Your name is poopie, you want to be a smarty and you now have a herd.
It has taken you a very long time but you have finally found a collection of fluffies as down on their luck as you. You all hate your names because they all represent the things that make you not very popular with the other fluffies or even hoomins.
There is “Dummeh”, your very big and very strong tuffie who saved you from his meanie mummah, but he doesn’t like to give stompies.
There is “Munstah”, your wingie-pointie friend who you found in the twashies.
There is “ZeewoZeewoWun”, your scawy but nice friend who sometimes goes out alone during the dawk timsies and nums other fluffies.
And then finally there is her speshew fwend called “wan die” who doesn’t really do much of anything except do shakey dancies and say his own namsie again and again, but otherwise he seems alright.
You were a small herd but you had noticed that you were starting to get more attention from bawkie munstahs, meowie munstahs, meanie fwuffies and scawy shoutie hoomins.
It was definitely a lot easier when there was just two or three of you but you wouldn’t dare abandon any of your herd, because you were going to be their Smarty.
Dummy was still healing from his special wumps being taken away by a meanie pointy mare the other day but he had started to walk again, only occasionally resting on the magic wheelie board you stole from the park and he spends a lot of his time crying about his speshew wumps being gone, “Dummeh mus WEEEAAAAAAAAWWWY miss does speshew wumps” you thought to yourself.
All of the dangers surrounding you started to make you question whether or not you could stay here. You need to bring your little herd somewhere safe where they could build nesties and find speshew fwends. Dummeh loved bebbehs and wanted so badly to protect them, but your herds didn’t have any bebbehs. You promised him that when you made him your tuffie and you had your herd that he could look after and protect alllll the bebbehs. And you were trying to be a good Smarty, so you were going to keep your promise.
While your herd slept all nice and cozy in the park you went to before, in a nice cozy bush with bewwie nummies, you and Dummeh walked around the sidiewalkies in the dawk timsies in search of Bebbehs. You wandered around for many fowevas and thought you’d never find bebbehs for Dummeh. That was until you heard a familiar song, the song Your mummah used to sing, but not to you because you were her Poopie bebbeh and Poopie bebbehs never got mammah songs or miwkies.
“
Mummah wub bebbeh, bebbeh wub mummah, dwinkie aww da miwkie, gwow up big an stwong”
You followed it into a place that felt like a big yard but it was full of rusty metal thingies and lots and lots of vroom vroom munstahs that looked like they were all stacked on top of each other with many scratchies and buwnie owwies.
“du Poopie tink dat da Vwoom Munstahs awe aww foweva sweepies?” Dummeh said while shaking, it was like he was hoping that you would comfort him with a reassuring nod, put the truth was that you just didn’t know.
“nu no, stiww scawy, Poopie an Dummeh nee nu staw hewe wong” you replied.
You both turned the corner behind a big scawy long neck metal munstah and there she was, a big gween mammah with a yewwow mane and a reaaaaally fat bebbeh sucking on her miwky pwace.
“Hewwo fwuffies, am Wemon-Wime! Nyew fwends?” she asked with a smile.
Your eyes lit up when you heard her name. It was so pwetty, you didn’t even know fluffies could have pretty names like that. The only fluffies you ever knew that had names were bad names like you and your herd’s, with the exception of the name “Smarty”, you thought that name was the bestest.
“yew am hab pweety namsie, how hab?” you asked excitedly while tapping your front hoofsies together.
She just cocked her head at you in confusion and then snorted a little giggle, “tehehe, siwwy fwuffy, Hoomin Mummah gib namsie, but mummah nu wan Wemon-Wime tu hab bebbehs su Wemon-Wime wun faaaaaawwww way”.
Somehow in the back of your fuzzy little brain you knew that she was telling the truth, and for some reason in your mind it clicked instinctively that of course hoomins would be able to give names to fluffies when they became their new daddehs and mummuhs, hoomins were scawy but they did have that hoomin magic, so it made perfect sense.
Wemon-Wime invited you and Dummeh to sit with her and talk for a couple of fowevas. She told you about the safewoom, the bwockies, the sketties and the fwuff teebee. You didn’t know about any of that stuff except the sketties, which you only had once a bwite timsies ago and it was without a doubt the bestest thing you’ve ever had ever in the history of all fowevas. So if Wemon-Wime gave all that up for her bebbehs then she must be the bestest and nicest mummah ever.
Then Wemon-Wime introduced you both to her wastest and bestest babbeh. His name was “Sensitibe bebbeh”, which you thought was a very weird name but you kept that to yourself. After all, who are you to judge, having a name like “Poopie”.
He was big and squishy like Dummeh’s meanie pink mammah was, he was so fatty that his see pwaces were surrounded and nearly covered by his big cheekies and the place above his see pwaces that hung down. He also had gween fwuff like gwassie nummies and an orange mane that was really curly and stood up on end.
Dummeh tried to talk to him but he wouldn’t talk back, he would just make chirpies like a little chirpie bebbeh and make bad peepees and poopies while he kept greedily sucking up all his mummah’s miwkies.
Wemon-Wime told you about her other bebbehs, how they were eaten by bawkie munstahs, wingie munstahs and hoomin munstahs until all that she had left was her little bestest sensitibe bebbeh.
Every time she called him her bestest it made you annoyed, or was it sad, or angry? You weren’t sure but it reminded you of your mummah and how much she loved her bestest but hated you so much and even made your bruvas foweva sweepies just on the off chance it would make that mean black smartie like her and not hurt her bestest.
As she kept talking, you had decided to get up and be a good guest by going to make a good peepee a little bit away from her nestie behind a broken up twashie can. You found a patch of gween gwassies and made your peepees until you were done. You looked closer at the gwassie… There were no other gwassies so how could there be a patch of it right here? You reached out and touched it but it felt very cold and stiff, then you poked it again, and again until you worked up the courage to give it in little sniffie, it… smelled like Wemon-Wime and booboo wawa. You pushed it with your muzzle and when it rolled over from the nuzzles, you were met with the face of a rotten chirpy. Its see pwaces we’re gone and filled with little wormy munstahs that wriggled inside of them, its chest was caved in with what were clearly hoof prints and chunks of it were bitten off, but not like the way bawkie munstahs or squeaky munstahs bite, those were the marks of a grown up fluffy.
When you looked inside of the twashie can you saw four more just like it and all of them had the same smells.
Your mind made lots of quick memory pictures of your mummah, how meanie she was to you because of her bestest, how she made you num poopies, how she gave foweva sweepies and stompies to your bwuvas to save her bestest. This meanie mare was no different. She was a liar and a secret meanie, just like mammah was. You didn’t like this mare anymore… YOU HATED THIS MEANIE MARE… YOU WANTED TO GIVE HER HEWTIES… GIVE HER STOMPIES… GIVE HER FOWEVA SWEEPIES.
you charged her from behind and let out a thunderous warcry, you wanted to punish her for lying and hurting those bebbehs. She turned to you and her stupid lying meanie fake smile went away. She knew that you knew what she had done and you wanted her to feel very, very, very, sowwy.
You threw yourself at her and stomped and stomped and stomped while Dummeh looked on in horror at you.
“POOPIE!? NU GIB HEWTIES TU NICE MAMMAH!” he begged, frozen in utter fear of your Poopie rage. You screamed into Wemon-Wime’s heawing pwace and made her screeeee and cry.
“HATCHU BAD MUMMAH, YEW GIBE OBER BEBBEHS FOWEBA SWEEPIES, YEW WIE TU DUMMEH AN POOPIE! POOPIE SEE DA PWOOF! TEW DUMMEH DA TWOOF!” you demaded before biting down hard on her heawing pwace like she bit down on her bebbehs and pulled. She screeeeeee’d and flailed and begged but she wouldn’t admit, she just kept lying, and that made you angry!
“mawe wie?” Dummeh asked.
“yus, gu wookie in da twashie can!” you ordered while you kept her pinned down, crying and still trying to lie her way out of this.
“huuuuhuuuuuhuuuhuhuhuuuu, pwease, am good mummah, am da bestes mummah, pwomise!”.
You said nothing to her, you just hit her again.
Then dummy came back, the look on his face was something you had never seen before on another fluffy. Is heartie must have had so much hewties, more herties than you could possibly ever imagine.
He walked up very slow to Wemon-Wime and then looked you right in the see pwaces.
“bad mummah, hewtie bebbehs… Sensitibe bebbeh nee a betta mummah… Nu am sabe wib Wemon-Wime… Wike poopie bwuva nu wus sab with meanie pinkie mummah… Dummeh nu cowd sabe poopie bwuva, nu sabe Wemon-Wime’s ova bebbehs… But Dummeh WILL sabe sensitibe bebbeh fwom Wemon-Wime…” he said so softly before he reared up tall and roared a roar so big that it made your warcry from before look like a bebbeh’s chirp. before he threw himself forward a big BOOM happened behind him and a twashie bottle next to him exploded out of nowhere.
“fucking shit rats in my junkyard again? Nah uh, not today, fucker!” a big scary hoomin with a magic bang stick said as he pointed it at all of you.
“oh Poopies…” you said as you emptied your bladder then and there.
-to be continued-
