Your name is Poopie and you are awaiting your turn in the Angwy Boxie. You can hear it outside, the crowd, countless fluffies of all ages gathering to watch you go foweva sweepies… You shudder to think of what is waiting for you in the Angwy Boxie, you’d be a liar if you said that the puddle building around your weggies was anything but your own scawdie peepees.
One of the guard fluffies told you that you weren’t going to “settwe an scowe” in the angwy boxie like regular fluffies do, because Cuppy had died, you were going to face the “cham-pee-un”, who was put in charge of giving bad fluffies foweva sweepies.
You heard screeees, huhuus and crunching noises as the line ahead of you got shorter and shorter, three fluffies at a time. You’d have tried to make a break for it if it wasn’t for the guard stallions standing behind you, and if you didn’t have a herd that would probably be punished for your cowardice.
You took notice of the colt behind you and the stallion ahead of you. The colt was a cream colour but covered in brown splotches that made him almost like he was rolled around in poopies. What impressed you was that despite him barely being half your size, he seemed rather fearless about the situation.
“wet Dodga at 'em! Dodga gon gib himb wowstest hoofsies!” the pint sized half-poopie declared, sitting on his rump and boxing his little hoofsies at thin air.
You looked ahead and noticed the stallion in front of you, he was old, skin and bones, and his once all lavender coat had started to give way to patches of grey and white. He rolled his eyes at the colt behind you.
“shuddup, Dodga! Dis am aww yew fawt!” the old stallion scoffed.
“nuh uh!” the pipsqueak retorted with a tiny stomp, “Dodga am bestest theef! It am onwy dummeh Faygin fawt cus dummeh owd fwuffy am swow!”.
“wat am on udda sidies?” you interrupted.
“bad fwuffy, meaniest munstah fwuffy…” Faygin explained, seeming almost resigned to his fate.
“himb nu dat stwong! Dodga got pwan! Gun wun awond, den dummeh Cwixus gon git tiwed fwom chassies! Den aww thwee ob us gib him foweva sweepies!” he declared as he heroically puffed out his tiny chest.
Cwixus… So that was who was giving all the fluffies ahead of you foweva sweepies. To go through so many fluffies without needing to rest, he truly must be the munstah they all think he is.
“moove dummehs!” the tuffie guard behind you shouted as he shoved you out and into the Angwy Boxie.
It was a massive, square shaped arena and peering over every single inch of the top were countless fluffies, all cheering and shouting as they watched you enter into the light.
Below your hoofsies was sand and litter, and like the walls of this terrible place, some of it was it’s original color but most of it had now been stained in various shades of yellow, red, brown and even, and you dread to imagine why, white…
You and your teammates looked ahead to find him, and standing at the center of this terrible place was a red stallion with a messy neon pinkish mane. He stood upon his previous kill and his nose twitched at the smell of you.
He looked so normal upon first glance, from the side he appeared to be just a standard stallion, maybe even a little thinner than most… Then he turned to face you and your boo boo wawa ran cold as ice.
Yellow… his single see-pwace was yellow. Dodga and Faygin clearly didn’t know what that meant, but you did. To add to the sudden fear coursing through you, you could see one half of his mouthie, it was missing the lips on one side, revealing a thick collection of jagged and pointie teethies. And above it was a horrible set of three scars that covered over his right see-pwace. He was like something from your wowstest sweepy-time pictews.
He didn’t stop to speak, he didn’t smile, he didn’t even threaten you, he just charged.
Immediately Dodga made good on his plan and started sprinting around the arena, beating his little weggies against the floor as hard as he could. Meanwhile you took your best defensive position and puffed your cheeks out as hard as you could. Behind you was Faygin, who shook like a chirpy in the sky wawas.
You tried to stay brave but as the red menace came stomping towards you, teethies soaked with drool and yellow see-pwace alight with frenzy, you found all of your courage slip away.
His mouthie went wide as he closed the distance between you, wider than you had ever seen any fluffy’s mouthie before.
Every muscle in your body ordered you to throw yourself to the side and before you could think your weggies had already agreed.
You drag yourself to stand and watched in horror as the munstah tore into the old stallion, crushing his head with a set of rapid chomps that made his body shake before going still.
By the time Dodga had made a full lap around the arena he was already exhausted and collapsed by your hoofsies.
“pwan… Nu… Wowk” he huffed.
You couldn’t answer him, your body was frozen in terror, the biggest scawdies that you had ever felt. You kept your see-pwaces focused on your opponent, unblinkingly as he chewed his way through Faygin’s neckie until what was left of his head came loose and rolled around on the sand.
You didn’t have time to react, Cwixus spun himself and darted at you with a speed that you’ve only ever seen from ZeewoZeewoWun. But this wasn’t your friend, his speed did not make you feel safe, it filled you will dread.
He threw himself at you and you rolled to your back. He reared himself up and brought down the hardest sounding stompies you had ever heard and your mouthie exploded with a combination of sickie and boo boo wawa. You panicked and took your two back weggies and slammed them into his tummeh.
“SCREEEEEEEE!” Cwixus roared before his mouthie chattered before erupting with sickie wawa. You took the opportunity and rolled yourself away and stood to your hoofsies again.
Dodga, now clearly emboldened by witnessing Cwixus being wounded, ran up behind him, spun himself around and bucked directly into the stallion’s speshew wumps. He laughed and blew a big raspberry at the big bully, proud of his impending victory.
More sickie wawa flooded onto the sand and then a noise came from him that did not fill neither you nor your young friend with any kind of confidence. He growled like a bawkie munstah before twisting his leck around to his attacker.
Cwixus gave a sorry hoofsie into Dodga’s thinkie-pwace… Or more accurately, through it.
When he pulled his weggie away, there was nothing but a hole where the colt’s forehead used to be, with both of his see-pwaces now dangling from their sockets.
The body twitched and fell the ground, Dodga shook and all four of his weggies shifted and flicked as the colt gurgled and spat boo boo wawa while soaking himself in his own scawdie-peepees in desperate panic.
“he…he…he…heheheheHEHEHEHE! wook! Himb am dancie bebbeh!” Cwixus cackled as he turned to the audience, who in turn also began laughing at the colt’s misfortune.
Something suddenly felt very wrong in your thinkie-pwace. Bad pictews, so many bad pictews. You remember your blue brother and how his body also shivered and gurgled because of a meanie. Those wordies repeated in your thinkie-pwace again and again and again, getting faster and faster until they would begin before the last one ended. Then you were forced back to reality when you heard it… The crunch.
You looked over to see him wearing Dodga’s head on his hoofsie. The words were still playing in your thinkie-pwace but now a new image replaced it. It was your yellow brother, your best friend, your first friend. You remembered his brains clinging to your mummah’s hoofsie the same way…
Then it all went black. Dawkie as the dawkiest sweepie time.
When you could see, hear and feel again. You were standing over Cwixus. He wasn’t laughing anymore. You don’t know what you did to him but he was crying, begging and curled up tightly into a ball.
You panicked as you looked around. You saw his teethis were scattered around him in the sand, his speshew wumps had been thrown across the room, his weggies looked crooked and his chestie had deep dents in it that should not be there.
You noticed that you were reared up on your back weggies and you were ready to slam your wet hoofsies down with all the hate in your body, but there was no more hate, you had spent it all, a lifetime’s worth. You were scared, not of him but of what you had done, you didn’t feel good, your mouthie had the metallic taste of boo boo wawa, your hoofsies were covered in it too, your see-pwace was swollen and the side of you head hurt like enf.
You backed away as your breathing quickened, you looked up at the crowd and they were as silent as you were, except for the colts and fillies in the audience who are crying in terror of you.
A terrible and chilling silence fell over the entire boxie, then you heard a soft clapping behind you. It was your friends, your herd, your family. They all looked just as terrified as everyone else but regardless of how they may have felt, Munstah, your Munstah, your bestest twashie fwend was clapping for you. First her, then the rest of the herd and then finally the entire audience erupted with the sound of clapping hoofsies.
You didn’t feel proud, you felt very wrong, like something very special inside of you had broken, but regardless you took a seat in the middle of the arena and raised your weggie to the sky.
You started to hear the smarty talking to the audience, some speech that you didn’t care about, or more accurately you couldn’t care about. You started to feel tired, so very tired until you fell on your back.
“jus a widdle sweep, den be bettah” you thought as you felt a pair of teethies bite on the scruff of your neckie before your limp body started to get pulled away… Then everything went dawkies.
-to be continued-
Fwuffy used ta wuwe da wowwd… Wawas used ta wise wen fwuffy gab da wowd… Naow in da bwite time fwuffy sweepies awone… Sweep da stweets dat fwuffy used ta own…”