Your name is Poopie and you need an enfing plan…
You’ve been leading your herd around the not so deep parts of the city for a while now since you got the bad news about your sketti bounty. You’ve also taken a prisoner from the enemy ranks, a mare named Shawpie who was sent to bring you back to her smawty for foweva sweepies along with her team mates, one of who has gone foweva sweepies themselves and another had run away, now missing their speshew wumps and nu-nu stickie thanks to your scawy orange comrade. You also now know that both of the large herds following you have mainly set up nesties where all the really tall nu-housies are, deep in the middle of the city, so you need to keep some distance, not just to keep them at bay but to keep the captive mare reliant on you, even more so since her see-pwaces are all full of yellow gunk and are sealed shut from the sowwy poopies your friend gave her during the fight they had the other bwite timsie.
“Whewe am goin?” Dummeh asked you as he pulled Wan Die, Sensitibe and Shawpie along on the skatie boawed you stole.
“nu no, but nu can stay at da pawk anymowe, may-beh nee weave whowe citie…” you said, not really paying attention to him, as you were thinking, racking your little fluffy brain. You need to figure something out, somewhere to hi-
Just then your tummeh had the worstest hewties and the chain reaction of growls started emanating from all of your herd member’s bellies as well.
“nee nummies…” Munstah declared softly, still shaking terribly from the fight earlier and the meanie things that were said to her.
You decided to take a quick break in an alley behind a building that had lots of pictures of fluffies all over it. Surely a building with fluffies on it would have the bestest nummie twashies for fluffies? The logic was infallible, so you took the plunge and gave it a try.
Your gang started to dig through the twashies and num old stale kibbwe that tasted nearly as bad as you remember your sissie’s poopies being. That being said, anything was better than nothing and you knew it, especially under your current circumstances.
You found a small brown boxie with a funny picture of a triangle on it above some hoomin-scwibbwe-wowdies. You didn’t like this boxie though, it had a bad smell, a smell that made you feel saddies. But ZeewoZeewoWun didn’t seem to get the saddies from the smell like you and everyfluffy else, not at first. She just popped the lid with her scawy shawp teethies and began digging through until she managed to find some widdle bebbehs that had gone foweva sweepies, they looked like they came out of their mummah’s tummeh way too soon, they didn’t even have any fluff.
You could tell that she didn’t enjoy numming them, she looked like she had big saddies from just looking at them with little bits of wawa that started to come from her see-pwaces. But she bit down all the same and nummed the biggest one she could find while turning away from the rest of the herd. You guessed she did this so you wouldn’t get scawed by her too much. You knew she didn’t like doing it and told the rest of your herd to look away.
Dummeh had stopped eating when he realised that Sensitibe still had a pointy hewtie in his peepee pwace. You had forgotten to take it out like you had with the others during the stressful heat of the moment, when you saved him from a bad hoomin last dawk timsie.
“sowwy widdle bebbeh… Daddeh Dummeh gun make pointie hewtie gu way, but gun hewtie extwa fow a widdle bit” Dummeh said before he bit down on the bright red ball of plastic hanging out of his ward’s tiny speshew pwace and yanked it clean out in one go.
“PEEEEEEEEEEEEEP… CHIRPCHIRPCHIRP-PEEPEEPEEPEEP!” Sensitibe cried out while flailing his stubby widdle weggies about. He looked like he had the wowstest hewties as booboo wawa came dripping from his nu-nu stickie. But Dummeh kept him close and gave the bestest huggies until the flailing stopped and peeping died down. He then carried his charge to the pushed over twashie can and started to num some kibbwe with a mouthful of wawa from the nearby puddle. Dummeh explained while chewing that the wawa and his teethies make the kibbwe soft and mooshy before he waddled over to sensitibe and spat it out in front of him with a smile before watching his adopted son carefully and slowly num the brown goopy pile.
“Dummeh git thinkie pwan fwom watchin’ ZeewoZeewoWun” he said proudly as he pointed to the orange mare, who was herself currently in the middle of depositing a well masticated meal of half eaten banana and a fifth of a burger bun into her beloved speshew fwend’s open mouthie.
“coooo… Am dat gud, speshew fwend?” she asked before nuzzling her nosie against his cheek, and as always, “wan die” was his response.
While you were licking a handful of spoiled yoghurt from a plastic cup, you heard a tiny “huuhuuuhuuu” from the top of the other twashie can. Luckily, by now you had become something of a pro at knocking over the aluminium treasure troves and so you called over Dummeh who helped you climb up on his haunches and as a duo, give it a big push until it toppled, the creators of the noise from inside fell out from their hiding place as soon as the lid to the metal twashie can fell off.
It was another boxie like the one ZeewoZeewoWun found bebbeh nummies in but this one seemed off, different somehow. It was much bigger, still had its lid on, the triangle picture was different and although you didn’t know what hoomin scwibbwes meant, you knew that these ones were different too.
“anyfwuffy no wat dem wowdsies mean?” you asked before ZeewoZeewoWun raised her hoofsie.
“onwy no sum, nu no manie but nu wat dat mean, it am sumtin dat dey say bad fwuffies awe at da wabowatowy… befowe dey git fwone in twashies” she said, sounding saddies at the end.
“weww… wat am it say?” munstah asked with a mouthful of three week old cheesecake.
“it say ‘wejects’… Dat mean dey nu gud, hoomins nu wan dem, nubowdy wan dem, nufwuffy wan dem eder…” she answered mournfully, her saddie yellow see-pwaces looking down at the fwoorsies.
Munstah went over and gave her fwend a reassuring huggie while you and Dummeh opened the lid on the boxie. Inside were just a bunch of poopie fwuffies like you. Some were missing parts, others were very thin and must of had the worstest hungies, they all had so many hewties too.
“h-… hewwo…” a scawed filly whimpered as she looked up at you, with see-pwaces overflowing with wawa. She was one of the few in the boxie who hadn’t gone foweva sweepies… most of them had though.
Eventually the four nu-foweva sweepies poopies climbed out and looked for food, eating what they could find, no different from you and your herd. You watched them closely as they waddled about, tired, their heads hung low… you felt saddies for them.
When they finished their meals they turned to your herd and started asking a lot of questions. They asked for names of course and one by one your herd sounded off, then one of the poopies raised his brow and asked you.
“oh… umm… Am Po-” you tried to say honestly until you felt a hoofsie press softly on your side, spooking you a little until you realised it was Munstah, who quickly came up beside you.
“dis am Smawty, himb weadew ob da hewd an himb Munstah’s bestes twashie fwend!” she declared confidently. The four poopies’ eyes started to sparkle, they were in utter shock.
“WEAWY? POOPIE FWUFFY AM SMAWTY? NU NO DAT WAS EBEN AWWOWD!” the mare said excitedly towards you.
“aww poopie fwuffies am gud fow is tu num poopies…” the very dark coloured and tall poopie said in a way that felt defeated.
The four of them introduced themselves as Patchies, Stitch, Downa and Dewp.
Patchies was a filly with a poopie colour that most looked like yours, except her mane and tail were pinkie and she had a creamy coloured patch of fluff around one of her see-pwaces. She kind of looked like three flavours of ice cream put together.
Dewp was Patchies’ bwuva and she explained that the funny looking colt was born a dewpy bebbeh because he fell and hit his widdle head when he left mummah’s tummeh. His colours were a very light poopie and he didn’t have much of a mane or tail, it just never grew much apart from little tufts of yellow on the top of his head and above his poopie pwace. And for some reason his see-pwaces looked in different directions. It gave you the cweepies a bit but he seemed happy and pretty nice, although he was very loud.
Stitch was a mare with a type of poopie colour that was also a little grey-ish, like poopies left in the hot bwite time for too long, but she had a really nice purple mane and tiny little dotties on her cheeks that made her look very pweety, despite her only having one see-pwace.
Downa was a tall and thin stallion with a missing heawing-pwace and looked like a very dawk poopie, he also had a black mane and tail and would never say anything happy, he always had the saddies no matter what.
You felt really bad for them. They looked as lost as you did when you started, you couldn’t leave them, you WOULDN’T, you’re a Smawty and they needed you.
You took a deep breath, puffed up your chest and stomped you hoofsie as confidently as you could.
“yew am gun join hewd” you stated as a fact, “hewd gun pwotect poopie fwuffies and nu wiww num poopies eba again!”.
“DEWP… UHHH, HOW JOIN HEWD? MISTA POOPIE SMAWTY?” Dewp asked… or screamed.
“fwuffies hab to pwomise tu awways wook afta hewd, awways pwotect hewd’s bebbehs and awways du as da Smawty say” you explained before spitting into your hoofsie and pointed at them, waiting for the four to seal the deal.
Dewp stuck his entire hoofsie in his mouthie before slamming it hard against yours. Stitch did exactly as you did, giggling all the while. Downa gave a little wicky on his hoofsie and rolled his see-pwaces as he tapped yours. Then finally Patchies stepped up, but absolutely refused to do the spittie part, “nu… Dat am gwoss!” she huffed before lightly tapping her hoofsie against yours, it was so light that you weren’t even sure she touched it.
You all sat around for a bit and discussed where to go. You knew that you could try to leave the city but none of you knew what existed outside of it, it could just be more city, maybe just a big empty nothing, or a scawy place full of real munstahs that nummed fluffies, like bawkie munstahs but a bagillion-gorrillion times worse.
After a moment of silence you all decided that it would be best to stay in the city, you just needed somewhere to hide from the bad smawties.
ZeewoZeewoWun suggested going back to the barrel nestie behind the MacFeewy dwinkie housie, but you decided not to after the rumours you’d heard of a big yellow Munstah (not your ‘Munstah’, a real munstah) in the area, going around giving worstest bad enfies to everything in sight.
Munstuh recommended the junkie yard since the big scawy hoomin could keep other fluffies away so long as you don’t get caught. But that wouldn’t work because there were too many of you and you couldn’t risk getting grabbed by the scawy hoomin, you saw the things that he would do if he caught you.
Then Dummeh made a great suggestion as he raised his hoofsie in the air, “Wat bout ifv hewd hidies in cwate town?” he said. You were so impressed by his sudden stroke of genius that you could almost kiss him.
Cwate town was in a part of an abandoned hoomin place called a “wawehousie” by the wawafwont. You’d never been, but you’d always run into passing fluffies who talked about it or lived there. It was like a smaller city but in a city, a city for fluffies. If there were a place to hide from meanie smawties and their big herds, it would be somewhere filled to the brim with other fluffies. Cwate town had its own smawty and he was apparently very strong. He didn’t appreciate bad smawties bringing fights to his land.
You all gathered some things, threw some extra nummies onto the skatie boawed that you’d been using as a wagon and then scampered on, back on the sidiewawkies, on the path to cwate town with the biggest heawt happies and a solid thinkie-pwan. You might just survive another week, heck with any luck you might make it to next month… You just have to get there first.
-to be continued-