Fluffies Have Their Day In Court The continuation of this
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“Demi, you find yourself on trial for abetting the attempted escape of deathrow fugitive, Butter ‘Big Poopies’ Flufferino. As you may have noticed, I’ve decided to invite a jury of your peers.” Jack waved over to the jury section of ‘courthouse’, where a bunch of homeless fluffies had been invited in to participate in the grand event known as justice. They were acting surprisingly well, maybe because he had promised them skettis. Demi was right there in front of them, legs shackled so she wouldn’t run away screeching. He wasn’t going to be having any such interruptions.
“H-Hewwo fwends. Pwease hewp Demi.” She suggested hopefully, and the multitude of dirty fluffies nodded a bit. Of course they’d help her out!
“Now, friends.” Jack addressed the jury, pointing to the corkboard where he had pinned up some evidence. “Do you mind telling me what this is?” He unpinned a photograph and showed it to the fluffies, making a slow sweep by them to show off well and clear to all present. It was a photoshopped picture of Butter while he was still alive, a pair of devil horns, fangs, and fire superimposed over him.
“Munstah!” A green & orange stallion said, shivering a bit at the sight of the monstrous looking baby. Jack nodded.
“That’s right. A monster. A foul creature that defecated on my innocent floor.”
This caused Demi to shake her head. “Dat am not babbeh! Yew am big munstah meanie, daddeh!”
Jack spun of her, thrusting an index finger out. “Silence! Have your attorney speak for you or I’ll have you censored.” He went over to the stuffed-toy that he’d appointed to her as an attorney, scooping it up and winding the pull cord out so it would speak.
‘Good poopies belong in the litterbox!’ the toy chirped, Jack holding it up so the audience could hear. They gasped!
“That’s right. Even her own defense is aghast that she would help a rug shitter attempt to abscond from justice. I’m asking the jury to agree to a sentence of ‘forever sleepies’ for this rogue.”
“Dat nu am faiw! NU FAIW!” She pleaded, looking to the jury of dirty little scamps that would decide her fate. Jack moved to the front of the room once more, pointing to a printed out photo of a bowl of skettis.
“Look at this. If you love skettis, find her guilty. If you love poopies, I beg of you to come back with a verdict of innocence.” Jack crossed both hands behind his back as the jury debated amongst one another excitedly. It wouldn’t take them long to come to a conclusion, a scruffy face blue & yellow stallion stepping forward.
“Smawty am tawkies ‘fo ebbyone ‘n say…wub skettis! Guiwty bad fwuffy!” Jack smiled smugly. Ah, to see justice work so smoothly was one of the great pleasures of being an American. Demi cried out.
“NU! NU WAN FOWEBBA SWEEPIES! WUN WEGGIES!” She said, trying to get her shackled limbs to bring her out of the ‘courtroom’ in a hurry, managing nothing more than a slow shuffle. Jack watched as she attempted to make a break for it before reaching down to pick her up by the scruff of her mane.
“Clearly this is going to have to be a rapid execution to dissuade any future jailbreaks. Come on, jury.” He brought Demi out of the house tucked under one arm, the line of curious fluffies following after him and being led to the backyard.
The stage for everything was already set up. Jack hauled Demi over to a wooden stake which had been erected in the scrubby grass of his yard, looping rope around her so that the fluffy was bound to it fairly well. He began to pile up kindling underneath her. Stuffed toys, favorite blankets, wooden blocks, the now bloating corpses of her children. The mare looked to him nervously, urine snaking down the stake as she relieved herself out of fear.
“Why yew bein’ meanie daddeh? Yew nu wub Demi? Demi wub yew!” She said, attempting to jerk around side to side on the stake. Jack just shook his head.
“Do you have any last words before the state condemns you to death?” He went to a picnic table and put on his executioner’s hood. It was just a paper bag with holes cut out for eyes and a frowny face drawn on the front with a sharpie. A box of long strike-on-box matches was also grabbed up, the man knocking one from it’s cardboard sleeve and resting the tip on side of the box.
“Pwease daddeh! Nu nu nu! Fwuffies am ‘fo wub! Nu am ‘fo huwties! Demi wub yew! Babbeh Demi? Memba babbeh Demi?” She asked in a hope to try and ignite some kind of a nostalgic remembrance for when he’d first gotten her.
“I will now carry out the execution.” Jack rolled right on ahead without even indulging her trip down memory lane. The match was struck, a flame blossoming up with a bell of blue and a woosh of sulfur. Bending down and prodding the match against one of the stuffed animals she had cuddled with and loved so much, he watched as the thing immediately caught fire as if it were made out of gasoline. Hell, Fluffmart wasn’t going to give a shit about product safety. He watched as the flames licked, curled, gathered against the pile of fluffy junk he’d piled at her hooves.
“Su many wawmies….owwies….!” Demi finally realized what he was doing. Locked eyes with him, shimmied against her rope bindings.
“DADDEH! PWEASE HEWP DEMI! AM YEW FWUFFY!” She pleaded with him as her material possessions (and children) were nothing more than fuel causing flames to rush out underneath her. They grew, lapped at her hooves. Something like the acrid smell of burning hair and plastic was baked into the air as her hooves began to droop and melt against the heat lapping up at them. The bonfire popped, sent a gout of flames belching up against her legs.
“DEMI AM HUWTIES! DADDEH! NEE’ HUGGIES!” She choked out, eyes a torrent of tears because of the toxic fumes that were being whipped out and the pain she was being forced to endure. The inferno stretched out over her hind legs, engulfed her bottom half. Jack watched as she shrieked, not even able to form words, her still milk-heavy teats being blackened and then singing away as they simply lost their connections to her body and fell to the bonfire below.
“I want you all to watch this!” He told the still-assembled gaggle of fluffies as the mare was being reduced to a patchwork of exposed fat and muscle, crisping up as it roasted along her body. “And then we’ll have skettis.”
The fluffies didn’t want to watch. They had condemned her to this! Some wept, some attempted to cover their innocent little eyes with both hooves, one sick stallion had popped a boner for some reason. Yet they were all captive to the act, watching as their fluffy peer was reduced to a skeleton from which scraps of charred meat clung from. Horrifyingly enough, the flames had largely not reached her face. A mostly intact head stared at with an expression locked in pure agony, telling of a death which had most certainly not been very humane.
Jack put out the guttering flames with a few shovelfuls of loose soil thrown overtop. He was good to his word: The fluffies who had attended this trial would be given skettis served out to them on paper plates. They ate outside, though with the smell of burned flesh still on the air and clinging to them they perhaps felt their appetites somewhat decreased.
“Well that was fun.” Jack commented, placing his ‘executioners hood’ up on a coatrack after the fluffies had vacated his yard.
