You are Surge the Tenrec, and you are unsure how exactly you ended up in this situation.
About seven weeks ago, you found a Fluffy pony in this alley; you had no idea what the fuck it was, you had the vague idea it was another victim of getting pulled into the moshpit of timeline garbage you currently live in, and it was barely bigger than your index finger. For some reason, you decided to take it home, nurture it, research it, and raise it.
Ever since, you’ve passed by this alley more times than you can count, wondering if there was a family it belonged to, something else that may know what it was. And just as many times you sat awake on your computer, typing random bullshit into the search bar in the hopes that you’d figure out just what the hell the little rust-red squeaking creature you’d found was. Finally, three weeks after you’d found it, you found out what it was; a Fluffy. A Bowl Fluffy “poopeh babbeh”, something that - even if you’d found it’s family - wasn’t wanted by it’s own kind for not being colorful or pretty enough.
Still, you ran by this alley every day for some reason, and today, finally, something was different; a group of Fluffies sitting around a cardboard box, making noise in spite of the hostile conditions of this damp, narrow path with no way out. One of them was clearly a Mummah; a nauseatingly pink mare with a mane that was somehow the most ‘neon’ shade of copper you’d ever seen and bright yellow eyes. The other was likely the father; a soft sky-blue with a light, steel-gray mane. Cradled against the Mummah was three small chirping babies; one a bright green with the beginnings of a tail, one a soft blue just like the father, and held up in the mummah’s arms was a baby the same shade of pink, with it’s father’s blue color as it’s mane.
As you strode into the alley, the blue ‘stallion’ fluffy squealed in shock.
“GWEEN MUNSTAH! Hide, babbehs, daddeh keep u’ saff!” it said, it’s voice a low tone but still pitched like a squeaky toy.
The mummah and babbehs tucked themselves further back in the box, and the blue one took a stance that - to it - must’ve seemed intimidating, but reminded you of a chihuahua that was mere seconds away from pissing itself and running.
“Meanie gween munstah, nu huwt babbeh! Nu come cwosah, oh gib wostest huwties!!”
You stared for a few seconds at it, a brow raised, and then crouched down, a foot or two away from it. “Oi, watch yer mouth, little guy.” you said, huffing as your arms draped over your knees. “I ain’t a monster, i’m just a tenrec. You guys only seen humans before, huh?”
“Nu munstah?” the blue one asked, eyeing you warily. “But gween wady hab pointy teefies, an’ gwowy eyes like munstah!”
Indeed, your eyes glowed; long story short, a mad doctor kidnapped you, washed away every memory you had, replaced half your body with cybernetics, and made you a walking electrical generator, calling upon lightning at your command. So naturally, that meant your eyes glowed a bright cyan, standing out in stark contrast to the dim light in the alley. “Nah, they just glow like that.” you tell it; from what you know about Fluffies, trying to tell it your story would confuse it so much it might pass out just trying to grasp the concept. “I ain’t a monster though. That your family?”
Shyly, the bright pink one poked it’s head out from the cardboard box it was hiding in; it’s tiny chirping babies were up on it’s back, the pink one tucked beneath it’s mane in a much more secure place than the other two…three. One that hadn’t been visible before was amongst the fluff on it’s back - a cherry red one with an olive-green mane, curled up with it’s blue and green siblings. The blue ‘stallion’ puffed up it’s chest and nodded, now convinced you weren’t a threat.
“Dat am speshaw fweind, an’ chiwpy babbehs, and bestesh babbeh!” he said, pointing them out each with it’s stubby little hoof. You grimaced; the fact it was a “bestest” baby meant it was being cared for more than the others. You crept closer, carefully to not spook them. “Is that ALL the babies?” you asked; if what you’d found about them was true then… “There’s no poopies, are there?”
The blue one tilted it’s head. “Nu, nu moh poopies now.” he said, and you had an awful feeling; you almost bet yourself this little rat killed it’s own child for being ‘ugly’. “What do you mean, now?” you asked, hands gripping your knees, keeping as neutral a face as you could. “Unce had poopie, but nu moh. Wost poopie, is foh best.” it said, nodding as if it were wise. “Dummeh ugwy poopie babbeh twy steaw miwk, gabe wowstest hoofsies! Wowwed unda twashie.”
It pointed to the dumpster you crouched by; the same one you’d found your pet rust-colored bowl fluff under before. You looked again; these weren’t bowl fluffs. “Oh yeah?” you said then, looking beneath again; no fluffy under there. Not even a corpse. “Yeh! Ugwy poopie fwuffeh was dumb, and ugwy, and was aww wong tuu!” the stallion said, as the mummah slowly came out, the babies peeping and chirping upon it’s back. “All wrong?” you asked, looking back at him. “Wrong how?”
“Dummeh poopie had bad bewwy! Wooked wike boww, an’ UGWY cowwow! Poopie babbeh wif twashy taiw, an’ smush-in bewwy!” the blue one said, crossing it’s front hoofs as best it could in front of it’s little chest.
You stared at it, incredulously; this dumbass’ mare friend had birthed a bowl fluffy, despite none of them being bowls, and they got RID of it? You felt your blood boil, but kept it cool.
“That wasn’t nice.” you said, unable to stop a growl in your voice. “Just because it looked different doesn’t mean it was a bad baby.”
The blue one’s demeanor suddenly changed. It snorted, glaring at you. “NU! Dummeh UGWY poopie babbehs am onwy fow num poopies, an gib bad hoofsies!! Dummeh munstah!” it said, tamping it’s little front hooves on the ground. “Now am tiwed of munstah! Smawty twy talk wif, buh munstah am dummeh too!”
God dammit, this fucker was a SMARTY? You’d heard about them; there’d be almost no reasoning with it. You reached out, your index close to his face, and a small spark of electricity leaped from your fingertip to it’s nose, leaving a small red mark. It squealed, rubbing at it’s nose. “Watch your mouth.” you say again, glaring. “I’m TELLING you, you little brat, there’s nothing WRONG with poopie fluffies. They AREN’T poopie fluffies, they’re just a different color! And bowl fluffies are GOOD, they can swim on their backs!”
The blue one snorted, stamping it’s hoofs again after rubbing a few more times. “NU! DUMMEH! Poopie babbeh dummeh, boww fwuffy dummeh, fwoaty on bad wawa DUMMEH!” it said, it’s little hoofs kicking up small amounts of dust. “Wawa bad fow fwuffy, so if fwuffy fwoat on wawa, am BAD fwuffeh! Wawa bad, fwuffeh bad!!”
You zapped it’s nose again, noting as the mummah backed away. “Nuuu! Stahp zappy speshaw fweind!!” the mare squealed as it noticed it’s stallion’s nose getting more and more scorched.
“I’m trying to teach him. Chill out.” you tell the mare, looking back to the blue one. “Now you listen here, different is NOT bad. Water is-” “NU CAWE, DUMMEH MUNSTAH!” the Smarty cut in, stamping again. “POOPIE UGWY FWUFFEH AND DUMMEH MUNSTAH DAH SAME! AM DUMMEH!!!” It suddenly turned around, and you leaned back a moment. “TAKE SOWWY POOPIES!!”
You had super-speed. You didn’t need to take this. But somehow, in the moment, you forgot to stand and move back. You were so frustrated trying to get through to this thing, you figured you could just turn it back around to face you; you placed your hand on it’s back, gripping it’s fragile body as soft as you could to try and turn it away. But somehow, it’s little bowels were faster; liquid feces suddenly shot from it’s backside, and hit your shoe with an audible SPLAT. You stared down, glaring, and noticed that it was mostly liquid; whatever he’d been eating didn’t agree with him. And then…you felt something warm on the tip of your toe. The little bastard had somehow soaked through one of the only shoes you’d worn for ten years, and now it was touching you. That vile, disgusting substance that creatures outside your homeworld created for seemingly no reason at all, and it RUINED your KICKS.
You had spent the last month and a half getting to know these things by proxy; reading, consuming media, watching them through your screen, knowing them vicariously through your own little rust-colored new pet. And you had thought to yourself you would NEVER be needlessly cruel to a fluffy. NEVER hurt them. Even a Smarty, you could just put in a box or a corner and let it cry long enough to feel bad about what it did.
As you stood now, however, picking this fluffy up by gripping it’s back harshly, you could only think of how your shoe had been ruined. For the past ten years, these shoes were the only thing you’d had that was your own; these, the piercings, and the clothes on your back. Everything else that mad doctor had supplied you with was never yours. And so easily, this little shit had ruined something YOU OWNED.
You finally remembered your super speed, and utilized it; it was squealing in your grip at first. “EEEEE, BAD UPPIES! DUMMEH MUNSTAH PUT SMAWTY DOWN, GIB SOWWY HOOFSIES, MOH SOWWY POOPIES!!!” it squealed angrily, curling it’s body and lifting it’s tail as it prepared itself to shit again. Instead, time slowed around you; your mind and body working together, you felt the air itself slow down. You let your hand unclench, and watched the Smarty fall from your grip. It’s angry voice was replaced by a scree of fear as it plummeted three feet towards the ground; in slow motion, the low-pitched squeal made you want to laugh. You ALMOST did. Instead, you pulled your leg back - the one with the shit-stained boot on it - and felt the steel on the bottom of it scrape across the pavement. You were moving fast enough you kicked up a spark behind you, but you didn’t see it; you were focused on fluffy falling through the air.
As the Smarty reached the last foot to the ground, YOUR foot came forwards; you felt it collide with the soft blue body, felt something like a mass of small rocks come loose inside it, and heard the subtle crumble of something breaking and rubbing against it’s own pieces. The scree of falling fear turned to one of pain, and you watched you foot go from nearly beneath you to in front of you. You saw a spray of red escape the Smarty’s mouth, and a spray of brown escape it’s backside. The mare that had been standing to one side, pleading with you to let it go stared it horror, and you watched as the stallion’s feces flew across the small distance and SLAPPED her square in her open eyes. They shut in reflex, and you saw her begin to reel back; your focus turned back to the Smarty, and you decided to watch THIS bastard play out in real time again.
Your mind and body came back to normal speed, and everything happened at once; the mare screamed, clutching her face as it’s eyes burned. The stallion flew down the alleyway like a blue soccer ball, still screeling from the impact of being kicked. The mare flung itself backwards, it’s babies tumbling to the ground, and as you watched, the mare stumbled to and fro, back and forth, trying desperately, worthlessly to wipe shit from it’s eyes with it’s useless stubby hooves. It’s Bestest baby landed in the streak it’s father had left prior to tracking into the mummah’s eyes, and you watched as the mummah stepped right on it. It squealed once before it’s mother’s hoof came down on it, and with a gurgling last chirp, you heard it’s spine snap and it’s blood gush from it’s mouth, laying still.
During all this, the Smarty had flown down the alley, and with a loud CLANG, hit one of the trash cans at the end, denting it and sending the lid flying up into the air; the Smarty bounced off the can, somehow collided with the wall, and landed on it’s back, it’s front left leg bent at an impossible angle. “SCREEEE, WOWSTEST HUWTIES!!! HEWP, FAMWY, HEWP, UHUUHUUUUU!” it cried out, and the Mummah, hearing it’s special friend, tried to find him; it scuttled back onto all fours, nearly slipping on it’s Bestest’s carcass, and kicked the red one out of the way by accident as it charged blindly forward. “Speshaw fweind??? Wewe fweind?? Fwuffy gib huggies!!! Wewe speshaw-” it called out, cut off as it ran face-first into another nearby trash can, letting out a scree and clutching it’s bleeding face.
You thought these things were soft and fragile already, but it still amazed you just HOW fragile they actually were. You thought it would’ve taken significant force to hurt one; sure, a single punch might’ve done damage, but to have seen a mare crack her own face open, JUST from running forward two feet into a can?? You made a mental note to be more careful around your Bowl Fluffy back home.
Something gleaming caught your eye; as if in a cartoon, it was almost like the trash can lid that had been flung off earlier had been waiting for you to notice it. Nah; you were still slightly operating on super-speed now. You watched as it came down, and with bad luck that could only come from horrible karma, the edge of the lid landed directly on the Smarty’s throat, crushing it’s windpipe. It’s screams of pain were cut off, replaced by choking noises as it began to suffocate on it’s crushed throat and internal bleeding. Looking down, you noticed that the red baby was chirping loudly, it’s back leg obviously broken. However, the green one was completely untouched, having somehow been missed by both it’s stumbling, blinded mummah and the stream of shit it’s father had let out upon your boot’s impact.
Carefully, you bent down and picked up both the green and red chirpy babies; they cried and peeped in your gloved hands, and the mummah turned towards the sound. “Babbehs??? Nu cwy! Mummah hewe! Babbehs, come tu mummah!! Gib huggies!!” she said, blindly stumbling towards you.
You took two steps back, keeping them held. You felt bad for the mare; it had gotten caught in crossfire between you and that god-awful Smarty bastard. But with shit in it’s eyes and sepsis sure to follow, and you with no money at all, there was nothing you could do for her. On the other hand…you looked to the two babies. The red one could possibly be fixed, you thought; you’re sure you could look up how to fix or amputate a broken leg, if need be.
You looked at the green one, and in the final act of this divine comedy, it slowly opened it’s eyes. YOU were the first thing it saw. You expected it to shit itself in terror; instead, you found yourself marveling at the sheer, comedic coincidence you found yourself staring at. It’s green coat was the same exact green as your own body; it’s tail was the same exact white as your gloves. And it’s eyes, as it slowly opened them and beheld you, were the same exact yellow as your favorite pair of pants.
“M…mu…mmah?” it squeaked up at you. “Mummah?”
“Mumma hewe, babbehs!!” the mare cried out from down below. “Munstah, pwease, gib babbehs!! Gib talkie babbeh, need gib huggies and wub!!!” You stared down at her, then back to the green one; it chirped in your hands once, looking around. It couldn’t see it’s mummah past your gloved fingers, and so looked side to side, trying to find her. Instead of giving them back, you curled a finger and gently rubbed the top of the green one’s head. It coo’d softly, and looked back up at you.
“Hey, little dude. You want sketti?” you asked it. The red one peeped, some small recognition in it’s bio-coding telling it that yes, it wanted sketti. The green one gasped, and for the first time, you noticed a pair of tiny wings unfolding from it’s body. “Sketti!” it squealed, peeping like a baby after. “Sketti! Mummah, sketti!!”
You grinned at it, and walked out of the alley, your two new fluffies in tow. You tucked them safely into your shirt pocket and sped off back home, the sounds of the lone mare crying for it’s special friend fading rapidly in the distance behind you.
