Once again, Balto had been adopted out. How many times was this by now? Fluffies certainly couldn’t count and perhaps the nice shelter staff had even lost track. A tiny handsome bowtie was ‘round his neck, his cleanly white mane had been combed back, and he was the picture of a perfect little guy. Not that his new family seemed to care all that much.
The fluffy had been squished back into the rear of a rather filthy minivan. Glancing down to his hooves he found it nothing but a litter of debris. Stale Cheetos, bent trading cards, half-empty bags of breakfast cereal. A mess. Of course he abhorred this. Though he tried not to think about it.
All around him were colorful boxes with papers that made funny little crinkly sounds. Exciting balloons bopping to and fro up on the ceiling.
“Oh you ‘jest WAIT ‘til Lonnie gets a good lookit you!” His nyu mummah practically cackled from up in the driver’s seat. She was the only other occupant of the vehicle. Balto didn’t know how he felt about her. Fluffies were supposed to love all mummahs and daddehs but she had something about her that scared him. She was big and doughy-faced though had a certain mountainlike quality about her. Beyond that, she was loud. Very loud. Also the graying Looney Tunes sweatshirt that she wore was covered in stains. Sweatpants were too. It bothered Balto. Didn’t she care that she was like that? If anything got on his fluff, he’d be very upset.
Still. Shifting around next to the packages which surrounded him, he would keep his little kibble hole shut. Good fluffies didn’t tell their mummahs that they were dirty.
Eventually they would come to a stop. Curiously perking up as mummah got out of the minivan, she went to slide the door open and let him out. Hopping out with his fabled copy of ‘Tractors, Trains, and Monster Trucks’ Balto got a good look at his nyu home. Immediately felt as if his heart had been flushed right into a pit in his tummy.
It was a trailer. That wasn’t the problem and it’s not like the fluffy was some kind of sophisticated sort. Yet the yard was not only an overgrown mess with lots of stuff poking out of the weeds, it was currently occupied by a party.
Kids running around everywhere. Adults getting drunk on cheap beer. Firecrackers were going off. Music being pumped out of a stereo. Screaming. Laughing. So many voices. So much disorder.
“F-Fwuff…” Balto said, trying to scurry back into the minivan. Mummah, who was currently getting stuff out of it, flippantly knocked him back with the flat of her hand.
Shaking a bit, the fluffy stood there. Rooted to the spot really. Suddenly, a new person came running up to him. An eight year old with spiky gelled blonde hair, wearing a shirt declaring himself as the birthday boy.
“Mama! You got me a fluffy! Finally!” Looking down to Balto, the kid smiled. Straightening up, Balto returned the smile.
“Hewwo. Am Bawto. Wan be gud boy ‘fo nyu daddy.” Getting close to the kid, the fluffy snugged one of his bare legs up in a huggy. Just like a fluffy should.
Mama turned turned to the two of them, a package tucked under her arms. “Ayup. And he’s just like you. He’s got that OCD, you got that ADD.”
Those two things weren’t alike at all. Nothing would illustrate this further than when the kid announced: ‘I’m Lonnie!’ and took something out from behind his back. A strange canister that Balto had never seen before. Before he could even ask what it was, a stream of incredibly nasty stuff sprayed all over his little fluffy face. It felt horrible. Smelled even worse. Chemicals that could never exist naturally.
Screaming at the top of his lungs, Balto fled toward the house.
+++++
It took awhile to get all of the silly string off of his face but somehow, Balto managed to. Still felt icky. Could smell the nastiness on his fluffy. The party went on around him but the entire time, he refused to leave the small porch stoop where he’d taken up comfort in.
Eventually the party wound down and his new family began filing into the trailer. “C’mon, you. Git in.” Mama said with a small kick to his backside, ushering the fluffy into their home.
His new family wasn’t just Mama and Lonnie. There were four other boys, each of varying ages. Almost as soon as they’d gotten into the home, the boys started to engage in a massive melee with one another over something or another. Balto didn’t really know or try to understand.
The inside of the trailer wasn’t a hoarder’s situation or anything but it was certainly very messy. An overflowing trashcan in the kitchen, unwashed dishes. Toys laying all over the floor. A TV stand in the living room was cluttered with lots of papers, decorative Jesus plates, and food in various states of being eaten.
“Dank yew ‘fo nyu housie.” Balto nervously told his mummah. Gave a waggle of his tail. “Wewe Bawto gu potty? Nee’ potty.”
Of course. Well, she had the solution for that. Mama took a stack of newspapers and threw more than a few on the kitchen linoleum out in a corner. “Just go there.” She told him. Because white trash loved having their pets go on newspapers in their house.
Looking to the newspapers out on the floor, he bent his ears down. “Dat nu am wittabox, mummah.”
This earned a small slap to the side of his head. It didn’t really hurt except emotionally. He whimpered as Mama retorted with: “Don’t be a prissy li’l princess. This ‘aint the Ritz and you’re no Rockefella.”
Sniffling a bit, Balto stepped over to the papers. He really needed to potty. This was so dirty though. It wasn’t right. This isn’t where fluffies went potty! Yet he couldn’t help himself any longer and stooped down slightly to make poopies.
Balto was already humiliated yet the oldest of the boys, a 14 year old, laughed at his expense. “Holy JESUS! That fluffy just RIPPED ASS!”
There was a chorus of laughter which surrounded him. Shaking a bit, Balto looked up to Mama pleadingly. “Pwease make poopies gu ‘way. It am su diwty. Nu pwetty.” It was his shame. All stinky, dirty, disorderly. Yet Mama just looked down to him with a glare.
“Oh pah-done-me Mister Man. Didn’t reckon we had Prezzydent Trump over.” Mama told him in an obviously annoyed tone. “It’ll get cleant when it gets cleant. Now git! Go play!”
Looking to the pile of feces still steaming on the floor, Balto felt incredibly alienated. Shuffled out of the kitchen and into the living room. Lonnie was his nyu daddeh so he walked up to where he sat wedged between his brothers on the couch.
“Gud uppsies ‘fo Bawto?” He asked, angling his front weggies up to be accepted.
Lonnie was playing a new video game he’d gotten for his birthday and gave Balto the barest of glances. Seems getting a fluffy had…well, apparently that luster had worn through fast. Yanking Balto up by one leg (he gave a pained shout of ‘Bad upsies!’), Lonnie let him sit on his lap.
“Balto? What kind of a gay name is that? Lonnie, your retard faggot fluffy has balls in it’s name. Because it’s a queerosexual.” Said the oldest boy, obviously thinking he was the pinnacle of wit. Ma called out from the kitchen.
“Don’t say retard! It ‘aint nice!” She chided her son. Faggot and queerosexual was apparently still on the table though.
“Shut up!” Lonnie shot back at his older brother.
“No you shut up!” The much older kid followed suit. Real clever conversation going on here. Forgetting about the game, the two began to wrestle one another. With Balto stuck right in the middle.
“Eeeee! Hewp! Fwuffy scawdies! Owwies!” He protested loudly, screeching and flailing his hooves as the two bodies sandwiched him. The two went crashing off the couch and allowed the stallion to go screeching from the area. Not even sure where he was going but wanting to be anywhere but there.
++++
Balto found himself in the boys room. Two pairs of bunk beds which meant the oldest one got his own room. This place was the messiest room so far but he hardly had time to think about it, squeezing underneath one of the bunkbeds and beginning to sob.
It smelled horrible under here. Unwashed clothing, various bits of decaying food, perhaps even an animal which had died. Hard to think about. A nest of unclean, disorderly things which made his brain scream yet he didn’t dare venture out.
Curling up beside of pile of rotting fishsticks, the fluffy began sobbing miserably. “Wry fwuffy am bad? Wan cweanies. Wan nicesies.” The shelter wasn’t a perfect place but he wanted to be back there. It was clean there at least. Not too terribly noisy unless his fellow fluffies were getting rowdy.
He was a bad boy. People were always returning him. His think-pwace was bad. All he ever did was complain. It’s not like he could help it though. No matter what, it felt like he was always being pushed by an invisible force.
Eventually, Balto would fall asleep in that nasty den of despair under the bed. It allowed some comfort after the day.
++++
Balto was woken up by a bunch of fighting. All the boys did he was fight. Over anything. Noise, action, stuff being dislodged from it’s proper places and more of a mess being created.
Curling in on himself, Balto began shaking. Maybe he just wouldn’t come out. Ever. Even if the place under the bed was against all his senses it was better than trying to exist out there with everyone. Yet even that thought wasn’t allowed, as a hand shot under the bed and grabbed him up by his tails. Balto wailed terribly as he was dragged out, front hooves thumping against the floor.
It was Lonnie’s younger siblings. Five, six, seven. It seemed like Mama had kept herself busy for a stretch of years.
All Balto could see in them were cruel faces. Eyes which he shouldn’t think were mean but they were.
“I want the fluffy!” One of them cried out, slapping his brother.
“No, me!” He cawed, yanking on the fluffy’s ear. It hurt so bad.
Giggling, one of them leaned out and wiped a booger on Balto’s face. Gagging, whimpering, the fluffy felt his stomach lurch. Why was this happening?
“Eww! Let’s make him smell better! Fluffies stink!” The seven year old announced, taking out a can of his oldest brother’s Ax body spray. Shot it all over the stallion in a stinging cloud of noxious fumes.
“Nuuu-huuu-huu! EEEEE! HEEEEWWWPPP!” All of this had finally gotten to him. The breaking point. Balto hadn’t eaten since he’d been at the shelter but he finally vomited on the floor, a thin mealy drool that burned his throat and made his snout run.
“EWWWWWWWWWWW!” Cackling at him. Making him feel even dirtier than he was. This wasn’t Balto. He wanted to be clean. Wanted everything to be just right and in order. Didn’t they love him? Didn’t they care?
++++
Eventually the boys left him alone. That thin puddle of vomit was just left to lay on the floor but of course it was. Nobody here cared. Filth and chaos was their existence and they wanted it to be his too.
Rubbing his face on a pile of clothes he finally got the booger off of his face.
“Bawto wan ‘wun way.” He whimpered to himself. How bad was that to say? Run away from his family. They’d adopted him but he wanted to just leave. To go be like one of the unlucky fluffies out on the street.
That thought was interrupted by Mama calling out: “C’mon, Balto! Come out here ‘an get yer chow!”
Food. Well, maybe after he ate he’d feel better. Gingerly making his way out of the boy’s bedroom, he went to the kitchen and looked up to Mama as she took a big metal pie dish from the counter and laid it down in front of him.
This wasn’t kibble. In fact, he didn’t really know what it was. Half-eaten hotdogs. Glops of old Hamburger Helper. Ramen noodles (including the broth). Different cereals which had gone completely soaked through and slightly off-smelling milk. All of this was mixed together. There was no beginning or end to it: It all existed as one entity.
Balto was shocked. Disgusted. He didn’t like things mixed together. Call him prissy, but he didn’t. His brain just…wanted to run away from it.
“Mummah…n-nu…” He whined softly. Anything but this. Please no.
Mama looked down to him. Rolled her eyes. “Ah’m about DEAD TIRED of yer theatrics, boy! Eat’cher slop up! Stop actin’ like you’re better than everyone else!” This was food which would have otherwise gone to waste. Why not give it to the fluffy? They regularly ate trash. Taking a handful of his mane between her fingers, she shoved his face down into the congealing mass of food.
“Bbllrggg!” Choking on it, he didn’t want it in his mouth. On his face. Hooves attempting to scrabble back and retreat, his owner simply held on tighter and made him choke on it.
It was disgusting. Kibble wasn’t this amazingly great thing but it was ‘clean’. ‘Proper’. It’s what he was accustomed to. This horrible melange of decaying, off flavors got forced into his mouth until he felt as if his oxygen was being cut off. Growing slightly limp, Mama finally released him and let the fluffy drop to the floor.
“Stop bein’ such a brat, boy. We’re not fancy people but you’re a part of this family now. So get’cher used to it.” Mama told him, arms crossing. As Balto lay there on the unmopped kitchen floor, his eyes wandered over to the corner. Saw that the poopies from last night still lay there on the newsprint. Tears tracked down his furry cheeks.
“Bawto watch bestest dee-bee-dee?” He asked. The one last line of hope. Tractors, Trains, and Monster Trucks. That was his one tie to everything.
Mama shrugged. “Go ‘head. The boys are done in there.”
++++
Walking into the living room, Balto found himself shocked once again. It was even messier than last night. Every single DVD in the trailer had apparently been opened and they’re contents left to lay around the floor.
Including his.
“Twactuhs. Twains. Munstah twucks.” He said in a panicked voice. Searched through piles of discs. Upended garbage. Nosed around with all his might.
Nuuuu. Nuuuuu! “Twactuhs! Twains! Munstah! TWUCKS!” No matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t find the disc. Only it’s battered case. That’s the last thing from when he was a foal. He couldn’t remember being a foal though it must have been nice. That DVD made him feel good.
“TWACTUHS! TWAINS! TWUCKS!” Uprooting toys, diving under furniture, he felt himself unable to locate it. Yet finally, finally…
There it was. Lodged under a recliner. The disc was covered in what looked like smudges of melted chocolate. Long scratches ran along it’s shiny underside and nicks were gouged into it. Cradling it close, he went to go carefully put it into the DVD player which was still on.
At first nothing happened. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. It wasn’t the order of things. Then, then…
The intro screen was skipped completely. It felt like hands were seizing against his little lungs.
“Nuuu…”
Taking the disc out, he put it back in. Intro screen skipped again. In fact, it went to a completely different part of the movie than last time.
No. No no no. This was his thing. It made him feel good. They had ruined it. They. They.
They
Munstahs.
They were munstahs.
They didn’t love him.
He wasn’t a bad boy.
They were the bad boys.
“Go on and play. Stop bein’ a goddang mope.” Mama told Balto, shoving him outside. That dirty yard. They were dirty. He didn’t want to be dirty. Didn’t want this. Didn’t care.
Shuffling along the long gravel driveway, he didn’t want anything anymore. Run away? He’d just go back to the shelter. Or here again.
This was a trailer out in the country. A highway ran outside the house and Balto wandered out to the asphalt. It was so hot. Almost sticky. It smelled funny. Yet none of that mattered anymore.
Sinking down to the incredibly hot ground beneath him, he looked out over the road. It was burning him. It was like he couldn’t even feel it anymore.
A loud sound off in the distance.
Tractors, Trains, and Monster Trucks also had big semis on it. That’s what this was. Balto knew that noise!
“Twactuhs, twains, munstah twucks.” He said, finally feeling something resembling joy. Rumbling. Something appeared through the heat mirage further along the road.
An eighteen wheeler. Even bigger than Balto had even imagined them. Huger than anything. Like a big metal dragon.
It’s horn blasted. Wheels roared toward him.
There was no familiar ‘psssshhh’ of an airbrake. Nothing more than a rumbling storm of sound. Balto relaxed on the asphalt.
This was nice. It’d be over soon.