Richard-Von-Stubs was the name of the pegasus with a muted blue coat and a pale grey mane, who was known better by the local staff as ‘The Afficionado’.
Richard had no owner, or more accurately, he had many an owner. You see, Mr. Von-Stubs made his home in the Armitage industries owned mega shopping center; and specifically, within the food court. The blue stallion hobbled about with his three good legs and his one wooden peg with a soft ‘tip, clack, tap, tip’ as he travelled about the food court, nibbling up crumbs and snacking on the unwanted leftovers on the trays.
“oooo noice, Witchawd wuv sum ob dat Stawschmucks!” he smiled as his left wing, the none crippled one, fluttered in joy at the sight of the third of a cookie and the leftover milky foam at the bottom of a paper cappuccino cup. “aww yeh! Dat am da gud stuff!” he mumbled happily with a mouthful of chocolate chips and buttery biscuit base. “a-am vewy dwy, doe…” he coughed, fighting the crumbs caught in his throat. The stallion dug his face into the cup to quench his terrible thirst, yet his short muzzle and ditty tongue were just shy of touching the sweet microbubbles. “ACK-nee… HAC-wawa!..” Richard cried, fighting for air.
The short and pale barista ran to him with a dish full of water. “SHIT-SHIT-SHIT-SHIT-SHIT” sixteen year old Jacques panicked as he threw it down and began to comfort the gagging creature, stroking the back of his neck to ease the throat. Quickly and desperately, Little Von-Stubs lapped up as much precious aqua as he could get, and after, he took deep and frantic breaths that began to release from their panicked state, until his tiny little heart settled itself once again. “Jezus, Richard, are you okay?” the young coffee brewer asked with genuine concern.
“Witchawd gun be otay…” the pegasus coughed.
“good… good, merveilleux. You know, everyone would be very sad if we lost you? and I would personally be heartbroken to come back from vacation and find that you’ve kicked zhe bucket. You’re like zhe food court’s little mascot” the boy said as he rustled the stallion’s long and shaggy mane, that covered most of his face.
“Witchawd memba Shacq sayin dat wus sabin aww yew monies fow bestest vay-cay-shun. Witchawd wan com tuu!” he begged excitedly, wagging his tail.
“I do not think zat you would like zhe north pole, as it is very cold… And if you were gone, who would keep zheir eyes out for thieves and who would review zhe food? Zhe shoppers would be lost without your guidance” he reminded the now disappointed looking fluffy. “oh, zat reminds me”, Jacques smiled as he thumbled through his Starschmucks apron for a note pad, "how were zhe cookies, Mr. ‘Zhe Afficionado’ the young man chuckled lightly with a pen in hand.
“hmmm, weww…” Richard-Von-Stubs pondered as he stroked his tiny chin with his last real foreleg, “wus nice an sweetie, an cwunchy, an hab nutties, an chocowate chippies, bu cookie neawy gib Witchawd fowevah sweepies… Su Witchawd am sowwies, bu am gun onwy gib fouw ou ob fibe tappies” he declared disappointedly, before tapping his leathery hoof against the table three times, that was until he remembered that the number four existed, “…oops, sowwy…” he grinned awkwardly before adding the missing tap.
“oh, zat’s a shame” Jacques sighed with a slight pout, as he scribbled nonsense and squiggly lines on the notepad.
“nu am yew fawt, am dummeh cookie fawt fow being biggest meanie!” he assured before giving a surviving crumb of the accursed confectionary a ‘sowwy pokie’ with his wooden foreleg, that in truth was just a whittled down leg that fell off of one of the many spare food court chairs in the back storage.
“well, I’ll make sure zat zhe next batch of cookies are much nicer to you” the barista assured before excusing himself to return to his manager.
Delores wasted no time scolding the boy, “you touched that thing? Wash your fucking hands…” she ordered wish a face of pure disgust, “I don’t know why you encourage that freak. How he is allowed to wonder around and suck up scraps on the floor, like some kind of giggling hoover with brain damage, is beyond me!” she scoffed, before squinting with genuine disdain at the little unofficial mascot, who was currently chasing a pigeon who had flown into the food court.
“he’s not so bad, he’s quite zhe little celebrity” Jacques assured, “I even heard zat he is developing something of a fanbase around zhe town. People come to see zhe little munchkin, and when zhey come for him, zhey bring zhe money” he explained while quickly rubbing his thumb and finger together, to accentuate his point.
“I don’t care, it’s filthy. Can you imagine eating a croissant and sipping a coffee, while some crippled pig-rat-horse-thing giggles like a retarded toddler and licks the crumbs off your shoes?” Delores inquired with a raised brow.
“just because I am French doesn’t mean zat I eat croissants and drink coffee” he accused with crossed arms and a scrunched nose.
“do you like croissants and coffee?” Delores asked with a smirk.
“of course! Doesn’t everyone?” he asked in a huff.
“I’m more of a crumpets and tea girl myself, but I wouldn’t turn down a croissant right now” she chuckled .
“Witchawd can shawe!” the blue stallion smiled with a half eaten croissant in his mouth.
“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Delores screamed as she jumped at the stealthy fluffy’s approach, “don’t sneak up on me, you fucking mutant!”.
“wat am ‘mootent’?” Richard asked, his ears standing on end in curiosity.
“you!” the manager snapped before going off to smoke in peace, far from fluffies and their nonsense.
“heaw dat? Witchawd am ‘mootent’!” the pegasus smiled, his one good wing fluttering at the revelation.
“I think it would be best if you checked up on Phil and Chaz over zhere” Jacques recommended to the cheerfully oblivious fluffy, pointing to the two colourfully dressed men at the Italio-Mexican fusion restaurant across the court.
“otay, wub yew, see ya in a few fowevahs!” the shaggy little fluffy smiled before turning around and waddling towards the couple.
“hewwo mistah Chaz!” the pegasus grinned with a playful squeak.
“how is daddy’s favourite little goblin?” the six foot five mountain of muscle smiled excitedly as he picked up the feral and held him to his Hawaiian shirt clad chest.
“siwwy Chaz, nu am gobwin, am fwuffy!” Richard giggled as he was cradled like an infant.
“NO! CHAZ, PUT HIM DOWN!” a short, chubby and slightly older man barked at the affectionate Adonis.
“oh please, Phil! Look at him, he’s just a baby!” Chaz declared with wide and begging eyes, holding what is clearly an adult fluffy.
“fuck’s sake, Chaz. You can’t keep taking home every fluffy you find, we have eight more at home!” Phil grumbled as he scratched his balding scalp.
“Witchawd am nu bebbeh eibew, am fwuffy!” the stallion said with a confused look plastered on his fuzzy face.
“oh… I suppose you’re right” Chaz frowned as he slowly put the crippled fluffy back down. “Beyoncé would probably get angry at me for bringing her a new stallion, you know, since her special friend…” he ended both abrupt yet mournfully.
“not to mention that he’s happy here, he gets no guff from shoppers, and he always poops and pees in the litter tray by the maintenance closet” Phil assured as he rested a hand on the forlorn himbo’s shoulder.
“suuu… Du Chaz an mistah Phiw wan nummie weview?” Richard asked.
“not today, little man” Phil refused with a smile.
Richard-Von-Stubs spent the rest of the day sniffing for crumbs, keeping the flappy-wingie monsters away, and talking to Jacques, Chaz or any of the other staff during their breaks. The tone of the day shifted with the setting sun, however, as with it came troublemakers. A couple of kids, no older than Jacques, loitered by the fragrance kiosk, pocketing whatever their sticky fingers could get. The two future convicts assumed that their getaway would be a clean one, what with the kiosk being at the entrance to the food court, which was all that stood between them and the exit on the far end. What the two girls had not considered was a set of beady eyes, watching their crime in progress. Richard was a good fluffy, he had been trained by the staff to call out thievery and report it to the security.
“MISTAH! MISTAH!” Richard-Von-Stubs huffed and wheezed as he ran to the big and strong looking man in a tie and blue shirt.
“there’s my little junior security guard!” Karl laughed happily at the sight of the stallion.
“Kaww! Id am bad, bad hoomin fiwwies am theefs! Dem steawin da pwetty smewwies!” he snitched.
“show me, can you point them out?” Karl asked.
After a brisk walk and a bit of hoof pointing, Karl spied the two girls fillings their puffy jackets. In a sharp but sudden movement, the security guard gripped their upper arms by the sleeve and shook them down until every box of perfume and lipstick fell out.
“yew am bad hoomin fiwwies!” he scolded, “Witchawd gib yew nu tappies ou ob fibe!” he declared with puffed out cheeks.
“what the fuck is the pig-rat talking about?” the blonde one asked with a hiss, as she struggled against the security guard’s iron grasp.
“well, let me put it this way… how does it feel to get busted by a fluffy?” Karl laughed, as the stallion blew a raspberry at the guilty pair.
“YOU LITTLE CUNT!” the black haired girl shouted at the creature, before slipping out of her jacket, running towards him and belting the pegasus with a fully loaded kick.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” Richard screamed as he flew through the air, landing hard upon the ground with a wet crack and a thud.
Richard-Von-Stubs awoke in a veterinarian’s office a day later. His head rang, his mouth was dry and his side ached like never before. “…Ow-owwies…” he mumbled through chapped lips.
“hey little guy, you’re lucky that the mall has a vet’s” the grey haired old woman smiled, “are you doing alright?”.
“nu feew gud… bweavies am huwtie an… an… SCREEEEEEEEEE! WHEWE AM WEGGIE!?” the fluffy cried in a sudden panic, the very moment he looked down to find that his last real foreleg was gone and in place was a mound of naked and sewn up flesh.
“shhhhhh, it’s ok, it’s going to be fine” the old vet promised as she stroked his back. “listen, you got hit very very hard by a mean person, and it hurt your leg so bad that it would stay broken forever, do you understand?” she asked sweetly, as one would do to a traumatized child.
“…otay…Witchawd…unastan…huuhuuhuuuuu” he replied between sniffles.
“I know, I know” the lady said, “you’re upset that you can no longer ‘run and play’, but I promise you th-” she tried to console.
“NU CAWE BOUT DAT!” he explained with a face sodden in tears, “NU CAN GIB TAPPIES, NU CAN WEVIEW NUMMIES FOW FWIENDS! HOW AM DEY GUN KNO DAT DEY NUMMIES AM DA BESTEST EBAH!?” he questioned with genuine anxiety.
“we know, Richard” Jacques smiled as he entered the room.
“AM SU SOWWY! AM BWOKEN NAOW! NU AM DA AFF-ISH-EE-OO-NA-DOE ANEH-MOWE!” he screamed and sputtered while wriggling towards his friend.
“nonsense, you will always be zhe Afficionado to me” Jacques promised as he lifted the fluffy up, “and merci to you, Margaret. You saved our little Von-Stubs” he added while turning to the vet.
“it was my pleasure, Jacques. I am sorry that I had to charge you, company policy and all…” she lamented.
“Shacq gab up vay-cay-shun monies fow Witchawd tu nu gu fowevah sweepies?” he gasped, “am su sowwy! Naow yew nebah gun gu see da nowth powe, wike yew show Witchawd in da pwetty pictahs…” he sniffled and sobbed.
“a minor set back, Richard, just like zis will be for you. Besides, I had a little help” he explained as he carried the foreleg-less fluffy into the waiting room, where Chaz, Phil, Karl and a few others from the food court were waiting, “zhey all gave a little for you, my friend” the teenager smiled.
“T-TANK YEW AWW! AM BESTEST FWENDS!” he cried with a wobbly smile, glimmering eyes and snot bubbles leaking from his face.
“that’s not all, little goblin. We popped over to fluffmart and got you something else” Chaz smiled with a present in hand.
-1 week later-
Richard-Von-Stubs wondered about through his beloved court, the steps of his hind legs and the squeak of his shiny new wheels created a rhythmic ‘tip, squeak, tap, squeak’ as he travelled to his favourite place.
“Hello Richard!” Jacques smiled as he rushed to put down a tiny paper plate with a stale cupcake on it, that in truth, he was going to throw out anyway.
“hewwo bestest fwend! Wan weview?” he asked.
“I absolutely do!” he smiled as he pulled out a pen and notepad.
After a quick numming, noshing, lip smacking and a burp, Richard looked up from the plate and smiled. “hmmmm, wus sweetie an cweamie, an hab pwetty spwinkwes on id… Suuu, Witchawd am gun gib fibe squeakies ou ob fibe!” he smiled with a muzzle coated in frosting, before backing up and shuffling forward five times to give his squeaks, completing his glowing review.
“always happy to serve” the barista smiled.
-The End-
