Your name is Chad Bradford, and at the age of 37 you have everything a man could want in life. A beautiful big tiddy redheaded wife eight years younger than you, two loud but wonderful children in elementary school, an in-shape body after the age of 35 (somehow), a fakeass high paying office job, and a wonderful house on a 2 acre lot surrounded by berry bushes and abutting a national forest. Truly you’ve been living the “happily ever after” life for the past decade. You have everything a normie could ask for.
You even have more than that, actually. You have a fluffy infestation.
“Come on out.” You say for the fourth time.
“Nu huwt!” The little bastard shouts as you gaze down at the hole dug right next to your house’s foundation for warmth. It’s mid-march and the snow is only beginning to thaw, so you have no fucking idea how this afront to God managed to dig through the soil. The hole even bends at the bottom so water won’t drown him and you can’t see his nest.
“Look, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Wiaw, you gib foweba sweepies to hewd! Dey go out and dey nu come back!”
Okay yeah, you did do that. There’s seven dead fluffies right outside the hole. You don’t even hold anything against fluffies really, the smell of shit stops bothering you after changing diapers for years, but the idiots ate your wife’s flower garden and she’s offering roadhead if you eradicate their entire tribe. God you love that woman. “That? That wasn’t me. That was the monster.”
“M-Munstah?!” The fluffy shouts. You hear an echoing fart of fear. Your face is woefully close to the hole when it happens and the warm gas hits you like an auschwitz shower. Christ that’s vile.
“Ye-COUGH-Yeah litle guy.” You reply, hacking like a stoner to get the taste of fluffy fart out of your throat. “It’s a big monster too. It almost got ducky friend.”
“Ducky…fwen?” A tuft of cyan shuffles out from the bottom of the nest’s hole. Not a whole face, but the tip of a snout. “Is ducky-fwen otay?”
“He sure is buddy, but he’s lonely and scared. In fact since your nest is so safe I could go get him and bring him here, but only if you promise to protect him. He’s really small and needs a fluffy-daddy to give him huggies and love that only a good fluffy can provide.”
A short silence follows. You begin to suspect that your retarded improv idea has failed.
Then the determined beat of two tiny pads against the hard earth tells you otherwise. “Wiww do it!” The fluffy declares. “Wiww be good fwuffy an pwotec ducky-fwen! Wiww gib huggies and wub!”
“Good man.” You say, sitting up with the kind of groan that comes from not being 25 anymore, and walk all the way to your backyard jacuzzi where your daughter keeps her rubber duck. “Alright buddy time to go.”
“Otay.” You hear. What the fuck? You were talking to the rubber duck, it wasn’t supposed to talk back. Talk back…like a fluffy. You peak down under the hot tub’s awning and see a pair of eyes looking back at you.
“Who the fuck are you?” You ask.
“Am fwuffy.” A dark green fluffy with brown tail and mane replies. “Be nyu daddeh?”
Of course it’s name is fluffy. Stupid of you to ask. “Nope, are you part of the big nest next to my house?”
“Nu, am pawt of smaw nestie wite hewe.”
Fuck’s sake, that’s twice this little shit verbally dabbed on you. “Look I’m a little busy so let’s cut to the point. I’m giving forever sleepies to a whole lot of fluffies. You should get out and not come back. Otherwise I’m gonna hurt you too.”
“B-But need dis wawm nestie an-an-an-huggies an, an wub! An nummies an speciaw fwen an sketties an teebee an-”
You lower the rubber duck to the fluffy’s eye level. “I’ll hurt this ducky friend too. I’m a real monster like that. All he wanted was to be your friend and I’m going to kill him…Unless you leave.” You give it a squeeze and it makes that stupid squeek-honk.
“Nuuu! Nu huwt ducky fwen!” The fluffy shuffles in place with urgency. Its shitty hoofpads struggle to pull it out of the thin hole, grunting as its cute little meaty legs pull it out slowly.
You end the adorable scene by squeezing the rubber duck one more time. The fluffy looks up, distracted, and sees how you’ve crushed the rubber duck’s entire body and, from its perspective, destroyed its organs.
“SCREEEE!!!” The little shit screeches in horror at the gruesome sight of ducky friend. The fluffy’s eyes are damn near popping out of its skull, tears forming instantly, the thing hyperventilating into a panic attack. “DUCKY FWEN! DUCKY FWEN GET FOWEBA SWEEPIES!!!”
“Not yet.” You say with a menacing grin, releasing the rubber duck to its normal shape. “But it can only survive three more squeezes.” Then give you give it another squeeze.
“Ducky-fwen! Huu huu huuuuuu, DUCKY FWE-HE-HE-HEEEENNNN!!” The fluffy bawls its eyes out. “NU WAN DUCKY FWEN TO GET FOWEBAH SWEEPIES!!!”
“Then head on out and never come back, or it’s the end for ducky friend.” You squeeze the rubber duck one more time. It sqwuacks. “One more…and he dies.”
“NUUUU!!!” The fluffy bee-lines it for the bushes, eyes closed shut with tears, shitting as it sprints off at an impressive 4MPH. Hot fucking damn. What a speedster.
While that was oddly entertaining and a good trial run for your improvised plan, it’s time to finish the real thing. You head back to the extermination hole and grab the dead fluffies, they’ll only get in the way. One by one you yeet the corpses over the bush line and into the forest where you are no-doubt attracting coyotes but hey, that’s another problem for your wife to bribe you to solve. A man needs hobbies. Finally you’ve cleared the area and kneel back down towards the entrance. “Oh my gosh!” You shout with mock dismay.
“Screee!” The fluffy in his nest blurts out, jumping and audibly hitting his head on the top of his nest. “Owwies, hu huuu…Now fwuffy hab wowstest head huwties. Nu scawe fwuffy!”
“Scare YOU? Ducky friend is the one that’s scared! Why didn’t you save him?!”
“Wha?”
“I dropped off ducky friend two forevers ago. Why did you let him stay out here?! Are you a bad fluffy?”
“Nu! Nu am bad fwuffy! Nu knu ducky fwen was here!”
“Of course you didn’t, because you didn’t even check! You hid in your nest while the monster got ducky friend! Now it’s too late!”
“Too wate?!” The fluffy squeels back, “Too wate to sabe ducky fwen? Huu huu, hab wowstest heawt huwties now too. Wose hewd. Wose ducky-fwen. Am wuwstest fwuffy ebah.”
“You sure are little guy, but no, ducky friend is alive! Unfortunately…The monster got his tongue when you ABANDONED him to have his tongue EATEN by the MONSTER. Now it’s too late for him to EVER have talkies again!” God you’re loving this.
“Nuuu!!! Nuuu-huhuhuhuuuu!!!” The thing begins sobbing uncontrollably.
“But it’s not too late to save…HIS LIFE!” You shout triumphantly, feeling ten years younger just by the joy of pranking retards. It feels like the XBox-Live chatrooms of old all over again. “Ducky friend is still alive, but now he knows this place isn’t safe. The MONSTER got him here, right outside your nest! He wants to escape, but he still loves you. Will you come back with ducky friend to his old nest so he can feel safe? The monster never got him there.”
“Yus, yus! Wiww do it!” The fluffy replies resolutely. “Wiww do it fow ducky-fwen.”
Finally he starts crawling up the nest’s hole and you see he’s an earthie, not too fat or too scrawny, with cyan coat and yellow mane and tail. His leather pads struggle to pull him out of the hole too, all that little fluff rummaging about as he wiggles. So cute. You grab that fucker by the back of the neck as soon as he’s within arm’s reach and rip him into the cold morning air.
“Bad upsies!” He protests, “Bad upsies! Nu wike! Nu wike bad upsies fow ducky-fwen!”
For…huh? You suddenly realize you’ve got the rubber duck in your other hand…And he’s more concerned that you might have hurt the “ducky friend” than hurt him. Damn man, this thing imprinted hard. “Okay I’ll uh…Put him down.” You gently lower the rubber duck to the ground and see the fluffy breathe a sigh of relief. Then you get to business and walk him to the edge of your property, overlooking his dead friends.
He gasps at the sight of them. “Bu…Dat is…Why hewd foweba sweepies wike dat?! Munstahs aways num fwuffies! Dees fwuffies nu been nummed!”
Astute little pest. “That’s right my guy, that’s right. Because it wasn’t a monster that killed them, it was ME. I LIED TO YOU to get what I want!”
He gasps, louder, until he’s inhaled so much air that he coughs. You give him minute because lifting this 12lb fucker with your arm fully extended is doing wonders for your lats. “Bu why? Why huwt fwuffies and ducky-fwen?! Fwuffies nu huwt hoomans! Why aways be su meanie?!” Tears start to matt his face-fluff. “Why AWAYS huwt? Just wanna hab speciaw fwen an hab babies togever an num nummies, nu even wan huggies an wub anymo! Just wan be happy!”
MLK would be proud. Ah well. “You want to know why? I’ll tell you why, my little vermin. I did it because MY special friend is pissed. She HATES you, because you ate all her flowers, so she offered me the most special of special hugs to kill you and your entire herd. So I did. And now you’re next.”
The fluffy stares down at his dead herd aghast. His next sentence comes out as barely a whisper. “Bu…nu num fwowehs.”
“…What?” You turn him to look at you. “What did you just say?”
“NU NUM FWOWEHS!” He screams in your face, batting at you with his leathery pads. “NEBAH NUM FWOWEHS! OWD HEWD GET FOWEBA SWEEPIES FWOM NUMMING FWOWEHS!”
Ohhhhhhh shit. If he didn’t eat them then…
“Shit!” You shout to yourself, dropping the cyan fluffy. “That green little fucker must have done it!” You scan the tree line, seeing no sign of the wailing dark green vermin. Sure you could blame these guys but god damn it you’re a Chad, you want this done RIGHT! “Hey sorry for killing your whole family then, but I gotta go. Leave my yard and we’re good.”
The fluffy looks to you, one eye twitching. “Gud? GUD?! HOW CAN FWUFFY BE GUD?! YOU GIB FOWEBA SWEEPIES TO WHOLE HEWD!!”
Heh, spirited little guy. “Fine fine, in exchange for killing your entire framed family I’ll, fuck man I don’t know, give you a name. It’s uhhhhh,” You think you see some crap by the trail heading towards the river. Bingo, time to go kill. “How’s Sky? You like Sky? Congratulations, it’s Sky. Bye Sky.” You ditch the inconsequential fluffy and sprint like your old track days of running the 400m, dashing passed the jacuzzi and leaping over the bushes where the other fluffy left your yard.
There’s vengeance to be wrought. And marital sex to be had.
You’re a fluffy, with gorgeous cyan and yellow fluff.
Your entire way of life was just obliterated alongside your herd. You sit on the the cold ground, rump bruised, your mind stunned and devastated. Your peoples bodies lie six feet from you, visible through the bare bushes, their necks snapped at odd angles. The entire herd killed over flowers a second time, but this time they didn’t even get nummies! Weeks of tummie huwties for no reason! They got forever sleepies for NO REASON! You do nothing but cry for the next forever (3 minutes) until fatigue washes over you, but you can’t let it. You rise to your feet and collect yourself. You can’t just give up, not here, not now. Your life isn’t just about you anymore.
You have to keep going…for ducky-fwen.
You pick up ducky-fwen in your mouth and start the long march to safer lands, to the forest where you can find nummies and warm nestie to share with a special friend and have babies, and make your own herd! Kind of like…a smarty. After all, you survived and everyone else took forever sleepies. Does that make you the new smarty? That makes you a little happy, you are very smart after all. You’d be the bestest smarty and get only the bestest nummies, the bestest nesties, and have the BESTEST mares to make the BESTEST BABIES…actually wait, hold on a second…you JUST got your new name! It would be awful to lose it so soon. Maybe you can still be Sky? Just for a little? You think that sounds reasonable.
You can just be Sky, the fluffy. That should be enough.
As you break through the bushes mid-thought the human who caused this all walks passed you, already coming back and looking happy. In his hands he holds a dead dark green fluffy with the same bent neck as your murdered herd. Another victim.
“Sup Sky.” He says while walking passed you with a smile. “About to go plow the wife, if you know what I mean.” You don’t. He winks and adds, “Have a good one, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
“Yu too, ebil mistah.”
The two of you part ways, never to see each other again.
Unless…?
