Bingo had a new home! He was a smart little fluff, about a year and a half old. A scruffy runt with a plum-hued coat, he had been able to live on the streets well enough after being abandoned by his old family. He didn’t understand why they’d left him, and even if one was to explain it to him he likely wouldn’t understand. He was smart but, after all, just a fluffy.
His nice new mummah had scooped him up and brought him to a van. She was a doughy woman who didn’t smell pretty but…
“You’ll have all sorts of new toys! And friends. So, so many new friends! It really makes my heart hurt so bad to see you little lovelies out on your own.” His new mummah had soon, Bingo balanced precariously on a pile of fast food trash and and old newspapers in the front seat. “How could anyone with a conscious leave you out in the COLD with those nasty little abusers running amok?”
“Bingo nu haf aboose.” The young stallion mentioned, thinking about his contemporaries who had. They had begged, made sorry-poopies, and generally acted poorly. His new mummah shot him a look that could make a snake crawl back in it’s den. “Well, young man! Tell the TRUTH and shame the devil. You don’t need to act brave on my accord. No no, I know how they…” And she listed off the various abuses inflicted on his kind. The woman rambled off in a cadence most closely associated with sleazy southern Baptist guys on TV. “B-Bingo haf wowsest aboose.” The fluffy finally agreed with her after awhile.
Eventually they arrived at the house. The new house! That was enough to take rambling of legs being pulled off and blowtorches taken to ears off his mind. The house was not like his new house. It was big, but it felt…dangerous somehow. Being a fluffy he couldn’t put words to it or even quite make sense, but it was like one of the mean humans had shifted forms somehow to become a buildings. It was two-stories, the foundation sinking down into the ground. Old white paint had turned a nicotine brown, chipped and rubbed away in many places. The front lawn was overgrown with weeds, the edges of cheap plastic kid’s toys poking out from certain angles. The smell. The scent was enough to want Bingo to make scaredy-peepees as his new mummah came around to the passengers side. As he was lifted out of the seat, it was like an avalanche to the senses. Feces. Urine. Unwashed bodies. Garbage. Death. All things experienced while abandoned, but this was concentrated.
“Nu smeww pwetty!” He cried out as he was scooped up by mummah, kicking his little hooves around. Pinning him under one fat arm, the woman carried him up through the porch. “Oh, don’t worry sweetiekins. I’m sure I’ll find time to give you a nice warm bath!”
The smell was about to be the last of his worries, though. His mummah had to crush her body against the front door to get it open, but finally she did with many grunts and groans. He was dropped to the floor before his eyes could even adjust to the darkness of the place. “Welcome to your new home!” Mummah said, leaving before he could ask any questions.
As Bingo’s eyes adjusted to the dimly lit livingroom he had been dumped in, he began to whimper. Shake. “Nu…nu….nu wan…” He pleaded to nobody. New mummah was nowhere in sight. The entire place was filled to the brim with fluffies of every ‘make’ and style and trash mid-way up to the wall in places. They fought. They fucked. Some sat in simple misery. There were pillows laying in quiet piles, dried food caked to their faces. Some had died and burst open, their remains maggot infested. There were foals stuck in gluetraps, screeching for someone to help. A few had gotten into a cache of rat poison and lay with bloated bellies, noxious foam boiling from their mouths. The ceiling above sagged and dripped with a thick liquid, coating everything down below in a greasy film. And the shit.
The shit was everywhere, but concentrated particularly in a corner. It was a mountain, reaching to the ceiling. At first Bingo thought the pile itself was moving, but no. It seemed each and every single brown fluffy in the place had been added to it. They writhed against the pile, any attempting to make a weakened escape being gored back into it by an alicorn streaked with mange. It was quite possibly one of the uglier creatures in the room but was meaner than everything else.
“NU WAN! WAN OUT! NU WAN NEW HOUSIE!” Bingo pleaded and beat his hooves against the front door.
“Nyu speciaw fweind!” Came a voice from within the pile of debris and shit. The entire room surged and came to life. Before there was a sense of quiet acceptance. Now it was like a match had been dropped on a powderkeg. “NYU FWEN GUD FEEW WAN GUD FEEWS!” Came the voices from many. Like a chant. As if this had happened before. Bingo had spent enough time in the alleyways to know when getting was good, so he squealed and dove into a tunnel of garbage. The only thing he could do. Hooves stomped from above him, the tunnel of empty 2-liter bottles, cardboard boxes, and discarded stuffed animals saving the stallion from being crushed.
Bingo tried his best not to make a sound, even as a new horror revealed itself. He’d seen the things which were on the topside of all this garbage, but there were others lurking beneath. Microfluffies emerged from all around in the garbage as he made his way through it, the tiny creatures latching onto him from all sides. Clinging like tiny leeches, he could feel their tiny teeth gnawing and scraping at his fur until they had caused him to bleed. They latched onto the miniscule wounds, suckling greedily.
If he screamed out, the gang above would find him. As to not further disturb the parasitic nest of microfluffs he’d bumbled into, he sank into the garbage and lay still. He wanted to be quiet, but still he cried. Right now Bingo wanted nothing more than the alley again.