“Pwease gif howme! Fwuffy mama soon,” Spoke one of the fluffies as I stared at it. It was an average-sized pegasus mare, dusty grey fluff, a blackish blue mane, and wide blue eyes. She was standing, or as close to standing as a heavily pregnant fluffy mare could get, her bloated belly propping her up, the tips of her gummy hoooves barely on the dirty alleyway floor.
Dead fluffies were all around her, a few earth fluffies, the odd pegasus, and at the far end, a unicorn, the smarty of her former herd, gasping on the floor as a small trickle of blood flowed from its muzzle. The small green unicorn had given itself an aneurysm or something as it used its magic.
“Gif nummies!” the other mare urged me, pleading by my feet—light yellow, with a red mane. “Babbehs need miwkie, mama need nummies fow miwkie” it whined as she brought her babies over, maybe expecting to sway me with the sight, or maybe she was trying to illustrate her point. She had babies, babies needed milk, she needed food for milk.
How had I ended up here? Right, I was on my way home with my lunch. I felt the paper bag that held my sandwich and my fries. I always enjoyed fries. Curly, when I was little. Curly. That was his name. The name of my first fluffy. Baby blue pegasus. Dad said he would be too much responsibility, that if I couldn’t care for him, they would give him away. I promised, and I delivered in spades. Curly was litter trained, well behaved, played nicely with everyone, and was surprisingly smart, for a fluffy, of course.
He knew my name. I wasn’t “daddeh”, no, I was “Awex”. Alex. He could remember my name completely, the fucking prodigy. Of course, that didn’t stop him from jumping off the top of the stairs. He believed he could fly. Like I said, smart relative to a fluffy.
“HMM!” I heard the huff and puff of a small fluffy. A little unicorn, green, much like the agonizing smarty. “dummeh! gif nummies, and howsie, and sketti!” I felt a light bop, then the mare that had been begging for “nummies” screeched, “nuuuh! babeh, no gif owwies to miwsteh.” The baby immediately turned around and kept its diminutive posturing. “Ahm bestest babeh! Ahm soon smawty! gif nummies.” He turned to face me again. “gif nummies, ow I gif biggest owwies!”
A self-proclaimed “soon smarty” fuck me. I looked at them and the scene that I witnessed. A group of hungry stray dogs had ambushed their small herd. The mamas and the soon-to-be mama huddled away for safety while the smarty and his “toughie fwends” tried to fend off the dogs.
It didn’t work, of course. The “toughie fwends”? dog food. The mamas? taken away by the dogs, and the smarty? Surprisingly, little shit put up a fight, using his horn to make big sparkles that spooked the dogs. Of course, that much effort blew something on its head, and well, the effects were obvious.
“pwease, mistew, hewp fwuffy? Ahm mama soon,” the little grey mare continued begging. There was something about it, about that stupid little thing and its big bright eyes. I looked at it, and it was almost cute.
“Well…” I started before I felt another bop. “Gif nummies! NAO!” the little self-proclaimed smarty yelled. I looked at it. Unlike the little grey mare, this one was bright green, with a red mane. Fucking garish. “piss off.” I said calmly and flicked it away, Not a kick, not a punch, just a flick, two fingers flicking it away. I watched it tumble away as it screeched with that distinctive fluffy “EEEEEE”. The mare ran over “nuuuh, bestest babeh!” She tried to help it as the foal shit and pissed all over itself with a cry of “nuuuuh poopies! mama, hewp!”
The dusty grey mare now stared at me, terrified. “You didn’t shit yourself,” I asked her calmly. “Uhh, fwuffy nuh haf nummies, nuh nummies, no poopies”.
I stare, flabbergasted. A fluffy that couldn’t shit itself. Not wouldn’t. Couldn’t, due to a lack of food. I couldn’t help but laugh. For some reason, the dusty gray mare took it as a good sign. She smiled brightly and flapped her tiny, useless wings. “hehe, mistew happy?” Little shit did it. I smiled at it this time. “Yeah, sure, I guess.” I shrugged and went for it. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen? I found a small, black box, like the ones used for produce. A faded sticker with a picture of a potato still clung to it. “Ok, don’t move” I said as I gently scooped the gray mare into the box.
She gasped and looked at me. “Mistew, gonna gif nummies?” I stood up. “Sure, I guess, but you better be a good fluffy, or else.” I frowned at the last part, hopefully frightening the little fluffy into good behavior.
Just as I was about to leave, I heard the other mare. She and her babies, at my feet, begging for “howsie” and “nummies, babeh need miwkies.” Even the self-proclaimed soon smarty. I sighed and shook my head.
“Sucks to be you.” I turned to leave, to walk away, but hesitated. I grabbed the bag with my lunch, my sandwich and fries. I thought for a moment, then set down the fries. Medium fries, salty. My favorites. “Here, no house for you. Eat it, you’re on your own.” Then, I left the alleyway for good. The cute, gray fluffy in the box, and the crying mare with her babies left behind. A part of me wanted to think that I gave her a chance, but most likely, she would die not long after eating what I left behind. Regardless, I disregarded those thoughts and kept walking home.
“Daddeh?” the little mare started.
“Yeah?” I responded calmly.
“When nummies?”
“Soon.”