You open your see-places.
Then you realize you shouldn’t have see-places anymore, because you’ve gone forever sleepies.
In fact, there shouldn’t even be a you to realize this!
What’s going on? And why is everything so dark and purple-y?
You see the black blankie fluffy again. So you didn’t just imagine him.
He doesn’t look very pleased to see you. It takes you a few moments to understand why: the two of you aren’t alone.
The gawden is full of fluffies! It’s your smarty herd! They’re back! But why are they all pale and see-through? You look at your hoofsies. Why are you pale and see-through? And who are all those fluffies on the sorry sti–oh.
The puzzle pieces click together. So you all went forever sleepies. But you’re all still here. How? And who is the new fluffy? The only thing you can tell is that it would be a really bad idea to make him angry.
The black blankie fluffy, who by the way looks like he could really use some nummies, speaks up, drawing the herd’s attention like a magnet.
COWEW, BWIEF MOWTAWS. FWUFFY AM DA DEATH OF FWUFFIES.
That’s the deepest voice you’ve ever heard come out of a fluffy’s mouth. It seems to go straight to your brain.
NOWMAWWY, IT AM DEATH OF FWUFFIES’ SOWWEMN DUTY TU USHEW DED FWUFFIES INTU DA NEX WOWWD. BUT DA POWAHS DAT BE HAF TOWD DEATH OF FWUFFIES DAT DEWE AWE EX-TEN-YU-AY-TIN CIW-CUM-STANSIES.
You don’t understand the words, but you get the gist. Somehow.
YU AWE SET TU BE WEE-IN-CAW-NAY-TED.
The dead fluffies are all confused.
You speak up.
“Wut dat meen?”
IT MEEN DAT YU AWW AM GOWIN TU BE BOWN AGAIN.
Born again? You didn’t know that could happen! You thought when fluffies went forever sleepies, they were gone for good.
“Wai am smawties bein wee… um, wee-in…”
The Death of Fluffies interrupts your feeble attempt to pronounce the word “reincarnation”.
YU AM GETTIN ANUVVA CHAWNCE TU BE GUD FWUFFIES. YU WIWW NU WEMEMBEW YU PAST WIVES. PEWHAPS IN SWEEPY PICTUWES, YU GET A FAINT GWIMPSE OF WUT WUNS WAS.
You’re elated. You’re getting another chance!
BUT FIWST, MUS CUT DA THWEADS, OVVAWISE, YU AWW STUCK HEWE FOW WONG TIME.
The Bone Fluff stalks over to the spikes, holding a long sharp sorry stick in his teeth and muttering to himself.
IMPAWING AWN SPIKES? WEAWWY? he tut-tuts. DAS HOOMINS FOW YU.
He cuts the silvery threads that connect all of you to your former bodies. As each thread is cut, the ethereal fluffy it’s connected to fades away, presumably to be born again.
Once again, in the end, there’s just two to go: you, and your big grey friend.
Before the Death of Fluffies can cut your threads and send you off, you tell him to wait.
The Bone Fluff shrugs. MAKE IT QWICK. DEATH OF FWUFFIES NU HAF AWW BWITE TIME.
You turn to your gray friend.
“If fwuffies nu gun wemembew anyfing, Bwuebewwy jus wan say wun fing tu fwuffy.”
“Wut dat?”
“Fank yu. Fow bwingin Bwuebewwy tu smawty hewd. Fow bein Bwuebewwy fwend. Sowwy smawty hewd ai-dee-yuh nu wowk out. Bwuebewwy hope fwuffies meet again in nex wife.”
Your grey friend smiles, nods, and you share one last ghostly hug. You can’t feel the warm feeling of hugs anymore, but if you try hard enough, you can think it.
You both turn to the Death of Fluffies.
“Du it.”
He swings the sharp thing, the threads are cut, and the rest is darkness. And warmth.
