My porch is my happy place. I’ve cracked a secret many people chase to the grave: peace. All I need is a whisky, some headphones and a rolled cigarette on a winter evening to grab true happiness and hold it for as long as I want. I wouldn’t say I derive happiness from abusing fluffies, but it can definitely be amusing. Depends how I’m feeling.
I’ve never been too crazy about the little guys to be honest. I think it’s how weak they are. They can manage to get themselves killed just by being left unsupervised and the wild ones with no owners haven’t a pubic hair of humility. If you take them in, they will demand and consume as if it is their right. I don’t find them cute either. Their voices are just squeals and babbling in a painful octave. Their stupidity is not charming, it’s actively annoying. And they’re just… ugly. They just shit themselves for protection or curl up and cry if challenged. They’re just… an ugly species.
So obviously I’m thrilled that my next door neighbour owns a pet fluffy who demands everything and more. From what I can hear from my porch, he’s a coddled little beast who tried to make his owner call him “smawty” before she snapped at him and shut him up.
A fluffy who actively aspires to be a smarty. Yuck.
Anyway, I remember once that Sunny (her pet fluffy) tried to run away. He slipped through a hole under my fence. I was sitting out back at the time and sat watching as he squeezed his fat ass through the gate and then started slowly but frantically waddling towards the back of my yard where the opening of the back woods was. As I watched his tiny stumps waddle away towards the woods, I spoke up.
“Oi!”
Sunny jumped, screeing and shitting himself a little as he whipped around to look at me before frantically scurrying faster. He was almost free.
I stood up and walked after him, taking my sweet time.
Sunny was almost there, panting desperately. As his stumpy hooves touched the last stretch of grass he started giggling triumphantly to himself.
“Heheheeheeheee! Sunn- Smawty wun ‘way! Gun’ fin’ aww bestest nummies an’- EEEEEEE!”
Sunny noticed me coming up behind him and waddled as fast as he could, squealing at me while he did it.
“EEEEE! GU ‘WAY MUNSTAH, SMAWTY WAN’ GU TU SKETTIE WAND! WEAVE SMAWTY AWONE! WEAVE SMAWTY AWOOOONE!”
Skettieland. I had to hold back a laugh. I was right on top of him, reaching down to grab him. He was right on the edge of escape.
“GU’ WAY! GU’ WAY GU’ WAY GU’ WAY- SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!”
I grabbed him by the fat scruff of his neck and pulled him back just as he was about to disappear under a bush. I started to carry him back to his owners house.
“NUUUUUUUUU! NUUUUUHUUUHUUU HUUU!”
He started bawling and flailing as we approached the fence. He was so close to getting away from his “meanie mummah” and going to the fabled skettieland in the woods. He’d nearly gotten away. And now all was lost and there was nothing to do but cry. Cry and… try to shit on me.
Alright maybe I do hate these things.
My neighbour was waiting at the fence. I gave her the wailing kicking screaming blubber pig and watched as he was carried back into the dark oppressing hell of injustice he’d so valiantly managed to escape from.
After that day, I covered up the hole under the fence. And that was the end of that.
Except it totally wasn’t.
There was another hole. A small tunnel under my shed from their garden to mine. I decided not to fill that one in.
Because if Sunny ever managed to find that and try another daring escape, things might get a little more interesting back here.
Y’know, a man’s house is his castle and all that?
TO BE CONTINUED.
,I wonder if Sunny would try again then get caught and get the worst punishment.