A “smart” foal is hungry and angry at its scavenging mama…
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Jason, the mostly hug-boxer walks by. “Is that… is that a shit colored smarty? Little guy has no idea how lucky he is to even be getting milk at all.” Jason takes a look around, seeing that no human eyes are on him and the mother seems suitably distracted. “All right little shit monster, no need to make life harder on your poor mummah,” Jason says while picking up the Foal and gently tossing it into the open dumpster. “Should be plenty of food in there to last you to adulthood, and now your sweet mummah doesn’t have to deal with your literal shit,” and with that Jason heads home, his good deed for the day done.
Two months later, the infrequently used dumpster is finally emptied. When the container is tipped there is a brief Screeee and then a loud crunch. Taking a look the garbagemen see an emmaciated shit colored fluffy has fallen the 10 or so feet from the overturned dumpster to the hard concrete, where he met a splattery demise.
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You have sketti inside you, little one.
START BITTING YOURSELF you ungrateful cockjuggler
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one can only dream justice this sweet would be served 
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I see a candidate for surgical experimentation!
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Surgical experiments? Why not shoving a Moab on this ungrateful fucktard?
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It’s not as fun. Besides, imagine the look on his face when you show him his inner sketti.
Both can be done
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Yeah, but a missile is quick unless the fluffy knows about it ahead of time. When dealing with smarties, I prefer to go the slow route. Honestly, if they could survive vivisection, I’d do it, let them heal, and do it again and again until they finally die.
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