You are Daisy, and your mummah’s special-friend is in the vroom-vroom monster with you looking for your friend. You want to find them soon so you can play!
“How time tiww fwend be bak?” You question, tapping the seat of the vroom-vroom monster with your hooves.
“Soon, if we look for them enough. My ‘special-friend’ has a tracker implanted in them, but the bad person may have cut it out already.” He sighs, stopping the vroom-vroom monster and getting you out as well.
“Whewe we gu?” You ask, waving your leggies around as he picks you up.
“Into Fluff-Mart. This is the Fluff-Mart that gave your friend a tracking chip, so they know where to trace them.” He explains, sitting you down and talking to the nice mister at the front desk.
“Okay, Daisy. They said they know who we’re talking about, so they should have the place your friend’s at soon.” He nods at you as you smile, following the nice mister into another room and taking you with him.
“Daddeh fin’ pwace?” You question, tapping his leggie gently as you look up at him.
“We did! Now that we know where your friend is, we’ll send someone over to go get them. It’ll take them a bit, though.” He smiles at you, picking you up and nodding at the nice mister.
You are FV-0446, and you are still so sad! Why don’t the meanie people like you and your new friends? You haven’t done anything to them!
“Hewwo? Mea- Nice pewson? Eff-vee-zewo-fouw-fouw-siks hav question.” You say as someone opens your small cage, picking you up and staring at you.
“Okay, sickie-shit. What’s your question?” They question, tapping their foot while waiting for you to speak.
“Wai hay-te sickie-fwiends su much? We nu du aneefing!” You ask, as they start laughing at you.
“You’ve never done anything? Ever? You shits killed my… ‘special-friend’. One of you tried giving her ‘replication-huggies’ while she slept, and she choked.” They sneer at you, tears forming in their eyes.
“Am su sowwy… Buh, that nu aww sickie-fwiends! Eff-vee-zewo-fouw-fouw-siks am gewd, an’ most sickie-fwiends am gewd, tuu!” You say defensively, hugging their arm as they shake you off.
“I don’t care. And, most of you aren’t good. In fact, every sickie-shit who’s ever reached ‘viral maturity’ has done, or will do, one very disturbing and wrong thing. Can you guess what?” They ask, as you try to think of something, anything wrong.
“Am mad bee-cuz hav wepwication-huggies?” You question, as another meanie person nods.
“That’s right! In fact, one of you gave my son ‘replication-huggies’, and he’s still sick to this day. We hate sickie-shits like you because you all hate property and people so much that you all kill fluffies, and attack and infect people.” They hit you, shoving you back into your cage, making the babies in it start peeping and squeaking.
“Nuuu… Nu am bad… Am gewd sickie-fwiend… Bay-bees, nu maek saddies…” You whine, picking up your babies and trying to calm yourself and them down as you cry along with them.
“No such thing.” One of the meanie people sneer at you, closing the cage’s door, taking the pointy-thingie-sucker off along with a big bottle attached to the end of it, and leaving you to cry along with the other Bestest Sickie Friends surrounding you.
But, you are a good sickie-friend! More importantly, what they doing with everyone’s sickie-juicesies? Why are they in big bottles? Why are they attaching it to one of those flying thingies you can’t remember the name of?