The Tale of Two Fluffies [by SilverOwl]
Steven owned a small pet store that sold fluffies, various rodents, reptiles, fish, and some birds. He made most of his money on the supplies, but kept a number of animals in the shop as well. It was two days before Christmas, and Steven had decided to close on Christmas eve as well. There was a lot to do around the shop, in terms of cleaning, and feeding animals. Most of the fluffies being sold were pastel colors with various expensive pattern variants. He held out hope that his supply of fluffies would run out today, so he wouldn’t need to clean up after the long holiday weekend. He had three foals left to sell, and it was approaching mid afternoon. One was a pink unicorn mare, and two were “designer mocha” fluffs, which Steven believed just looked like slightly more manicured poopie-fluffs. The mocha fluffs were an obvious flop, they didn’t sell, and just came off as expensive poopie fluffies, which nobody wanted.
A few hours past, and close to closing time, and a father that looked like he had been taken to 100 different stores that day, comes in with his daughter. She immediately starts demanding half the store but immediately becomes fixated on the pink unicorn. She excitedly starts jumping up and down and pointing, “Daddy hurry, buy this one before someone else does! Do it now!”. The father immediately starts fumbling as if there is any danger in anyone else buying it in the nearly empty store. Steven internally celebrated, he had sold all his good designer fluffies. Now what to do with the brown expensive “mocha” poop fluffies, he thought. It was two hours before closing time, and he still had those two damn mocha fluffies. He started doing the math on his losses from the Mochas, and how much it would cost to feed them, probably well after new years. He should just cut his losses he thought and humanely put them down. Then he considered the cost in that. Damn these needlessly expensive poopie fluffies. In a desperate attempt to not lose even more money on these mocha foals, who were getting bigger by the day, he marked them down to “Free with any purchase”. Steven’s mind was already churning of ways to off the foals if they didn’t “sell”.
About 15 minutes before closing, Steven is now convinced that drowning them would be the most cost effective route, at this point. The fluffies are unaware of their impending doom and are chattering away in their enclosure.
Mocha1: Fwuffy wuv ou
Mocha2: Fwuffy wuv ou too so muchies
Mocha1: Fwuffy hab worstest tummeh hurties
Mocha2: Ou nee nummies from milkies bowl
Mocha1: Ou are a smartie
Mocha2: Smartie wuv ou
The brain of a fluffy is vapid, and devoid of concentration. Theirs minds randomly switch between various infantile wants and needs. Their conversations are something to go mad by. Steven looks for his keys as he is about to lock the door in about 5 minutes. The door chime rings and Steven looks around some store clutter to see the customer. A beautiful red-headed woman holding a few bags with obvious work done, despite her probably not being out of her twenties yet. She looks around the store and Steven forgets about time as he watches her browsing around the store. Her eyes land on the fluffies free with any purchase. She smiles, “is that one free with any purchase or both?” Steven tries to focus and stammers… “ba bo both”. She lights up and says, "Great!, I’ll buy this bag of coconut husks. She gently pets the fluffies on the head and carefully carries their box to her car as she hums too them trying to make them feel like she is their “mummah”. The foals immediately respond to her soothing feminine voice and start chattering about their “nu mummah” and how much they “wuv her”. She smiled at them and brought the box close to her face and nuzzled their noses before putting them in the passenger floor of the car. She gently petted them as she started her Tesla which made no noise, so the foals didn’t make any “scardie-poopies” from the “vroom vroom munstah”.
The foals chattered to each other and their “nu mummah” the entire ride home. They were so happy to have been adopted, and to have such a wonderful “mummah”. The woman, who will remain nameless, is the kind of person that reminds you why they name storms after people. She was beautiful and sexy, but inside she was detatched, dispassionate, and cold like a frozen lake. As the woman smiled at the foals, and gave all indications that she was a warm, pleasant, charming woman, inside she was a monster. She liked to give fluffies a lot of happiness, and hope, only to take it away. She was a professional abuser, that knew just how to wreck a fluffy by being sweet to it, only to suddenly betray it, and savor the look of hurt in its eyes. She was actually going to the pet store to buy a couple rats for her water monitor and ball python. When she saw the free foals with any purchase, she just picked up some reptile bedding, which she needed anyway. Normally she takes her time abusing fluffies, but she had sought out to simply buy feeder rats.
She brought the fluffies inside her house which smelled like cinnamon candles, with feminine touches like flowers, throw blankets, and the general warm cozy aesthetic found in a Home and Gardens magazine. The fluffies looked like they had just gone to skettie land when they saw the house, “Mummah the housie smells so pwetty!” She laughed and said, “And I make sketties every night”. The fluffies both gasped in unison, “Rweally!?!?” She laughed and petted their heads, “Yeah its about dinner time”. She put a spaghetti lean cuisine in the microwave, and went and changed into her comfortable home clothes. The fluffies still in the box, start chattering about how the “smwell sketties” and “it smwells so pwetty”. She comes back after hearing the microwave beep, and opens the door and lets the tv dinner stand for a few minutes cooling. She picks up the box with the foals and heads to a backroom with a couple terrarium set-ups. She sets the box down on a central table and picks up one the foals about the size of a guinea pig and puts it in with a large ball python. The other foal she tosses in with a large monitor lizard. The foals are still confused what is happening, so the woman lands the bombshell on them, “I am not your ‘mummah’ I am a monster, and these pet monsters of mine are going to eat you both and give you forever sleepies.” The foals both let out a small amount of scardie poopies and start to cry about not wanting “foreba sweepies”. The woman coldly laughs at them and leaves to eat her spaghetti dinner.
The fluffies turn their attentions to their respective monsters, and start fluffy pleading for their lives.
Inside the monitor lizard enclosure
“Pwease nice munstah pwease no gib fwuffy foreba sweepies.” The foal starts to stagger towards the lizard which is triggered with movement. The clumsy movements of the foal signal the lizard brain that a baby mammal that is easy to catch, kill and consume is near. The lizard makes a quick but clumsy lunge at the foal and misses by a couple of inches, hitting glass. With the second lunge, the lizard has the foals hind legs in its mouth where it is rattling and shaking the foal from side to side. The foal’s blood drips from the snout of the lizard, which in mid-kill drops the foal and leaves it with mangled chewed legs with some of its abdomen cut spilling some intestines. The foal twitches and gasps in agony on the enclosure floor as the lizard licks its face and proceeds to bask under a hot light for several hours. The entire time the foal is in crippling pain as all of the endorphins keeping the foal from screaming until it passes out have worn off. It’s horrible pain every time the foal moves. The foal lays still shallowly breathing trying not to move but everything hurts so bad. Inside the foals mind, 'weggies nu workie nu moar hurties in tummy hurties worstest hurties eba". The foal lived through most of the night, as the lizard remained motionless under its heat source, enjoying the rays. By early morning near dawn on Christmas eve the foal shuttered a little and wheezed before dying of its wounds.
Meanwhile, Inside the ball python enclosure
The foal shivers as it looks at the large snake coiled up in front of it. The foal clumsily stumbles around talking to the snake, “Pwease wong munstah pwease nu gib fwuffy foreba sweepies”. This pleading continues for several minutes with the snake occasionally flicking its tongue. The foal begins to calm down, as the snake continues to show no interest, and the pleading just becomes “huhuhuhus”. Several hours pass as the fluffy has cried itself to sleep, with the snake in the same position as before. Morning arrives and the foal wakes up to the snake looking at it, seemingly unbothered.
By late morning the woman enters the room to find the dead remains of the partially chewed fluffy, and the trembling one still occasionally pleading with the snake for “nu foreba sweepies”. She laughs and rolls hers eyes, “On another hunger strike again huh?” She leaves the foal in there with the snake and leaves to go about her day.
Hours pass and finally the snake moves to the horror of the fluffy. It slowly slithers past the fluffy and takes a drink of water, and sits for several minutes motionless. The fluffy is sobbing as the snake turns around, and returns to its sitting spot and remains motionless for hours. The following morning arrives and the snake is still uninterested by the foal. Another day passes in the same way, and the foal finally dies from lack of food and water, as the snake continues to sit motionless on Christmas morning.
Fluffies all meet horrible ends. Some of them at least serve a purpose to feed other animals, but sometimes they do not succeed in even this minor role in the food chain. Which fluffy met the darker end? The one that was chewed and lived for more than ten hours in agony? The fluffy that died of thirst while anticipating being eaten by a snake? Or the pink fluffy that unlike the Mochas, has an ongoing torture as a living plush for a spoiled brat.