Part Three
Mint and her special-friend, Maple, sat huddled to try to conserve some warmth. The dreary rainy weather had given way to bright skies and a bracing chill, as if the air had turned into crystal. It was beautiful, but that was little comfort to the pair.
“Mint sowwy fow wunnin’ ‘way…pwease fin’ Mint, daddeh. Su cowd an’ hab tummeh-huwties.” Mint half-prayed to the closest thing to a God she had, knowing it was hopeless, that their daddeh wouldn’t try to find bad fluffies who ran away.
It wasn’t fair! It was his fault they had to run away in the first place! Why couldn’t he understand that they couldn’t wait to have babbehs? Why was this “money” stuff more important than they were? Nothing should be more important than babbehs!
Her stomach growled again, but the two domestic fluffies had no idea how to find food. Begging nearby humans had only gotten them kicks, and they couldn’t bring themselves to eat what trash they could find outside of the fluffy-proofed dumpsters. Their attempts to eat grass had ended when they learned the hard way that some grass would just make them vomit.
“Tummeh babbehs nee’ nummies.”
“Mapwe nu hab nummies. Nu nyo wewe fin’ nummies. Mapwe’s tummeh huwts!” Sobbed her special-friend.
Wandering around blindly, they slowly became weaker and weaker. If they didn’t find nummies soon, her tummeh-babbehs would go forever-sleepies! Desperation drove them on when all they wanted was to lie down and sleep.
“Hello!”
They ignored the cheerful voice, since their recent experience had taught them that humans had nothing but contempt for them. Their hooves aching from the rough ground, a far cry from the nice soft floor of their saferoom, they continued trudging along.
“You two!”
Onward they trudged.
“You, the brown fluffy and green fluffy!”
Finally, they realized they were being addressed.
“Wut nice wady wan?”
“You two look like you need some help. Here, I found some good nummies if you want them. I don’t need them.”
“Tank ‘ou, nice wady! Mint hab wowstest tummeh-huwties! Nee’ nummies fow tummeh-babbehs!”
“They’re right this way,” the nice lady gestured, and the pair followed her. There, in a over-turned Styrofoam cup, there were some noodles.
"Sketties!" the pair cried, rushing forward. Maple stopped just short of the cup, letting Mint have some first.
“Tank 'ou! Tank 'ou fow nummies, nice wady!” he cried.
“You’re welcome,” the nice lady said, smiling. “They were just going to go to waste anyway. Enjoy!” She turned and walked away.
The pair split the noodles, with Mint getting the majority for her tummeh-babbehs. They tasted a little weird, a little bitter, but they weren’t in any state to be picky. Now that they weren’t so desperately hungry, they were so very sleepy. They couldn’t even muster the energy to find shelter before lying down and going to sleep.
…
They awoke in a car, which in itself wasn’t enough to really frighten them since they’d often gone in car trips with their daddeh. However, they were locked into a box in the back seat, which was enough to cause them to panic.
“Wai am Mint in sowwy box? Mint am gud fwuffy!”
“Pwease wet Mapwe out! Mapwe nu wike sowwy-box!”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” the nice lady, who was driving the car, called back to them. “I’m taking you somewhere safe, so you won’t have to go hungry or freeze.”
“Pwease jus’ wet fwuffies gu!”
“I can’t do that. Everything’s going to be okay, just relax.”
“Pwease, nice wady!”
With a sigh, the lady turned on the radio to drown out the pleas as she drove on.
…
The fluffies were taken out of the car and carried in the box, the nice lady muttering about the weight of two very much not underweight fluffies, and carried into a big building. The sign above the entrance read “Fluffyridge Farms! Happy Mummahs, Healthy Foals!” but given that neither of them could read this meant nothing to them.
As they entered the front room their panic settled. They were in a huge room, brightly lit, with lots of big pens. In each of these pens were a family of fluffies, a mummah and daddeh and some chirpy foals, with a few talkie-babbehs here and there. Each pen had a litterbox, food and water bowls, and a few toys. The familiar sights soothed the pair.
“Su pwetty,” Mint murmured, looking at the fluffy families. They were all so clean and had such pretty colors.
With a thump, the box was set down in front of a counter. Another nice lady was sitting behind the counter, using her phone, but looked up at the noise.
“Find any?”
“Yeah, found a pair, a soon-mummah and her mate.”
“Colors?”
The lady who brought them there flinched, visible even from behind. “Green and brown.”
“Feed division.”
“Maybe we could use some more diversity in the front-room products. Not everyone wants the same few color schemes.”
“You know the rules, brown and green are both undesirable colors, so they go in the FD.”
“Can you make an exception this time?”
“You ask that every time, Christine. Rules are rules, I can’t make exceptions. You know this.”
“Hearing you say it makes me hate myself a little less. Thanks, Marge.”
“Any time.”
The box was picked up again and carried through a pair of doors in the back of the room, into a dimly-lit room with “Feed Division” on the door. Inside this new room there were walls of cages, each barely big enough to hold a pair of fluffies. Most of these were occupied by fluffies with empty eyes and muddy colors. There were no foals.
“Hey Chris, got more fluffies for me?”
“Yeah Keith, didn’t make the cut.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Keith?”
“Yeah?”
“How do you stand working back here?”
“At least with me here I can make things a bit better for them, you know? If I wasn’t here it’d be an actual sadist, and I couldn’t stand having that on my conscience.” The reply sounded practiced, as if he’d answered many times.
“Thanks, Keith. That helps.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
The box was left on the floor, which, while bare concrete, was meticulously cleaned. Keith approached the box, and looked in at the pair, who were now frozen with terror. This wasn’t a safe place! This was a nightmare!
“Hello. Sorry that this place isn’t amazing, but I promise I’ll try to make your stay here as nice as I can.”
The pair were lifted out of the box and put into one of the cages, high enough that they shook with fear when they looked down. While the sides were bare metal, the bottom had been carefully covered in scraps of cloth. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was better than outside.
“Pwease wet Mint and speciaw-fwiend gu!”
Keith sighed. “I wish I could.”
…
Time passed, and their initial dread mostly faded. This wasn’t such a bad place, after all. While they slept in the cage, Keith would take fluffies out from time to time to let them run and play in the makeshift pen he’d constructed. Sometimes he’d bring sketties, and while there wasn’t much after it was split among the fluffies, it was still a lot better than the kibble they ate normally.
Mint grew bigger and bigger, until Maple couldn’t even move while they were both in the cage. Soon, the babbehs would come soon. After they had pretty babbehs, maybe they’d be allowed in the big nice pens!
“Babbehs am comin’!” Mint cried, and Keith hurried over to the cage, pulling the pair out and setting them in the pen so she could birth the foals more comfortably. “Scree!” she howled, as the babbehs slowly shifted.
One by one they came, but something was wrong. She couldn’t hear them chirp! She struggled to turn, but Keith’s hand stopped her.
“You don’t want to see this, girl,” he said gently.
“Babbehs gu forebah-sweepies?” Maple asked.
“I’m afraid so. Sorry.”
“NUUUUU! Pwease, babbehs! Nu gu forebah-sweepies!”
“Nothing we can do. I’ll give you some privacy.” Keith scooped up the foals, a resigned sigh escaping as he carried them off.
Mint sobbed, clinging to Maple. This wasn’t right! They’d gone through so much for these babbehs! It wasn’t fair for them to go forever-sleepies! Maple, although clearly distraught himself, did his best to comfort her.
…
A few weeks passed, and Mint once again had tummeh-babbehs. She was still sad over her other babbehs, but the thought of having more comforted her a bit. She still cried most days, but it was getting a little better. This time she’d have wonderful foals, no matter what!
“Keith!” Marge called, and the pair began to talk quietly, too quietly for the fluffies to hear.
“Keith, corporate wants to cut costs in the FD. No-tolerance policy for defective units, effective immediately.”
“Meaning what?”
“Any pairs that produce stillborn foals need to go.”
“WHAT? No! That’s not right!”
“Not my decision. Sorry, Keith.”
“Dammit. Alright, I’ll get rid of them. I’m not using the fucking incinerator though, that’s barbaric. I’ll dump them in the bins out back after I’m done.”
“I’ll let that slide this time. Sorry again.”
Keith approached the pair, face contorted with anger. Looking up at the security camera that looked over the room, he made a rude gesture.
“Sorry about this,” he said, reaching in and pulling Mint out of the cage and setting her on his little cart and shutting the cage door. Fumbling in his pocket, he subtly removed something. Suddenly, he wrapped his hands around her throat, making her unable to breathe, and something sharp pricked the back of her neck. Darkness crept from the edges of her vision to the center.
“NU! Nu huwt Mint!”
Maple slammed into the cage door, briefly attracting Keith’s attention. However, the door, meant to contain birds or small rodents, was forced open by the impact. With a brief cry of horror, Maple plummeted the few feet from the cage to the floor, landing on the hard concrete floor with a sharp “crack!” As he lay there, a small pool of blood formed under his unmoving body.
Mint tried to scream, tried to fight Keith’s grip, but she had no strength. As her consciousness left her, his grip lightened, and she pulled in a sharp gasp of air.
…
“Dammit,” was the first word she heard when she regained consciousness. “I was trying to save both of you, idiot!”
Keith was talking to the still body of Maple as he carried the two towards the big bio-waste bin behind the building. As Mint began to struggle he turned his attention to her.
“Woah there! Don’t struggle so much, I don’t want to drop you.”
“MUNSTAH HOOMIN GIB SPECIAW-FWIEND FOREBAH-SWEEPIES! TWY KIWW MINT! MINT HATCHU!”
“Listen to me! I was trying to save you! I was going to sedate you two and make it look like I killed you both so I could let you escape! I didn’t expect him to…well, at least I saved you.”
“Mint hatchu!”
“Yeah, I didn’t expect you to understand. Look, just go,” Keith set her down on the ground.
Mint took off as fast as she could, sobbing as she ran. Why? Why was everything so HARD? Why was life so unfair? She just wanted babbehs and Maple! Why was that too much to ask?
Eventually, she slowed as exhaustion and the aftereffects of the sedation kicked in. She crawled behind a dumpster, maybe this would be enough to keep her safe for now. Collapsing, she fell into a fitful sleep.
…
Rob was prowling the streets of the little “city” near his hometown, looking for stray fluffies. Ferals just didn’t have the blind trust that he needed for this plan, and feral soon-mummah’s wouldn’t be out at this time of year anyway. A dumpster-filled alley looked like the perfect place to find what he needed.
He heard a soft chirping from behind one of the dumpsters. Taking a deep breath to avoid having to breathe the dumpster-smell, he walked into the alleyway. Behind one of the dumpsters was a bright green fluffy, clearly a soon-mummah, sleeping fitfully and chirping, clearly distressed. Bingo!
Reaching behind the dumpster, he carefully picked her up. She wasn’t too dirty, so she must’ve gotten lost or run away fairly recently; definitely not a feral. That was good, she was perfect. After spending three days looking, he’d finally found what he needed.
“Daddeh?” the mare asked, half-asleep.
“You can call me that, darling. Do you have a name?”
The mare began to struggle, waking fully, but relaxed after Rob set her down and stepped away.
“Wut mistuh wan wif Mint?”
“You seemed sad, so I thought I’d see if I could help.”
“Mint nu wike hoomins! Gib speciaw-fwiend forebah-sweepies!”
Well, that made things harder.
“I see. Well, I can leave you alone, but I don’t think you can find nummies for your tummeh-babbehs alone. If you want I can give you a place to stay for now.”
“Housie?”
“Yes, a house.”
“Nu a miww? Nu hab wive in cage?”
“No. I have a saferoom left over from when my old fluffy went forever-sleepies. I think I still have some cans of sketties left over too.”
Mint clearly didn’t trust him, but seemed interested. “Mint wan housie an’ saferoom an’ sketties bu’ Mint am scawed.”
“It’s okay, I understand. You’ve been through a lot. I won’t hurt you or your babbehs. Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”
“Pwomise?”
“Promise.”
“Otay. Mint wiww fowwow 'ou. Tank 'ou.”
“Any time.”
Rob grinned to himself. This was going to be fun he’d sorely missed since Litter-Pal had given up the ghost.
Part Five
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For the first time, I am pleased that a fluffy is going to be abused.
But at the same time it reminds me that for Robert to go through this, it means an innocent fluffy has gone through the same.
Man this is bittersweet by the book.
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Whelp maple. Hope this was worth leaving the safety of your home, dumbass
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