The printer vomited out the newly-made forms, like a drunkard who had drunk too much kerosene on his last night’s dinner. These new regulations appeared out of nowhere every month! And if they did not appear, they were composed to satisfy the trite thoughts that came to the mind of someone’s left foot.
I picked up the crumbling stack of still-warm documents and tried to read it.
-According to point E255-776, if the individual “A” - Almost by syllables I read - was born before the execution of the standard 298/S of 28.02.2019, the amendments of the document XB – “On the correction of interaction with fluffies”, and according to the federal law P8186368 "on the control of the epidemiological situation caused by livestock, artiodactyls, ungulates, exotic animals…»
The magic letters dance before my eyes. This didn’t happen even when I decided to check out Leo Tolstoy, having previously drunk half a bottle of absinthe enhanced with a couple of diphenhydramine tablets.
-What the hell is that?! - I shout angrily and throw the fan of papers on the table. The paper autumn with a paper fall of leaves immediately begins in the office. - Lena?! You’re supposed to be a lawyer! Enlighten me, what kind of devil danced on this field?
Lena (who was actually Lesya, but for a reason known only to her and the passport office, was named after the Trojan witch) looked at me with her usual steely gaze. She was naturally unable to smile, frown, and probably didn’t even react to an orgasm, but she knew what she was doing.
After reading the ten pages of the new normative Talmud slowly and very thoughtfully, she looked at me and said in the dispassionate tone of a living stone:
-We need to vaccinate all the fluffies who were born after February.
You are kidding, right? – I gave a mock chuckle – ALL our fluffies were born after February! They were delivered only yesterday!
-So, we need to vaccinate them. - Lena concluded, embodying the soulless logic of machines.
I reacted with a nervous laugh. And then I took hold of my head.
-There are a hundred and fifty of them! – I said.
-One hundred and fifty eight. – clarified Lena.
-Nuuuu! – Was heard from behind the closed door – Bi-i-iggiest poopies!
-One hundred and fifty eight plus something. – Lena added.
-Okay, we need to wait for Igor. – I sighed.
Igor, who was our full-time veterinarian, wasn’t really Igor. His name was Nikolai Ivanovich Kvazendin, but by a combination of tragic circumstances, he became Igor. And he was rarely seen sober. And he is also like Likho* - always appeared at the first mention.
-We are doomed! – exhaled Igor, running into the office.
-That’s what we’re talking about! – I said…
Igor bent over, trying to breathe at least a teaspoon of air into his smoky lungs.
-No… Not about that! We’re fucked, gentlemens! - He looked at Lena incredulously - …And ladies. The inspector is coming to us!**
-Oh, fuck!
-Exactly! Just been at Fluffy Joe’s on the International. I had to castrate a dozen of ferals. So, the inspector suddenly came to them! And from the threshold revealed a dozen violations of the Point E-Dick knows what…
-E255-776. - Modestly remarked Lena.
-Exactly! They were fined and their license was frozen.
-No! Well, fine is fine! - I waved – But the license! No way! No! I live by this license!
-In short, we need to do…
-Yes, a hundred and fifty plus something vaccinations, we already know. A shot for each muzzle.
-No, brother. Multiply by ten!
I looked at Lena.
-He’s right, - she said, - we need ten vaccinations per specimen.
-And if the inspector shows up, and we say that we have done everything?
-Then he will ask to see the used syringes and ampoules of a certain sample.
-Bly-y-at! And if we say that we didn’t have time?
-Is this your first time living? He will say that it was necessary to vaccinate immediately during the delivery! You get them out of the trapper truck, and you get a needle in their ass!
-But…
-No “buts”! - snapped Igor.
-A rule is a rule. And for non-fulfillment of it, punishment will follow. - Lena explained with a dead chill.
I looked at my watch.
-Ok, let’s go. We have time until tomorrow. Even if the audit is underway, it will not come to us at night. We have a little time to put an end to all our violations! Who’s with me?
–You know, - Igor laid his big hand on my shoulder – I’m for any party!
We found the medicine boxes right away. We had a lot of them. More than any other office. Why? Somehow it turned out that we got rid of the product before we had time to graft it. Ampoules with the substance were brought free of charge under a contract with HasBio. All under the painting – you will not get rid of it. We also had to provide used syringes with traces of Fluffy DNA under the painting. Well, there were also a couple more aspects.
-B1? Bro, you’re a monster! - Igor made a face.
-What’s wrong? This one is the easiest to prescribe! For B12 and BS1, you would have to collect three signatures each!
-That’s because of your laziness fluffies suffer!
-Well, yes, they scream a lot when injected, so what? They shout from everything!
-I once put a vitamin like this in my ass when I was drunk. You know, for prevention. I decided under vodka that you can get a fluffy infection, so I decided to vaccinate myself. It’s like you have broken glass smeared with turpentine under your skin with a mallet!
-And?
-And it hurts like hell!
-Not my problem! Come on! Grab the boxes. I’ll take a fifty at the end of the hall. You’re the one on the left…
-I’ll take the ones on the right. - Lena said with the emotion of a typewriter, as she uncovered the syringe.
I don’t know if there was a certain spark of some sophisticated sadist in this humanoid statue that made me wince every time she looked at me. But, perhaps, only such people become lawyers!
The work went on. Having spread out the medicine on the tables, like cartridge weapons in those scenes of action movies, where the heroes are preparing with pathos for an equally pathos-filled battle, we went to the pens. They were packed to the brim.
Feral fluffies did not yet realize that they were no longer feral, and continued to behave exactly the same as their fuzzy homeless comrades from cold brick alleys and garbage dumps.
“Nue daddeh?”, “Nummies?”, “Babbeh nee nummies!” - was heard from everywhere. Smeared with the dung, garbage, blood, and body parts of their fellows, these marvels of science and a welcome gift for every girl no longer looked like such. You know, like those stuffed animals that are left in front gardens decorated with cut tires and shaped bottles.
I grab the first foal I see and stick a needle in its tummy.
It screams louder and nastier than a human baby, at the same time, brandishing its legs frantically. Its cry causes a stir among the fluffy brethren.
-Nu touch babbeh! - An orange pegasus shouts.
-Nuuu! Babbeh am onwy widdle babbeh! Nee huggies!
-Why Misstah gib owwies? Am gud fwuffies!
Meanwhile, I change the needle, pour in a new medicine, and repeat the process. You can not let the foal out of your hands until all ten injections are made. Return it back to the others (and there’s nowhere else to put it, aside from throwing it on the floor!) and he will be lost among the mass of fluff.
They feel pain. It may be incommensurable to the useful action. But the rules are important, and fluffies aren’t.
Once I’m done with the baby, I grab the pink (or maybe purple) filly and begin the execution. She screams and kicks, but keeps pressing herself more and more to the floor.
-Nuuu-huuu-huuu! Nu wan! Nu wan! Huwties! Wostets huwties! Why misstah gib huwties! Am gud fwuffy! Fwuffy sowwy!
-Sowwy poopies fo’ wostest munstah! - I hear from aside.
-You bastard! - roars Igor, who was caught in the shit.
He grabs a whip and “corrects” the defective product with it. He roars, trying to threaten Igor, then yells that “Munstah won! Nu wan! Nuuuuu!”. Then he just bursts into tears. The rest of the herd sees it. Someone huddles to the edge of the cage, someone asks for forgiveness for a careless relative, and at the same time for their children, mother, father, and for thirty generations of ancestors. But in general, they are quieting down. Making an example is the best way to reason with the crowd.
The half-dead smarty finally gets his ten shots in the stomach. Even through the agony and unconsciousness, he squeaks something like a newborn.
Speaking of newborns. Right in front of me, a mare, round as a school globe, is giving birth to her offspring. Second birth in a shift! And after all, foals should also be vaccinated! I grab one of them, a unicorn, I think. On the pinkish skin, not yet covered with a fluff, I can barely see a rounded bump-pimple.
-Nuuuuu! Babbeh am onwy widdle babbeh! Nu gib huwties!
The father of the family, or maybe someone who has confused himself with such, puffs out his cheeks and tries to shower me with diarrhea.
I have to put on a rubber glove, grab him by the scruff of the neck and hang him by the ear on a hook. Painful and enlightening. I stole this technique from one of the foreign breeders.
Three or four hours of fucking hell. All knee-deep in shit, and with the nightmarish decibels in the form of ongoing “Nuuuu” in our ears.
The last mare is moaning in my arms.
-Nu wan… Nu wan mowe huwties. Mummah! Hewp! Hewp! Whewe mummah! Why mummah nu sabe fwuffy?
The mare is too old to call for her biological mom.
And here’s the rest of the pink ribbon around her neck. It is tattered, torn by thorny branches, as Fluffy made her way through the derby to the unknown stars.
She had once been a domestic, and maybe there was even a chip in her that would guide us in our search for her lost mistress.
She’s too polite, too compassionate. Not like those that grew up on the streets, and sound like the poor feeble-minded gopniks. This really was once “The Perfect Pet, a dream of every human” as described in the ads of HasBio.
-Be patient, - I tell her. - Another six and it’ll be over.
-Huuuu-huuuu-huuuu, twu?
I nod. What for? Because I feel sorry for her? Or because I’m tired of all this shit?
I count with her.
-One.
-One… Huuu-huuu-huuu!
-Two.
-Two… Huuu-huuu!
And so on six more times! The mare no longer has the strength to Fight back. She don’t even have the strength to ask for forgiveness. Usually these fall on the stomach and turn on the “Wan die” mode. Not always, of course, some just lie down.
-That’s all I have. - says Igor, throwing the last empty ampoule on the table
-That’s all for me too - says Lena, throwing away the used syringe.
As after rough sex, we smoke, and exactly after the fading of the cig, our long-awaited guest appears. He is dressed in a strict black suit, thin and bespectacled. His dried-up, bony face, unencumbered by extra hair on either his head or chin, resembles a skull, with mummified skin stretched over it. He wears round sunglasses with mirrored green eyepieces. In his hand is the most sinister of all suitcases.
-I am Inspector from Hasbio! - He introduces himself in a tone like the sound of a rusty nail on polished glass.
Igor and I shudder as if we’ve been electrocuted. But Lena has something new in her eyes, which I can presumably call “interest”.
-I have come to check compliance with rule E255-776. - the inspector continues. - Who’s in charge here?
-I am, - I say - and we have just made sure that we have followed the rule properly. We double-checked it three times.
The inspector walked around the room, pausing at the tables with empty ampoules. He twirled one of them with his fingers, having already pulled on a long medical glove. He moved his lips as if counting the used medication.
Then he stopped in front of the pens and also moved his lips noiselessly as if counting the livestock.
Finally, he took out a strange device that looked like a syringe with a long needle. Fluffies, exhausted from the night, shuddered as one.
-NUUUUUUUUU! - they screamed.
Using the rule of holy chance, the Inspector snatched the first unlucky fluffy out of the multicolored pile of fluff and manure.
And then the needle came down on his back, piercing him in the area of the spine. Fluffy was twitching, and the inspector couldn’t hit the spot the first time. He curled his thin lips and tried again. And so three more times, until the puncture was taken.
He snatched up random fluffies, a couple of times he grabbed newborns, literally piercing them with a needle, and once he caught that filly with a ribbon around her neck. Each time he checked something on the sensors, then wrote it down in a notebook.
Then, without saying a word, he nodded to Lena, who immediately handed him the form. A second later, the license renewal stamp appeared on it.
I was elated that it was all over, Igor was elated that it was all over, and Lena’s eyes showed a certain infatuation if you could call it that.
-That’s it, - I finally said. - Come on, fire up the furnace! We burn these freaks out of harm’s way, and then we go drink some coffee.
And thus my little “incinerator” in the fluffy livestock control network continued to exist.
*-ancient Russian mythical entity
**- A reference to a classic Russian comedy