Your name is Poopie and you are currently on borrowed time. You know that the black, pointie headed smarty and the fattie pinkie mare are coming for you now, but first, you are going to need extra hoofsies to keep the two bad herds away, you need all the tuffies in Cwate Town, you need an army. Unfortunately, they don’t respond to anyone’s commands, only doing what the current reigning smarty says. Fwost isn’t going to help you, he hates you for being a smarty, clearly not being one for competition. Luckily for you and your little herd, you have Cwixus, the Arena champion and previous ruling smarty, before being dethroned by the maniacal microfluffy and the dribbling giant who he always rode upon and barked orders at.
You and Cwixus knew the score, if two bad smarties can work together out there then two good smarties can as well, and although neither of you wanted to say it out loud, you needed each other.
“fowwow!” Cwixus commanded your lot, as he quickly led you to his secret cwate on the far end of the warehousie, far from any prying see-pwaces. Eventually you came to a cwate boxie that looked different to the rest, it had funny scribbles on it that didn’t look like the regular scribbles that hoomins put on boxies. You circled around to the back and found that the lid was open and inside were lots and losts little boxies with pretty drawings of smiling little hoomins with silly hats and big bwight spawkwies in the dawkie timsie sky. Atop the boxies was a big pretty red thingie that looked like a nu-nu stick, when Dewp asked what it was, Cwixus simply told him to “shuddup an wisten!”
“see dis?” Cwixus asked, “Deez am biggest bangies. Cwixus wunce see widdwe hoomins put dem in an bebbeh poopie pwace an den wid buwnies magic id gu BANG!” the champion explained while pointing to a small white boxie full of magic sticks that go all buwnies when you scrape them against the ground. “Dis am wat gun du tu dummeh Fwost!” he grinned with his mouth full of sharp teeth.
“DEEEEWWWWWP… HAOW AM GUN GIT CWOSE ENUFF TU FWOST TU PU IN POOPIE PWACE?” Dewp asked with a raised hoof and a muzzle coated in his own drool.
“ummm… Cwixus nebah say wus gun du dat pawt” the red smarty clarified while rolling his one yellow eye.
“su haow am gun du?” You asked, rubbing your chin with your hoof, “HAB GUT ID!” you exclaimed with sheer excitement “wat ib hewd jus GIB biggest bangies tu Fwost?” you asked.
“…Yew am dummeh…” Cwixus sighed, until the same idea entered his head as well, “wai… nu, yew am smawty an Cwixus am dummeh! Cwixus git id naow!” he smiled with newfound enthusiasm. “heeheehee, dis am gun be su gud!” he giggled with excitement.
“haow am gun gib tu Fwost doe?” Munstah asked.
“wet Poopie an Cwixus thinkie bout id, otay, dummeh mawe!?” Cwixus snapped at your twashie fwend. You didn’t really like the way he spoke to her, but he was right, you both needed to rack your thinkie-pwaces and any distraction would be a detriment. In truth, you simply didn’t have time for tawkies.
You hashed out a plan in solitude, just you and the older smarty, and then ordered the herd to return. Munstah, Dewp, Patchies, ZeewoZeewoWun (who was dragging Wan Die) and Dummeh (with Sensitibe on his backsie) all gathered and listened intently as you explained the plan. You were going to give all of your nummies to the tiny smarty.
“AM YEW BWOKEN IN DA THINKIE PWACE!?” Patchies accused both you and your mentor.
“yeh, Munstah nu wike dis pwan eibew…” your yellow twashie fwend added with a very worried expression, “haow am gun keep hewd fwum giddin wowstest tummeh huwties?” she inquired. The rest of the herd behind her seemed rather concerned too.
“heh, wisten tu dem?” Cwixus chuckled, “dem nu thinkie bout watew, onwy naow. Dat am wat mayk Poopie an Cwixus smawties an dem da dummehs. Dummehs would fowgid dey own poopie pwaces ib id wus nu att-ach-ed…” he added with audible disdain for your flock.
“am Poopie gun wet Cwixus say dem meanie wowdies tu hewd!?” Munstah gasped as she turned to you.
“Poopie am gun wisten ib him am weaw smawty an nu jus sum dummeh poopie fwuffy pwayin pwetendies!” the red gladiator growled at the yellow mare.
You felt torn, truly, as either the herd goes hungry for a few bwite timsies, but you can be ready for the two big meanie herds, or you do nothing and hope to sky-daddeh above that Fwost doesn’t side with the coming army and hand you all over. This was a dilemma, the kind that you imagine the real big and strong, smart and wise smarties dealt with; and as unfortunate as it may be, Cwixus was right
“hewd am gun stiww fowwow da pwan!” you commaded, trying ever so desperately to hide your ambivalence. You could see the shock in Munstah’s face, the feeling of betrayal, she didn’t respond with her wowdies, she didn’t need to, she just scrunched her muzzle, drooped her ears and waddled away, with patchies, ZeewoZeewoWun and Dewp not far behind. Dummeh stayed by your side, sweet and faithful Dummeh, with Sensitibe on his backsie. Dummeh had faith, and that was all you needed right now.
Sure, the rest would hate you now, but they’d come around when they all understood what you were trying to do.
You trusted Dummeh enough to let him in entirely on the plan, besides, you would need his behemoth strength at the end of it. Cwixus had the most experience with bangies and the little buwnie magic stickies that came in a white box, so he loaded up the skatie boawdie and covered the deadly suprise with every nummie he could find. By the end of his work, it looked like the biggest nummie pile that you had ever seen.
Cwixus told you to gather the herd and not let them in on the plan, it would “mayk id wook mowe weaw” he said.
The herd gathered around you as Dummeh pushed the skatie boawdie through the town, passing the many impressed and hungry looking fluffies.
“Poopie…” Munstah whispered, “pweas nu gib Fwost aww hewd nummies” she begged.
“memba wen Poopie sabe Munstah fwom twashies?” you asked, “memba wat Poopie say?”
“o-otay… Munstah gun twust Poopie” she said with a look of anxiety on her facie. “an whewe am meanie Cwixus?” she mumbled to herself. In truth that was a good question, as even you didn’t know the answer, he simply said he needed to do a different part of the plan.
Your loyal Dummeh then pushed the nummie wagon all the way uppies the twashie hill until stopping at the entrance of the big cwate housie on toppies, Fwost’s housie.
Two tuffies stood guard and sniffed the nummies, they seemed genuinely impressed by the volume. “wats aww dis den?” one of them asked.
“Poopie hewd bwing pwesent fow bestest smawty” you said, just like Cwixus said you should. The guards fell for it and let you pass.
“WISH OB DA STOOPID DUMMEHS WET YEW AWW BACKSIE IN HEWE!?” the azure microfluffy screamed from atop Snuwfwake.
“am sowwies bout befow timsies, su bwing aww da nummies tu say ‘am suuuuuuuu sowwies’” you fibbed.
“DUMMEH SNUFWAKE! WET SMAWTY FWOST DOWNSIES NAOW!” he ordered his dribbling pit fluffy, to which the giant responded by lowering its head.
“wan tayk wooksie ad bestest nummies fow bestest smawty!” Fwost smiled smugly, as he wondered towards the wagon.
“DUMMEH, NAOW!” you ordered, and in one quick and brutal motion, your tuffie flipped the skatie boawdie over, sending a mounting of intended nummies and death towards the egocentric micro smarty.
It was then that your heart sank and your boo-boo wawa ran cold. All of the nummies were strewn about the ground, but not a single of the biggest bangies were hidden underneath, you had been tricked.
“…aww poopies…” you let out.
"AM YEW TWYIN TU GIB SMAWTY FOWEVAH SWEEPIES!? the aggressive blue ball of rage squeaked at you. “TUFFIES! GIB DEM STOMPIES AN HUWTIES AN BITIES AN DEN ENF AWW DA MAWES!” he ordered in a despotic fury.
Suddenly, the guards surrounded you, almost as furious as their leader. You were going to have to fight you way out of this, and if there were ever a time for Dummeh to drop his whole pacifism shtick, it would preferably be now.
“Dummeh, yew nee gib dem hoofsies!” you begged the massive stallion.
“n-nu, hab scawedies!” he shock and whimpered, trying to cover his see-pwaces with his hoofsies, as your protective circle got smaller snd smaller.
It was then that you remembered the only time you’d ever seen him angry, the only time he ever looked ready to give another fluffy wowstest fowevah sweepies.
“bu, dem gun huwties Sensitibe!” you added, pointing to the dribbling colt on his backsie.
“n-n-nu twue!” he cried with snot bubbles popping from his nostrils.
“YUS, AM TWUE, YEW HEAW WAT FWOST SAYSIE! DEM GUN GIB BAD SPESHEW HUGGIES TU MAWES… AND DEN DEY GUN DU DAY SAMSIE TU DA BEBBEHS!” you shouted, laying it thick. You then pointed to Dewp as well, who was also just a little colt.
Suddenly, Dummeh arose, his see-pwaces glazed over and his lips trembling into a hateful frown. “NU HUWTIES BEBBEHS!” Dummeh roared as he barreled into the guards, stomping two of them in a single go, before swatting a few more against the walls until they swarmed him and laid the wowstest hoofsies on him, from every angle they could.
ZeewoZeewoWun pounced and dug her teethies into a guard’s neckie, before the captain of the guard kicked her across the boxie housie in a powerful buck; and all the while, you, Munstah, and Patchies circled around Sensitibe, Wan Die and Dewp. You delivered hoofsies and sowwy poopies when the meanie guards got too close or tried to lunge their teethies at the mares, sickly or young, but they were five and you were simply three, and so you lost more ground with every clash. You silently cursed Cwixus, the traitor, for what he had done, you swore that you’d rip his nu-nu stick off the next time you saw him.
Just then, as all seemed lost, there was a sizzle, a screech, a world shattering bang and the brightest light you had ever seen. When your vision slowly came back in a blurry haze, it came with ringing heawing-pwaces. The first thing you saw was Snuwfwake, his lower half had been completely obliterated, and where he was once sitting was now a gore stained red plastic shell, the red and long thing from the cwate. You looked around and saw that the cwate was covered in buwnies, it was going up in flames and you needed to leave now. “Ebewy-fwuffy git outties noaw!” you ordered, and your herd and the guards alike listened. They tipped out onto the hillside and you counted as they went, who you didn’t find was Fwost or Munstah. You panicked as you dug around through the debris and chunks of charred Snuwfwake and tuffie, until you found her. She had the most serious wowstest huwties, you couldn’t even recognise half of her facie anymore, but it was her. You didn’t have time to check to see if she was just in dizzie sweepies like you were, so you simply bit her tail and pulled her to the exit and out of the smoke filled cwate, onto the hillside with the others.
The fluffies in Cwate Town her screeing and crying and running around like headless clucky munstahs, half of the guards had terrible huwties and your herd were in no better shape.
“whewe am smawty?” the captain asked to nobody in particularly, as he shook his head to get the soot and ash off of his burned fluff.
“dat am gud ques-” you were about to add, before the sound of tiny cries and screaming came from the other side of the burning cwate. You followed it until you came to the other side of the twashie hill, and standing there, carefully, methodically and spitefully chewing off the already freshly pillowed Fwost’s wumps, was Cwixus, and beside him was the tiny box of magic buwnie sticks for making the big bangies happen.
“YEW WIE TU POOPIE!” you accused, scraping your hoofsie against the ground, ready to charge.
“NU CAWE! CWIXUS GUT WAT WAN, DAT AWW DAT MATTEW!” he seethed, before turning his head towards the now dethroned micro and disembowling him with a snap of his jaws and a tug of his neck, spraying boo-boo wawa and tummeh sketties across the floor.
“YEW DUMMEH PWAN NEAWY GIB POOPIE HEWD FOWEVAH SWEEPIES, YEW GIB WOWSTEST FACIES BUWNIES TU MUNSTAH!” you growled and spat, your vision going red at the sight of the ex-champion’s smug grin.
“…nu…cawe…” he replied with a mouth full of Fwost’s belly meats.
“SAYSIE DAT GAIN! DU ID!” you foamed and seethed.
“Cwixus saysie dat nu ca-ACK!” he attempted to reply, until you charged into him, tackling him down the side of the hill. You both tumbled and gave hoofsies, you gave bities and kickies as the two of you rolled down the side in a frenzied ball of hate.
“YEW AM NU SMAWTY, YEW AM NU WIKE CWIXUS!” he hissed as he pinned you against a box of moldy fluffy-O’s.
“GUD! NEBAH WAN BE WIKE YEW!” you retorted before launching him off with a buck to the face.
You battled and rolled, insulted and tripped your way down the twashie pile, until landing on the cold, hard, concrete floor of the warehousie. some of the fluffies gathered around and watched as you both got up. Cwixus took the first hit, a left hoofsie to the chin, and he responded by biting down on your foreleg and twisting his neck. You knew this move, it was the same sort of bite and twist that ZeewoZeewoWun had used on the tuffie guard back there, you remembered how as soon as the guard pulled away, his entire neckie came right off. You coiled your weggies, primed them for action, and despite every fiber in your fluffy soul telling you to pull away from the huwties, you dug down deep and lunged your hoofsie forward, into the cannibalistic smarty’s mouth and down his throat.
You kept him pinned there and landed hoofsie after hoofsie into his cheek with your other weggie, to his muzzle, his jaw and his see pwace until you felt the pressure around your trapped weggie cease. You freed it from his grasp and pressed down on his neckie with it, as you primed your other for one last hit.
“WY CWIXUS DU DIS!? WY WIE!? WY HUWT POOPIE FWENDS!? CWIXUS WUS SPOSED TU BE POOPIE FWEND TUU!” you gritted and yelled with a face soaked in tears.
“Cwi-… Cwixus du-… id aww fow sp-speshew fwend… Yew nu unastan, yew am jus tuwn intu staww-ion… Am owdew, kno bettew” he wheezed, “Cwixus wuved Ginga, Cwix-us d-du… aneh-ting fow spe-speshew fwend, weveng tuu… yew nu unastan” he frowned, choking on his lack of bweavis and the boo-boo wawa in his throat.
“yus… Poopie DU!” you replied, before bringing your hoofsie down, making contact with a wet crunch.
By the time you looked up, the hill was on fire, the buwnies were everywhere, Cwate Town was no more.
Dummeh carried Wan Die, Sensitibe and the still dizzie sweepies ridden Munstah on his backsie, all the while, ZeewoZeewoWun kept them all together, but try as they might, They could not cut through the chaotic crowd of screaming and rightfully terrified residents. Mummahs hyperventilating as they searched for their missing bebbehs, elderly fluffies being trampled in the chaotic stampede, young fluffies trying to save their stuffie fwends from their burning homes, and fair few of the townsfolk had already caught flame with a heawing-pwace piercing “SCREEEEEEE”.
You were all going to go fowevah sweepies at this rate, you’d never cross that sea of fluffy and panic. You climbed up high, you stood yourself on the sturdiest piece of twashies that was not currently on fire and screamed with all the strength left in your body. “WISTEN DUMMMMMMMEHHHHHS!” you cried out, and although they didn’t all turn to you, at least a fair chunk did, “AWW FWUFFIES AM GUN GU BUWNIES FOWEVAH SWEEPIES IB NU WOWK TOGEVAH! EBEWY-FWUFFY MOVE TU DA BIG GAYT DOOWSIES AN GIB BESTEST POOSHIES! GUUUU!” you commaded.
They didn’t all quite get the message but you had a fair few of them cutting through the chaos until smashing against the big doubles doors. The combined effort flung them open and suddenly they spilled into the dockyardie. The ones that were still on fire ran head first off the dock and into the water, only to promptly drown. Some were trampled, others ran off in random directions, still caught in a frantic haze, and other simply sat at a safe distance and watched mournfully is there friends, neighbors, family and homes burned to ash.
Eventually, hoomins came in a noise red vwoom vwoom munstah and sprayed lots of wawa at the buwnies, but alas, the warehousie collapsed under it’s own weight.
“w-wat am gun du naow?” one of the mares sobbed into her hoofsies. “whewe am fwuffies sposed tu gu?” an older stallion asked, “whewe mummah? Am onwy widdwe bebbeh, nee mummah!” a little filly cried as she wondered amongst the survivors, hoping for an answer.
ZeewoZeewoWun was a good counter, she could count all the way up to ten. She told you that amongst the surviving town fluffies who hadn’t run away, there were two lots of ten and four more. Although you didn’t really know how many that was, but it sounded like a big number, like one of those massive, giant-mungus hoomin numbers, you saw potential here and although it wasn’t the army of tuffies that the traitor Cwixus had offered you, they’d have to do, even if they were made up of bebbehs, mares, and stallions that had either seen too many cowd timsies, or too few, they would have to do.
“wisten uppies! Am nyew smawty, an yew am aww in Smawty hewd naow!” you barked at them, " com wid Smawty an gun find nyew homsie wid wots ob nummies, gun be bestest sabe pwace!" you assured.
“poopie fwuffy nu can be smawty!” the little filly protested with a tiny stomp and a puffing of her cheeks.
“nu cawe!” you stomped back, “am da bestest yew gut, naow shuddup an fowwow!” you ordered.
-to be continued-