“Dummeh hughman! Dis SMAWTY WAND! Gib sketties NAO or get SOWWY HOOFIES!”
“For the last time, dude, this is a county shelter. We don’t have spaghetti money, my man.”
Connor didn’t particularly love Fluffys, but the shelter was the perfect place to get some volunteer hours on his resume. Most of the time he just popped a couple gummies and took a nap in a fluffpile, but today he’s been tasked with handling a particularly aggresive Bad Smarty. Cowabummer…
“Ou is DUMMEHST HUGHMAN! Smawty gib BIGGEST SOWWY HOO-”
Connor grabbed the Unicorn by his neck scruff, semi-gently tossing him into a kennel.
“SKREEEE! NO BAD UPPIES FOR SMAWTY! SMAWTY GIB DUMMEH HUGHMAN FOWEVVAH SWEEPIES!”
“Yeah, man, you’re never getting adopted like that.”
I wonder if a Fluffy could hit a pen. He’s not planning on finding out, but it’s a humorous enough thought to text to his cartoonist buddy- screaming Smarty pic included.
“The red bad smarty is still here?”
“What did you expect, Shauna. It’s one of the worst cases I’ve seen.”
Shauna grumbled, pushing a few braids away from her eyes. She loved her job as director, but the recent spike in BSS (That’s was shorthand for Bad Smarty Syndrome. Not very creative, but descriptive.) have been driving her up the wall.
“I’m… amazed Connor is still here. I gave him that bbbbbbb- uhm. Brat in hopes it would make him quit.”
“I’m amazed he hasn’t killed the thing.”
“Jonathon, please. He’s a useless stoner, but he’s not a Fluffy killer. Kid doesn’t even like using the sorry stick.”
Shauna didn’t love sorry sticks either, but in an overcrowded, underfunded county shelter, you have to do whatevers the quickest method sometimes… She tried to reserve them for aggresive BSS and Bitch-Mares, but the kinds of people that come into this shithole to “help” aren’t always… the cream of the society crop.
The rotund man huffed a bit. “My parents spanked me and I turned out fine.”
“You’re a twice divorced alcoholic chain smoker who works at a rundown Fluffy shelter. You don’t even like Fluffys.”
“…Fuck off.”
Despite this technically being HER office, Shauna heeds his word; but mostly because she needs to go talk to Connor.
“Connor. Whats the status on the red smarty?”
“AUGH- Fuck, boss, don’t sneak up on me like that-” Connor places his hand over his heart. “He’s still refusing his munchies until he gets some spaghetti or whatever.”
Groan. “It’s nearly been six months. If he doesn’t get scooped up soon…” As much as Shauna wished this was a no kill establishment… in an overcrowded, underfunded county shelter…
“Dumb fuck. Heh. That was my nickname in high school… Listen, man, I totally tried telling him that he would never get adopted like this, but I think his little Fluffy brain can’t comprehend that.”
“Right… Ugh. Ask Maryam to put out a last call ad for him, would you? I have to go smoke a drunkard out of my office.”
“Damn, boss. I didn’t know you were chill like that.”
“It’s just a saying, Connor.”
