The Hubris of Flight
Part Six
You weren’t sure what your name was. First it was “Vak-seen Injuwy”, then “Uwnit Seven Twee Wun”, but then your daddeh called you “Wuby Widge” and you stopped trying to keep track. You weren’t even wuby colored! You would just huu huu softly and say tankee for your nu namesies. Your daddeh seemed just as confused as you were.
You wanted to cry, you had the biggest heawt huwties after all. Just last bwight time you were in your pen at FluffMart. You were a good stawwion and were allowed to have a spechuw fwend, and you had the pwettiest babbehs together! You knew the babbehs were supposed to get adopted by loving mummahs and daddehs, but you enjoyed every moment you got to spend with the little miracles. You would help their mummah give them special wickie cweanies, and make sure they were playing nicely with each other. You taught them that all babbehs were good babbehs, even the not so pretty ones. You were a happy daddeh, and you were content to live out your life in the pen, spending time with your babbehs and imagining the wonderful adventures they would grow up to have.
Then your daddeh showed up and said he wanted to adopt you.
It was a surprise when the nice mistuh that worked at the store said that you were getting adopted. Really, you? All these pwetteh babbehs and the man wanted you? You were a nice enough fluffy, but your colors weren’t anything special, and you weren’t even doing a song or a dance to try to get his attention! You gave your spechuw fwend a big hug and told her to keep taking good care of the babbehs. She said she would never forget you. You turned to the nice mistuh that worked at the store and got into the uppies position. The man smiled at you, but looked sad, like he knew something bad was going to happen.
Then he said one of your babbehs was going to come with you.
It was the wingeh babbeh, just a little chirpeh babbeh. You blinked and looked back at the nice mistuh.
“widdew wingeh chiwpeh babbeh am su smaww, stiww nu open see pwaces. Nee mummah miwkies an-”
It didn’t matter. This wasn’t the first time one of your foals had been adopted too early. You gave your spechuw fwend extra huggies and wuv and told her you would protect your little wingeh chirpeh babbeh. No matter what.
You were sitting on the front passenger seat of a stolen Honda Civic, not that you knew any of that. You were not securely fastened in a Department of Transportation approved Biopet Safety Restraint Harness. You weren’t even in a carboard box this time. You were laying on your tummeh, trying your best to protect your widdew babbeh, which was curled up on your back, nervously chewing on your mane, making scawdey poopies and peepees all over you. You didn’t care.
You knew you needed to escape. The other fluffies that your daddeh had brought to the forest had all managed to escape. They flew away! You didn’t know how to fly yet, but you knew you’d figure it out when the time was right. You didn’t expect your chirpeh babbeh to be able to fly, but he could ride on your back! You would fly back to FluffMart, and give your spechuw fwend the biggest and warmest huggies, and your babbeh would get the nummiest miwkes an-
The car hit a bump and you flew into the air momentarily before landing back on the seat. Both you and the babbeh chirped in fear. Both you and the babbeh let out a warm stream of scawdey poopies. Is that what flying would feel like? That was scary! You weren’t so sure you wanted to do that again.
You looked up at your daddeh and saw he was using the bendy parts of his weggies to drive the vwoomy munstah. His hands were opening bottles and he was rapidly numming the contents. Some of the bottles were real small, and orangish, and kinda see-thru. These bottles had tiny kibbles inside that looked like little white circles. Your daddeh quickly nummed all these kibbles, and threw the bottle out the window. Then your daddeh grabbed the other bottles, that were taller, and thicker, and not see-thru. These bottles had scratch marks on them, and your daddeh called them “munstahs”. Your daddeh noisily nummed all the munstuh juice and threw the bottle out the window. You watched as your daddeh repeated this process several times. Eat a mouthful of tiny kibbles. Drink a mouthful of icky juice.
Over. And over. And over.
You weren’t in the forest anymore. You could see housies and other buildings moving in a blur. You looked around for the FluffMart, but you didn’t see it. You wouldn’t know what it looked like on the outside anyways, you realize sadly. You had only even been outside of that building one time, when you were first adopted, and you were in a cardboard box. Seperated from your babbeh, who was chirping so loudly. He was so scared, and there was nothing you could do to comfort him. You had tried to sing him songs, but the other fluffs were being too loud. Then you were put in the dawkie pwace at the back of the vwoomy munstah, and it was so loud and scawy and nu smeww pwetteh.
You look over at your daddeh. He was talking to himself frantically, as he always did. He was not looking at you. You whisper softly to your babbeh, not wanting your daddeh to hear.
“huu huu it’s owkay widdew babbeh, daddeh am gun keep yu safe. Nu wet munstahs huwt yu ow take yu away.”
Approximately two fowevahs later, your daddeh parks the vwoomy munstah and opens the door. He runs around to your door and opens it, picking you up in one hand. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about your babbeh riding on your back.
You see a housie. A big housie! It’s taller than the housies in the picture books you would look at with your babbehs back at FluffMart. It’s got pretty red bricks and lots of big glass windows to look through! You briefly forget about your predicament with your meanie daddeh and let your mind wander with the possibilities of exploring such a big housie. You and babbeh might have a nice saferoom inside! Maybe there will be other humans, ones that are less scary than your daddeh! Maybe you can get some kibbles, to make your biggest tummeh huwties go away. Maybe even get some skett-
Your thoughts are interrupted by your daddeh, who is talking loudly and angrily.
“I KNOW! I FUCKING KNOW! I KNEW I WOULD COME BACK! I KNOW YOU TOLD ME! I FUCKING KNOW THAT, SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! SHUT-THE-FUCK-UP! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”
There were no other humans around, and no other vwoomy munstahs on the street. Daddeh carried you, and your babbeh, to the door of the housie. There was a box next to the housie door with a bunch of buttons on it. They were number buttons. Daddeh pressed a bunch of buttons. He waited for a moment and then a red light flashed and the small box made a buzzing noise. He did not like this buzzing noise. He said some really really mean words and pressed the buttons again, slowly. He waited again, even angrier this time when the red light and the sad buzzing noise came back.
He dropped you to the ground. You were not prepared for the fall, and didn’t have time to brace yourself properly. You felt a snap in your front weggie and you peeped in pain, spraying scawdey poopies behind you. You flattened onto your tummeh, your head spinning. Your pudgy body acts as a trampoline and your chirpeh babbeh springs off your back onto a soft mat in front of you. It chirps and peeps as it hits the ground, but it seems okay. You stand up and limp to your little foal, comforting it and placing it on your back.
You are startled by a loud bang and look up to see daddeh leaning back and kicking the housie door as hard as he can. You pin your ears back and cower as he delivers a second, third and fourth kick. The wood by the doorframe splinters and the door is pushed inside. Lots of angry buzzing and chirping noises are going off inside the house now.
Daddeh doesn’t care.
He yells at you to follow him as he walks through the house. You tuck your tail between your weggies and try to keep up. He picks you up by the scruff of your neck to carry you up the stairs. At this point, he takes notice of your babbeh on your back. He reaches down with his other hand and carelessly plucks your foal from your mane. You whinny in distress.
”huu pwease nu huwt widdwe babbeh, widdwe wingeh babbeh am nu do nufin wong…”
” I just want you to be quiet… I WANT YOU ALL TO BE QUIET, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
Daddeh carries you and your babbeh to a room upstairs. it’s not a sleepie room, there’s no human bed, but there’s a bunch of big tall bawksies that hold a bunch of books, but they don’t look like fun pictuwe books. There’s also a table and chair and a small teebee! But you get the feeling it’s not time to watch FluffTV.
You get the feeling it’s time for something bad.
Daddeh drops you to the floor and seems to ignore you. He puts babbeh in a box up on the table. It’s too high up for you to see. Daddeh ignores you as you ask very nicely to see your babbeh. Daddeh puts babbeh in a small bawks and closes the lid. Daddeh has a bunch of papers out on the table, and it looks like he’s drawing something? Maybe he’s coloring a picture? He does this for almost a whole forevah.
The angry buzzing and chirpring noises are still going off. It’s very loud.
Daddeh turns to face you. He’s crying. He looks so tired.
He bends over and picks you up gently, supporting you by your tummeh. He walks you towards the window, softly stroking your injured forelimb. With practiced ease, daddeh opens the window and pushes out the screen. He leans out and places you on a flat portion of the roof, and climbs out after you. Once out, he scoops you up once more and walks to the highest point of the roof.
He picks you up to presses his face against your face. You look into his eyes and feel the biggest saddies you have ever felt in your whole life. You know that he has sickies, in his finky-pwace. You nuzzle softly against his nose, and more tears fall from his eyes. You reach out to give him huggies, but you know this isn’t the kind of sickies that can be fixed by huggies.
You hold your daddeh as tight as you can.
You don’t really feel anything. Your eyes were closed the whole time, squeezed tight. Daddeh leaned backwards off the edge of the roof. You were weightless for a while. It wasn’t a scary feeling this time. It felt more… peaceful.
You were finally flying.
