Toffee sat patiently in his carrier, trying to contain his excitement, as David approached his house and opened up the front door.
“Dis am Towwfe’s nu housie?”, he asked eagerly. 'Wub nu housie. Wub Dadda."
“That’s right, mate”, David replied. “We’ll introduce you to your new friend and then we’ll have something to eat. How does that sound?”
The excitable babble that emitted from the carrier told David that this prospect would be most agreeable.
David walked up the stairs and into the saferoom, where Cartman sat stacking blocks. He’d managed to stack three of them on top of each other, which he took to be further confirmation of his genius.
“Hewwo nu fwend!”, exclaimed Toffee as he bounded out the carrier. “Am Towwfe. Wan pway?”
“Am Cawtman!”, came the haughty reply (David had to stifle a snort of amusement at this). “Dis am Cawtman’s safewoom. Dummeh wisten to Cawtman an be otay. Ubawise get wowstest sowwe hoofies!”
Toffee was taken aback by this, it being the antithesis of everything he had ever been taught. He was too polite to say so of course.
“Um…otay…”, he began to mumble uncertainly.
“There’ll be no sorry hoofies round here, thank you very much”, David interjected sternly. Although of course, Cartman was acting just as David had been counting on him to do. It was why he’d been putting up with the fat, malodorus little turd all morning.
“In this house, we follow my rules and I decide if punishments are necessary”.
“Wuwes?!”, blurted out Cartman indignantly, for it was the first he’d heard of this.
“Of course”, replied David calmly. “We have to have rules. Otherwise it would be chaos”.
Toffee nodded sagely, although he wasn’t entirely sure what chaos was. “Dat wite, dadda”.
Cartman made as though to interject but David tweaked him by the nose, eliciting a squeal of suprise. It wasn’t too hard a tweak. David needed to give the impression that he would be dealing out justice even handedly, without actually detering the smarty from being a smarty.
“The rules are simple. Good poopies go in then litter tray”.
“Cawtman nu dat aweady. Nu am dummeh!”
David had already had this fact confirmed earlier but gave another inward sigh of relief all the same. Henwas aware that some feral herds enforced a system of pooping in a designated place but not all of them. He had factored the possibility of Cartman falling into the latter group into his plans but was glad that it wouldn’tcome to that.
“You have to share the toys and play nicely. I don’t want to hear any arguing or cross words.”
Toffee nodded happily once more. This would be easy. The rules here were just like they were at the Fluffmart.
“As long as you listen to me and do what I say, it will be fine.”
Cartman blew a loud raspberry, causing David to tweak his nose again. A little bit harder this time. There was another squeal.
“Of course, if you don’t, there’ll be a punishment. And we don’t want that do we?”
“No dadda”, replied Toffee, feeling slightly uncomfortable for just a moment. The concept of punishment wasn’t new to him but being a good fluffy who grew up surrounded by good fluffies, it remained just that; a concept. He felt a little bad for Cartman getting his nose tweaked but if he was going to be a bad fluffy…
Cartman remained silent. He was tempted to tell David exactly what he thought of his rules but his nose was still throbbing and so he thought better of it.
“Right then, guys”, said David with a beam. 'Since it’s our first night together, I thought we’d celebrate. I’m making sketties."
Toffee and Cartman both dropped their jaws in suprise and gasped. Toffee forgot his vague feeling of disquiet. Cartman forgot his nose tweaking. And for what was probably going to be the last time in the house, both Fluffies were happy.
David sat at his kitchen table, two bowls full of “Bestest Tummy Feels” brand sketti were on the side, covered with a dish. They were ready to serve at a moments notice but that moment hadn’t come yet.
David stared at his laptop and watched the images being broadcast from the webcam he had hidden in the saferoom. This was one of the delicate points in his plan, where the wrong timing could ruin things. He didn’t know precisely what he was waiting for. He trusted that he’d know it when he saw it.
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Back in the saferoom, Toffee was doing his best to get on with his new room mate. It was hard going.
There was no way round it; Cartman was a mean fluffy.
He’d replied to all of Toffee’s polite questions with dismissive grunts. Or farted and belched. Toffee wasn’t sure which he found more unpleasant.
Eventually, Toffee gave up and wondered over to the pile of blocks. Toffee loved blocks. He wished Grapefruit was here. She was great at playing blocks.
With a wistful sigh, Toffee picked up a block and went to put it on top of another.
“HAI!”, came a yell from the other side of the room, as Cartman came stomping over. 'Wai dummeh touch bwockies?! Dey Cawtman’s bwockies!"
Toffee was not good with confrontation. He’d never needed to be. “But dadda say dat toysies am for sharing.”
“Dummeh dadda is dummeh! Dummeh poopie fwuffy dummeh tu!”
Toffee took a step back uncertainly, reeling at the harshest words he had ever been subjected to in all of his life.
“W…wai Cawtman be m…meanie?”, he stuttered, not know what to do.
By way of an answer, Cartman lashed out with his hooves, pushing Toffee over into the blocks with a resounding crash.
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David kept to his feet. He had seen the incident unfold and knew that his moment had arrived.
Grabbing both bowels of sketti from the counter, he rushed upstairs and entered the saferoom. He kept his expression cheerful, so as to give the impression that he didn’t realise anything was amiss.
“Right lads, who wants skettis?”, he called cheerfully, before stopping in his tracks and reviewing the scene before him.
Toffee lay in a pile of blocks, a dazed expression on his face. Cartman stood over him, a look of malicious rage on his. David pretended not to notice this particular detail.
“What happened?!”, he cried, feigning shock. “Toffee, did you knock the blocks over.”
A silence hung in the the room while the two fluffies processed this.
'Come on, you vicious twat", thought David, staring at Cartman. “Take the opportunity I’m giving you”.
David could almost see the cogs turning in Cartman’s brain, while Toffee looked on, still clearly trying to process what was happening.
“Dats wite!”, Cartman squarked. “Towwfe nu share bwockies. Den knock dem Oba cos unwanted share. He am bad fwuffy”.
This was enough to snap Toffee out of his daze. “Wat?! Nu! Dadda, am nut twu.”
David cheered inwardly. His gamble had worked. He felt a thrill shoot through him.
“It’s what it looks like to me too, Toffee. Are you calling me a liar?”
Toffee was visably torn now. He wasn’t a bad fluffy and didn’t want dadda to think so. But good fluffies didn’t argue with dadda either. Conflicted, Toffee could do nothing but lower his head.
“I see”, said David being sure to sound as disappointed as he could. “Well, Toffee, you broke a rule. That means there has to be a punishment. No skettis for you tonight, I’m afraid.”
Toffee could do nothing but stare open mouthed at David, aghast at the unfairness of the situation. But still, he couldn’t bring himself to argue with Dadda.
Cartman on the other hand, could barely suppress his glee. He couldn’t believe how easily he had fooled the dummeh hoomin. He truly was the bewstest, smartest smarty!
Toffee looked whisltfully at the bowel of skettis as David placed it in front of Cartman, his slobbering maw plunging into it before Dabid had even let go.
David clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to kick all of Cartman’s teeth out. Granted, he was manipulating him to behave this way but my God, was he repugnant.
“I’ll enjoy killing you when the time comes, you little twat”, David thought to himself.
“I’ll be back with some kibble for you, Toffee”, said David. “I suggest that you take this opportunity to think about what a bad fluffy you’ve been”.
And with that, he turned and exited the room, leaving Toffee to choke back his sobs, while Cartman gloated at him through mouthfuls of sketti.
David lay in bed, reflecting on the day. So far, so good.
The point where it could ave gone wrong had been Cartman potentially fessing up to his poor behaviour before David had the chance to plant the idea of blaming Toffee into his head. But he had played his part.
The odd further nudge may be needed but things were heading in the right direction.
He had managed to get his manager to let him work from home for the next few days, so he could keep an eye on things. He had told him that he was having some work men in.
David would have likes to have used some leave but knew that Helen might wonder why he had no more holiday days available if she wanted them to go away together.
David turned over and shut his eyes, mildly embarrassed at how excited he was. All being well l, tomorrow was going to be another good day.
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Cartman lay in one of the two fluffy beds in the saferoom, reflecting on the day with equal contentment.
To think, he had almost told the dummeh hoomin that he had no intention of following his stoopid wuwes. He was going to give sowwe poopies and everything.
This was even better though. He could still do whatever he wanted and the poopie would take the blame.
Cartman rolled over and gave a satisfied grunt. Tomorrow was going to be a good day.
Toffee lay in his bed, a few feet away from Cartman.
He had finally cried himself out and was miserably cuddling a cushion and wishing it was Grapefruit.
How had it gone so wrong?
He turned over dejectedly and screwed his eyes shut, determined to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be. He was a good fluffy and good things happened to good fluffies.