Another good night of sleep. Not much in the way of dreams, but restful nonetheless. You get out of bed, brush your teeth, use the bathroom, get dressed, put a pot of coffee on, and decide to check on Fireball. You heard him have another panic attack when you woke up to piss last night, but what can you do? Seems like 90 percent of the time Fireball is awake he’s having panic attacks. He’s asleep,"huu huu"ing in his sleep. You go to the kitchen, put a can of spaghettios in a bowl, and heat it up. While it’s heating up, you scroll through your phone, deciding to check the TV Guide. You check Fluff TV, figuring Fireball deserves some actual television after the incredibly depressing talk you two had. “Sketti Time 3 Hour Pasta Special, followed by Run and Play marathon, huh?” Well, you never said you wanted to make him SUPER happy. You put your phone in your pocket, pick up the spaghettios, and bring it into his room.
His nose twitches, and his eyes open up. He looks up at you, sad, but hopeful. “Am skettis fo’ Fiwebaww?” You pick him up, take him to the living room, set him down on his pillowfluff bed, all set up for a day of TV. You turn the TV to Fluff TV, put the food in front of him, and sit down next to him and watch some TV before going out on the town.
The show is mindnumbingly boring. You never liked cooking shows, but this is a hundred times worse. Fireball goes “Skettis! Ooo Fwuffies wub skettis! Su happies!”, and the show is over. You stand up as the commercials run. “W-whewe daddeh goin?” You pat Fireball on the head. “Daddy has to run more errands today, but you’ll be fine here.” You walk towards the door just in time to hear the TV say “And now, the 24 hour Run and Play Marathon!” Walking out the door, you hear Fireball say “Huu huu! W-wan weggies b-back! Wan w-wun an pway! W-w-wan mummah! WAN MUMMAH!!” Looks like another long day for Fireball.
You walk over to a nearby Fluff store, you don’t remember it being here yesterday. It’s not nearly as nice as the Fluffy Emporium you visited yesterday, but the fluffies inside are probably adequately happy. Plus, they have an outside area where they can get some fresh air, and plenty of running space. You aren’t buying any to keep from here, you’re mostly just browsing. Walking down the aisle, looking at the fluffies running up to the glass wall and staring at you. Some saying things like “Nice mistuh be nyu daddeh?” “Fwuffy wan skettis!” “Pick babbeh!” “Huu, scawy!” “Nu pick fwuffy, fwuffy wike it hewe.” “Pick fwuffy nao, hooman.” “Yu wooking fow nyu toysie, hooman?”
You come to the end of the row, and see a neon pink unicorn colt with a purple mane, probably about 3 months old. Absolutely gaudy, but fluffies, for whatever reason, think that these bright colors are good. “Hewwo mistuh! Pick bestest mos’ smawtest fwuffy!” A smarty. Great. You crouch down and look at it. “Why should I pick you?” you say. He starts doing an odd shuffle, and says “Fwuffy am bestest dancie fwuffy ebah!” You frown. “Anything else?”
“Fwuffy am smawtest! Aw odah fwuffies hewe am dummehs. An’ fwuffy nebah get huwt ebah! Fwuffy safest fwuffy ebah! Mummah say to fwuffy ‘Fwuffy wiww get nicestest homie wif nicest daddeh o’ mummah an wiww get aww da sketties in da wowd, cause yu am bestest fwuffy in da how fowebah!’ Can ask mummah, mummah wiww teww yu dat fwuffy bestest ebah!” You raise an eyebrow. “Mom? Where’s she at?” The fluffy points a hoof across the store. Obah dewe, takin cawe of widdwe chiwpy babbehs. Mummah wook jus’ wike fwuffy!" You stand up and walk across the store, finding the mother with the disgustingly bright colors. She’s nursing two equally gaudy looking foals, while a brown foal sits at her feet, begging for food.
“Wait yow tuwn, poopie babbeh! Mummah hab pwenty ob miwkies fo aw hew babbehs!” She notices you and smiles. “Hewwo mistuh! Yu wan wook at mummah an’ babbehs? Dis wun hewe is mummah’s favowite! Awmost bestest!” You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Do you have a kid that looks just like you?” The mothers eyes light up. “OOO! Dat bestes’ babbeh! Suu smawt an nicie an pwetty! Wub to wun an’ pway tu! Pway wif bwockies, an baww, an eben bwockies! Why mistuh ask?” You smile. “I was going to buy your bestest baby, and give it a great home!” She flails her arms in excitement, accidentally hitting one of the foals in the face. “Bestest babbeh gon get bestest daddeh! Suu happies!”
“I’ll take him over to say goodbye before we leave.” The mother smiles. “Otay nice mistuh!” You walk over to the clerk, point out the fluffy you want, he mentions this one is discounted due to its bad temperament, he hands you the fluffy (you’re pretty sure it’s the same fluffy at least), and you decide to continue browsing. “Alright, little guy, im feeling especially uncreative today, so until I can think of something better your name is going to be Ball.” He smiles and does an irritating little dance. “Yay! Baww wub nyu namesie! Tank yu daddeh!”
You and your new fluffy come across the litterpals, quite possibly the most grotesque, monstrous, inhumane thing devised by mankind. “Wook at dummeh nu weggie poopie fwuffies! Hee hee, dummeh fwuffies nu can wun o’ pway!” You look down at him. “Do you think that can’t happen to you?” He just smiles at you. “Baww would gif biggest sowwy poopies an sowwy hoofsies tu anywun who wan huwt Baww. Baww am bestest fwuffy!” You sigh. “Hey, is there a pillowing station here?”
After a brief interlude of you crushing the bones in his legs using a heavy book, and then removing them, (This isn’t as fun anymore) you take him over to his mom. She scree’s in horror, pounding on the glass and accidentally stepping on one of her babies, killing it. “BESTEST BABBEH! NUUUU!” Ball cries and screams. “M-MUMMAH! SABE BABBEH! WAN WEGGIES BACK! WAN WUN AN’ PWAY!” Throughout all of this, you have the same vacant expression. You aren’t even sure you’re awake.
You step outside, and ask Ball how he’s feeling. “W-why nyu daddeh take weggies? Baww hab wowstest owwies, suu huwties! Wan wun an pway! Baww can stiww feew whewe weggies get squishied.” You laugh. “I did it because I’m above you. I wanted to bring you down a peg, wanted to show you that bad things CAN happen to you.”
Ball stops crying and looks directly into your eyes. You don’t know why, but you’re terrified. “Did that make you feel better? Make you feel like you had some sort of influence on the world? Like you made an impact?” You stare at it, noticing you’re trembling slightly. “W-what?” It speaks again. It moves its mouth, but it talks in perfect english, none of the baby talk. Almost sounds like someone you know. “You’re 35 years old, college graduate. You wanted to change the world, make an impact! All you have to show for your existence is a couple abused, broken creatures and a dead end job that you hate. A soulless house, perfect for a person like you. The only mark you’ve left on this world won’t even last. You’re a shade. Do you even exist?”
“W-what?” You can’t respond in any other way. “But abusing creatures makes you feel better, doesn’t it? It gives you a rush! You feel like you have control over something! Distracts you from your job, your family that hasn’t talked to you in years, all the people you could have become friends with but didn’t because you thought that humans were below you. You talk about humanity as if you’re better than everyone else. But at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how many legs you chop off. Doesn’t matter how much pain you inflict on things like me. You still haven’t done anything with your life, and you never will.”
“S-shut up, shut up.” You are shaking like a leaf now. “You’re nothing more than a loser who aspires to be something better, but you can’t work up the courage to TRY and be something better. You see other people succeeding, and you curse them. Blaming them for your failure, saying that they’re ‘disgusting humans’ and ‘just as bad as all the rest’. You talk so badly about humanity, but you haven’t done anything to try and change the world around you. You have the means to do it, too! You have plenty of money and a bachelors degree, and yet you stay home, complaining about how the world is terrible and no one is happy. You do nothing to add any happiness to the world. All you bring to everyone around you is sadness, anger, and irritation.”
“S-stop it! Stop!” You’re covering your ears now, back against the wall, sitting with your knees to your chest. “You’re nothing. You’ll never amount to anything, and you know it. That’s why you do what you do. You destroy things that remind you of what you used to be. There are fluffies who have had more of an impact on reality than you could ever DREAM of having! Look at you, crying to yourself on the street because something made for kids is telling you everything that’s wrong with you. Any other ‘disgusting human’ would use this as a point to turn around. But you aren’t like ‘other humans’, are you? You’re better than them! You’re too proud to admit that you have to turn around. You think you’re at the top, but you’re nothing, and you’ll never be anything. When you die, your grave is going to look just like this alleyway. All the people you said were terrible will be remembered, while you’ll be doomed to be forgotten by existence itself. A fitting end for someone like you.”
“STOP!” You scream, pounding your fists on the ground. You open your eyes, and you’re back at your house, sitting in front of the TV with Fireball. You never left the house. It was all a dream, but it felt so real, and you can remember it perfectly. Fireball turns to look at you, concerned. “D-daddeh? Why cwying? W-wan hug Fiwebaww? Huggies make ebwyting b-bettah.” You stumble backwards. “G-get away from me, stay away! S-STAY AWAY FROM ME!”
“D-daddeh? Awe yu otay?” Fireball looks at you, slightly frightened. You look back at him, crumple into a ball on the floor, and sob.
