You are a colt, your name is poopie and you aim to change that. You have decided that you are going to be a smarty, you have however run into a bit of a snag… You dont really know what a smarty actually is. All you know from your one encounter with a smarty is that unlike yourself, they dont have to num poopies, they don’t get pushed around and most importantly they are the best and only get the best. That should be you, but you are going to need a few things first, mainly information, your thinkie place is very empty.
You wondered around the sidewalkies for ages, fowevas and fowevas until your hoofies ached, you had to find somewhere new ever since that new family claimed your mammah’s alleyway and pushed you out a few bwite times after she was taken away by a smawty. All seemed bleak until you saw a bunch of fluffies sat around a trashie can in a new and bigger alleyway, with boxies lined up the sides of the walls, each with nesties inside for mammahs with bebbehs and even daddehs sitting around looking for twashie nummies. You felt sad that you never knew your own daddeh but it didn’t matter, what mattered now was getting nummies, getting information and becoming a smarty.
You noticed a few fluffies all gathered around a big shiny boxie, it hummed pretty songies and said wordsies at you. “hewwo fwuffy, put bebbehs in da swot and get sketties! Yayyy!” it would say whenever a fluffy got close. And just like it asked, the fluffy would drop its poopie bebbeh into a little hole where it landed into a little glassie room and then little shiny sharpies world come down before it then went dark. The little light would go off, a little curtain would drop down with a picture of a smiling mammah and she would make happy singies while a whirly noise would happen behind her. It seemed scary until a new hole opened and out dropped sketti with fresh, steaming, chunky sauce.
“owt ob da way, dat wus mummah’s bebbeh su mummah gits deez sketties!” a fat pinkie mare cried out, shoving everyone else aside before burying her face into her well earned meal. “hmmff id am sssSSSHHHO gud! Skettis am su mush bettah den poopie bebbeh! Gud twade” she said with a hearty mouthful.
“hewwooooo!” you called out to the crowd and all of them turned to you, “do anyfwuffy no wer tu fin da smawty?”. Just as the words leaves your mouth you feel a strong hoof press down on your neck and force you to the dirty, cold ground.
“whu am yew! Wat namsie! an wy am wookin fow smawty” a gruff voice (by fluffy standards) growled at you.
“eeeeeaak! P-pwease nu hurties, am Poopie, wun fin a smarty tu weawn hoew be smarty tu!” you cried out as you sprayed the floor in scardie poopies.
All the fluffies looked at you in shock, and not just the crowd by the nummie singie boxie but also the mummahs and daddehs and bebbehs in the wall boxies and twashie cans. They all just stared in silence for what felt like many fowevas until they erupted in unison, a near perfectly timed fit of laughter. Some of them pointed their hoofies at you, others said your own wordsies back at you but in a way that sounded meanie and others puffed their cheeks. Even the scary Tuffie on top of you laughed. You felt your face soak with tears until the fat pinkie mare stood up and pointed her chubby hoofie at you from across the alley, as she wiped the sketti sauce off of her muzzle with the other.
“stoopid poopie fwuffy nu unastand dat aw poopie fwuffy am gud fow am numming poopies!” she said with utter disdain for you.
“it am nu twue, nu am twue!” you cried back against both her and the thunderous chorus of mockery and laughter cascading around you.
“himb am wite”, the pink mare said, to your surprise. “Himb am awso gud for sketties boxie twade!” she added before you felt the hoof against your neck pull up before being replaced by a hard chompies.
“owies, huwties, pwease stawp!” you cried as you were dragged by the big stallion through the crowd and pushed against the hole that the bebbeh went into before.
“PWEASE NU! AM GUN BE SMAWTY, WET POOPIE GU AND WIW GIB YEW EBEN MORE SKETTIES, PWOMIES!” you begged as five fluffies tried shoving you into a bebbeh sized hole that you were now twice the size of.
“puwsh himb insides, tayk ov weggies ib he nu fit!” the pink one ordered.
You cried and screamed with your head stuck in the hole until everything went silent behind you and then, suddenly, by the grace of sky-deddeh you felt yourself be pulled out with one strong tug on your tail.
“what an smawty tew yew dum-dums?” an old grey wingie stallion said as he walked towards his herd from the entrance of his alley.
“ib yew put anyting dat nu am bebbehs in da boxie, da boxie will bweak…” they all said in well rehearsed unison.
“an wat dus dat mean fow stuped hewd?”.
“we awe hab nu nummies” they replied collectively once again.
“an dat meansies?..” the geriatric old smarty said with a palpable tone of annoyance.
“dat we go foweva sweepies” they sobbed.
“dats wite, noaw aw ob yew gu u bedsie wite now ow smawty gun twy an put yew aww in da sketti boxies!” he barked at them.
After the crowd dispersed, the old smarty sat himself on his thrown, a half collapsed KFC bargin bucket with a few handfuls of wadded up tissues as his seating. You cautiously approached him and bowed your head in reverence.
“tank yew smawty, Poopie wus su scawed, big meanie, fatty pinkie mawe twy an put Poopie in boxie” you said with a thankful tear rolling down your cheek. You looked up to see him bite his lower lip, his eyes focused on you like two big sharpie pointies.
“dat ‘big meanie, fatty pinkie mawe’ am smawy’s speshew fwend…” he seethed.
Without a word you locked eyes for what felt like fowevas, you didn’t even know you had just sprayed liquid poopies all over your backside until it started to smell and the puddle began reaching your front hoofsies. He then did the unthinkable as he got down and waddled towards you, he laughed.
“id am twue, speshew frend am fatty meanie!” he cried out laughing before throwing a hoofsie over your shoulder.
“smawty wike yew, Poopie! Yew wemind smawty ob own poopie bebbeh, yew shewd meet himb! Speshew Fwend! Ware am poopie bebbeh? Smawty wan see himb!” he called out only to be met by faint “huu huus” in the back of the alley.
Then one of his herd raised his hoofsie to speak. He was absolutely huge, even bigger than the black smarty’s two tuffies from a few bwite times ago. This fluffy was a big pink blob of a fluffy like his mummah, with a grass green mane like his daddeh. “Dummeh kno wat happin, Daddeh. tuffie an mummah put poopie bwuvah in boxie”. He said.
“wich boxie, Dummeh!” Smarty said as he looked around… Then the realization struck him.
“SPESHEW FWEND!” he barked as she eeped and hid her guilt stained face with her hoofsies in the back.
“ib nu see smawty, smawty nu see Mummah-ib nu see smawty, smawty nu see Mummah-ib nu see smawty, smawty nu see Mummah-” she would repeat incessantly while shivering in a ball.
“Yew twaded smawty’s bebbeh fow sketties?” He asked softly as he ever so gently petted her head with his crusty old hoof. She coo’d at the touch and looked up at him with big glittery eyes.
“a-am d-du gud tingie?” she asked.
“Nu” he said coldly, his fake smile gone in a flash before he smashed one of her weggies with all his strength. And as she screed and peepeed across the floor he rolled her over and bucked her hard in her miwky pwace until booboo wawa seeped from her now swollen teats. “YEW, WEARY, AM, STUPED, DUMMEH, MEANIE, FATTY, MAWE!” the heartbroken and enraged smarty screached as he punctuated each word with another hoofsie to her body.
“PWEASE STAWP SPESHEW FWEN, AM SOWWY, WIWW MAYK MOWE BEBBEHS, PWOMISE, SCREEEEEEE!” she screamed as she tried to crawl away.
“NU CAN, AM TU OWD, NU MOWE BEBBEHS! HIMB WUS WASTEST ONE, EBEN IB AM POOPIE IMB COWD STIWW GU FIN NUMMIES OW BE TUFFIE WEN BIG!” he roared directly into her ear.
You thought he was about to smoosh her head like your mammah once did to your yellow brother, but then he just sort of… stopped. His hoof stuck in mid air, his eyes wide and watery, looking in no particular direction, his breathing became erratic until he just keeled over and began doing the foweva sleepies dancie like your blue brother did. White bubblie wawa came out of his mouthie until he did a big peepee, a big poopie and then… nothing.
After the smoke had settled and the crowd gathered around their fallen king, his ex-speshew fwend looked up. She knew she was guilty and you knew it too… but unfortunately she was quicker on the draw.
“IT AM AW YEW FAULT” she screeched with an accusatory hoof pointed at you. “TUFFIE! GIT HIMB, GET DA SNAWTY KIWWA!” she ordered with her new found power.
“oh Poopies…” you thought to yourself as the big brute who held you down before now stomped towards you with violent intent.
“oh Poopies” indeed…
-to be continued-