I remember once a tale of a fluffy with only three legs, it’s odor offended even the toughest of sinuses. It was born in the bayous, raised by the only creature that can match it’s rage. Alligators. The fluffy in question is named Amos.
Now to actually come across the legend himself is highly unlikely, not only due to his unfavorable environment, which he perfectly adapted to, but his age. For a fluffy to live past 14 is a miracle in and of itself, but one that constantly hunts out and slaughters it’s own kind, constantly throwing itself in life threatening situations, all on 3 legs. It’s astonishing that this creature is standing at all.
I am brought out to the bayous of the South, here in America, hoping to find the possibility of finding the children of this fluffy, though if I make one small mistake in my hunt, I could easily end up as dinner for one very lucky and fortunate alligator.
My name is Malice and welcome to “The Legends of the Booru.” Sponsored by Cannibal Planet. ‘Always remember, if you’ve got a fluffy problem, then one cannibal is enough to clean up any infestation. Made by Cannibal Planet!’
As I make my way through the marsh, I’m already met with a very stagnant smell. Dead trees and a dense fog covering the horizon. It’s no easy feat walking through the marsh. My senses are on edge, only able to see a few feet in front of me.
After an hour of tracking through the marsh and the mud, the only sounds being my footsteps and the occasional bird in the distance, I hear a familiar call echo. “Smawtie fin’ nyu housie dis way!” I can’t see much through this fog other than an occasional brightly colored fluffy. “Smawtie! Fwuffy nu fink dis am gud ide-SCREEEEEE” “Shut up, dummeh! Dummeh no finkies! Onwy smartie thinkies!” I’m guessing their leader doesn’t like to be questioned.
I go to step forward. “Ou’ wanna def wish, boi. Dat am gator wand.” I hear from below me. “Did…did that bish just talk to me? And why does it stink so much?!” I say, slightly unsure of what I heard. “Weww, ou’ smeww wike gatow shi’ and hot wotten booty howe if ou wived in da bayou too.” This bush is definitely talking and now approaching me.
My God, that’s not a bush, that’s a fluffy! “Dummeh, ou’ nee’ git gon’ for dem gators git here. Fowwow Junior.” He requested. “An’ ou’ bettuh stay close. If mummah chompah git ou, den ou’ gon, son.” He added on. “Momma Chomper?” I ask, requesting some more info. He spun around, stomping his hooves down. “boi is ou dumdum or jus’ stupi’! Yes! Mummah chompah! Meanes’ gatow dis side of da bayou. Daddeh worst bestes’ weggie to Mummah Chompah.” Albeit, rather rude and direct, he was forthcoming with the information. He spun back around and began to track his way through the swamp with no little to no effort, occasionally huffing back and getting mad at me for being slow. “Ou’ got dem wong weggies, boi. Ou’ bettuh use em!”
We finally get to a clearing, I look around to see the fog gone and a road not far off. I look back down at the fluffy to see twigs, mud, leaves, and other assorted ‘materials’ matted into his fur. He looked up at me, sharp teeth in it’s mouth, his face mostly covered by his long fur and other rubbish. “wut da heww ou’ wookin at? Junior saved dummeh human, now git gon’! Git for daddeh gets his boom stick!” It said before kicking me with it’s hind legs, actually shoving me forward before turning around, walking carelessly back into the marsh and the fog.
I decided to regroup and come back another day. After years of searching, we finally have a solid lead on Amos and his offspring. Join us later for another episode of “The Legends of The Booru.”