Soon-Mummah Specials: Chapter Two [by Wangew_Wick]

[Wangew_Wick]

SOON MUMMAH SPECIALS

A FluffMart Anthology

Chapter Two: Angel

In spite of the new sale that started that day, FluffMart was relatively empty. Of course, most people were at work on a Wednesday afternoon, so Jen and Keith spent most of their time hanging out around the sales counter. Jen browsed the FluffAroundCharlotte forums on the front desk computer to see what customers in the area were saying about FluffMart, the Soon-Mummah Special promotions, and fluffy ponies in general. Keith droned on about some new online game he’d gotten into—more than anything, Jen couldn’t wait until he left and Allie came in at four.

“…fortunately I found the killstealing faggot and lit his ass up. Then I—“

brrrrring

“Hang on Keith, let me grab that.” click “It’s a great day at FluffMart! This is Jen speaking. How may I help you?”

“Mmm hmm…yes, ma’am…yes, we sold one this morning, but still have three in stock. Let’s see, there’s a…pastel green earthie…a salmon-pink earthie…and an all-white pegasus. Well, she’s $129.99. Yes, ma’am. Yes, the commercial said that they start at $59.95, but since she’s a pegasus and is white with a white mane, she carries a higher price tag. Yes, I can hold her for two hours to give you a chance to come down here and make a decision. What name should I put on that? Ok, that’s M-C-C-L-E-L-L-A-N-D. Got it. We’ll see you this afternoon, Mrs. McClelland. Thank you, ma’am. Bye.” click

“I swear to God, I have no earthly idea why everyone over 65 feels the need to tell you they’re ‘on a fixed income’.”

The part-timer rolled his eyes and put his phone in his pocket. “So, what’s the old bat want?”

“One of the ‘Soon-Mummah Specials’. The white pegasus.”

Keith’s eyes got big and his jaw dropped. “Are you kidding? ‘Fixed income’, my ass—I barely make that kind of money in a week!”

Jen shrugged. “Eh, we’ll see. These people always talk a good game on the phone. Then, when they get to the store, their first stop is the bargain pen—and of course they want to run a dozen coupons.”

“Yeah, probably. Hey, you mind if I cut out early? There isn’t shit going on here, and Allie starts in half an hour.”

The assistant manager waved her hand. “Sure. I think I can hold the fort down until she gets here.”

Keith grabbed his bookbag from behind the counter and walked out the door. As soon as the automatic doors closed and the sales clerk was out of sight, Jen breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes I feel like he’s never going to leave.

---

Fifteen minutes later, Allie arrived for her shift. Jen didn’t mind for her to clock in early, because the perky 19-year old always found work to do. If there was nothing to be done in the store, she would go around and talk to the fluffies—for a place with so many foals, those cages could get awfully lonely.

Allie McKean was a sophomore business school student at UNCC, majoring in finance. Jack hired her because he had known her for years—they went to the same church, she babysat his and Judy’s four kids, and she had always been “a good kid”. Jen had been wary of her at first because of the personal connections, but she quickly impressed the assistant manager: she worked hard, did well in school, and she was the only store employee who genuinely loved fluffies.

“Hey Jen. Slow day?”

“Yeah. Sold a couple foals. One of the ‘Soon-Mummahs’.”

gasp “They’re here?”

Jen nodded, and the blonde clerk quickly made her way to the pens. “Well hello, pretty mares!”

“Hewwo, nice wady! Be nyu mummah fo soon-mummah an tummeh-babbehs?”

“No, I’m not. I have two fluffies at home,” Allie replied in a disappointed tone, “but I’m sure you’ll have a new mummah soon! You’re so pretty!”

“Fankoo, nice wady. Wook! Fwuffy haf pwetty wingies!” The pegasus fluttered them as if to demonstrate. “An haf pwetty taiw!” She turned around and swished her tail back and forth, making Allie giggle. “An haf soft, pwetty fwuff!” The pony shuffled over to the edge of the pen for scratchies, and the clerk happily obliged.

“She’s got a lady coming in to look at her, so I put her on hold,” Jen said. “If we can talk the old lady past the price tag, then I’ll bet she’ll get pampered like no fluffy ever has.”

Not five minutes later, Mrs. McClelland walked in. She rested on her cane with each step, but had a bright, pleasant smile that reminded Allie of her own sweet grandmother, who had passed away several months before.

“Hi, ma’am. Is there anything I can help you find today?”

“Yes, dear. I’m Sandra McClelland, I spoke to…Jen, I think…on the phone. She said she was going to put a fluffy on hold for me.”

“Yes, ma’am. She’s right over here.” Allie took the senior over and showed her the pegasus dam. She smiled when she saw the expression of wonder on the old woman’s face.

“Hewwo, nice wady! Be nyu mummah fo soon-mummah an tummeh-babbehs?”

“Oh, aren’t you just precious! You look like a little angel, with your pretty wings!”

Allie stood back while the woman carried on a conversation with the fluffy. For her, this was the most fun part of the job—connecting a person with a pet that would love them, no matter what.

The conversation continued for several minutes, and then the old lady turned to the clerk and said, “Ok, I’ll take her.”

“Great! Have you ever owned a fluffy before?”

“No, so I’ll definitely be needing some supplies, I think. Nothing’s too good for my little Angel.”

“Nyu mummah gif namie tu fwuffy? Fwuffy am Angew? Fankoo, mummah! Am Angew!” The pegasus reared up on her hind legs and flapped her wings joyfully.

---

“So, let’s see: that’s the $129.99 Soon-Mummah Special, the travel harness, a Sorry Stick,” Allie whispered this so as not to alarm the fluffy, “a litterbox, a bag of litter, a birthing mat, a bottle of ‘No Mowe Huu Huus’ Shampoo, a grooming set, a deluxe foal toy play kit, a food bowl, a water dish, the three-pack of stuffy-friends, the musical keyboard, a deluxe memory-foam bed, a night light, a FluffTV remote pad, and three cases of spaghetti. After the coupons, that comes to…$666.89.”

“Let’s add another can of spaghetti, dear. Shall we?”

“Ok. That brings it up to $667.95.”

“That’s fine, sweetie. Do y’all take personal checks?”

Jen was incredulous. Usually, little old ladies were the worst about haggling over prices. They would come in, buy the cheapest foals out of the bargain bin, buy them one or two toys, and opt for newspaper instead of spending $20 on a litterbox. And this particular one had even used the “fixed income” line over the phone!

Allie helped Miss Sandy (that’s what Mrs. McClelland had asked to be called) take everything out to her car. She even hooked up the travel harness, which allowed Angel the comfort of facing the front of the car without the indignity of being shoved into a “sorry bawks”. As Miss Sandy pulled out, Allie waved, and the white pegasus waved back happily.

---

“Yaaaaay! Angew wuv caw wide, mummah!”

The old woman cackled at the creature’s exuberance. “You know, I’ve thought of getting a fluffy pony ever since my husband died. This is going to be fun.”

Angel didn’t understand. “Mummah’s…husban’…am foweva sweepies?”

Miss Sandy sighed. “That’s right, sweetie. ‘Forever sleepies’. Eddie was a good man—a strong man—but in the end, his heart wasn’t strong enough to keep up.”

“Angew am sowwy, mummah. Nu wan mummah haf saddies. Angew gif wotsa huggies, fo make heawt-huwties gu way.”

“Thank you, Angel. You’re very sweet. Well, here we are!”

The white pegasus gasped as the Buick LeSabre pulled into the driveway. The humble brick ranch wouldn’t turn many people’s heads, but to the fluffy it may as well have been a mansion. It took many trips from the car to the house for the old woman to get everything inside, but she quickly set up Angel’s bed and litterbox in a spare bedroom.

She told her fluffy that she could have free run of the house, and didn’t need to be confined to a saferoom, but that the spare bedroom was all hers. The pegasus’ food and water bowls were set out next to the kitchen table, so they could eat their meals together.

“Now, I expect you’re hungry—especially since you’re eating for all of those babies, too! Would you like some…spaghetti?”

“Yus, mummah! Angew wuv sketties!” Indeed she did, because she hungrily devoured the whole can as soon as her mummah had poured it into her dish.

“Hmmm…you know, I’m starting to get a little hungry myself.” The old woman shuffled over to the refrigerator and opened it. Angel saw nothing but clean, white shelves within.

“Well, I guess I wasn’t that hungry anyway,” she said, walking over to her kitchen table. She watched as the pegasus sheepishly lapped up the remaining sauce from her bowl. The fluffy felt a little guilty eating so much food, when her mummah had none.

---

Days passed, and Angel grew comfortable in her new surroundings. She also grew wider around her midsection. Miss Sandy knew that her fluffy would be immobile soon, so she moved her bed and litterbox out to the living room so that the pegasus could at least sit and watch TV with her during the last couple of weeks of her pregnancy.

The white pegasus dam was so happy to have a mummah who spent so much time with her. Mummah even had a nice “teenagew” from down the street come and hook up the special “wemote” to the TV so she could turn it on and off, and change the channel to FluffTV any time she wanted.

There was one thing that bothered her. She had sketties every day—which she loved, mind you—but not once did she ever see her mummah eat anything. Never. And Angel knew from experience that no nummies led to tummie-owwies!

Mummah didn’t leave the house very often. She went to “chuwch” on Sundays—whenever that was. At “chuwch”, mummah played the piano. Angel didn’t know why she had to go to church to play the piano, since mummah had a perfectly good piano right here at the housie! Angel loved it when mummah played the piano. It made pretty sounds. Sometimes, the pegasus would try to play along on her special “keybowd”, and her mummah would chuckle.

“Well, at least you’re making a ‘joyful noise’.”

On Thursdays—whenever that was—mummah went to her friend’s house to play “Bwidge”. Angel missed her whenever she was gone, leaving her with only FluffTV and mummah’s seemingly endless collection of Precious Moments figurines to keep her company. Imagine her excitement when the old woman told her that her “Bwidge” friends were all coming over to her house next time!

“And you know what, Angel? Miss Maggie has a fluffy pony, too! Would you like for her to bring her fluffy over so you two can meet?”

The pegasus flapped her wings excitedly. “Nyu fwend? Yaaaaay! Angew su ‘cited fo see nyu fwend!”

---

Thursday couldn’t come soon enough. Of course, since Angel couldn’t read a calendar (or keep track of days of the week), she didn’t know for sure whether it was coming at all. By the time she heard the doorbell ring on the day of the bridge game, she was immobile, and could only watch as her mummah opened the door. A pink pegasus scurried in as the old woman chatted with one of her (equally aged) friends.

“Hewwo. Nyu fwend?”, Angel asked politely.

“Hewwo, nyu fwend. Fwuffy namie am Babbeh! What am wingie-fwend’s namie?”

The white dam cocked her head sideways. Confused, she replied, “Fwuffy am Angew! Nyu wingie-fwend nu wook wike babbeh…”

“Hee hee! Dat am ‘cos Babbeh am mawe! Am big fwuffy! Mummah am jus’ siwwy.”

The two fluffies giggled at the absurdity. What kind of a silly human names a big fluffy “Baby”? Then, Angel’s mummah and the other woman walked over to the new friends.

“Angel, this is Miss Maggie. She’s Baby’s ‘mummah’. You play nice with Baby. Miss Maggie and Mummah are going to go into the kitchen and finish getting ready for our other friends to arrive.”

The white pegasus obeyed her mummah, and went back to talking to her new friend.

“Babbeh wike nyu fwend Angew. Angew wan pway huggie tag?”

Angel wiggled her airborne hooves. “Angew nu can wun! Weggies nu wowk. Haf tuu many babbehs in tummeh.”

Seeing that her new friend was about to cry, Baby came up with a different idea. “Nu haf saddies, Angew! Wan pway wif bwockies?”

They stacked blockies until mummah’s two other friends arrived. Then Angel used her nose to turn the TV on, and the fluffies watched a rerun of FluffTV’s “Babies!”. They cooed and giggled watching the foals’ antics.

“Am Angew ‘cited fo babbehs tu come?”

“Yus! Angew am su ‘cited! Nu can wait fo gif babbehs miwkies, an huggies, an wuv, and pway, an huggies, an wuv…”

“Babbeh…nu can haf babbehs…”

Angel was taken aback. “Whuaaa? Why can Babbeh nu haf babbehs?”

“Babbeh see babbehs on FwuffTeeBee evwy dawk-time. Babbeh eben ask mummah fo babbehs. Bu mummah teww Babbeh dat Babbeh am ‘spayed’. nu know what dat means, but mummah say dat mean ‘nu babbehs’!”

The soon-mummah thought that sounded like the most terrible thing ever! Never have babies? But babies make everything better!

---

A couple of hours later the bridge game was over, and Angel said goodbye to her new friend. Baby asked if she could come see Angel again after her foals came, and Miss Sandy said that was a wonderful idea. The white pegasus dam thought it was a good idea, too—she would be happy to let her new friend play with her babies, especially since she would never have any of her own.

“I suppose it’s getting to be around dinnertime. You just wait right here, sweetie, and I’ll get you your ‘sketties’.”

Angel watched as her mummah shuffled into the kitchen. She could see her open the refrigerator door, only to shake her head and close it again. In the many bright-times she had been in her housie, she had still not seen the old woman eat.

Mummah poured the can’s contents into the fluffy’s food bowl. “Here you go, sweetie. We need to make sure your foals are healthy and strong.”

With the aid of her cane, she crept back into the kitchen and threw the empty can into the garbage. The pegasus couldn’t help but notice that she held onto the walls and furniture more than usual as she came back and slumped into her La-Z-Boy for their evening routine of Judge Judy, the 6 o’clock news, and FluffTV.

---

“SCREEEEEEE! Mummah, hewp! Angew haf wowsest huwties!”

She really did have the worsest hurties she had ever known. But mummah had gone to church that morning, and left her alone. All of a sudden, she felt her tummy rumble, and she feared whatever would come next.

“BIGGEST POOPIES!!!”

Mummah had put the litterbox right behind Angel’s poopie-place in case she ever needed to go, but the white pegasus didn’t know if the clay-filled box could hold it all. There was just so much pressure.

“HNNNNNNNNGGGG!”

SPLORT

chirp**chirp

But, she hadn’t made poopies—her babies were coming! Still, the dam was too big to turn around and give huggies to her little foal. Then, a rush of pressure built up again.

“HNNNNNNNNG!”

splort

chirp

Another little baby! Her leggies were closer to the ground, but still didn’t touch.

“HNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGHHHH!”

When she was done, she had one more foal than she had leggies! Once she had shed her afterbirth, she was small enough to turn around and pick each of them up and lick their blood-and-fluid-covered fluff.

“Ewwww…nu taste pwetty…” She did this instinctively, but knew from a song on “Babies!” that it made the foals pretty for mummah and daddeh, so that kept her going, even when the little white pegasus made peepees in her mouth.

A short time later, mummah opened the front door. “Oh, dearie: you had your pretty babies while I was gone, didn’t you?” The old woman clutched her hands together. “How adorable they are, Angel! Would you like some ‘sketties’, sweetie?”

Angel couldn’t help but notice that mummah looked even more frail than before. She almost stumbled stepping into the kitchen, but steadied herself on the edge of the countertop. When the senior came back with her sketties, she steeled herself and asked the question that had been bothering her.

“Mummah? Am ‘oo otay?”

Mummah collapsed into her chair with a sigh. “Of course, my Angel. What do you mean?”

“Mummah haf…huwties? Mummah neva num nummies, and Angew haf wotsa saddies fo mummah, ‘cos Angew fink mummah haf huwties.”

The old woman chuckled weakly. “Oh, sweetie. Your mummah…your mummah is fine. I’m just getting old, and I haven’t stocked the ‘fridge in a while. Guess I need to run to the grocery store sometime to buy some ‘nummies’. Oh, that reminds me! I stopped by FluffMart after church, and saw the cutest thing! Let me run out to the car and get it, so I can show you.”

Angel’s jaw hung open. Why was her mummah…still buying her things…when she didn’t even have enough money to buy nummies for herself? A couple minutes later, in came her mummah with a big box. The picture on the front showed happy foals playing in a Certified Foal Safe playset, that had a tower, swinging bridge, and attached toys (sold separately)!

“I just passed by this on my way to get you another case of ‘sketties’, and couldn’t not buy it!”

The white pegasus sat in silence, thinking about many things, while her chirping foals took turns nursing at her engorged teats. She didn’t argue with mummah, but felt a tear run down her cheek as mummah struggled to carry the playset to Angel’s bedroom to put it together.

---

The next couple of days were hard. Between late nights with her five needy “chirpeh-babbehs” and days spent watching mummah’s condition deteriorate further, she didn’t know what to do. Mummah barely got up from her La-Z-Boy at all, except to bring her more sketties. Angel tried to give huggies, but the huggies weren’t working! That wasn’t supposed to happen! Huggies make everything better!

Next, she tried holding her foals up so that mummah could hug them. Every fluffy knows that babies make everything better, so what could be better for her mummah than huggies from her babies?

But that didn’t do any good, either. By the time they finished their evening routine, and mummah stumbled back to her bedroom, an old memory came rushing back into her mind.

She had been a newcomer on Mistah Hawwy’s farm, and was one of the youngest soon-mummahs there when the nice man took her away to the fluffy store. Angel had been born a feral—born into a feral herd—and her adolescence came during the worst drought the Carolinas had seen in years. All of the plants in the woods died. The few fields the herd came across were filled with withered vegetables. There was no food to be had. Soon-mummahs lost their babies. Mummahs watched helplessly as their milkie-places dried up and their foals all took forever sleepies. The few adults who survived only did so for one reason.

And it was that same strategy that would save her mummah.

When mummah slumped into her chair the next morning, she trotted over and gave her the biggest huggies she could muster. Then, Angel told her what she had decided.

---

“Mummah…Angew nu wan mummah tu haf foweva sweepies. Angew wan’choo num babbehs.”

The old woman perked up. “What, Angel?”

The pegasus dam repeated herself, cringing. “Angew wan mummah tu num aww da babbehs!”

“Oh, Angel! I couldn’t do that! You know, babies are for huggies…and love!” She croaked the last part out—clearly, she was going fast.

“Angew kno, mummah. An Angew wuv aww babbehs. Bu—bu—Angew wuv mummah mowe. Pwease, mummah: nu take foweva sweepies!” The fluffy began to bawl.

The decrepit senior sighed. “Angel—my Angel—you are the kindest, sweetest creature I’ve ever known. For you, I’ll do it.”

It was one thing for Angel to offer up her own babies as a sacrifice to be nummed, and quite another for mummah to take her up on the offer—but she couldn’t take it back. Not while mummah’s life hung in the balance. She felt an overwhelming dread form in the pit of her stomach. Babies were for huggies and love, but fluffies needed to love their mummahs and daddehs no matter what!

Her mummah picked up each of the five chirping foals and carried them to the kitchen. She placed them in a large mixing bowl, the sides of which were too high and too slippery for the newborns to scale.

chirp**chirp
peep
chirp**chirp

Angel could tell that her foals were distressed, but they were beyond her reach. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she listened to them crying.

“Hmmm…ah, here we are!” The little old lady pulled a small carving knife out of the kitchen drawer and picked up a little teal pegasus foal. She made a small incision across the foal’s neck at shoulder level (careful not to cut into the throat), and then slit her from that incision to her “special place”.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Angel could only watch in horror as her mummah deftly peeled the fluff off of the foal’s legs and back, and then up over her head. She dropped the skinned foal onto a cutting board, where it continued to scream.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

“Huu huu…babbeh…mummah am sowwy…”

Next came the little red colt. Its wings flapped madly as it chirped, evidently aware of its sister’s cries. Miss Sandy first cut two semicircles around the colt’s no-noes, and then pinched off the little foal’s genitals.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

The foal’s screams continued as mummah repeated the skinning process. The skinned, gelded colt was soon joined by his white-fluffed sister. Angel choked back a sob as she watched her mummah throw away that baby’s fluff—which matched her own.

Both the green and orange foals were colts, so each experienced the added agony of having their testicles and penis torn off. Soon, there were five screaming, skinless foals writhing on the counter. And the worst was still to come.

Angel covered her eyes with her hooves as the first foal—she could no longer tell which one—feebly reached out to her for huggies. She kept her sanity only by repeating over and over to herself:

“Dis am onwy way fo sabe mummah…”
“Dis am onwy way fo sabe mummah…”
“Dis am onwy way fo sabe mummah…”
“Dis am onwy way fo sabe mummah…”

Foal in hand, Miss Sandy squeezed hard over the in-sink garbage disposal, causing the foal to expel a torrent of runny feces, and causing it to scream even louder.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Then the old woman cut deeper into the foal’s belly, causing its intestines to spill out. She reached into its tiny body, pinching off its digestive system. She discarded the organs into the disposal and lobbed the foal into another large mixing bowl—this one full of flour.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

“Dis am onwy way fo sabe mummah…”
“Dis am onwy way fo sabe mummah…”

Miss Sandy rinsed her hands once all the foals were in the flour. It was a clear bowl, so when Angel made the mistake of peeking to see if it was all over, she could see her still-bleeding babies covered in the white dust. At that point, the old woman started shaking the bowl, making sure they were completely covered.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” chirp
chirp**chirp

The oil on the stove was ready. Miss Sandy picked the foals up, one by one, and dropped them into the sizzling pan.

tsssssss
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

tsssssssss
“SCREEEEEE!”

tssss**tsssssssssss
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
chirp**chirp

tsssssss
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

“Dis am onwy way fo sabe mummah…”
“Dis am onwy way fo sabe mummah…”
“Dis am onwy way fo sabe mummah…”

Moments later, the cooking process was done. Angel’s mummah pulled each of the golden-brown foals off with her tongs and set them on a dinner plate. She shuffled over to the kitchen table and sat down, fork and steak knife in hand.

Angel opened her eyes again, only to see her mummah cutting into one foal’s rear leg. She raised it with her fork and stuck the whole thing in her mouth. The dam thought she could see the leg twitch on the fork.

“Oh, that is just what I needed. Thank you, Angel. You saved me from forever sleepies.”

No matter what else had transpired that day, she could at least hold on to that: her mummah was alive, thanks to her heartbreaking sacrifice.

---

Angel’s mummah ate the foals slowly. She thought that the third one had peeped, though it was just as likely steam escaping from its tiny body as the old woman carved into its torso.

“Oh, Angel, I almost forgot. You haven’t eaten anything this morning, have you? Poor dear. Would you like a can of spaghetti?”

Silently, the mummah-no-more nodded her head. The floor in front of her face was wet with tears. Her babies had all taken forever sleepies. She was a terrible mother.

Miss Sandy got up from the table and shuffled over to the cabinet where she kept Angel’s food. She returned quickly and plopped the noodles, sauce, and all into the mare’s bowl. Sadly, the fluffy started eating. Not even the taste of sketties could overcome her heart-hurties, though.

“You know what I could go for? I think some barbecue sauce would do just the trick!” Miss Sandy opened up the fridge, revealing more food than Angel had ever seen in one place before. It was full from front to back, and top to bottom.

Angel’s mouth hung open. Mummah had food…mummah had lots of food. “Whu-whu-whewe aww dose nummies come fwom?”

The old woman popped open her bottle of barbecue sauce and shook her head at her fluffy. “Oh, Angel. Mummah’s always had enough food. That’s what the second fridge out on the porch is for, silly!”

“Den why mummah num aww Angew’s babbehs?”

“Because you asked me to, dearie.”

“Bu mummah haf wotsa nummies! Wai num aww da babbehs? Wai?”

The senior sat down nonchalantly and poured herself a dollop of sauce. “Many years ago, Eddie and I had two sons—Jake and Jimmy. Jake was going to be a senior in high school, and Jimmy was going to be a freshman. But then…Jimmy drowned in the lake at church camp. Fourteen years old.” Miss Sandy stared off into the distance as she took another sauce-covered bite.

“Life was never the same after that. I kept Jimmy’s room exactly as he left it before the camp—wouldn’t let Jake or Eddie go in. That’s the room your foals’ toys are in: the balls, blocks, stacking rings, playset…everything.”

Angel’s stomach gurgled. She felt sick. Everything she had ever known was wrong.

“Three months after Jake left to join the Marines, Eddie left, too.”

“Bu-bu-bu’choo teww Angew dat Eddie take foweva sweepies!?!”

The old woman nodded as she cut into the last foal. “He did. After he left me, he ended up shacking up with a girl we’d gone to school with—Edna Keats, I think her name was—but it didn’t last. Turns out he was just as wrecked as I was.”

The pegasus vomited into her food bowl. She felt some runny stool leak down her back leg, too.

“He died three years ago. His funeral was the only time I’ve seen Jake since—he never wanted to come around anymore. I’ve got four grandbabies in California I’ve never even met.”

She lifted the last leg of Angel’s last baby to her mouth and chewed. Angel had collapsed on all fours. The fluffy stuttered, unable to cope with the morning’s events.

“See, that’s where you come in. You needed a new mummah and a new ‘housie’. I needed a companion. But I also needed a companion who could understand what I’ve been through. I lost everything when Jimmy died. Now, you know the same pain. Now…we’re broken together.”

When she finished the last sentence, she skewered the last foal’s deep-fried head and popped it into her mouth. Angel—gripped with horror and betrayal—did the only things she could do.

She ran.

And screamed.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

She ran around in circles. She ran through every bedroom, bathroom, and other space in the house that she could reach, screaming her lungs out as she ran.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

“Nu wan be mummah-nu mowe! Nu wan babbeh-nummew munstah mummah! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Miss Sandy merely shook her head and chuckled as she rinsed her plate in the sink. It was almost time to head over to Jeannie’s house for bridge.

THE END OF CHAPTER TWO

[Emmie]

Damn. I’m glad I didn’t read the tags. Great work and I can’t wait for the next chapter

[fallypo]

Was Sandy deliberately sadistic in the foal prep? I would think “emptying” them and gutting them would come before skinning, not after. I bet she makes a mean chicken fried foal!

[Wangew_Wick]

Miss Sandra is a sweet little old Southern church lady. You’d better believe she can chicken-fry anything.

[Blergle]

Wow. Did not see that coming.

[Luciferlampmuffin]

Oh damn, I’d fecking leave her too!

[Blork]

I want to believe that Angel tells Baby the truth during a visit to console her for “losing” the foals, and Baby lets it slip to her human, and this bitch is firmly uninvited from church functions and Angel gets to live with a non-psycho.