The epic of the poopie smarty CH:3 (Poopiest_of_bebbehs)

You’re name is Poopie and you are a prisoner. You were just trying to learn how to be a smarty until your would-be mentor dropped dead in a fit of spousal abuse. Now you sit in an upturned milk crate (or a “sowwy boxie” as the herd called it)… awaiting your sentence at the hands of the new mare smarty.

“PSSSssst… PSSSssst” you kept hearing from your ramshackled jail cell. You assumed that you were just being sowwy peepee’d again by another angry passer by, just another bit of late night abuse, that was until you felt a hoof touch you in a way that didn’t feel like hurties. “hewwo? Yew am stiww awive?”. The big pink blob asked.

“huuhuu, su hurtie” you cried through your busted snout, as you tried to sooth your right see place that was swollen shut, as tightly shut as your plastic prison.

“dummy hab browt yew fwowa tu mayk yew few betta…” the pale pink titan said softly before sliding it through the handly hole that the hoomins use to move the big boxies.

“t-tank yew” you sniffled before swallowing it whole.

“EEEEEEKKK! NU! NU EAT DA PWETTY! IT AM FAW HEAWT HURTIES!” he whimpered.

“oh… Am sowwy, but am weawwy hungwy… Nu eat anyting sins… Sins yewwow bruva go foweva sweepy…” you explained through your tears.

“dat am su saddies, daddeh now foweva sweepies tu… Mammah say it yew fawt but i seesie eberyting. Mammah did it by gibin him worstest heawt huwties, but nofwuffy beweave bekos am dummeh”.

Your eyes lit up and a loud gasp left your still bloody mouthy. “YEW HAB NAMSIE?” you asked.

“nu wike it dow… It am meanie namsie” He whimpered.

You knew exactly how he felt… But then again you’d give your left speshew wump for a name like Dummeh over Poopie.

“Poopie on questie, wan new namsie tu, wan be smawty!” you said with confidence as you stomped your little hoofsie to punctuate your seriousness.

“WEAWY! CAN DUMMEH HAB NYEW NAMSIE TU?” he said as he got down low on his belly as to make level eye contact with you. Begging like a chirpeh babbeh and cooing lightly.

You racked your tiny brain for a moment until you figured out exactly what he could be. “yew wan be tuffie?” you asked with your best fake cocky grin. But instead of the wide glittery eyes of joy you were expecting, you were instead greeted with a torrent of tears and babbling.

“Daddeh an Mummah say dat am tu dummeh and fwenly tu be tuffie. Many bwite timsies ago dey tew Dummeh to gib stompies tu widdle bawkie munstah, but Dummeh nu can du, da munstah onwy widdle babbeh…” he explained while trying to hug his own gigantic torso. “su daddeh gib Dummeh namsie before he du stompies on bawkie babbeh instewd” he said between long "Huu Huu"s.

“ifv Poopie be Smawty an hab hewd den wen yu tuffie, Poopie make yew in chawge ov pwotectin aww dah widdle babbehs, you nu hab to stompies anyting unwes babbehs get hurties by munstahs an bad fwuffies. Deaw?” you said before spitting on your hoof and pushing it through one of the little crate holes.

There was a little moment of silence that felt like many fowevas until suddenly you heard a big globble of spit hit a surface and then felt a much bigger hoof tap yours.

“otay nice mistah Poopie-Smawty, Dummeh-Tuffie wiw helb, wan pwotec aww da babbehs”. In less than two following seconds you saw his other hoofsie reach under your boxy and then in one big movement tossed the great mass of blue plastic right off of you. To say that you were impressed would be a gigantic understatement but you didn’t have time to praise him right now.

You both tried to sneak your way out of the alley, carefully tip towing over mammahs and daddehs and bebbehs. And occasionally dummy would fall to the ground and pretend to sleep as a passing tuffie night guard would patrol the sleeping boxies. Lucky for you, your humongous friend was twice your size and made for good cover.

All seemed well in your escape plans until dummy made a big error. He passed by the sketti box… “HEWWO FWUFFY, PUT DA BEBBEH IN DA BOXIE AN GIT SKETTIES! YAYYY!” it screamed out as its motion sensors pinged.

“Oh Poopies…” you whispered to yourself as heads started perking up.

“Pwisoner escapin!” a fluffy shouted as others mumbled in confusion… Then it came!

“GIT DAT POOPIE! GIT DA SMAWTY KIWWA!” the newly self appointed mare smarty screeched with murderous Intent. “WIP HIS SPESHEW WUMPS OV, STOMPIES ON HIS NU-NU STICKIE! SHOV HIMB INTEW DA SKETTI BOXIIIIEEEEEE!” she fumed from her throne.

You ran and ran with Dummeh right behind you. You made it out and turned the corner to the sidie walkies as fast as your little legs could carry you. Eventually the curses and death threats grew dimmer and quieter until eventually you couldn’t hear them anymore.

“di- HUFF HUFFF HUFFF di we wose dem?” you wheezed. before being bitten on the neckie and lifted high, your pleas of “bad uppies” being ignored before you were thrown up upon your new tuffie’s back like a chirpeh before he continued the marathon.

“nu, mista Poopie, mammah hab bad thinkie pwace, she nu stawp, she neba stawp, we need wun!” he said before taking off in a powerful gallop.

“Mus, Pwotec, Smawty” he huffed with each exertion. The last words you could hear before the world went dark.

You collapsed from the exhaustion, the wounds and the hunger pains. But despite it all you smiled through your bloody mouth. Today, a fluffy called you a “smarty”, today you took your first real step towards your dream.

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

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I am really enjoying writing this series and I’m considering making it a one chapter a day challenge to stretch my creative muscles when going to and from work.

I hope you’re all enjoying the adventures of Poopie so far, as much as I enjoy making it.

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Aw, they’re both so cute!

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I know i have a bias as the author but i very much do have a fondness for these two. Both are equally hopeless but they do well together, as true besties should.