“… Yeah. Really, Mom.” Joey tucked her phone against her shoulder and let her new little friend waddle into her hand from the kitchen countertop. She rolled her eyes as her mother sighed. “He’s cute as hell. Really well-behaved, too.”
“Really, Josephine. Why couldn’t you just give me grandchildren? Just imagine what your Auntie Carol is going to say.”
“Two-thirds of Aunt Carol’s kids are in prison.”
“And you bought a fluffy!”
“Rescued. And his name is Stevie. He’s purple and blue.” Joey rubbed little Stevie against her cheek. He giggled. With it came a little toot. Joey laughed.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Stevie.”
Stevie looked up as he let another fart. “Seebie!”
“Yeah, you’re Stevie! Good job, little guy!” Joey held out her finger, and Stevie tapped it with his hoof. “All right, high five!”
Mom groaned. “Why can’t you just settle down? Find a girlfriend, have some babies. What about that nice girl at your job?”
“Who?”
“You know. The one you told me about. The. The blue dress woman.”
“I am not dating my sixty-year-old, straight, married boss.”
“She didn’t sound that old—”
“I literally told you she takes sick days to get Botox! Then yells at me for the flu!” Joey glanced at Stevie, who squirmed in her hand. “I think Stevie needs to potty. I gotta go.”
“Your whole place is going to smell like fluffy doo-doos. They’ll be everywhere! You know what those things are like. All over the street!”
“I mean, Stevie’s actually really good about it. He just, you know. Frrt.”
“So the carpets are ruined, and the air is toxic. Remind me to tell your grandmother we’re having Thanksgiving at her house. You know how weak she’s getting—”
“Mummah?” Stevie nudged Joey’s finger. “Seebie make gud poopie?”
“Bye, Mom. Come over next week. You can meet your grandfluffy then.”
“I’ll bring my steam cleaner—”
Joey stuffed her phone in her pocket and rushed Stevie to his corner of the bedroom. In his litter box, made from an old letter tray and shredded junk mail, Stevie turned three times, grunted, and pooped in a tidy pile. He kicked shreds over top, and grinned at Joey, who offered her index finger.
“High fibies!” Stevie thumped both his front hooves to Joey’s finger. She laughed and scooped him into her palm.
“OK, Stevie, you wanna know why you have the best, awesomest, most badass name of any fluffy!”
Stevie gasped. “Seebie wan’ know!”
Joey opened her closet. Stevie gasped at the absolute glory that hung on the other side of the door, where Joey’s mother wouldn’t see it and complain.
Stevie waved his hooves and tooted. “Pwetties’ wady!”
“You’re damn right! This, my little friend, is the one, the glorious, the magnificent, the true queen of the universe, Stevie Nicks!” Joey cupped her mouth with one hand and made crowd noises.
“Wowies.” Stevie stared at the poster in its cheap frame, leaning forward on Joey’s finger. “Anuddah mummah?”
“Only in my dreams.” Joey wiped a fleck of dust from Original Stevie’s cheek. “The things I would do to her.”
“Wha’ do?”
“Er.” Joey booped Stevie’s nose before he could say more. “You know how to dance, right?”
“Eeeee!” Stevie rose on his hind legs and wiggled side to side, tiny farts popping along. “Dancie, dancie babbeh!”
Joey laughed. “You’re the fartiest little guy I’ve ever met. Hey, listen.” She fumbled with her phone until a tinny version of her personal goddess’s voice filled the bedroom. Joey sang along: “Just like the white-winged dove….”
For three songs, Joey and Stevie grooved to the best music ever made. The whole time, happy little farts popped from Stevie’s butt.
“You’ve got a real fartbox there, don’t you?”
“Fawtboxie!”
Joey laughed. “Stevie’s fartbox!”
“Seebie Fawtboxie!”
“Is that your name? Stevie Fartbox?”
Stevie waved his hooves. “Seebie Fawtboxie!”
Twenty minutes after Joey texted her mother, and Stevie Fartbox settled in with a bottle of milk and his stuffed frog, a reply came through:
Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not getting grandchildren. I’m not introducing myself as, ‘the gassy one’s grandma.’
@FederalChemical1728 drew these amazing pictures of Stevie Fartbox, who first appeared in “Total Eclipse of the Fluff”. I’m planning to write a series of hugbox and moronbox shorts about this sweet, daft, smelly little guy. Lmk what you think!