happies might be too small to traverse through the snow, but thankfully, he’s big enough of a foal now to manage. Now, you’re just worried he won’t be able to fit into the sketti box…
“Huu, Happies am su cowd! Buh…buh Happies wuv nummie-findin’ wif Daddeh! Fanku, Daddeh! Wuv ‘spwowin!”
You ignore him, your mind completely preoccupied with something else, something far more important than him…sketties, of course. You can’t help but drool, your tummeh grumbling louder and louder with every step, the thought of sketties taking over your mind. This time, though, you had a good plan. You’d trick your sketti-friend! It was the smartest idea any fluffy had ever had! You were so smarty!
And as you and your colt finally approach the sketti boxie, you knew it was time to put the plan into action.
“Put babbehs in boxie, an’ git sketties~!”
Happies looked up in wonder and amazement at the sketti box, mouthie hanging open. You stepped up to him, petting him gently with a hoofie.
“Otay, Happies! Hewe da pwan. Sketti-boxie wan babbehs, an’ gib sketties fow babbehs! Su, Daddeh wiww gib sketti-boxie Happies…”
Happies looks at you, his see-places blinking a few times, before he jumps up, terror on his face as he starts to run away from you.
“Wha? Nu! Huuhuu, Daddehhh, Happies nu wan gu in sowwy boxie! Wan sketties! Pwease nu put Happies in scawy dawk howe! Am gud babbeh!”
“Happies, wisten tu Bowt! Happies am wingie cowt, wike Daddeh! Su Daddeh wiww put Happies in howe, den sketti-boxie gib sketties…den Happies use wingies tu fwy back tu Daddeh! Den num sketties, yay!”
Happies stops trying to run away, standing still now in front of you, his little babbeh mind trying to process what you’ve told him. He buzzes his wingies a few times, mulling over the plan as he shivers in the cold.
“Huu…Happies weawwy wan sketties…buh howe am su dawk, Happies am scawedies…buh…”
You step up to your colt, giving him a nice, warm huggie, comforting him.
“Pwease, Happies! Bowt nee’ sketties, su muchies! Cownfwowah nee’ sketties! An’ Pwetty…Pwetty weawwy nee’ sketties. Pwetty am su hungies…onwy Happies can hewp famiwy! Pwease! Huuhuu!”
Your colt embraces you warmly, before he steps back, stamps his hoofie down, and puffs out his cheeks proudly.
“Yus! Happies wiww git sketties fow famiwy! Wiww sabe famiwy! Gib…um, gib Happies tu sketti-boxie, Daddeh! Wiww fwy ‘way wif wingies wen hab sketties!”
“Yay! Fanku, Happies, fanku! ‘Ou am bestes’ babbeh!”
Happies beams up with you, his warm, loving smile seeming to dispel any cold you might be feeling right now. Then, you reach down and gently pick him up with your mouthie, carrying him over to the chute. You gingerly set him down into it, and your colt immediately begins to slide downwards into the machine!
“Eeeee! Am su scawedies! Huuhuu, Daddeh, Happies nu wan nu moooowe!”
Down Happies slides, his tiny wingies helplessly buzzing, before he barrels head-first right through the plastic flap. Then, just like that, he’s gone.
You wait outside, anxiously trotting back and forth in front of the sketti-boxie. Sure enough, just like last time, the machine whirrs to life, and that same grinding noise from last time fills your hear-places. It doesn’t scare you this time, though, since you know what’s coming next. The only thing worth living for anymore in this cruel, cold world. You breathe rapidly, see-places laser focused on the hatch, obsessively licking your lips.
Finally, after so long, the grinding stops, the hatch flips open, and out drops a heap of incredible-looking sketties, their heat beginning to melt the snow around them. You’re on them in an instant, barely even chewing as you num sketti after sketti. Happy tears flow from your see-places again, the taste bringing you right back to happier times. The happiest of times. Biggest heart-happies…Happies?
You freeze, suddenly remembering. Where was Happies? You glance at the chute, leaving your sketties alone for a moment as you step up to it.
“Happies? Sketti-fwiend gib Bowt sketties…babbeh can weave boxie naow. Happies am bestes’ fow git sketties! Fwy wif wingies, otay?”
You stand there, waiting. Nothing. A weird feeling of dread washes over you.
“H-Happies? Wai nu fwy ‘way fwom sketti-fwiend? Nu…nu wuv nu mowe? Huuhuu…”
Still, nothing, not even a peep. You glance back and forth between the sketti-boxie and your sketties, conflicted. You needed to bring the sketties back to your family…why wasn’t Happies coming out? You were starting to get stressed, and thus, angry.
“Happies! Fwy ‘way fwom howe NAOW! If babbeh nu fwy ‘way, den, den…den Bowt wiww weave Happies hewe wif sketti-boxie! An’ wiww take sketties wif Bowt!”
You rear up and bang your hoofies against the sketti-friend, to no avail. You step back, huuhuu a bit more…before the stress fully overtakes you.
“Happies nu wuv Daddeh nu mowe? BOWT NU CAWE! BOWT HAB SKETTIES AN’ HEAWT-HAPPIES AGIN! NU WAN DUMMEH COWT NU MOWE! BOWT NU WUV! AN’ ‘OU NU GIT SKETTIES! ONWY BOWT AN’ BOWT SISSIE GWACIE DU!”
In a rage, you scarf down a few more big bites of sketties, before gathering up the rest, little less than a third left, into your mouthie, carrying them back to your nestie box. Tears of anger and rejection flow down your cheeks as you do…until the warm taste of sketties in your mouthie calms you down, making you feel like everything in life is alright again. You idly chew on the ball of sketties in your mouthie, wanting to taste them as much as you can until you’re forced to give them away to your family.
Your annoying, ungrateful family. They’re nothing like your hoomin Mummah was, or like your sister Gracie was. They truly loved and appreciated you. They were the only ones that ever truly mattered to you. And the feeling numming sketties gave you, was the only feeling anywhere close to how your mummah and sissie made you feel. All you wanted anymore were these sketties…a little taste of how things used to be. Anything other than that, you didn’t really care about anymore.
You stepped into your nestie box, the warm air blowing from the vent outside making it feel nice and cozy. Your return was met with happiness as Cornflower and Pretty crowded up around you.
“Yay! Sketties, sketties, sketties! Pwetty wuv sketties! Can hab naow, Daddeh? Pwease, am su hungies!”
“Fanku, spechuw fwiend! Cownfwowah nee’ nummies, wan sketties naow, pwease!”
You stand there, skettie strands hanging out of your mouthie. You…you don’t want to give them sketties. These are your sketties. You had worked so hard for them, out in the freezing cold! Pretty sits on her rump, starting to sniffle and pout.
“Huuhuu! Daddeh, pwease! Pweaaaase gib sketties! Tummeh hab wowstes’ owwies!”
Cornflower and Pretty both look at you, begging and waving their hoofies at you. Finally, you snap out of it…and reluctantly spit out the rest of the sketties onto the floor, huuhuuing as you do so. Your special friend and filly are quick to run forwards, both of them slurping up all the sketties they can. No! Your precious sketties! Why would you let them do that?
“W-wait, famiwy! Weave sum fow Bowt! Huuhuu, nee’ mowe sketties!”
At the sound of your crying, Cornflower forces herself to stop gorging, stepping away with a guilty look on her face.
“Am su sowwy, spechuw fwiend! Cownfwowah wuv sketties su muchies, awmos’ fowgit tu wet Bowt hab sum tuu! Huu, Cownfwowah am sowwy! Am bad spechuw fwiend!”
You glare at her for a few seconds, before you drop down to the floor, slurping away at the dwindling noodles. You go for the last one…but then Pretty snatches it up, and gulps it down!
“Mmm! Pwetty wuv sketties! Tummeh su happies naow! Fanku Dadde - “
“DUMMEH PWETTY! DAT AM BOWT’S SKETTI! WAI NUM?!”
Pretty jumps back, horror on her face, scaredy-poopies dribbling out of her behind from the shock of you screaming at her. Her face twists up, and she starts sobbing.
“Huuhuu! Am su sowwy Daddeh! Huu! Pwetty wuv, Pwetty wuv!”
“Pwetty NU num Bowt’s sketties, EBAH agin! Ow ewse Bowt gib sowwy-hoofies! Dey am sketties onwy fow BOWT an’ GWACIE!”
“Huuhuu! Wha am ‘Gwacie’, Daddeh? Pwetty nu knuhuuhuu!”
You start to approach Pretty, getting ready to smack this stupid sketti-thief around…before Cornflower speaks up, stopping you in your tracks.
“Whewe…whewe am Happies, spechuw fwiend? Whewe am Cownfwowah’s wittow wingie cowt? Happies gu nummie-findin’ wif Bowt, den…whewe am?”
You sigh, the rage draining out of you. You turn to Cornflower, a tired look on your face. You just can’t deal with this right now.
“Happies…Happies git wost in cowd snuw. Bowt nu can find. Am sowwy.”
A look of pure horror washes over Cornflower’s face, as she sits back on her rump in total shock, staring forward at nothing in particular.
“Wha? Buh…buh Happies…buh Bowt…buh…”
Then, an ear-splitting wail of pure grief erupts from Pretty, making you wince.
“BUUHUUHUU! PWETTY’S BESTES’ BWUDDA AM WOST! WAI BWUDDA AM WOST?! PWETTY NEE’ BWUDDAAAHUUHUU!”
“Huuhuu! Cownfwowah’s wittow babbeh Happies am wost in cowd bwankies! Cownfwowah nu can find…am tuu cowdsies! Nuuu! Pwetty am wastes’ babbeh naow! Spechuw fwiend, pwease gib huggies fow bigges’ heawt-huwties!”
You begrudgingly reach your hoofies out, letting Cornflower hug you tightly for comfort as she sobs her fluffy heart out. Pretty lets out a few more cries, before she runs up and joins the hug. As your family hugs you, you feel…nothing. Nothing but the burning desire for more sketties. It feels weird, not feeling anything…it should concern you, you know it should. Your babbeh, Happies, is lost in the sketti-boxie, potentially forever. You should be sobbing your little eyes out, just like your special friend and your filly are.
But all you can think about are sketties. Sure, Happies was gone…but he had gotten you sketties before he disappeared. That’s all that really mattered. It’s all you could think about as you glare down at Pretty, her face twisted up in the agony of grief as she looks around frantically, loudly pleading with the universe for her brother back.
You can’t help but notice all the sketti-sauce still on her, staining her fluffy muzzle. She took your sketties, just a bit ago. Sketti-thief…you hate sketti-thieves. You can feel rage rising within you, before Cornflower interrupts again.
“Huuhuu…Cownfwowah wan find Happies…buh am tuu cowdies…wan make wawm fwuffpiwe wif famiwy…huu, saddies…”
“NU! PWETTY WAN FIND BWUDDA NAOW! NEE’ BWUDDA, NEE’ BWUDDA! HUUHUU!”
Pretty suddenly turns and runs from the huggies, dashing out of the wooden boxie nest and into the growing dark outside! Cornflower screams, waddling towards the entrance of the nestie.
“NUUU! HUU, PWEASE COME BACKIES, PWETTY! NU WAN WOSE WASTES’ BABBEH!”
You just sit there, silent. You wish you had more sketties.
Then, after what feels like a forever, Cornflower sobbing by the boxie’s entrance…Pretty waddles back in, cream-colored fluff covered in snow, a defeated look on her face.
“Huuhuu! Am tuu cowd an’ dawk-timesie! Nu wan find bwudda wite naow! Huuhuu! Pwetty am su cowdies, nee’ fwuffpiwe!”
Cornflower leads your filly over to the warmest corner of the boxie, near where your family had been forced to make poopies earlier due to the snow outside. After they both complain about not-pretty smells, they decide to move the meager fluffpile to the second warmest corner of the boxie. Your special friend curls up around Pretty, warming up your foal and trying her best to comfort her in the face of all this sudden loss. Cornflower lifts her head up and looks over at you, a sad look on her face.
“Spechuw fwiend? Pwease make fwuffpiwe wif Cownfwowah an’ Pwetty? Cownfwowah wuv Bowt…”
You decide to just lay down where you are now, across the boxie from your remaining family, just silently staring over at them. You don’t even really know why you do this, but you do.
“Huu…Cownfwowah sowwy, spechuw fwiend…”
You just keep staring, mainly at Pretty. Mainly at the red sketti-sauce, staining her fluff. Meanie sketti-thief. How could she do this to you?