Where’s Baby?
Written by:
skettiswipuw (Virgil)
Life is good. You’re a new-mummah with good foals, and a wonderful mummah and daddeh.
Your name is Baby, and you’re a brilliant magenta wingy dam with a lovely dark blue mane and tail. Mummah loved you the best the moment she saw you, and begged Daddeh to buy you despite you being “espensiv”… whatever that meant.
From that moment on, your life has been one wonderful brite-time after another.
Every day Daddeh and Mummeh have to go to Wurk, and so they take you to Fluffy Daycare where you have so many friends. The young mothers look fondly, or even jealously on your wonderful foals. You had two and one more babbehs, and your Mummah gave all of them the prettiest names.
Pretty yellow wingy babbeh she called Sunshine.
Pretty and smart blue hornie babbeh was called Waterfall.
And even not-so-pretty poopie-color earthy baby got a pretty name. Mummah called her Caramel.
Some of your friends at Fluffy Daycare were shocked that you would keep the poopie-babbeh, but you loved little Caramel all the same.
Mummah would come to pick you up late in the brite-time after you had played stacky-blockies with your friends, and given milkies to all your babies, and given them all licky-cleanies, and had your kibble nummies, and watched funny pictures on Fluff TV, and had good nappies with your pretty babies. And when you got home Mummah would pick up your carry-box (It’s not a sorry box, it’s a nice carry box with a window you can see out of) into the house. And after a little while it would be time for sketties and play!
Once in a while Daddeh would come to the saferoom and give you good petties and coo at your good babies, petting them softly with his big not-hoofies, and letting them play in the soft not-fluff on his facie.
Your warm housie and wonderful life was just the bestest thing ever.
So you tried your very best to be the bestest babbeh for Mummah and Daddeh.
When each brite-tiem began you would carefully pick up your good babies and lay them softly in the carry box, before laying down with them again, taking that time to go sleepies for a little while more, because you were going to have another big day full of blockies, and milkies, and nummies, and TV, and sketties, and play.
Before long, Mummah would come in and quietly close the door of the carry-box, and put you in the vroom-vroom machine where you could sleep a while longer.
This brite-time was a little different.
When Mummah carried you out, she put you in daddeh’s vroom-vroom machine.
On the brite-times when Mummah was going to be really busy, sometimes it was Daddeh that took you to daycare, so that wasn’t such a big surprise.
You hardly lifted your head when Daddeh opened the door to the vroom-vroom, and sat in the big seat, and started the machine. None of your good babies made a sound either.
They’re such good babies.
After a couple of forevers your sleepy-time is broken by the sound of Daddeh shutting off the vroom-vroom, and opening the door to get out.
“Kay gud bebbehs, it tiem fo wakies nao. We am at Daycawe.”
All the little foals yawn and stretch their little leggies as you give them a couple of licks to fix their fluff and make them pretty and presentable for their playmates.
“Mummah, Sunshwine godda maek peepees.”
“Just howd awn, we gonna be in Daycawe soon, nu make peepees in cawwy-boxie, babbeh”
“Huuhuu! Need maek peepees.” the little foal whimpered and clenched his little leggies together.
“C’mon Cawamew, yu weddy tu go pway wif all yu fwiens tuday?”
The not-so-pretty babbeh yawns so hard her whole body shakes “Yeh mummah. Am weddy tu go pway wif fweins.
You look out the window wondering why Daddeh hasn’t opened your door and picked up the carry-box to take you in yet.
Maybe he had to go inside to talk to the nice lady in the office.
You wait…and wait…and wait…
“Mummaaahhhh, babbeh weawwy godda go maek peepeeeees!” Sunshine whined
“Shhhh, jus wate, babbeh, Daddeh gonna cum bak and taek us in soon.”
But this didn’t look like the Daycare. There were no trees around the vroom-vroom. All you could see out the windows were the tops of other vroom-vrooms on both sides.
Where was Daddeh? Why hadn’t he come back yet?
There was suddenly an acrid smell in the air. Sunshine wasn’t able to hold his peepees any longer.
“Babbeh! Dat am bad peepees! Daddeh am gonna be suu maddies!”
“Sunshwine sowwy mummah, nu cud howd da peepees anymowe…” he whimpered in shame.
But Baby knew Daddeh would understand. She would make him understand. Or she would tell him she had made the bad peepees. If he used the sorry-stick on her, at least her good babbehs would be safe.
The bright-ball in the sky crept over the edge of the windows, shining down into the carry-box, and You squinted, and looked away from it.
It was a night Summer day when you might be able to play in the grassies with your friends and all the babbehs, if you weren’t here in the vroom-vroom.
Why hadn’t Daddeh come back?
You felt a foal nuzzling at your milkie-places. It was Waterfall, kneading your udders.
“Shhh, yu can haz miwkiws Wawafaww, but Daddeh am gon be bak soon. Sunshwine, yu com get miwkies tu.”
Caramel searched around the carry-box idly. She was used to being the last to get any milkies, but she was a good babbeh, and you would make sure she didn’t go hungry.
You start singing a song you had heard in one of the moobies Mummah would play on the TeeBee for you while she was making your sketties. You don’t understand all the words, but you try your best.
As you sing, your not-so-pretty mare sits on her haunches and wiggles her hoofies around in time with the song.
♫ Bebbeh myyyne no yu cwyyy.
Bebbeh myyyne dwy yu eyyyys.
Weeest yu head cwose tu mah heawt
nebbuh tu pawt
Bebbeh ub myyyyne ♪
The bright-ball has gotten high in the sky now. Caramel is taking the last of your milkies like the good foal she is.
Waterfall and Sunshine have both gone and made poopies in the corner as far away from the family as they could get, but despite their care, the carry-box doesn’t smell pretty anymore.
Where could Daddeh have gone?
It was sooooo hot here in the vroom-vroom.
Caramel pomfs at your milkie-places urging a few more drops of milk to come out, before sadly stopping her attempt.
“Mummah, Cawamew am stiww hungwy…”
“Mummah knu, gud babbeh. Mummah am hungwy tu. Dat wy dewe am nu mowe miwkies nao.”
As the little foal whimpered against your milkie-places you stroke her head.
“Daddeh am comin bak soon…”
but you’re no longer so sure of this.
Waterfall and Sunshine are straining at the door of the carry-box, panting in the bright sunlight.
The blue colt suddenly shouts
“MUMMAH, WAWAFAWW NO WIKE DUMMEH CAWWY BAWKS NO MOAH!”
“Shhhh, am otay babbeh, we am gonna go in Daycawe and hab fun pwaytiems wib aww yu fwiens soon!”
“NU! DADDEH NU AM COM BAK! DADDEH AM BIGGUS DUMMEH!”
You gasp and look around, afraid that someone might hear the outburst
“Nu, babbeh, Daddeh am gud. Him am bestest daddeh ebah! Nu sey dem meanie wowds.”
“NU CAWE! WAWAFAWW GUN GIT OUTTA DUMMEH SOWWY BAWKS!”
With that declaration the little unicorn pawed at the floor and charged with widely-spaced gate that kept them inside.
With a crash he collided with the mesh, and his head went through!
Excitedly he tried to wiggle further through the mesh, but his shoulders were just too wide.
“Mummah? MUMMAH! Wawafaww am stuckies! Hewp babbeh!”
You scoot over to the thrashing babbeh and try to calm it
“Seddwe dawn babbeh, mummah get yu awt. Stawp kickies!” You gently grasp him with your hoofies. Caramel takes hold of his tail with her teeth and helps you pull.
“Owies OWWWWIES! DAT HUWT BABBEH!”
“Cawameww, yu stawp puwwin yu bwuvvuw’s taiw. Mummah am gunna fix dis.” You tug more gently but every time the foal’s ears get close to the bars he seems to get more stuck.
Waterfall begins to whimper and cry.
“Mummah babbeh fwuffy nu wike dummeh sowwy boxie, peas hewp get awt!” he’s starting to thrash about again in panic.
“Babbeh, yu gadda stawp kickies! Mummah am twyin tu hewp yu!”
Your mind was racing. The way he got his head into the cage was by quickly ramming it…maybe if you pulled on him quickly he would pop back out!
“Otay, Mummah haf ideuh. Babbeh, yu gadda howd you bweevies when Mummah sez to, Kay?”
“Huh? Wut yu gonna du, Mummah?!”
“Jus howd you bweevies when Mummah sez! Be gud babbeh, peeze!”
The little foal sniffles and goes limp in your hoofies “Otay Mummah…”
The biggest number you know is two, so you tell your foal to hold his breath when you say the number. “Weddy…Wun…TUU!” you pull the little foal as hard as you can and after a short, sharp scream his head comes loose from the bars. You smile triumphantly and hug him close to your body.
His head lolls backward across his body.
Your other foals screech to see his wide eyes and spasming mouth.
“Wut wong, babbeh?” you gently try to lift his head back to face you, and hear the foal gasp hard for breath. His panicked eyes find yours as his head falls to one side again.
“Babbeh! Pweddy babbeh nu hab huwties! Nu hab huwties!!! Mummah gib bestes BESTES huggies tu maek aww beddah!” you pull him roughly against your blaze, where his chin bounces off of you, and his head lolls backward again. You hear the foal struggling to breathe. His little body doesn’t move at all.
“Huggies maek huwties gu way! HUGGIES MAEK HUWTIES GU WAY!”
You repeat the mantra insistently
“Peeze babbeh, huggies maek huwties gu way!!!”
Every time you clutch the little foal closer his little head bobbles around and makes a horrible wheezing sound
“Huggi…huggies maek…huggies…HuuuuUUUUUUU! PEAZE BE OTAY BABBEH!”
But all the hugs, and all the tears, and all the wailing don’t bring the foal around. In time the wheezing stops. Your foals gather around to help with their own huggies.
The brite-ball continues to rise in the sky.
The foals are panting rapidly in the ever-increasing heat. They’re no longer crying. They have no more tears to cry. Sunshine has already gone over to the corner where the bad peepees have collected. He couldn’t bring himself to drink them, but you can tell he considered it.
You have the worst heart-hurties of your whole life.
Your poor little unicorn won’t wake up anymore. In the back of your mind you wonder if this is the forever-sleepies you’d heard about, back in the pet store. The sweet little blue foal couldn’t even stop himself from making bad poopies in his sleep, now.
Worse than that, now your tummy was hurting too. You could explain it to Daddeh that your babies couldn’t help making bad poopies…but if you made bad poopies too, how could you explain that?
A rumble came from your tummy and you knew that whether you wanted to or not, you were going to have to make poopies.
You stood up and moved as far to the back of the sorry bo…err…the nice carry box as you could before squatting down. Caramel and Sunshine watched you. Sunshine was horrified but Caramel seemed to understand.
When the awful deed was done you returned to the front of the cage with the babbehs. It was hotter up here in the bright light, but at least it smelled moderately prettier than the back of the cage.
Occasionally you would see motion outside the vroom-vroom. People were walking by, but none of them was Daddeh.
“Hawp!” your voice cracked “HEWP! PEASE HEWP BABBEH! PEEEASE! NEE WAWA! NEE DADDEH! NEE HEWP!”
Two of the humans looked started by your shrill cry. Their voices were muffled through the window but you could make out most of what they were saying.
“Is that a baby in there?”
“What the…”
“Yah!” you screeched at them “Yah, am Babbeh! Nee hewp! Wet Babbeh awt!”
one of the humans sighed in relief
“Oh, it’s just one of those fluffy freaks.”
“Who in their right mind wants one of those shitrats?”
“Nuuu!” you howled “Nu am Sit-wat, Am Gud BABBEH! Nee Daddeh an Mummah an Wub an Huggies! Su hawt…su firsty…”
“Think we should tell someone in the office about this?”
“Hell no, they cut my lunch break down to 20 minutes last week, and I’m not spending any of that time on a bunch of retarded bio-toys.”
“Yeah, good point.”
The two humans turned and left as you screeched after them
“AM GUD BABBEH! AM GUUUD BA-HAY-HAY-HAY-BEEEEE! HUUUUU-HUUUUUUUU!”
your lip trembled and you sniffled back nosie boogies, but even you had no more tears to cry anymore. Sunshine cuddled up to your side hugging you fiercely and burying his face in your fluff.
You turned to look for Caramel.
She was at the back of the carry-box…wincing as she lapped up the bad peepee wawas.
Any other day you would scold the little foal…but how could you now? How could you say she was being bad?
Sunshine was laying next to Waterfall, now. His panting had slowed considerably.
You cooed to them both, stroking their fluff with your hoofy.
Caramel sat among the poopies in the dark end of the carry box.
You tried to swallow but found it wasn’t possible anymore. Your tongue was too dry.
When another human walked by you used what little energy you had left to lift Sunshine up and show your good babbeh to the humans. You tried to screech to them, and get their attention, but your voice came out as a whisper.
“pease…pease hewp gud babbeh…”
Sunshine hung limply between your hoofies. His eyes were closed. When you layed him back down next to Waterfall he didn’t adjust his position to get comfortable.
You realized your good yellow wingy babbeh… had gone forever-sleepies too.
Maybe…maybe that was for the best.
You layed down next to them.
The skin beneath your fluff tingled and hurt all over.
It was so hard to breathe now.
Why hadn’t Daddeh come back?
You had always tried to be a good fluffy.
A good mummah.
What went wrong?
What went wrong?
What went wrong?
When Bill Anderson left the office for the day most of the cars had already gone from the parking lot. He hated these long days, but at least he could go home to his wonderful wife, now.
He could already imagine the mingled smells of their dinner and their fluffies’ spaghetti dinner greeting him at the door.
He pulled the latch on the door of his car and was assaulted by a very different sort of smell.
One like bloated roadkill and manure.
“What the fu…?”
It was then that he saw the pet carrier in the back seat. Three dead fluffies were laying next to the grate. And a pair of sad eyes watched him from the shadows in the back of the crate.
“Oh no…Trish is gonna hate me forever.”
