March. Time was coming. The Butcher readied himself and went to the box behind his apartment. There, as always, he found a small litter of Fluffy Ponies, 5 exactly, a mother, a teenager and 3 foals riding on the mother’s back. All asleep in the box by the alley. The Butcher took the box in gently, and put them by the backroom, inside the building. He lived in the apartment just behind his workplace, the “Squishy Fluffy”, a restaurant, so he always arrived before the owner, as his door connected directly into the restaurant, or rather the kitchen. The climate was weird, as always. Every time that Fluffies arrived there, it began raining. The forecast said so, the cloud said so, and even he had the feeling it would happen. The restaurant’s decoration was… rather simplistic. Five small tables, green striped walls and wooden floors. It also had on the walls paintings of happy families of both humans and Fluffies. What a joke. The cashier arrived, chatting with the owner under the latter’s umbrella. They turned on the neon sign and walked in. The owner began folding his umbrella as the cashier met the butcher.
“Yo, Mike, how ya doin’?”
“Good as always, Oz. Heard you had a party last night, how that went?”
“As always. Not many people, and quite boring. Well, we doing this or what?”
The boss walked into his office, quiet as always. Ever since the “new neighbors” had moved into town, he was quite relaxed. Work went by quickly, and Mike couldn’t be more eager. After one last order from a couple, Mike served his own dinner in the kitchen and went into his apartment, saying goodbye to Oz and the owner. Inside his room, the family began waking up and getting worried. The room was quite dark, so they couldn’t see rather well. He grabbed a bowl from his table and set his lunch on it: pieces of minced meat topped with ketchup. He laid the lunch on the floor, and saw as the family distrustingly approached the bowl and fed rapidly on it. The happiness on their faces was gratifying, as smiles began appearing on their fluffy faces. He began petting the mother, who quickly noted the presence of Mike.
“Did nyu Daddeh save Fwuffy an Babbehs from monstuh?”
Mike smiled back, and pet her behind the ears.
“Yes, new daddy saved y’all. Eat up, you must be starving.”
The family continued eating from the bowl, even after Mike sprinkled some Parmesan Cheese on the meat spaghetti and one of the foals. He glanced into the window, and one by one, they began getting sleepy, and eventually, all were asleep again. Now that they had their fun, it was his time to play.
Mike gently began putting the babies in the bowl and put it on his kitchen counter, then, he laid down the teen and laid him down on a wooden board. As for last, she put the mother on the table and saw an injury like a bite in her back. He quickly bandaged her up, and turned on the lights, illuminating his Magnum Opus.
Decorating the walls were tens, if not hundreds of skins of other Fluffies on his wall, all without the head. Covering a clock was the gaping mouth of the mothers, each one over an hour, with the head over 12 rotting off, and he began smelled the taste of future spaghetti in the bowl, just begging to be grounded up into powder. The mother woke up and screamed at the nightmare, but she was covered entirely in bandages, so she couldn’t move her arms. The Butcher took out a drill and a nail gun, and nailed the teen’s arms to the chopping board, causing the screams to intensify. Both from a mother who had failed her children as well as from a boy who knew he was going to die soon. The babies woke up and began crying, and the Butcher shoved one into the bowl into a wall, breaking its hind legs and with a sledge, began applying pressure until hearing a crack. He raised the mallet, to see that the baby had an arm flattened and was crying, making the house into a symphony of pain. With the drill, he began drilling into the teen’s face, taking out an eye, and with a bottle of alcohol, blinded partially the other eye, all while the colt was still conscious. He eventually began taking deep breaths as life began leaving his body, but he wanted the torture to go beyond. He began healing the wound, slowly giving adrenaline shots between breaths. The fucker came right back to life. He was going to enjoy that night, to take pleasure, and no one would-
Suddenly, he woke up. The last thing he remembered was a heavy hit and then… nothing. His head felt like it was dripping, and he grabbed it to see that it was indeed, but he was in a dark room. Suddenly, a match lighted up a candle in the dark, revealing a young woman with a butcher’s apron and a large, masked man, holding a chainsaw. In his eyes, he saw a desire to kill, and he tried to run, but he didn’t feel anything from the knee down. The lady gave an order to the tall man.
“Serve up lunch.”
Then, without a sound, she vanished into darkness. The man revved up the chainsaw and raised it over his head, before chopping of his leg into a grinder below him. He repeated the process again and again, with each swipe taking out a part of his body. His other leg, his right arm, a chunk of flesh… Mike began feeling numb as the blood loss began affecting him. The man took him off from the hook he was in and chucked his still-living remains into the grinder, his last thought being the grinder as it crushed his skull.
In a safe room inside the orphanage, many babies were playing while the other Fluffies roamed around the room, waiting for lunch time, as suddenly, a tender voice sang into the intercom: “It’s skettie time!” The doors to the dining room opened as big, trained Fluffies began hauling the disabled Fluffies into their back, as they sprinted towards the dining area. In it, like magic, chunks of spaghetti fell from tubes into feeding plates, divided between sizes of ponies. As they munched, a lady went out from her room, and happily overlooked as the newcomers began integrating themselves into the group, and wandered around, eating. She occasionally stopped scuffles from breaking out, and once everyone was full, she took her “staff Fluffies” and gathered them around her.
“Did guawd Fwuffies did gud Jeb, Mummah?”
“Yes, you did, my children, now, show the new Fluffies around, and then, Mommy will serve up your sketties!”
“Yes, Mummah! Fwuffies, MAWCH!!!”
The batallion sprang into action as one of the guard Fluffies began taking the family into the facility. Then, the lady took out a clipboard and crossed out a name. Another hunt well done.