The Fluffy Assassin Part 2 [By Bread]
Business continued to pick up now that word was getting around. The work was spread out, and sometimes that felt good, sometimes that felt awful. Right now it felt…annoying. He needed more money saved up before he could buy the shit he wanted and not feel like an idiot, like decent booze, and an upgrade for his pc. So, when a job came in he wasn’t sure about, he decided to just take it.
He was getting used to killing shitty fluffies people wanted out of their hair, but this one was a bit different. Rather than a fluffy that was making everyone suffer for its continuing existence, this one was a fluffy that was quite a bit different.
The target fluffy, a burgundy and purple mare named Lucy, wasn’t a menace, or in the way of a relationship, or a stupid smarty getting people fired from their jobs. Lucy was a beloved family pet that reached that age where she decided ‘babbehs is da bestest dings eva!’ The girl wasn’t fixed, and Fluff TV seems dead set on making sure Fluffies think about having babies regardless of what the owners want. She hit that state, became obsessed with getting herself some babies, and became a real annoying bitch about it.
Now, that isn’t really what Weston deals with. You don’t kill the family pet because she has baby fever, and if that was the job, Weston would feel weird about taking it. He still didn’t hate fluffies enough to do that sort of thing without issue. The issue was, Lucy thought she was a clever girl and managed to get knocked up by a feral fluff living in the neighborhood after they worked together to dig a hole under the fence of her yard. She tried the classic, ‘Daddeh! Dis is Wucy’s speciaw fwiend! We makies tummy babbehs! He can wib wif us?’
You can guess how that went. Little shitrat feral was thrown right over the fence by his tail, and the hole was covered up with some woodscraps and an upside down bin until he could have time to fill it in. Lucy was told she would not, under any circumstances, be having the shitrat’s babies, and she was going to have to lose her tummy babies.
Desperate to disobey and have her babies, Lucy was easily convinced to run away by the shitrat feral, and together they got the stuff out of the way of their hole and ran away. The client went out looking for her a few times over the next week, but either he had shitty luck, or his former pet decided to hide away from her now, ‘meanie daddeh’. Either way, he decided to tell his daughter, who the fluffy was for to begin with, that she’d been hit by a car after escaping the yard and that she was gone.
Weston didn’t know how he’d handle that with a kid so he figured that was as good a way to deal with it as any. Probably feel shitty as a kid if your pet ran away and never came back. Weston had a cat growing up that always hung around the yard so he didn’t know.
The issue was, of course, now, months later, the client has spotted Lucy around his neighborhood a few times. It’s the middle of the nice warm summer with tons of leafy greens to eat, and there is no way that fluffy isn’t living nearby. So, the client wanted him to take care of this for him.
The request went something like this:
“Hey. I hear you can take care of unique Fluffy Situations. I’ve got a pair of ferals I need you to take care of for me.”
“You heard right. What’s up? They getting in your garden, fucking under your window, pooping on your driveway, what?”
“Oh, uh…I mean, they aren’t really doing anything…I just need them gone.”
“That’s a new one. Why?”
Then he went back and forth in the call and got the whole story. Throughout it, Weston wasn’t sure if he would take it, but by the end he was at least considering.
“So…you want these fluffies taken care of because if your daughter sees her beloved pet Lucy walking around her neighborhood, who you told her died, she’ll be heartbroken her fluffy ran away and upset with you for lying?”
“…yeah pretty much. She’s 10, she won’t understand my reasons, and she won’t get that her fluffy is just a retard that gave up a nice house for babies with a feral. She’s sensitive. I don’t want her thinking she did something wrong…so this is a job I need done immediately.”
“If this is just getting rid of some ferals, can’t you call a proper exterminator?”
“I tried. They weren’t sure about it to start since it wasn’t on my property, and then when they tried to see if they could figure out where the fuckers are living, they gave up and said they weren’t interested. And still fucking charged me!”
“…Mark’s Fluff Erasers?” Weston guessed.
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“Worked for them for a little. Company sucks. Anyways…this is super specific and it sounds like I’m going to need to find them before I can even take care of them. You willing to pay what this is gonna cost?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever man. I’d rather lose some money than make my daughter think she can’t trust me.”
“Okay…the job is just to take care of the two?”
“Not quite…”
“…continue.”
“Take care of them, I don’t care how. Make sure their bodies aren’t anywhere near here, and I want you to send me a picture of their foals. She’s had time to heal from the loss of Lucy and I’d rather take one of the foals for a new pet.”
“I guess I don’t mind that. Any preference on the other foals?”
“Just don’t leave them there to starve after and I don’t care otherwise.”
“Okay…I’ll think on it.”
“Don’t keep me waiting too long, please. I really need this taken care of ASAP.”
And think Weston did. It wasn’t the same as killing a beloved family pet that was actively still being loved. In every way that mattered, Lucy the pet fluffy was dead. Now she was just some annoying feral that, if she’d moved away anywhere else, wouldn’t even be a target as far as he could tell. After a few hours of just passively considering it, and then having his need to save up more money slapped in his face again by a bill hitting his account, he texted the client and told him he’d take the job. The guy didn’t even try to negotiate price, and then he got the details.
Now here Weston was, hanging out in his car, eating some pizza with his windows cracked trying to keep as quiet as possible with his eyes peeled. If he had more patience, he could probably full on P.I. this shit and have a proper multi-day stakeout until he finally caught a colorful glimpse of his prey, but Weston wasn’t exactly the wait and see type.
So, he splurged on some proper spaghetti from a local pizza place, and got himself some lunch and dinner in a nice large, meatball and onion pizza. The good kind, where raw white onions went on the pie before it got through in the oven, and the meatballs were cut up and thrown on instead of just being a bunch of ground beef spread around. Now today was feeling like a pretty good day.
The guy was paying enough for him to got for restaurant pasta rather than just heating up some canned stuff, and he needed the enticing aroma of fresh pasta more than the pasta itself. He wanted these stupid fluffies to come out of hiding because they simply couldn’t help themselves. And he really hoped it worked because otherwise he’d have wasted 8 bucks on that pasta.
But there was nothing he could do for it so he just sat, and ate, and watched. It was a nice summer day with a proper breeze pushing its way through his windows, the scent of pizza lingering in the car’s air, and he actually found it pretty relaxing. It was a nice neighborhood, but the issue was there was a ton of green.
Like a lot of places in the American Northeast, once you hit more suburban spaces, there’s a lot of interplay between paved roads, houses and well kempt yards, and wild left alone forests randomly between it all. Behind someone’s nicely trimmed hedges could be an entire, barely touched forest. He was pretty sure these fluffs were living somewhere just within the woods, and wandering around finding ‘nummies’ when people were away for the day and car traffic was spaced out. An idea backed up by the fact that the times the client had seen Lucy was when he got to head home early from work the last few times.
So, that’s when Weston was here. He stopped by the pizza place right as they were opening at 11, and now it was- he had to glance at his phone with the car off, 12:17 and he was just waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting…
The idea for the pizza was part lunch part dinner, but at this rate he was going to eat the entire thing just to keep himself entertained as he watched. He wasn’t even hungry anymore…but he wasn’t doing anything, and it was just there.
As he watched he saw reactions from some local pet fluffies. One left in its yard close by kept whining about smelling and seeing the ‘sketties’ but not being able to reach them. A few others nearby heard his loud whines and started getting excited about sketties, dumb things. But maybe this was good, maybe his targets would hear about the sketties if they couldn’t smell them on the air.
He waited.
He ate more pizza.
He kept waiting.
Before he made the mistake of eating a sixth slice, already down to 3 left, there was a splash of color escaping a nearby bush. It was a bright pink fluffy (well, in some places, faded in others from dirt) with a brown mane. Talk about a bad color combination. He couldn’t be sure if this was related to his target, since the client didn’t remember the color of the shitrat that knocked up Lucy. But he didn’t want to scare away the fluffy, yet, just in case it was. So he slid down in his seat, wiped his hands off with a napkin, and watched quietly.
He could just hear the fluffy, definitely a boy, calling, “Otay speshew fwend, am nu dummeh peopwes. Godda find nummies!”
A moment later, Weston was a very happy man. That little shit showed her burgundy ass, coming out through the bush, but with how dirty she was it was more like…a barely reddish brown. But the purple tail helped him know this was right. She didn’t come alone. She had a bright pink foal on her back, and she was trailed by several different colored foals, presumably the very litter that caused this mess.
“Speciew fwend awways find gud nummies. Yu find moe nummies?” She asked cheerily.
“Nu yet. Bu smeww! Dat am sketties!”
She eagerly sniffed at the air and gasped loudly, “SKETTIES!”
He nodded eagerly, “Heaw dummeh fwuffies sayin dewe am sketties wound hewe. Gunna fine dem!”
She giggles happily, “Dat wud be bestest eva ting. Nee moe nummies fo milkies an new babbehs!”
Huh. So they were really getting busy. Just what the world needed, feral fluffies breeding like…fluffies. Maybe this was for the best. No doubt this neighborhood would grow to have one hell of an infestation if these two got to keep at it. And then, that fucker Mark would probably get a call and finally do his job and make bank doing it. But that wouldn’t happen. Because Weston was going to take care of it.
He waited as the dumb fluffies looked around, in completely wrong places. How fluffies survives in the wild at all was a fucking miracle. He was just about ready to jump out and start shouting about the pasta being right fucking there, on the sidewalk (not that that would have actually helped) when finally the fuckers found it.
The ugly pink one gasped and made an excited shout, “DAY AM HEWE!” And immediately started to scarf down the delicious pasta before his mate could even get close.
Weston’s first reaction was, ‘what a greedy little shit.’ But then he remembered he was here to dispose of them, so what did he care? He’d prefer the actual target get some of her pre-programmed favorite food before she bites it, but in the end he wasn’t that deeply invested. So he just relaxed and watched.
Lucy came waddling up as fast as she could, and with a heartfelt gasp she said, “Babbehs! Daddeh findies Sketties! Is da bestest nummies eba!” she carefully set down what was probably her bestest baby from her back, and went to push her head into the to-go container right alongside her mate. He probably got a lot more than her, but neither of them stopped eating until they were finished licking the container clean of sauce.
Idly, he noticed two of the four foals in the litter begin to play and wander away from the family, including the ‘bestest babbeh’ judging how that one was the only one still being carried. His plan had been to follow them after they ate their fill, probably right back to their nest, but now that he considered a new plan, he realized just how dumb that was. If he lost them he’d have to try this all over again. But if he got out and stole their ‘bestest babbeh’ and held it hostage? That was just smart enough to actually work on fluffies.
So before the two could quit their babbling about how delicious the pasta was and how good a job the pink shitrat had done locating it, he quietly popped open his car door, stepped out, and then stood up quickly. Without saying a word, he fast walked towards the two foals, now joined by a third, in the middle of the street playing tag. One of the foals, a light blue one, noticed him first and made a scared chirp.
“Wha is ba-BABBEHS!” Lucy screamed suddenly, but it was too late to do anything.
He scooped up the blue one and the pink one, leaving the yellow third foal, and held them aloft in his hands, “Don’t move, or I’ll eat your babies!” It sounded dumb but they’d believe that.
“NU! Nu eat babbehs!” Lucy pleaded, abandoning all self-preservation to run over and beg at his feet. Her mate, truly a feral, had enough lived experience to not dare approach Weston. He just watched from the edge of the sidewalk, pensive and considering running away.
“Wucy! Geh way fwom munsta!”
“Nu! Munsta eat babbeh!” she called back, then looked up to him again, “Pwease nice munsta mistah, nu eat babbehs! Babbehs is fo cuddwes and huggies and wub! Nu is nummies!”
“But I want to. They look so tasty.” He starts slowly moving the bestest babbeh towards his mouth, “mmm, fluffy, yum yum. Omnomnom.” The action got the foal to make a small scaredy poopies, and start chirping and crying out in fear, “Nu! Nu am nummies!”
“NU! Pwease! Nu eat bestest babbeh!” the pink shitrat chimed in from afar, “Pwease! If hab eat babbeh fo nummies…e-eat odda babbeh! Bwue babbeh! Bu nu bestest babbeh!”
“Wha?!” Lucy looked back over at him, appalled. “Nu wan eat any babbeh!”
“Hapta sabe bestest babbeh fwom munsta! Wucy hab tummeh babbehs, otay if wose one babbeh.” The reasoning was sound, but man was it cold.
“Nu! Nu wan be nummies!” the blue foal started pleading, also making scaredy poopies. Luckily, Weston held them in a way their shit didn’t hit him.
“Hmm…but I’m pretty hungry…and only a bestest baby is enough for me. I might have to eat…ALL the other babies instead if I can’t eat this one.”
“NUUUUUU!” Lucy screamed, losing her shit at that idea, and rightfully so.
“WUCY!” her mate shouted, “HAB TU WET MUNSTA!”
“NU NU NU NU NU! NU CAN HAB ANY BABBEHS TO BE NUMMIES!”
And they proceeded to get into a heated argument about it. Lucy, besides being a dumbass that ran away from home to reproduce, had good mother instincts and wanted all of her children to live. Even if, were he actually trying to eat the foals, this would be extremely dumb. Her mate, on the other hand, was apparently quite used to having to sacrifice things, even foals. And probably had a mate he’d lost before Lucy.
It was going nowhere, Lucy being stubborn but slowly being worn down, she was not at least willing to give up the blue foal. But now was his time to jump in, having worked out exactly how his plan would end. Since…grabbing the foals had kinda been a spur of the moment idea.
“Well…you know…” he started, getting both of their attention. “I guess there’s one way I could not have to eat any of your babies…”
“How?! Pwease nice mistah, nu wan wose babbehs! Du anyting!” Lucy begged.
“Well…I overheard you earlier. Is it true your special friend found sketties?”
“It am twue! Wook!” she excitedly ran back over to the now completely licked clean container, “Dis am whewe sketties was! Speciaw fwend is bestest nummies finda ebba!”
The pink shitrat puffed up his chest proudly, “Yis. Am bestest at find gud nummies.”
“Wooooow,” Weston grinned, “Well you know…if he could find some more sketties for me I wouldn’t need to eat any babies. I’d be too full!”
“Speciaw fwend! Yu hab tu find nummies fo da munsta!”
The pink shitrat looked very unsure at all of this. The little shit was smart. This really was a trap, after all. Weston would have to sweeten the deal.
“…in fact…if I had a fluffy that could find sketties…I might even want to bring him and his whooooole family home with me. Where I have a really nice yard full of yummy flowers and a saferoom inside for fluffies. Where they could have lots and lots of babies. I love fluffy babies.” Ignoring the fact that he just threatened to eat said fluffy babies.
Lucy was immediately sold on the idea. “WEAWWY?!” She looked back at her mate, “We can hab HOUSIE! Can hab wots of babbehs!”
The pink shitrat, suspicious but…clearly tempted said, “An…aww fwuffy hab tu do is wook fo nummies wif mistah munstah?”
“Yep. And if you do, and you want to leave after, you can. But I have a really nice house.” That was a fuckin lie, he had an apartment. But he wanted one of those.
Lucy looking at him pleadingly, the two foals in his grasp looking at becoming a meal otherwise, the pink shitrat finally nodded slowly, “Ota…Bewwy find bestest nummies fo munstah mistah.”
Weston nodded, and walked back to his trunk, still carrying the foals. “Alright, come on.” He popped the trunk, pulled open a carrier, and plopped the two foals inside of it. Then he moved it down onto the road and motioned to it as they moved in view. “Put your babies in here.”
“Otay!” Lucy agreed, pushing her other two foals to get into the carrier. Once they were in, he put the carrier back in the trunk, and took a picture of all the foals inside, sending it to the client and grabbing the next carrier, this one much bigger. “Okay. You two can go in this one together.”
He opened it up and set it down in front of them. Lucy, warry for a moment, walked in a second later and called out to her much more cautious mate, “Come Bewwy! Gonna get nuw housie and pwetty nummies!”
Berry, the pink shitrat, looked up at Weston with suspicion.
“…I don’t actually like eating babies. I’m just suuuper hungry. I’m really bad and finding nummies.”
The little shit grinned smugly, “Dummeh munstah. Bewwy find wots of nummies, yu gib nice housie.” He started walking in, “Gonna hab wots of babbehs. Wots of gud feews.”
Weston shut the carrier door on his ass, and put the carrier in the trunk without another word. He heard some complaints, but he really got the yelling once he shut the trunk on them. A cacophony of “TU DAWK!” “NU WIKE!” sounded out of the fluffy family, and with a grin Weston walked around to the driver’s seat and got out of there. Turning on some music to not hear their muffled complaints and cries.
As he drove, he got a text from the client. Once he was parked several neighborhoods away, he read it.
“[Show me the Pink one and Blue one more closely.]”
So he got out, popped his trunk, and ignoring the adults, proceeded to take out each foal in hand and take a few pictures before stuffing them back in and sending them the client’s way.
Soon after he got: “[My daughter likes pastels, and the blue one is more like that than the pink. Blue one it is. You get the parents?]”
“[Yep. Dealing with disposal now.]”
“[Great. Sending your payment.]”
And he did. And when it got into his account it really made Weston smile.
With that smile plastered on his face, he pulled the adult carrier out, and carried it over to a nearby dumpster. Like hell he’d go to a Hasbio store and pay for actual fluffy disposal. A random dumpster was just as good.
The two fluffies were fighting, arguing, and both trying desperately to get out. Weston got the dumpster open, saw it was half full, and proceeded to dump them out unceremoniously, a pair of Oofs! sounding at they landed on the somewhat soft garbage bags.
“Hey…dis nu am housie. Dis am twashies pwace!” Lucy said.
“Why am hewe? Dummeh Munstah, Bewwy nu want find twashie nummies! Wan find bestest nummies!” Berry chimed in, puffing up his cheeks at him.
“Yeah…” He grabbed his BB-gun, reached down and grabbed Lucy by the scruff, and pulled her up.
“BAD UPPIES!” She shouted, struggling in his grasp.
“Shouldn’t have run away, Lucy.”
“Huh?”
“Your old Daddeh was really sad you ran away. You’re a bad fluffy.”
“Old daddeh? Old Daddeh was dummeh! He nu wet Wucy hab babbehs!”
“Well, now you get to live here instead.”
“Wha?! Nu! I nu is twashies! Am soon mummah, gonna hab wotsa babbehs, nee wawm housie!”
“Is that right?”
“Yus! Nu can hab babbehs in twashies! Gonna hab su many babbehs at new housie. G-”
He put the BB-gun right to her temple as she blabbered on, and shot a few BB’s into her skull. She didn’t deserve to see it coming, she was just a dumb pet, not a menace. He unceremoniously dropped her into the trash, and she didn’t move.
Berry froze up, “Wh-wha? Wha…why huwt Wucy? Nu! Nu wan go foweba sweepies!” He turned and gave a sudden spurt of scaredy poopies in Weston’s direction. A great survival instinct this time…if he wasn’t stuck halfway down a dumpster. Luckily that protected Weston from hating his life for the next hour. Reaching down, he grabbed the pink shitrat by the scruff, getting a, “BAD UPPIES! NUUUUU! Huuu huuuu!”
This one? This one didn’t get that kindness. He put the BB-gun away, and grabbed the shitrat’s front leg. Then with a firm grasp he twisted it until it broke. The fluffy screamed and squirmed, “Nuuu! Nu huwt weggie! Nee weggie!” Then the next one, with a solid snap. And the next, and the next. All four legs broken and twisted, the little shitrat blubbering and miserable, he dropped him back down right on top of Lucy’s corpse.
“All the trash nummies you can eat, you little shitrat.”
“WHY MUNSTAH BWAKE WEGGIES?!” the little shit demanded, struggling to move on the every shifting garbage with broken legs.
“Because. You ruined Lucy’s life. She was a happy pet and you had to go and steal her. Made a little girl really sad you shit. And, you’re an annoying little shit. So, enjoy your all you can eat buffet, shitrat.” No way this fluffy survived long, and no way he ever made his way back to the client. He turned and walked away, the little shitrat flipflopping for sad pleading and angry demands, as he just went back to his trunk, put the empty carrier away, and grabbed the carrier of foals.
He took the three that weren’t wanted, stuffed them in a box he stabbed some airholes into, and dropped them off at a shelter. He was just adding to the fluffy crowding in shelters, but at least foals were easy to adopt. It was a little out of the way, but he didn’t feel comfortable throwing them in that dumpster too. They’d have become food eventually for sure, if not get crushed by garbage. Little too cruel for his taste.
Then he dropped off the carrier at the client’s house, he’d included the cost of it, the cute little blue foal inside. “This is your new home, buddy. You’re gonna have a new family.”
The foal was too confused by everything that had happened to talk back, but that was fine. Not like the foal had seen anything. Weston left the carrier there, texted the client with a picture of it on the doorstep, and got out of there.
On his way home, he made one more stop. And that night, the rest of his pizza was accompanied by a nice rum and coke. It was a good day.
(The people have spoken, and I am a sucker for comments. So here is part 2. I will continue this, and I think at some point I will make a template for giving me ideas of a job/target so the community can be involved, and I can treat it as a writing exercise to work with what I’m given. Might do that next time, we’ll see. Part 3 will come out when I feel like it. Enjoy.)
