The Hubris of Flight - Part 2 (Royal_Rabbit)

The Hubris of Flight
Part Two

Part One

He arrived at the clearing in the forest. He parked his car under the camouflage netting he had previously hung between several trees. He picked up the 5 gallon bucket from the stash of supplies that he had cached in advance. Quickly and methodically, he made trips to the nearby stream. He poured the cold water all over his car, eliminating his thermal signature. He knew that sophisticated drones and satellites relied more heavily on thermal imaging versus traditional high-resolution photography. Once he was satisfied with his efforts, he removed all of his clothing. Naked, he placed his discarded clothing into a trash bag, which he sealed before placing inside of another trash bag.

Still naked, he retrieved a plastic bin from his supply cache. It was filled with damp soil and foliage from this area. He turned the bin on its side and dumped out the dirt, revealing a damp and soil-caked set of clothing. Moments later he was fully dressed, and less concerned about his scent being tracked by dogs or, even worse, those Godforsaken quadruped robot “dogs”.

“Boston Dynamics can suck a fat baby’s dick” he said to nobody in particular.

He then began to assemble the fluffy pen. Pen didn’t seem like the right word. Corral, maybe? They were horses, after all. But they were also birds, maybe, because they had wings. Aviary? Was he building an aviary?

“No, that’s retarded” he reasoned to himself out loud. “Aviary sounds retarded” he concluded smugly.

Kennel. That’s a good word. Working animals have kennels.

He began to assemble the fluffy kennel. It consisted of many thick coils of razor sharp concertina wire haphazardly strung into a confusing semi-circle. The open side of the semi-circle was blocked off by the stream. It was perfect. Those fuckers would HAVE to fly if they wanted to get out. Then he would have everything he needed.

Satisfied with his DIY internment camp, he popped the trunk of his car and was greeted by the wails and shouts of his recently purchased fluffies. He removed the cardboard containers, one by one, and carried them to the kennel. The containers opened on the top, and were tall enough that even adult fluffies could not jump out of them. He stepped into the kennel and opened the containers, inspecting his conscripts.

The adolescents and the adults seemed to be alive and energetic enough!

“Huu huu fwuffy no wike dawkies bawks”

“Meanie vwoomy munstah make fwuffy go scawdey poopies”

“Woostest huwties in weggies huu huu”

“Nu hav mowe sickey wawas weft in tummy, tu many sickies huu”

The two chirpeh babbehs, on the other hand, were silent and still. He removed the tiny catatonic Pegasi from their respective containers and held them in his hands, the filly in his left hand and the colt in his right. He could feel their tiny hearts beating rapidly.

He inadvertently unlocked a suppressed core memory. He was unprepared for the visceral physiological reaction. He fell to his knees, his vision rapidly receding to pinpoints of light. Auditory exclusion followed. He felt his breathing stop. Time froze.

He was younger again, much younger. This was before he was who he is now. He’d done this before. Déjà vu. Opening a box. Two boxes, actually. But he only opened… one? He only opened one. One was for him and one for someone else. He was in a forest? No… there was a tree nearby that time too, but he was inside. He opened a box, and there was a fluffy inside. A chirpeh babbeh. A wingeh-chirpeh-babbeh. A Pegasus.

He shook his head, desperately needing to rid himself of that recollection. He dropped the babbehs into the dirt and frantically grabbed an adult fluffy from its container. It was a stallion, fully grown, tan in color. Frantic to redirect his thoughts, he brought the fluffy to his face, pressing his nose up against its muzzle, and screamed:

“ARE YOU CIRCUMCISED!? YOU’RE CIRCUMCISED!? HOLY SHIT ARE YOU FUCKING CIRCUMCISED!?”

He repeated this question for several minutes, alternating which word he put emphasis on. Only when he had forgotten why he was yelling at the fluffy did he move it away from his face. Trembling and weeping, the terrified creature replied:

“Huu huu f-fwuffy nu n-namsie am… ciw-cum-swized? Huu huu f-fwuffy wuv nu nam-“

“No.” He said sternly. “Circumcised”, he began “is not a proper name for a fluffy”

That ought to be obvious. What did those Hasbios faggots even teach these things?

“But, you will need a name, won’t you?” He cast his eyes at the rest of his subordinates. “You’ll all need names.”

He released all the fluffs from their containers. Three males, three females. They hugged each other and wept, presumably tears of joy and adoration. He considered himself a harsh but agreeable leader, equal parts Machiavelli and Tommy Pickles. He knew they would look to him for guidance on all matters. Providing adequate names was simply the first in a lengthy list of important tasks entrusted to him by these fragile, talking horse-children.

He pointed to the fluffies one by one, making direct eye contact, and gave them their new names. Their important names.

Chemtrail. PsyOp. Gangstalk. Vaccine Injury. Pizzagate. False Flag.

Unsurprisingly, some of the recruits had difficulty pronouncing their new names. He was undaunted. They would learn.

He sat near them in the dirt. The babbehs were being tended to by the mare and the older filly. The stallion and older colt stood between him and the other fluffs. Legs spread, cheeks puffed, nervous looks in their eyes.

Now that they had names, they needed to know the rules. He leaned to his side and grabbed the concertina wire with his left hand. He slid his palm back and forth dramatically, screeching loudly for several minutes while maintaining eye contact with his fluffs. The brave male fluffs dropped to their bellies, ears pinned back. The older colt jettisoned a cone of diarrhea onto the mare behind him. The female fluffs clutched the babbehs and closed their eyes, screaming in terror. Their screams were inaudible to him. He would dominate the soundscape with his agony.

After what the fluffies would call “a fowevah”, he opened his hand and moved it in front of him, showing it to the creatures. His left palm was flayed, large chunks of meat were avulsed and hung from strands of skin, revealing pearlescent bone. He continued to stare at the fluffs.

“So, you can’t go through this wire” he said calmly. “It will hurt you.”

He pointed over his shoulder, using his left hand, flinging blood over himself and his fluffs.

“And that stream is too deep and fast for you to swim.” He nodded empathetically as the fluffs gave their pre-programmed wawa am bad fuh fwuffies objection. Clever of Hasbio to have the toys tell consumers when they were about to void a warranty.

Having concluded his briefing vis-Ă -vis the rules, he looked at his fluffs and waited for one of them to ask him a question. To be brave, brave enough to question. Question the narrative. To step up. To transcend. To become a leader. A champion. A King among men. A God! A-

“Huu huu nyu daddeh, pwease nu huwt fwuffs. Onwy want wuv and hugs. Fwuffs nu mean to cawse heawt huwties tu daddeh-“

It was the stallion.

He reached out and patted the creature gently on the head. He used his right hand, as they seemed afraid of his left hand now.

“Fluffies… your daddeh loves you all, so very very much.”

He raised his (left) hand, silencing them before they could reply and blather about love, and hugs, and other shit.

“Daddeh has one question for you.”

He looked them each in the eyes, continuing to softly pet Vaccine Injury on the head. Such a good little guy.

“Can. You. Fly.”

The fluffies looked at each other and began to talk. All of the fluffs, even the babbehs, instinctively buzzed their wings. The fluffs flexed their little dorsal appendages and spoke at length about the aerial feats they could, and would, accomplish. Backflips, barrel rolls, loops. Nothing was off limits, no accomplishment beyond their grasp. Not a single one seemed to doubt their ability to fly. They were eagles in horses bodies. Destined to soar. To chase the wind, touch a cloud, to kiss the very face of God.

The naĂŻve excitement and unwarranted optimism was contagious. He loved it.

He loved that they knew they could fly.

“Perfect.” He said with a grin. “Well… let’s begin.”

23 Likes

This story seems familiar.

2 Likes

Oh damn. The story is disturbing, but not in a bad way, just making me doubt every fucking ounce of my sanity)))))))))) but it’s good, you’re a talent for this effect. I’ll definitely wait for more

5 Likes

Lol the fun is beginning

2 Likes

I’m now convinced that the protagonist is a mentally retarded extraterrestrial that based its entire understanding of humanity solely on Reddit posts.

Vaccine Injury should survive everything that the protagonist throws at him, but die from random heart failure. And also, he should become progressively more stereotypically autistic as the story goes on.

8 Likes

I feel like the extraterrestrial would still be throwing up less red flags than our protagonist here.

3 Likes

Just wow. I love/hate this guy, he’s awful in fun ways.

1 Like

Vaccine injury?

1 Like

This series is basically one of @Cuppa’s comics in text form. Same energy of completely unhinged insanity.

2 Likes

Oh. Okay, he’s got those kinds of problems.

3 Likes

Yeah, like, what kind of idiot doesn’t drive at least half a kilometer after eliminating the thermal signature? Otherwise, if they’ve been tracking you already, they’ll still know where you are. Duh.

5 Likes

And if theyre tracking your thermal signature why not disguise your own? Something as simple as a space blanket would work while also protecting you from 5G and rogue psywaves. Amature hour over here.

3 Likes

Dude it’s just abuse what you so scared of?

Oh he is messed up

1 Like

He probably still hasn’t even removed the miniature radios that the CIA put in his teeth. What a pitiful excuse for a schizophrenic. In my day, you had to at least perform self-dentistry to get the title.

2 Likes

Yeah I got mine tuned up by the elves that live in my walls and now I get free audible!

-this message has been sponsored by Audible.com! Use code THEYWATCHMESLEEP for 20% off three months!

1 Like