I live in the city. My life is peaceful. My family is modest, and I like that about us. It’s me, my wife, and our pet fluffy. Berry is the sweetest thing. She loves all the simple things that fluffies are meant to love. Hugs, play time, spaghetti and other Italian foods. She asks for things politely, and understands her place as our pet. Of all the fluffies I’ve seen, she is, by a wide margin, the least entitled and best behaved.
You see, Berry was abandoned by her family. She’s an Alicorn, a “monstuh,” as they would have put it. It doesn’t help that she sports brown fur and a light red mane, making her an “ugwy fwuffy” too. It pains me to see it, when I know very well that she’s smarter and better behaved than any of those others.
The science surrounding fluffies is scant, they’re often seen as pests. In what few studies have been performed, they estimate the intelligence of the average Alicorn to be between 5 and 10 times that of an Earthy, and 3 to 5 times that of either Pegasi or Unicorns. It puts them at approximately the intelligence of a 6 year old, whereas you could assume the average earthy to be of the same intelligence as a toddler, and the other 2 types to be more like a pre-schooler. She understands her intelligence lacks behind humans, and appreciates us for that exact reason. If she can’t solve something, she asks for help. If she senses trouble, she comes to us rather than trying to resolve it. She always takes responsibility for things like knocking over furniture and breaking toys. She truly is a great pet. My friends ask me why I didn’t get a dog or cat, but almost always understand immediately when they meet her. She’s the perfect bridge between traditional pets, and children while we transition from our young adulthood to starting a family.
In the early spring, Berry approached my wife and I in the evening after dinner.
“Mummah, daddeh, fwuffy was watchin’ tee-bee eawwiah an’ fwuffy saw babbehs on dewe. Babbehs am su cute, fwuffy wan’ some su bad. Su su so su so bad!” She asked.
“Now, Berry. You already don’t like when your father and I are gone all day for work. What if there’s an emergency and you need us? I just don’t see how you expect us to make it work if you want to have babies. It costs money to raise them and we can’t keep a whole pack of fluffies around.” My wife says, staring down at the fluffy.
“Bewwy undewstands an’ wiww take fuww wesponsibiwity fo’ aww dah babbehs. Pwease?” Her eyes water.
My wife and I look to one another. I can tell by the feeling of her gaze that she expects me to reason with Berry.
“Berry, we will consider under two circumstances. You take full responsibility. You understand, right now, that you will not be keeping these babies. First, we will try our best to give them all away to people we know, so you can still have play dates with them, but they will not be living here. Second, there will be no ‘best’ baby or ‘poopy’ baby. You remember how the other fluffies treated you when they called you a ‘monster’ and a ‘poopy’ fluffy. We will not accept that behavior from you. If I hear even one peep of that from you, your babies are getting bottle fed and given away. Do you understand?” I explain, with a stern tone of voice.
“Bewwy undewstands! su bewwy can hab babbehs?” She asks excitedly.
I look to my wife, who begins to chime in. “You know, my mother and siblings all love Berry a lot. My mom has been telling me that she’s considering a pet as well, since dad isn’t around anymore. We could see if she, and any of my siblings would be interested in Berry’s babies!” She has a glimmer in her eyes that I haven’t seen in a while.
“Well, I think you have your answer Berry.” I say to Berry, her face now radiating and tears welling in her eyes. “We will make some phone calls, and I’ll see if Jeremy and his wife would be willing to let their stallion Billy be your breeding partner.”
Berry inhales sharply. “Berry loves Billy! Our names sound the same! He’s gonna be Berry’s special friend? Thank you daddy!”
Berry begins marching around the room singing some nonsense song about being the “bestest momma” and having a special friend.
A few days later, Jeremy came to our house, and brought his Alicorn, Billy. I specifically wanted Berry’s breeding partner to be another Alicorn, as it reduces the likelihood of other types of fluffies in the litter. I also wanted a colorful partner as well, since, as much as I love Berry, I know her colors aren’t the most in demand, and if I have to sell any of these babies it’ll be a faster process.
Billy is a brilliant looking stallion. His fur is green, and no ordinary green. It’s a green that seems to radiate and shift the color of the room, almost akin to the feeling of glow-in-the-dark toys that we all had in our childhood. His mane is snow white, and the texture is unbelievably soft. He’s a truly thoroughbred fluffy, and I’m lucky enough to have his owner as a friend. He could charge me hundreds for this, but as part of our agreement with Berry, this will be her only litter. Jeremy, being the good friend he is, said all I owe him is the beers he drinks while we leave them in the safe room doing the deed.
One chilly morning in the late spring, Berry became a mother. Her foals were beautiful, and I had never seen Berry glowing with happiness the way she did in that moment. In total there were 5. No Earthy foals, 2 Pegasi in red and green, 1 Unicorn in Berry’s own shade of brown, 2 Alicorn in green and brown. We were so proud of her and knew the foals would have a great mother.
Berry loved her babies. She was very responsible, like we expected. We didn’t worry about the babies during the day while we were at work. Even when she, or the babies felt under the weather, we would be told when we got home and administer the medicine they needed. There was no unnecessary panic, no bad behavior. Within a month the babies all knew to use the litterbox, and Berry had even taught them their names. We decided that their handoff day to our friends and families would be the first day of September, and we promised Berry monthly play dates with her babies after that. She was sad, but took it better than expected.
The summers are hot, my home is old. Our home predates the air conditioning units that we 21st century humans have grown so accustomed to. The next best option is open windows, and window frame air conditioning units. We have one for the Berry’s room, then another for our own. We often open the door to our back porch to cool the living room, leaving the screen door closed.
On a Sunday in late August, we decided to clean the safe room in preparation of the handoff of Berry’s foals. We moved her and her foals to the living room, with her bed in a corner and her kibble and water. As per usual, we closed the door to the room to run the vaccuum cleaner, as it tends to scare both Berry and her foals.
I thought I heard something through the sound of the vaccuum, but it wasn’t until my wife shouted something over to me that I noticed it.
The desperate slamming against the door, the screaming of “MUMMAH! DADDEH! PWEASE PWEASE! HEWP!” I turned off the vaccuum, I could hear it now. Another voice on the other side of the door. Another fluffy. A male fluffy.
“STUPI’ MAWE! STAHP WUNNIN’ 'WAY!” The voice shouted, angrily.
My wife bolted to the door and immediately picked up Berry. I bolted through the door and saw him then. An Earthy, a deep navy color, almost purple. His mane was another shade of blue, lighter. Just by looking at his puffed out cheeks, I could see where this was going.
“HOOMAN? WHY HOOMANS HEWE? DIS AM SMAWTY HOUSE! GIB BACK DAH STOOPI’ POOPY MUNSTA’ MAWE TOO, OW SMAWTY GON’ GIB YOU DAH WOSTES’ SOWWY POOPIES!” He turned around and aimed his ass at me and my wife.
I grab his tail and press it into the carpet. He squirms and questions what I’m doing, but it’s already too late. He can’t stop the flow of shit. He sprays all over himself against the carpet. It smells fucking awful, and now he’s filthy, even moreso than a feral normally is.
“WAH YU DO TO SMAWTY?!” He says, puffing his cheeks.
He turns around and tries to bite my hand. I grab the tuft of loose skin on the back of his neck and lift him.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I look around the room. Two things are immediately apparent to me. The screen door on our back porch is torn open, and one of Berry’s foals is face down in a puddle of blood and white liquid in the corner.
“What Hoomin’ mean? Smawty saw an empty house wiff dummeh doow that smawty couwd get fwooh su fwuffy came in. When smawty came in, dewe was stoopi’ poopy munsta wiff munsta babbehs.” He said, with a perplexed look on his face, as if what he was saying was common sense.
Berry is crying uncontrollably.
“SCAWY FWUFFY GABE BABBEH FOWEVAH SWEEPIES!” She shrieked.
Worried for Berry, I ran to the broom closet, still gripping the fur of the feral. I checked, and there was nothing of value in there that he could damage.
“HOOMIN NO GIF SMAWTY WOSTES’ UPSIES HOOMIN’ PUT SMAWTY DOWN NAO! NAO!” He said angrily, swinging about, trying to bite my arm.
“Okay, you want down?”
I throw him into the closet, full force. There’s a thud that shakes the walls of my house as he slams against the back wall. I close the door. There’s some wheezing sounds for a moment, immediately followed by thoughtless fluffy dialogue.
“Whewe am smawty? Is dawk time? Wha’ happen tu bwight time?”
I turn around and walk to my wife.
“Berry, what happened? Are you okay?”
“Bewwy am huwt, buh am okay. Meanie fwuffy gif Bewwy sowwy hoofsies in bewwy and weggies, buh mommah and daddeh save Bewwy fwom wostes’ huggies.” She said with a grateful look in her eyes. It quickly turned sour. “Buh meanie fwuffie got Bewwy-babbeh!”
Berry-baby was our nickname for the brown Alicorn, since it was the one that most closely resembled her.
“Bewwy twied tu sabe aww babbehs buh couwdn’ 'cos meanie fwuffie tu stwong! Pwease Bewwy-babbeh, no take fowevah sweepies!”
My attention shifts to the foal. It was one of the most horrible things I had ever seen. It had been ripped apart by the assault from the feral stallion. Her body had been contorted and her stomach was blown out. Her front left leg was crushed, likely to keep her from escaping. The foal lie, barely breathing, in a puddle of her own blood, and fluids from the feral fluffy.
I shouted to my wife, “Honey, the foal is still alive. You need to take her and Berry to the vet, now. Don’t bring Berry over here yet, I need to cover her up. If Berry sees this, it isn’t going to go well.”
I run to the garage and grab the pet carrier. I bring it to my wife who gently puts Berry and her foals inside, one by one. Berry lays on her side, lightly wheezing. Bruising is beginning to appear on her body where the feral foal had hit her. Her babies all cuddle against her giving her “bestes’ huggies” and chanting odd fluffy language about how much they love her.
Using a washcloth from the kitchen, I carry the foal to the sink. Using some paper towel, I dab the blood and foreign liquids from her body, before wrapping her in a small towel, and placing her beside her mother.
“Berry, be sure to pay extra close attention to Berry-baby and tell your mother as soon as anything goes wrong with her okay?”
“Huu huuuuuuu… Otay daddeh.” She says between struggling breaths.
I load the carrier into the backseat of the car and my wife climbs into the drivers seat.
“You aren’t coming?” She asks.
“Someone has to deal with the feral one. Pay whatever it takes to fix that foal and to fix Berry, okay? I don’t care about the money.”
She nods, starts the car and peels out of the driveway fast enough to make the tires squeal.
I head back inside. Standing before the broom closet, the fluffy takes notice of my shadow beneath the door.
“STOOPI’ HOOMIN, IS DAT ‘OU? ‘OU BETTAH WET SMAWTY OUT NOW O’ AM GONNA GIVE YOU WOSTES’ FOWEVAH SWEEPIES!”
His voice is faint, echoing in the closet he’s standing in. I consider leaving him in there to starve for a moment. But no, he deserves much, much worse.
I open the door and grab him again by the loose skin on the back of his neck. I carry him back to the living room while his eyes are still adjusting to the light.
“Do you know what you did to my fucking family? I love my fluffy and look what you did to her and her family!” I said, through gritted teeth.
“Why hoomin’ have dummeh poopie monstah’ fwuffy? Dat fwuffie scawy and poopie. Munstah fwuffie onwy get fowevah sweepies, an’ poopie fwuffies onwy get num poopies. Why hoomin’ take in bad fwuffy?” Again with that fucking genuinely confused look to go with his horrible words. It’s like wine and cheese but instead it’s piss and shit.
“She is our fucking baby. We raised her together. She is a good fluffy.” My jaw is beginning to hurt from the clenched teeth. I’m gonna look like the chad meme at this rate.
“Stoopi’ hoomin. Das bad fwuffy. Hoomin shou’ wan gud fwuffie, wike smawty. Smawty am pwettiuh fwuffie dan stoopi poopie munstah fwuffie.”
“You’re a good fluffy? Do good fluffies try to shit all over people?”
He grimaces at the question, seeming to remember our earlier conversation at that moment.
“Wai’ a minute. Dis’ am smawty house nao! Why am hoomin stiww hewe? Weave nao o’ get poopsies an’ sowwy hoofsies!” He tries swing at me with his stubby little legs.
“Oh no you fucking don’t. You already shit in my house once, and now you’re gonna fucking clean it up!”
I bury his face in the pile of waste from his earlier attempt at unloading his shit cannon earlier.
“EAT IT. CLEAN IT UP, NOW!”
“NU. SMAWTY NO NUM POOPIES. DAT FOW MONSTAH FWUFFIES AN’ POOPIE FWUFFIES.”
“YOU ARE GOING TO EAT IT NOW OR I AM GOING TO GIVE YOU ‘FOREVER SLEEPIES.’”
“NU CAWE! HOOMIN NO CAN DU DAT TO SMAWTY. SMAWTY AM BESTES’ FWUFFY. BESTES’ FWUFFY AM BETTAH DAN DUMMEH HOOMIN! GIB YOU SORRY POOPIES!”
He shits again, this time it sprays across the room. Not a single drop lands on me. I am seeing red.
I grab his mouth and pry his jaw open. I grab a small gardening shovel from the broom closet.
“Is smarty ready for ‘nummies?’” I’m sure it’ll taste just like ‘sketties.’" I am so excited.
“NU SMAWTY NU NUM POOPIES, IS FO’ DUMMY FWUFFY WIKE YO-” The words are cut off by the first mouthful of excrement.
This is disgusting. I’m sure this shit is made up of rotting garbage and whatever other disgusting excuse for “nummies” a feral can find.
His eyes are watering. He’s trying to speak, but every time a word is about to come out, he gets another mouthful. It takes about 5 minutes for all of it to get rammed down his throat.
“SMAWTY GON’ GIB HOOMIN FOWEVAH SWEEPIES. 'OU MAKE SMAWTY NUM POOPIES!”
“Oh and don’t forget about dessert!”
I pick him up buy his disgusting shit covered tail and carry him to the site of his crimes.
“Here you go little guy, a yummy treat!”
“Wah? NU! SMAWTY NU AM MAWE. SPESHUW WATUH AM ONWY FO’ MAWES!”
I slam his head down in it like James Bond drowning a Soviet in a toilet.
He resists. He keeps breathing through his nose and refusing to swallow the evidence of his crimes against fluffy-kind.
“I’ll tell you what buddy, either you eat it, or I rip your tail off right now. I don’t mean the fur, I mean the whole thing. You’ve made me really mad too, I might just take your whole spine with it!” I smile at him. I meant every word.
“MFFF MMMMMF MF!”
He’s trying to speak. Probably some shit about being a smarty, this is his land, spaghetti, blah blah blah.
“3… 2… o-”
I hear him start gulping it down.
“Congratulations, you saved yourself for now!”
Upon finishing his dessert, he started trying to curse me again, but I’ve tuned him out completely at this point. I lift him again by his shit covered tail and drag him out to the garage. I locate a box, and throw him in it. I turn off the light, close the door and leave him to roast in the August heat for a little while as I clean my hands and call my wife.
“Hello?”
“Hello, dear.” I say into the receiver, gently. “How is Berry? How are the foals?”
“Berry is gonna be okay. She’s got some bruising and she’s really shaken up, but they say with some bedrest she should be okay in a week or two.”
“What a relief. How about the baby?”
“She’s a different case. She’s in surgery right now. They said they need to do a lot of internal stitching, cleaning, and that front leg may get amputated.”
I sigh into the receiver.
“I know. I talked to my mom, she said she’s still gonna take her if she makes it.” She says.
“Well, I’m relieved to hear that. I just hope the little thing is okay.” We sit in silence for a moment. “I’m gonna put this ‘smarty’ fuck through the ringer for this.”
She thinks for a moment. “… Make it rough. It’s for Berry.”
“I knew I married a good one.” We share a laugh. “By the way, did you throw away that hair dye? You know, from a few months ago when you said you were gonna go brunette?”
“Yeah…? Oh my God, Alan!” She laughs again. “You’re gonna make the people here think I’m crazy, laughing beside my battered Fluffy waiting on a foal in surgery.”
“Can you give the phone to Berry?”
“I would but she’s asleep. She needs it”
“Alright. Well, I’ll talk to you in a bit. I’ve got a smarty to reprogram.” I hang up and head back to the garage.
TO BE CONTINUED.
