You felt the cold drops prick your skin as the dark clouds rolled overhead. Your beautiful day in the sun, capped off by a sunset walk downtown, stained at the very end. A real shame it was. This was, in your eyes, the best weather you’ve seen all summer; especially after that cloudy, wet June. Deciding not to let it ruin your day, you step under an awning protecting a storefront, waiting for the rain to pass.
It turned into a downpour after about thirty seconds. Realizing you had nowhere else to walk to except the stores under the awning, you explore a bit and look at the shops. There was a beautiful wedding store, another that sold athletic clothing, and on the far end, what smelled like a zoo. Sounded like one too. Entering the unmarked store, you suddenly realize it’s a fluffporium—what they started calling fluffy vendors after they were legalized. However, this particular fluffporium seemed run down and if something was amiss. Having a particular “affection” for fluffies, you search further into the store for the owner. You make it all the way to the back of the store and discover quite the sight; a twenty-something man stomping the life out of a cherry-red stallion. It’s teeth burst out of it’s mouth as you turned the corner.
“Ahem, sir?” you say, trying to drown out the screaming fluffies caged in the back room with him.
The entire room goes silent, including the peanut gallery of pastel freaks.
“Oh hey man,” he says nonchalantly, “sorry I didn’ heah ya. Stahmpin the life outta this thing, y’know how it is. What can I do foh’ ya?”
I like this guy, you think to yourself. “Just happened to stop by, trying to get out of the rain. You sell fluffies huh?” you respond.
He looks you up and down. “Wha’ side ah the spectrum you on. Ah’ side, or the panzies?”
“Our side,” you say flatly, understanding what he meant.
“Yah we got ‘em. Ya seem like yah got an’ abusah’s aura around yah. Yah don’ like em?”
“You have no idea.”
Flashes of past stints with fluffies flash through your mind. Destroyed limbs, ransacked bodies, gore galore.
You shake it off. The worker didn’t seem to notice.
“We gaht a special deal goin’ on.” That really piqued your interest. “What for?” you respond.
“Grab Bag. Guar-ehn-tee one random fluffy, one random aquafluff. Colors rahndomized.”
“How much?”
He snickers. “Ninety-nine cents. Fiyah sale.”
You pause for a moment, wondering if you could even support an aquafluff…
…if you decide to support it.
For a long, long time, even before fluffies were legalized, you hated them. Hated the weird, freaky people who owned them. When they became prevalent, they became your problem. You found them in the woods, attracting coyotes. Found them coming to your house, begging for food. You try and kill each and every one that crosses paths with you.
However, this time might be a little different.
As you leave the room full of fluffies with the worker, the demonic cacophony of “nee huggies” and “nyu daddeh” rang out. The door couldn’t slam fast enough. The two of you walked over to the counter, you paid up, and with a nod, you left. Luckily, the rain had cleared up, but you no longer wanted to finish your summer walk.
The ride home was a blur. Your mind racing about what to do with the sleeping fluffies in your passenger seat, a light sigh was all that was needed to wake up the pair. The crinkling of the first brown paper sandwich bag was followed slowly by the cellophane bag beginning to bump into it’s paper bag container. As you peered out the window, wondering what to do with your new pets, you hear a single sentence from the bag. In a cute, chirping, sing-song voice, the purple filly that peered out at you from the tipped over bag cheeped out:
“Hewwo nyu daddeh!”
In shock at your first positive reaction to a fluffy, you quickly veer off the road, causing the filly to tip over and hit her head on the seat buckle, rendering her unconscious. Feeling awful for what you’d done, you grab her and set her on your lap, realizing she is merely asleep. No serious damage, maybe a bruise.
You almost forgot about the aquafluff.
Reaching for the cellophane bag, you peer into a bag filled with small, pebble like turds at the bottom. In the middle, sobbing like an infant, was a tiny, lemon-colored aquafluff foal. It’s huge eyes peered back at you, recognizing you as it’s new dad, and swam to the edge of the bag. You could not make out what it said, but it sounded something like “bweathie daddeh”.
After a short ride home, you set both of your new babbehs on the kitchen table. The purple filly finally woke up, and the lemon-colored one stayed attentive to you at all times, like a zombie.
You turned the lights on, scaring both of them into silence.
“Hello fluffs! I’m your new daddeh!”
“h…hewwo….” they replied timidly, in unison.
“No need to be afraid. I know it might smell a little scary to you guys in here, considering whats happened here in the past, but I promise you will be safe.”
The purple one looked at you absentmindedly. “Fwuffy nu unnasann ‘at. Buh…wub daddeh!!”
Not seeing or acknowledging the aquafluff on her left, she finally saw it. With wide eyes, she gasped and ran towards the bag, giving it a big hug. She screeched “WUBBBOOO!! FANGOO DAYYEH!! WUB NEW FWEN!!” It rang through your eardrums like nails on a chalkboard.
You need to hold it together, you thought to yourself. These two have done nothing wrong. Yet.
The last thought shakes you out of your stupor. The yellow aquafluff was equally excited to see his land-dwelling counterpart. “CAN’ WAI FO’ NYU TANKSIES!! WUB DADDEH!! WUB FWEN!!”
With a sigh, you leave the two infants to babble to each other. You turn to the other side of the kitchen, and begin to prepare fluffy food out of a can.
They’re gonna be pissed about the taste. Well, all I have. Better than the alternative.
You serve your two fluffies what looks like barkmulch in a bowl. Absentmindedly, you forgot aquafluffs can’t exactly eat outside their bag. So, you grab him a Ziploc bag, put the food in the bottom, and dump him and his water in there, careful to omit the shit that built up in the bottom. He seemed to enjoy the ride.
Both fluffies scarfed down their food, regardless of the taste.
They finished at the exact same time, and, in unison once again, thanked you for their food.
This is going unnervingly well. Why haven’t they fucked up yet?
You turn on the TV to watch a documentary, and you grab the bagged fluffy and his purple counterpart to watch with you. What comes on is a documentary about Genghis Khan. The two fluffies are captivated by the roaming horses and the gleaming colors, but cower into you when a scary sharp stick comes on the “teebee”. You’re starting to like these two.
“Hey guys?”
The fluffies sleepily turn around.
“You want names?”
Their eyes inflated to the size of balloons.
“WEAWWY?” the yellow one said, able to understand him after spending more time with him.
“WUB namesies!” the purple one followed.
“How about this,” you say, pointing at the pair, then the purple. “You’re Jin, and our aquatic friend will be Song!”
The two fluffies cheer and begin to dance. Jin gets on her hind legs and pathetically flails around, and Song swims in a circle. Some dancing.
“Well, we should catch some shut eye kiddos! Time to bring you to your safe room.”
You open the now empty pantry that flanks a hallway in your home. Placing the two on the floor, their eyes begin to tear up.
“Now don’t you two start crying! Daddeh will be back in the morning! Goodnight!”
You slam the door shut.
The first thing you wake up to the next morning, before the sun rises, are two tiny voices screaming and crying. Your eyes snap open, throwing your sheets to the other side of the room and thunder out to the fluffy-occupied pantry. You whip the door open, making a hole in the drywall where the doorknob punctured it.
“JIN!”
“SONG!”
“SHUT. THE FUCK. UP.”
“BUUHH DADDEH!! JIH’ AND SAWN’ WAN TU HUGGIES!! AND WUB!!” Jin replies.
“MEANIE PWATIG BAGGIE NU WET SAWN’ HUGGIE JIH’!!!” Song adds, bawling.
Jin takes a huge, for her size, breath, and screams:
“DADDEH NEE’ WET JIH AND SAWN BE FWENSIES!! FWUFFY MAE’ FO’ HUBBIES AND WUH!!”
She cries for a moment, then begins again.
“JIH BE GUH FWUFFY FO’ TOO WON!! BE MEANIE FWUFFEH!! DADDEH EH STUPIE EHN DUMMEH!! WEAB FWUFFIE IN CWOBET EN DAWKIES!! NU EBEN HAB FWEN TO HUGGIE!! ONWIE WOOKIE!! SAWN SU SADDIES, NEE HUGGIES AN’ NU WAWAS!! YU AN DUMMEH DADDEH!! AM SMAWTIE JIH!!”
Song looks on in horror, but after a moment, changes his expression to that of anger.
“STINKIE WABAS!! NEE HUGGIE FWUM DABBEH AN’ JIH’!!”
You place your hands on your face, slowly dragging them down.
Shouldn’t have trusted any shitrat. They’re programmed to be perfect. Any deviation is not to be a pet.
With a sigh, you whisper to your fluffies.
“If I hear either of you until I come back, it’s forever sleepies.”
Their dinner plate eyes inflated again. They covered their mouths with their hooves, but after about five minutes, they started right back up. You put on some noise cancelling headphones, but decided that one night was enough. These two shitrats, not pets, would no longer call this place their home.
After another four hours of sleeping, you wake up at 7:32 A.M., thinking you are late for work. It’s July, dumbass. However, you do have something to be awake for.
Jin and Song.
You open the pantry door, one last time. They’ve been awake all night, terrified that you might come back. No time like the present.
Looking down at the pair, you realize Song’s bag is starting to deflate. But that really doesn’t matter, does it.
Jin looks back up at you, protesting your very presence.
“Dadd—
You crack her across the ribs with the point of your shoe, pinning her against the closet wall for a moment. You let her go, but she stuck to the wall for a second before falling off. She limply got up, but collapsed once more. You shot Song a look of anger and he fainted. Observing the two for another moment, you finally came up with what their final punishments would be. Preparing the bowl, clothespin, and various other items you stride back to the pantry, happy to be back in business.
“Ohh fluffs!” you call in a sing-song voice. The two look up at you, horrified.
Their punishments were not short.
They wanted to be together?
Then they will understand they cannot survive in each other’s environment.
I hate these fucking things.
