It’s been a long time since you were put into E-block. There’s no window here, so you cant tell if the brite time has ended yet, but you haven’t made sleepies yet. You didn’t want to eat the bad nummies, but the humans came to you and kept giving you hurties until you did. You tried so hard not to eat them, but the owwie string hurties were the worst hurties ever. They’re almost as bad as the owwies you felt when the mean human from the mummah place took your leggie away. The human said they would shock you again whenever you didn’t eat your nummies. You don’t want to eat other fluffies, but you can’t have those kinds of hurties either. This is horrible, but there’s a silver lining, you have tummy babbehs! You were elated for a moment, but then you remembered your babbehs being taken away before, and you got sad. And the dummeh babbeh. They cut your leg off because of it! Will they take another one if a dummeh babbeh tries to steal your milkies again? Will they take some of your good babbehs away again? You start to tear up.
A lot of the other fluffies with you are mummahs too, but a lot of them are talking to each other and crying. They make you feel really sad, so you try talking to the other fluffies next to your pen. You try your left.
“Odda fwuffy be nyu fwen?”
No response. She only clutches her babbeh tightly and cries.
“Nyu fwen? Am fowty nine!”
She says nothing. Still holding her babbeh and whispering to it, silently rocking back and forth. You can hear some of the whispers: “It otay babbeh. Huu… Munstah nu come back. Mummah wiww pwotect wastest babbeh. Nu wet munstah gif wast babbeh foebah sweepies. Mummah pwomise… Mummah pwomise… Huu huu huu…” Her babbeh is crying too.
You try calling out to her one more time: “Nyu fwen? Nyu fwen hab saddies? Why nyu fwen cwy?” You would offer huggies, but you haven’t been able to give huggies since you were a little babbeh. You wish you could leave this cage and give huggies again, but you just don’t see that ever happening again. You start to feel sad again…
She finally lifts her head to look at you, tears in her eyes. Now you see her babbeh. It’s horrible. You thought your babbeh was hurt, but that was nothing compared to this babbeh. All of it’s leggies are missing, and both of it’s see places are gone. It’s ears are cut off, and it’s snout is missing the front part, so both of it’s nostrils are exposed. All of it’s teeth are missing too. It was a big fluffy, so you thought it was odd that it was drinking milkies this late, but now you think it’s because it has no teeth for nummies. It’s mane and tail are both missing, and a lot of it’s fluff is gone. Almost all of it is gone in fact, leaving only the exposed skin and a few thin patches of fluff. You can see it’s skin is all rough and red. It looks like it was melted onto it. The red, mangled flesh and the open eye sockets make it look like a living corpse. When you saw it earlier you screamed. You don’t feel as scared this time, but still, you quickly look away in fear.
The other mare speaks, She’s smiling, but her body’s shaking with fear, and her voice is shaking even worse: “Mummah nu scawed! Mummah otay! Babbeh wiww be otay! Wed wite nu come on dis time! Am gud mummah! Munstah nu come! Munstah wyin! Nu come back! Nu huwt wast babbeh… mummah sabe babbeh… Nu mowe huwties fow babbeh, mummah pwomise… Am gud mummah… Huu huu huu…” Her babbeh keeps crying and digging into her chest fluff.
She doesn’t make good talkies. And her babbeh is scary, so you try talking to the fluffy on your right, even though she’s kind of scary too.
The fluffy to your right is the prettiest fluffy you’ve ever seen, even if she didn’t have any leggies. She had a pretty white coat with a shiny purple mane. Her babbehs are less pretty, but you still like them. They’re big babbehs too, but they aren’t hurt. They didn’t want to eat the bad nummies either, but strangely the humans didn’t make them. In fact, they didn’t give them nummies at all. That’s not good! Big babbehs need nummies to grow up big and strong! How do they expect the babbehs to do that if they don’t have nummies? The dummy-ness of humans never ceases to amaze you. They just don’t understand anything.
The humans brought her in here kicking(so to speak) and screaming. She was yelling that they were all dummies and that she was the bestest mummah and to give her leggies and other babbehs back. She said that she didn’t like this place and she didn’t like the bad nummies, and she wanted to go back to the good place, but the human gave her big hurties and told her that she was never going back because she: “destroyed over two thousand dollars worth of product.”, but she yelled back that the munstah babbehs were playing with the ball, and she wanted the ball for her bestest babbeh. She said they should have just given her the ball and not been ugly munstahs, and that they deserved stompies. The human got really mad at her after that, and after they put her in the harness, they turned it on and left it on for a really long time. She screamed so loud for so long. When they finally turned it off, you thought that she had forever sleepies, but she got back up a little bit later. She’s been quiet since then. You dont know what ‘over 2000 dollars worth of product’ is, but you hope you never break it.
“Nyu fwen?” You ask pensively. She doesnt repond either. You try again.
“Am fowty nine! Pwetty fwuffy be nyu fwen? Hab-”
“Shaddup dummeh ugwy fwuffy! Nu wan be fwens wif ugwy dummeh!” Her words give you big heart hurties, but she continues.
“Nu wike ugwy fwuffy pwace. Wawwity gu back to pwetty pwace an get babbehs an weggies back soon. Hoomins nu can du dummeh tings to wawity cause wawwity am wowf twee hundwed dowwahs! Dat wots ob hoomin munnies. Dat mean wawwity am bestest fwuffy! Get wots of toys an teebee an sketties! An bestest speshow fwen! Azuwe skies is pwettiest, smawtiest stawwion ebah an gif bestest speshow huggies an is wawwity’s speshow fwen! Wawwity am bestest!”
“Weawwy? Wawwity gu back? Bu hoomin say wawwity am nebah goin back…”
“Hoomin dummeh! Wawwity wowf wots ob munnies, su wawwity can du what wawwity wan! Hoomins onwy twy scawe wawwity, but wawwity tu smawty! Wawwity gu back soon an give munstah babbeh mummahs wowstest owwies fo teww on wawwity!”
“Bu wha boud munstahs?”
“Wha dummeh fwuffy tawkin boud?”
“Hoomin munstahs come an huwt babbehs if mummahs nu be gud fwuffies.”
“Dat dummeh hoomin wie! Hoomins nebah huwt babbehs! Hoomins dat huwt babbehs gu way!”
“Hoomin huwt mah babbeh…”
“Wha?”
You point to your hurt babbeh. When rarity sees him, she seems confused.
“Mistah gif wowstest owwies to babbeh. Huwt weggies an take see pwace 'way.”
“…dat… Dat cause ou dummeh nu munnies fwuffy! Ou no worf hoomin munnies so hoomins nu cawe! Wawwity… wawwity diffwen! Wawwity-”
You’re getting tired of this. Rarity is mean and stupid and doesn’t understand how cruel humans can be. She doesn’t know how bad it is. You’ve never played with a toy or seen tv or eaten sketties in your LIFE, all you’ve ever had were saddies and scaredies and hurties, and she’s telling you that the humans will relent? The humans have never shown any mercy EVER, and they’re not going to start now. You let it all spill out. A lifetime of anger and trauma gush out of you like cold water gushing into a dirty cage.
“Shaddup.”
“Wha-”
“Shaddup! Dummeh mawe! Ou no worf anyfin! Hoomins gif owwies! Hoomins gif wowstest owwies an foebah sweepies! Fowty nine seen it! Gabe smawty an whowe hewd wowstest stompies an foebah sweepies! Gabe wittwe bwuddah foebah sweepies! Bwudda was jus wittwe babbeh, but hoomin take bwuddah an gif foebah sweepies jus wike dwink wawas! Den gif mummah wowstest buwnie owwies! Send mummah down to buwnie munstah an make buwnie munstah num mummah! Mummah an bwudda get wowstest owwies in munstah’s tummeh! Mummah scweam su woud fowty nine can stiww heaw in sweepie times! Den when big fwuffy, take fowty nine to cagie an gif big owwies! Feed fowty nine poopie nummies an spway wif scawwy cowd wawas aww da time! Den gif wowstest speshow huggies! Take fowty nine to meanie stawwion pwace, and den stawwion gif wowstest meanie speshow huggies ebah! An azuwe skies nu yow speshow fwen! Twy gif fowty nine speshow huggies too! Two times! Den when babbehs come, fowty nine haf bad dummeh babbeh dat twy steaw miwkies, su fowty nine gif sowwy hoovsie! But den hoomin say am bad fwuffy, an gif wowstest owwies an take weggie way! Den dey take to woom an take babbehs way an gif to not-mummahs! Den mowe bad speshow huggies fwom stawwion 'gain! Den take hewe, feed wowstest nummies an gif meanie shocky stwing an say dat munstahs gon come if bad fwuffy! An ou wan SKETTIES!? Fwuffy nebah hab sketties befowe EVAH! Nu eben knu what sketties wook wike! Nebah toys, ow pway, ow huggies ebah since cagie! Onwy owwies an scawedies an heawt huwties! Dummeh wawwity nu knu anyfin!”
Your furious raving seems to have taken her aback. She just stares at you for a second, then looks down and away. Her babies say that they’re scared, so she turns around and starts trying to hug them, but without legs, she’s limited too wiggling on top of them and rubbing her nose on them. She eventually gives up, settling for assuring them that you were lying and that they would be fine. You turn away in a huff.
Remembering all the bad things always gives you the worst saddies, and now that you’ve remembered everything, you lie down and start to cry. Eventually, after a lot of crying, you fall asleep.
You wake up some time later to the sound of your babbehs crying. You clutch your babbehs closer. The 3 you have left. You try to move towards them to give them milkies, but it gets harder to move forward the further you get from the black stringy box. With only one back leg left, you don’t get far. You pull your babbehs closer to you with your front legs. All let out peeps of surprise, then one says to you: “Scawwy!”
Wait, says?
You cant believe it! Your babbehs are talking! They’re talkie babbehs now! And now that you look, you can see that the one that talked has it’s eyes open too! You hurriedly try to engage it in conversation.
“Babbeh tawkies nao? Tawkie babbeh!?”
“peep Mummah? peep Wub!”
Tears fill your eyes. They flow like dark rivers down your face, Staining the purple fluff dark. You cry a lot. These last few days have been just awful for you. You wonder how long the humans are going to keep you here. Through tears of joy, you respond.
“sniff Yus babbeh, am yow mummah.”
“Mummah? Yay! cheep Wub mummah!”
“peep mummah!”
That didn’t come from your first talkie babbeh, it came from another one. Unbeliveable! You have two talkie babbehs now!
“Yus! Am mummah! Mummah wub ou babbeh!”
“Babbeh chirp Wub mummah!”
This is wonderful! You have such wonderful babbehs! You may be in the bad place, but at least you still have your babbehs! You pull your other talkie babbeh closer for huggies. He coos softly in your legs, and you’re so happy that you start singing to them!
You flex your creative muscles and come up with a special song for your special talkie babbehs!
“Mummah wub babbehs, babbehs wub mummah, babbehs dwink miwkies, gwow up big an tawkie-”
Click
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
The string hurts you again! The hot hurties shoot through your body, causing you to tense up hard. After a few seconds of screaming, you make bad poopies as the voltage burns your tiny fluffy body, but the fear and shame are blasted away under the intense pain. After what feels like forever, the shockies finally come to an end.
“Uuuhuuhuu…” A new human stands in front of you. He glowers down at you hatefully.
“Shut the fuck up shitrat. If I hear you singing those retarded fucking songs again, I’ll flick this switch on and go out for lunch.” He open the cage and slaps you hard, sending you crashing headfirst to the floor. “Fucking vermin.”
You tremble on the floor of your cage. Because your leggie had been taken away, you flew right off balance as soon as the current hit you, and fell on your side. Most of your bad poopies landed in the litterbox behind you, so you didn’t get punished for that at least. You curl up in a ball and cover your eyes, shaking and crying.
“And your song fucking sucked. You’re a terrible singer.”
The human walks away. You slowly look up to see that he’s gone, and you turn to check on your babbehs. They’re lying on the ground crying, the one you were holding was gasping and twitching slightly.
“Babbeh?” You ask, fearful that he had been hurt as well.
“Bu- Buwnie! Huu huu…”
Tears begin to flow again. The owwie string hurt your babbeh too! You quietly pick her up and hug her. She slowly begins to stop crying as you hold her tightly, holding in your sobs for fear of more owwies.
“cheep Owwies… mumag?..”
The sound is coming from your last babbeh. The one that the mean human had hurt to make you get bad special huggies from hercules. He had broken two of his legs and an eye before you finally gave up, and another leg after the fact just to drive the point home. His last intact leg was pawwing at the air, as if trying to get your attention. You come a bit closer.
“Yus, mummah hewe babbeh.” You whisper.
“Mummah? cheep Owwies! Big owwies! Huu!”
Your tears finally reach the bottom of your face, dripping in big droplets off of your chin fluff. You can’t even hug him. He’s in so much pain and it’s all your fault. You fall down in front of him and sob quietly. Theres nothing you can do for him now, Only human magic can help him now, and the humans were so mean and angry that they put you in here! What are the chances that they would help your babbeh now? Who would help any of you now? You can’t do anything. You’re completely powerless. Through all your tears, you say the only thing you can.
“Mummah sowwy babbeh…”
He says nothing. He only squirms around, chirping fitfully.
“Alright people, most of you have been here before, so you know the drill! Once the auction is over, you’ll be given your tags. Keep them on the table while you’re doing your buisness, make sure they’re fully visible, because we’re going to come by and check. Only go to the cages that you have tags for. Go to the wrong one, or to one without a light on, and you’ll have to pay a fine. 100 dollars. Do it twice, and you’re banned. No fucks given. Don’t cheat.”
The worker grabbed an unused tag, then turned to face the small crowd of people in the hallway.
“The tags look like this. Align them with the table so that the numbers are legible to the people walking behind you. There’s 38 mares in there for auction today. You’ll be given some information on the mares and her foals, and then the bidding will start. All bids start at 10 dollars, and go up in increments of 5 dollars. You all have a paper with a letter on it, hold it up if you want to raise by 5. If no one takes the tag, we’ll move on to the next mare. Once all the mares are accounted for, we’ll begin passing out the tags. Taking the tags off the wall will cause the light on the cage to turn on, so the fluffy will know that you’re coming. Can’t do anything about that, it’s a security measure. Some of you are a bit too bloodthirsty.”
This comment elicited quiet laughter and chuckles from the crowd.
“Now, rules. First and most important, Do. Not. Touch. The mares. Foals only. If you want to play with big fluffies, the building next door has you covered. We put all the rejects in there, and it’ll open 10 minutes after we’re done here, so you can go to both if you want. One fluffy here’s really pissed off management, so she’s going there right after this. Therefore, bidding will be a package deal. The foals and the mare. Special this day only, we’re saving her for the end, so get excited!”
“On another note, we tell the fluffies that the lights go on if they’ve been bad fluffies. It helps keep them in line. Gives them a sense of control, which keeps them from looping, at least for a little while. It’s total fucking bullshit of course, but to everyone’s shock, im sure, the shitrats actually buy it. Go figure. If you’re going in there, you might choose to play into that idea. Tell the mare it’s her fault. Or not bring it up at all, that’s fine too, whatever floats your boat, but if you try to tell them the truth, do know that we’ll probably tell them otherwise afterwards. We’re with them all the time, you’re with them for 30 minutes. It’d be nice if you didn’t make our jobs harder. Just saying.”
“About cameras. Some people want to record the sessions, dont. No recording devices. If you have one, you need to surrender it here, and we’ll give it back to you at the end. If you try to sneak in there with one, it’s an instant ban. You also have to wear these aprons. Let me just get one off the shelf here…”
He reaches for a red apron, holding it up to the audience.
“These things cover you completely, so you should be safe from any sprays, and they also cover up any hidden cameras. Don’t take them off, for obvious reasons.”
“On to tools. We have a selection of tools in the cubby holes to your left, take whatever strikes your fancy, we have needles, hammers, twine, ice picks, some kitchen knives, files, pliers, the basics, we also have hot plates, waffle irons, a few firecrackers, I think there’s an old blender in there, unless that went missing, you know, basic stuff. Our selection is pretty limited, so we encourage you to bring your own tools, but there’s a few rules there too.”
“First, no large flames. Candle sized flames are okay, maybe you might go a bit bigger, but nothing huge. If it goes above the cage, it’s too big. Theres a fire extingisher on the wall, but you shouldn’t need it. Don’t burn the place down. We will not be happy. Second, acid. I know some of you like to use it, but we want it done on a safe surface. There’s some baking sheets on the shelf over there, use them if you’re using any acids at all. Also no superacid, or anything that can burn through metal. Some crazy bastard brought fluoroantimonic acid in here one time, however the hell he got his hands on that, I will never know, but it burned a hole straight through the table. It also released a lot of toxic gas. That’s another thing. No poisonous gas or vapours. Liquid or solid only and nothing that reacts violently with water better be left when you’re gone. We rinse the cages out and we don’t want you leaving your elemental sodium in there or whatever the fuck kind of mad scientist chemicals some of you bring in. Nothing that can harm a human. We will call the police if someone gets hurt. This isn’t some meth lab.”
“That’s all, any questions?”
One person raises their hand.
“Can we feed the mares?”
The crowd looks at him, some people start giggling, refrences to petting zoos are made.
“If you’re thinking of feeding them their own foals, don’t. We’ve already got you covered. We don’t feed them kibble, we feed them some kind of gross hyper cheap paste. The shit that goes into it isn’t even real food. It’s a mix of old expired pet food, dead rats and insects, organic waste products from farms and distilleries and stuff, you can get that for like, 60 bucks a ton. There’s some yard waste, a lot of organic waste from various places, Like, shit caught in burger joint grease traps and stuff. Horrible. We also recycle some of the byproducts of the mill. Fluffy digestion sucks so their shit still has a lot of nutrients in it, we just slip a bit of that in the vat when it gets low, and of course, dead fluffies. The grinder’s on the way in, you’ll see it when you get inside. The fluffies in E block are in there with the main grinder and the vat, so they see where the dead fluffies end up, and yes, we will feed them their own foals once you kill them. No, you can’t watch. Sorry. But rest assured, they’ll know what they’re eating today. We’re not lying either. It’s not like we’re going to wheel the dead shitrats outside and give them 21 gun salutes or something. Any other questions? No? Alright, we’ll start the bidding then.”
“First up is number two, and she’s a good one! She never left C-Block, so no name on her. She got sent to E-block two weeks ago. She’s a shit factory and she has 6 foals total. We take the good ones, so im pretty sure her whole litter was shit. She still loves em to death though, especially her ‘bestest’, the grey and green one. She also hates her ‘worstest babbeh’, the orange and brown one. Makes it dance for milk and eat shit. Apparently she doesn’t have a reason to hate it, she just says she doesn’t like orange things. Some stupid 5 IQ fluffy shit or something. Do I hear 10?”
A bidder raised his card.
“10! Do I hear 15? 15! Do I hear twenty? Twenty! Twenty five! Do I hear twenty five? 25! 30! Do I hear thity five? 35! Do I hear forty? Forty! Lets try skipping ahead, do i hear 50? 50? 50! What about 60? 60? 55 then! 55? 55? That’s all then? Alright, 50 going once! going twice! Sold!, To red 22! Now Onto number three! She’s waffle, a reject from B-block, four foals…”
The bidding continues on for quite a while, with most mares being sold and few passed over. All in all, 28 mares have been sold, Equaling out to 106 foals. Total profits thus far has been 32 dollars on average, leading to a total profit of 896 dollars. Expected profits are therefore 1002 dollars. Considering that poorly colored foals sell for about a dollar a piece, and most pet stores wont even take them, expected ROI is over 1000% higher than average, especially when work hours are taken into account, with every foal selling for essentially 10 dollars. The price of a good colored, freshly weaned foal. This does not account for the extra profit rarity will likely bring in. What this all means is, is that E block wont be going anywhere any time soon.
And there’s still 3 mares left to auction. Not only that, but these are the big ticket items. It’s likely that these mares will make up a good portion of the final profit.
Alright, next up we have number 48! Sandy, I’m sure one of you is familiar with her! Sandy’s been here two months, and is down to her last foal. It’s a mangled mess, missing its eyes, all its legs, most of it’s snout, all its teeth, mane, tail, both cut off, and third degree burns all over it’s body! How did it survive all this you may ask? Well though tender love and care from a certain repeat visitor of course! She’s miscarried four times now due to stress, so unless she produces on this next breeding session, she’s rat food. Well, she’s shitrat food anyways, heh. Normally a fluffy would be liquidated on their third miscarriage, but we’ve made a special exception on request for one of our most loyal clients. And at his request, we’re going to skip the warm up and start this bidding off at 50 dollars! Will our client get her, or will she be stolen by someone with the scratch and the audacity to make it happen? 50 dollars! Do I hear 55? 55! We actually have a bidder! I wonder how this’ll play out! Do I hear 60? 60! Do I hear 65? 65! Do I hear 70? 70! They’re neck and neck, lets try speeding this up. 80! Do i hear 80? 80! 90? 90! Do i hear a hundred? a Hundred dollars for Sandy the A-Block reject and her very ‘Wastest’ foal? I see it! We have a bidder! 100 dollars!"
“Now, Before the bidding continues, we’ve hit a critical point. If the bidding gets to 100 dollars, We’ve agreed to add a little appetizer. I need to show you a live feed of Sandy’s cage. Let me just turn on the screen here…”
The LCD turns on. On the screen is a fluffy, the aformentioned Sandy, clutching a mangled foal. She’s rocking back and forth, crying quietly while holding her foal, which sobs in her grip. Between quiet huus, she mutters desperately to it: “Babbeh nu hab huwties… Babbeh be fine… Munstahs nu huwt wast babbeh… Nu huwt… Mummah pwomise… Mummah wub babbeh… Nu wet munstahs huwt… Huu huu huu huu…”
A worker comes up to her.
“Hey sandy, I take it you know what day it is right?”
“Huu huu huu…”
“It’s liquidation day! You’ve been a good fluffy right?”
“Mummah gud fwuffy… Nu wet munstahs huwt wastest babbeh… Wub wastest babbeh… Huuuuu…”
“Well, I suppose time will tell, because the ‘monsters’ are outside right now! And they can hear you! Do you have anything you want to say to them?”
The tears flow with a new intensity. “Munstahs!? N- NU! NU HUWT BABBEH! PWEEZE NU HUWT BABBEH! MUMMAH WUB WASTEST BABBEH! NU HUWT BABBEH! PWEEZE NU HUWT BABBEH! MUMMAH SOWWY! AM GUD MUMMAH! WUB WASTEST BABBEH! PWEEZE NU HUWT! PWEEZE! PWEEZE NU HUWT WASTEST BABBEH! UUHUUHUU!!!” She cries loudly and shakes violently, even shits herself. Clearly she’s done it quite a few times already, because barely anything comes out. She begs in vain for mercy, knowing deep down that she would receive none, but still clinging to false hope regardless. After a lot of crying, she finally falls to the floor and covers her eyes. Still quietly pleading inaudibly to the camera.
The auctioneer turns the screen off.
“Well, Do I hear 110 dollars?”
The room had already filled with rancourous laughter and loud talking before the video feed was even cut. Seven hands shoot up immediately. The fluffy’s desperate pleas for mercy had had the opposite effect, only fanning the flames of sadism in the now ravenous crowd.
“Hahaha! Well that was effective wasn’t it? I can feel the bloodlust in the air! 110! Do I hear 120? 120!”
“One fifty!” A voice sounds out from the crowd.
"One fifty! Do I hear one sixty? 160! 170! Do I hear- 180! Do I hear 190? 190! Do I hear 200!? 200 dollars for Sandy’s last foal? 200! We have a bidder! 200 dollars! Do I possibly hear 210? 210 dollars? Yes! 210!
“Two fifty!” It’s the same voice again.
“Two hundred fifty dollars! We have two hundred fifty dollars for sandy and her last babbeh! Do we hear anything above that? Any 260? No? 250 going once then! Going twice! SOLD! To red four! I wonder if anyone could match your bloodlust red four. You’re a true connisuer my friend!”
The crowd dies down, but the talking continues in hushed tones. Everyone is whispering about the amount sandy sold for. Some are impressed by the dedication to sandy’s torment, others think it’s a waste of money for just one foal. Many are speculating as to who red four could possibly be. Someone even shares a rumor that he was an ex-hasbio executive or researcher. Though the veracity of these claims is impossible to confirm, the end result is the same. Whether sandy sells for 250 dollars or ten, It’s all the same to her. And to her foal.
Well, that was exciting! Sandy really stole the show didn’t she? I’ve only seen a bid that high once before for a fluffy named bellatrix! Those of you who know, know. But the real excitement will begin when we open those doors! Let’s get on to the last item on the list, number 50!"
“50’s name is rarity, and as you can see, she’s an almost perfect one. White fur and a shiny purple mane, but with a botched cutie mark. A pity, but she made a decent brood mare, producing well, until one day, she made a terrible mistake! As I understand it, a minor scuffle in A-block over a ball between her bestest babbeh and some extremely expensive alicorn foals ended in a triple murder of ‘munstah babbehs’ by her. Even worse, rarity has shown no remorse whatsoever! She keeps yelling about how she’ll be let out soon and how she’s worth a lot of money, but I don’t think managment agrees! As I said before, it’s a package deal. The 3 foals and the mare are on the chopping block right now, so you’re bidding for both! Do I hear 10? 10! Do I hear 20? 20! Do I hear thirty? 30! 40? 40! Do I hear fifty? Any fifty? No? Fourty five then! Fourty five? 45! Do I hear fifty? Oh we do have 50! 50 Dollars! Do I hear 55? Fifty five? Fifty going once, Fifty five! Do I hear sixty? Any sixty? Sixty! Do I hear- 70! Any 80? 80! Do I hear 90? 90? 90 dollars! Do I hear 100? No? How about 95? Yes! 95! A hundred? One hundred dollars for rarity and her foals? Alright, 95 going once, twice, SOLD! to Red 33! Alright people, that’s a wrap. Thanks for coming! We-”
Someone interrupts to whisper something in the auctioneer’s ear.
“What? I thought she was new. She wasn’t here for breeding day right?”
More whispering.
“Oh, right she did have foals. Right! They’re letting them keep the shit ones now! I forgot! Alright people! We have a bonus mare! Number 49! She’s relatively special fluffy, as she’s actually feral stock! Don’t let that dissuade you however, she was taken at a very young age after a raid on a feral herd down by the old ravine! They had been living out of some old drain down there 'til a ‘nummie findew’ ran afoul of a resturant owner in the area. He had aparrently stolen a 100 gram truffle after the head chef dropped it while recieving a delivery of them. He was so pissed that he made a plate of spaghetti, waited for a fluffy to come back, then stuck a gps tracker on it! Once he found where the herd was hiding, he called us. Specifically us. Not animal control, not the local shelter, us. Well, you know how we operate. Let’s just say that the incinerator was on full blast that day. As for 49, She was taken from them and raised here since she was still a chirpy, but she’s proven to be a bit too violent. She didn’t even make it out of C-Block before she was sent here! She has 3 little foals, one of which was injured by us when she got a little too big for her britches down in the breeding pits! It has a missing eye and 3 broken legs. Not a appealing as the others perhaps, I know you don’t come here for ferals, but on the upside, she’s new! I personally brought her in here just yesterday! She was not happy to find out where the ‘soylent brown’ was coming from, heh. Anyways, let’s start the bidding! Do I hear 10 dollars? Anyone? Ten dollars? Come on people, just 10 dollars! Anyone? Okay, Just this once, I’ll drop it down to five dollars. I did spring this on to you unexpectedly. Five dollars! Any takers? Come on, where’s the excitement from before? Anyone? Just five dollars for the mare and her 3 foals! We’ll sell her on the spot! Just five dollars this time! …Anyone?”
One person raises his card.
“SOLD!”
