Phil loved his new job at Reptile World. He had been a massive snake fan since he was a little kid, and Reptile World was full of snakes, as well as various lizards, amphibians, and the near Dinosaur that was Boris, the Komodo Dragon.
Jake, the store owner, had said that he was going on Vacation to Hawaii for two weeks, with his fiance, next month. He asked Phil if he’d like to work in the store, and if everything seemed cool after a couple of weeks, he’d hire him full time, and ask him to look after it while he was on vacation. Both Jake and Phil shared a love of feeding fluffies to the snakes and lizards in the store. Watching them run, scream and beg for mercy was hilarious, and they joy they felt when the fluffies were finally eaten was better than any high Phil had ever experienced.
Addicted to the feeling was one thing, but Phil was also becoming addicted to the power he had over the idiotic creatures. They were so easy to con and lure. If it wasn’t for animal control and the fluffy fighting tournaments, Phil could easily capture dozens of fluffies each day, sell any precious coloured ones, and sacrifice the rest to various snakes and reptiles, as well as his own fetid desires.
What Phil needed was a way of attracting fluffies to him in some way. Knowing how gullible and naive they were, Phil wondered if there was a way he could attract them en masse. Talking the problem over with Jake one day, he had a sudden and amazing idea; the myth of Sketty-Land.
It had been a show, back on FluffTV, several years ago. The idea was that there was a land of infinite spaghetti, full of happy fluffies, cuddles and love and special friends and babies, without any monsters or abusers. The show had been an amazing success, one of the highest rated shows on FluffTV, along with Babies! and Don’t Poop in Daddeh’s Bed! The problem had been that most of the fluffies that watched it, didn’t have the brains to realise that Sketty-Land was not a real place. Their inevitable, “How wong tiww Sketty-Wand Daddah?” questions had driven many Fluffy owners to extreme heights of frustration, and had led to a lot of sorry-sticking and no doubt some fluffy death. The show was eventually cancelled.
However, fluffies are capable of speech, and what the FluffTV makers hadn’t realised is that they had unwittingly created a myth. Fluffy mummahs would tell their babies about Sketty-Land, and some of those babies would have babies of their own, or escape and join a herd, or be seen begging for Sketty-Land in an abuse video, somewhere on the internet, that other abusers would show to their fluffies. Once created, a myth was very hard to kill. Insisting that Sketty-Land was not true just seemed to make fluffies want to believe in it even more.
Then, there had been the tragedy known as The Fall of Cleveland. Some idiots had tried to make a Skettiland amusement park, as an expensive attraction for fluffies and fluffy owners. What they hadn’t counted on was tens of thousands of fluffies from all over the country migrating there en masse. The city had eventually been destroyed, and all mentions of Skettiland on TV and the internet were banned forever.
Phil started talking excitedly about his ideas for the Sketty-Land myth. Walking around Reptile land, smoking cigarettes and waving his arms around, telling Jake about how it could make them rich, or at the very least cut down on the reptile food bill dramatically. Jake helped Phil to think about the practicalities, and they were soon ready to put phase 1 of the plan into effect.
Blue was a feral fluffy, searching the trashbags and alleyways of the city for nummies. He had to find nummies for special friend and babbehs, but all the usual places had no nummies at all. The hoomin who used to leave food out for him was on vacation, and the Hoomin who he used to steal food off of had nearly caught him last time, so he was afraid to go back. The pizza store had got a guard dog, and a new mexican chef who used to chase Blue away with a broom, and all the best trash-bags and alleyways were guarded by herds of big mean fluffies, who would hoof him, or try to ENF him, if he ventured into their territory.
“Hey there little fluffarino,” a hoomin said, lurking in the shadows. Blue span around, breathing heavily and noticing how fast his fluffy heart was beating. Blue was feeling scared, but tried not to show it.
“Nu wan!” said Blue, “Nu wan mean hoomin huwties! Don’ twy huwt fwuffy or get sowwy poopies!” Blue had once managed to escape a terrible beating by pooping all over a human who had him in his clutches. Slippery poop all over a hoomins hands made it difficult for them to hold on to Blue, he knew.
“I’m not gonna hurt you little dude,” the hoomin said, “I just wondered if you wanted this nice bowl of sketties?”
“Sk-Sketties?” Blue asked, his eyes lighting up, “For Bwue? Weawy?”
“Yeah little dude, I just love feeding sketties to fluffies. It makes them so happy, and that makes me happy.”
Blue could hear another hoomin laughing. In the darkness, he could just about see another hoomin sat nearby in one of the metal vroom monsters. Fortunately, the vroom monster was asleep. Blue knew that because it wasn’t growling and its eyes were not glowing.
“Weww… Bwue do weawy wike num sketties…” Blue began, “Wat Bwue got to do to get sketties?”
“Nothing at all Blue, you just gotta eat them and enjoy them, and if you want more, you can come to the back door of our hoomin home, just across the road.”
The hoomin pointed to a hoomin home, which was indeed just across the road. It had hoomin writing on it, but Blue had never been able to play with blockies, or learned to read, like some fluffies could. Blue couldn’t read the sign, but he could see there was a picture of a SNAKE MUNSTAH above the sign. Or was it TWO snake munstahs? Blue looked carefully, and could see that it was one Snake monster with TWO heads, facing each other. Behind the Snake monster was a black sky-ball and a black night sky ball. Blue was afraid.
“Hoomin home wook scawy, dewe am munstah pictew.”
“Aww don’t worry about that little dude, you don’t have to come in, just meet us out back, and have some sketties, and if you like them, tell your friends about it. Does that sound ok?”
Blue thought about it. He could smell the bowl of sketties that the hoomin had, and his tummeh-wumbles were starting to hurt. He knew he could eat most of the nummies, and walk home with his cheeks puffed up full of the rest, so that his special friend could eat some too. Then she could make bestest milkies for the babies!
“Yes, Bwue want sketties! Bwue wuv sketties!”
“OK dude!” squeaked the hoomin excitedly, sounding really happy, "here it is, and remember, there’s plenty more in the back alley behind our home. Tell your friends.
Blue nummed the sketties as fast as he could, and remembered to fill up his cheek pouches to take some home for special friend and babies. The hoomins talked to each other a bit, and the first hoomin petted Blue a bit. Blue didn’t mind that, but was a bit confused when the hoomin poured some sketty sauce onto his fluff. Why would he do that?
Eventually, Blue was done. He said lots of “Fankus” to the hoomins, as fluffies that had been kept in hoomin homes said that they liked that. Then, he turned around and walked back to his family. His tummy was very happy, and his mouth and cheek pouches were full of more sketties. It was hard not to eat them, but he knew how happy special friend and babies would be when daddy got home. He was the bestest daddah in the whole world!
“See!” Phil was jabbering excitedly, “I told you it would work! He’ll bring his herd for sure!”
“It certainly looks that way man,” Jake agreed, "That was a smart idea, putting spaghetti sauce on his fluff. The other fluffies will smell it, and then they’ll believe him and come for sure.
It was time for part 2 of the plan.
The alley was dark, and the rain was falling softly. What little light there was was cast from a hoomin door, which opened onto the alleyway. About a dozen or so fluffies of various colours, shapes and sizes were gathered round, standing in the drizzling rain, their fur soggy with the falling water. Babies clung to their mother’s backs, and half starved outcasts stood side by side with the toughies and smarties that led the street herds.
“Who wants sketties?” the hoomin was asking.
“Fwuffy wan sketties!”
“Bwue wan sketties!”
“Am dewe sketties fow mummah? an Babbahs?” a pink mare asked.
“Hoomin giv aww sketties to Smarteh! or get wowstest owwies an sowwy poopies!” demanded a big yellow and orange Stallion.
“Everyfluffy will get sketties,” Phil told them, lifting a large pot up and taking off the lid, letting the smell waft over the hungry ferals. “But first, we tell the story of Sketty-Land!”
“Wat am sketty-wand?” asked a half-starved young colt.
“Dummeh! Nu speaky” said the smarty, “Da hoomin tewws fwuffies da Sketty-Wand stowy, den fwuffies get sketties!”
Phil laughed at the interuption. He launched into the sketty-land story that he had been developing over the last few nights, trying to deliver it like a preacher from one of those mega-churches you see on TV. As he did so, he would ask the fluffies questions, and they would agree with him thoughout.
“Welcome, fluffarinos, I’m glad you all made it here today. Do you like sketties?”
“Yes! Fwuffy wuv sketties!”
“Do you like living outside though?”
“Nu… it am cowd… hu hu…”
“Do you like tummeh owwies?”
“Nu!”
“Do you like Dawg munstahs? or mean hoomins? or sorry sticks?”
“NU!”
“Well my fluffy friends, there is a magical place without any of those bad things, where all the homes are warm, and where you get to eat sketties for EVERY MEAL.”
“WHEWE AM DAT PWACE?”
“Its called Sketty-land, and good fluffies get to go there, after forever sleepies.”
“Fowevew sweepies? Fwuffy nu wike dat!”
“I know fluffies, but after forever sleepies there is no more hurties. No more munstahs, no more mean hoomins, no more sorry sticks, just running and playing and hugs and love, bestest friends and special friends and special hugs and babies… and SKETTIES!”
“SKETTIES!” the fluffies all cried.
“If you are VERY GOOD fluffies, and keep coming back, and tell other fluffies, then I can invite a few of you, each night, into our hoomin home, and we can help you go to Sketty-Land.”
“Fwuffy wike! Wan gu Sketty-Land!” several fluffies opined, eager to escape their harsh lives on the streets no doubt.
“Well, I can’t let everyone in at once, but I can give everyone sketties, and can let in… three of you. But I get to pick, and no arguing.”
“Sketties! Wan Sketties NAOW!” demanded the smarty.
“OK, its… SKETTY TIME!” Phil cried, and started to ladel the spaghetti out into little cardboard boxes from a takeout place, that served well as fluffy sized bowls.
“Yey!”
“Wuv hoomin! Wuw sketties!”
“Nom nom nom… fanku… nom nom.”
“Nom nom nom nom nom…”
Phil stepped back and watched in satisfaction as his growing herd of believers ate their sketties. Each night, more and more fluffies were coming. Phil reckoned he could invite about a quarter of the fluffies inside to Sketty Land each night, and still more would come the next day. The trick was to be pretty much random in who he picked, and not listen to their arguments. Some fluffies had been coming for several nights now, and were begging him to be let inside. Others would be picked, after days of trying, and cry with joy that they were finally getting to go. On other occasions, Phil would pick a new fluffy who had come for the first time, to give hope to all the street ferals that anyfluff had a chance of getting in. Phil particularly liked separating baby fluffies from their mothers, who would cry and beg to be allowed to go too, but would eventually hug and lick their babies goodbye, before wandering off into the cold and dark, crying, but promising to return.
“Remember Fluffies, tell all the fluffies you meet about Sketty Land, and the free sketties we have here every night. Tell them that the Snake Daddy loves them, and that he wants YOU to come to Sketty-land.”
The fluffies cheered, and lined up to be picked. Phil picked the half starved colt, then asked the pink mare to give him her two bestest babies. She didn’t want to give them up at first, but cried and relented. Then her other babies cried because she didn’t love them as much as the “bestest”. Phil nearly cried with laughter at their stupidity. The smarty demanded to be let in of course, and Phil made a point of kicking him all over the alleyway, and stamping on his “special lumps” as an example to the others. He’d had to do the same thing last night, and yet he was SURE that the stallion would be back tomorrow for more sketties. Phil decided it was more amusing to NEVER let that one inside.
Then, with the chosen few picked and sitting in the Sketty-Land box, Phil said goodbye to his congregation, and walked inside, wondering which of the REPTILE WORLD inhabitants was feeling the most hungry. He generally fed the fluffies to them, one by one, while the others watched and cried. He would make a point of telling them that there was no such place as sketty-land after all, and that they were going to die because they were too stupid to be allowed to live. Amazingly, some fluffies seemed more upset about Sketty-Land not being real, than their impending and grisly death by snake or lizard.
Outside, the other fluffies scurried away back to their families and herds, spreading the word about the amazing sketties and the wonderful world known as Sketty-Land.
