Turtle began the day at school like any other except for one difference: He wasn’t bothering Sunshine. The mare had been left alone at her mat while he roamed about the room to see what his other friends were up to. He found Reginald, the plump blue & purple fiend hanging out with Chili, a red and orange stallion with a rather nervous habit of shaking. They were playing with FluffTV Hero cards, a TCG for fluffies because of course that exists. The cards were laminated, stiff, bite-proof, and generally safe for a fluffy to fling around with their mouth or stamp on.
“Am pway Cinnymummah!” Reginald flung out a card featuring stylistic art of the fat mare in a stereotypical magical girl uniform resplendent with ribbons and lots of hearts.
“Dat cawd a-a-am fuh babbehs!” Chili declared, shaking and trembling so much that it was difficult for him to throw his challenging card out. Finally he was able to do so. “Ga-Gah…Gahtor bestest!” The card he played was of a mossy green stallion named Gator who wore a cool safari hat that led a nature show on FluffTV where they went to exotic locales and bothered the wildlife. An important thing to note about the FluffTV Hero TCG was that there were no rules or even text on the cards. The intention was for them to slap down their favorites and bicker about it, which Reginald and Chili were doing to their fullest.
“Hewwo fwends!” Turtle announced to them, interrupting their game. Reginald looked up and puffed his fur up, looking even more portly than usual in the process.
“Wook, am babbeh. Wittew Tuwtel babbeh.” He told him with a sneer. Chili giggled at this.
“Babbeh! Ba-Ba….dummeh!” Watching the two, Turtle wasn’t exactly sure why they were being mean. Was he going to take this lying down? No! He was standing.
“Am nu babbeh! Am bigges’ boy! Daddeh say Tuwtel am!” Challenging them, wondering what it would take to prove it. Surely his daddehs word was enough.
“Babbeh tu scawdy tu say no-no word to Miz Teacha.” Reginald would dare him, causing Turtle to audibly gasp. There were a long list of no-no words you could use, such as poopies when referring to a person instead of the thing you needed to make.
“Buh Tuwtwel wub Miz Teacha. Su nicesies. Nuuu….” He shook his head, causing the big fat blue bad influence to tip his nose up.
“Heh. Tuwtel scawdies. Mawes nebba wub scawdey fwuffy. Yew widdew babbeh, ‘nee miwkies ‘an dipey!” Reginald stuck his tongue out at Turtle, who had to walk away feeling quite upset and conflicted. Yet he had to do something. He didn’t want to look scared in front of everyone.
Lessons finally started and they would all listen to Miss Teacher give instructions, soothingly leading them through the simple task of being able to identify objects or learning basic life lessons. When could he do it? When should he do it? Suddenly he popped into a standing position on top of his mat.
“Miz Teacheh stinkeh dummeh! Poopies! Nu-Nu stick! Enfies! Poopie pwace! ….STINKEH poopie pwace!” He called out to what had been an entirely calm room, now even more so now that Miss Teacher had stopped the lesson. To say she was shocked to see this sudden outburst was an understatement. Nobody had a reaction to this, so he figured he would show how much of a babbeh he wasn’t by marching over a wall where low-hanging art that they had done was kept. He tore a picture off the wall and shook it back and fourth, spat it out. “Dis wat Tuwtel fink ‘bou dummehs!” He lifted his tail and gave a huge fart, just in time for Mrs Weathers to snatch him up and bring him to the sorry corner.
“SU SU BAD!” Screamed Reginald, pointing a hoof at Turtle and laughing uncontrollably. This caused pretty much every other fluffy to join in a chorus of giggling and chanting that he was bad.
“Buh…buh…Tuwtel gud boy…” He said, pressing his face against the bars of the sorry corner sadly. Once everyone had settled down (which they eventually did) he figured he would be let out. Instead he was in there for a long time. There were no toys, he wasn’t allowed to learn with the others. When lunch time eventually came around he tapped a hoof against the bars as everyone else was shepherded out of the room.
“Dun weave Tuwtel! Tuwtel am hewe! Pwease!” He begged, and Miss Teacher eventually came into the room with a bowl. She set it down and the stallion could see that it was the dry kibble that only bad fluffies got. It wasn’t even the good kibble that came in the bag with happy fluffies playing on it with sketti flavored powder dusting it. This was the dryest, nastiest, wowstest stuff available.
“I want to think about what you did, Turtle. You interrupted the lesson, said very naughty words, and ruined Dewdrop’s drawing.”
With that she would leave him with the kibble which he never touched. It was the same exact stuff they had back in the shelter. Even mummahs who needed to eat to feed their babbehs could scarcely get it down. It hurt your moufie-pwace and scratched all the way going down. He had to sit there and smell how good the sketti was that day, listen to how everyone was goofing off, and then watch as they went to go outside to play.
He had the wowstest heart-hurties right now. Why had he ever listened to Reginald? He was always the one in the sorry corner, because he was bad. “Huuu….” Turtle laid down and smooshed his face against the bars of the sorry corner until everyone came back in for naptime. Even with the lights dimmed though, he couldn’t really sleep.
After naptime was of course the trip home. Nobody wanted to talk to him because he had been the bad fluffy that day. Stepping off the bus and finally at home, his daddeh Frederick would be there to meet him in the driveway. Turtle walked up to him, head held low.
“Tuwtel bad boy.” He said in a quavering voice. Daddeh had never used a sorry-stick on him before but he knew they existed. They advertised them on FluffTV all the time which seemed kind of cruel if you think about it.
“You’re not a bad boy.” Frederick told him, looking down. He’d received a phone call from the fluffy’s teacher informing him that his pet had gone on a bizarre and totally unprompted tirade. “You did a bad thing. But you’re ready to do good things now. Aren’t you?”
Turtle wagged his tail happily. No sorry stick? “Yis! Tuwtel wan be gud boy! Pwease!”
Fred gave his warmest smile. “You’ve got to do ten good things to make up for one bad thing. Want to go make a nice picture for your teacher to say you’re sorry?”
Turtle nodded and skittered as fast as he could past the front door. He had to make the bestest thing ever to say how sorry he was.