The three of you and your fluffies are at the park. You haven’t just got an… appointment, but you’ve also just won a bet. Two bets, actually.
Seth is silent, his mouth gaping, his body frozen solid like he just lost a staring contest with Medusa.
Andre is cackling like the Wicked Witch.
Your fluffies, sans Snowball, are trying to figure out what’s so funny.
Judy is at home, looking after Snowball, who is no longer ambulatory. Snowball is due to pop, hopefully not literally, any day now.
And, in the fluffy play area, Dr. Pierre Faucheuse, richest man alive, is looking most amused, but his companion, a man who looks like he’s literally been to Hell and back, has the expression of a man who is thinking about all the better ways he could be spending his time. The three of their fluffies are playing huggy tag, Pierre’s million dollar alicorns contrasting the dingy, probably former street fluffy who looks as mangled as his master, though, fortunately, he still has all of his legs. He’s missing an eye, though.
And you, of course, are basking in the warm light of victory.
“I told you I met the guy! Pay up, loser!”
Dave was here too, he said he couldn’t miss this, but he ran off when he saw his baby mama. After paying up. He’s an asshole, but he always honors a bet, even if he takes it up the ass.
He bet $100, and a pound of his best stuff, that you were full of shit.
He’s such an asshole.
Joke’s on him, though.
A couple of days ago, you got a phone call from the richest man in the world. Incidentally, at the time, you were playing Mega Man 10, because for some reason, the number ten was on your mind.
“Moshi moshi, Cal desu. Who is this?”
“Ah, Cal, bonjour. It’s Pierre. I was not aware that you can speak Japanese.”
“Dr. Faucheuse, how did you get this number? And I can speak a little bit of Japanese.”
“You’re in the system at Flufftopia, Cal. And please, call me Pierre, there’s no need for formalities.”
“Well, fair enough I guess. So, uh, why are you calling, um, Pierre?”
“I wanted to know if you were still interested in making an… appointment with me. You hadn’t called me yet, so I decided to look your number up in the system. I sincerely hope that you don’t mind the breach of your privacy. I understand that there is an excellent park near your apartment building. Shall we meet there, at, oh, Saturday, 11 AM? I would love to meet you and your fluffies, and introduce them to my own. Oh, and I’d be bringing a friend and his fluffy, too. I think I mentioned them when we last met? When you were having your–”
“YesIrememberwhatIwasdoingthankyouPierre.” you quickly interrupt. You had your, ah, purchases delivered. You weren’t going to walk down the street holding two of those, and Mark assured you that the, ahem, packages would be delivered with discretion, along with the babbeh supplies for Snowball, who, at the time of this phone call, was going to town on a bowl of Bestest Babbehs kibble. Marley, on the other hand, was going to town on his new Special Huggie Friend. Poor guy was practically salivating when it was brought in. He could barely wait for you to set it up before he got busy with it.
You’ve heard that sometimes, a, uh, pent-up stallion’s balls can literally turn blue, but you snuck a quick peek, no homo, not that there’s anything wrong with that, and Marley’s were as green as ever.
“But sure, I’ve got no plans then. And I’m sorry, I’ve been busy. Oh, but Snowball, I don’t think I mentioned her before, won’t be coming. She’s gonna give birth like, any day now. A stiff breeze would set her off by now. And that’s why I’ve been busy. Snowball, take it easy, you’ll choke again, eat a bit slower. There you go, good girl.”
“That’s a shame, but congratulations. I hope the entire litter is healthy.”
“Thanks. So, the park at 11 on Saturday? Attaboy Marley, get in there balls deep!”
“The park at 11 on Saturday. I’ll be waiting for you, Cal.”
It’s cool that he didn’t say anything about Marley’s new, er, pastime.
“Oh wait, is it cool if I bring a couple of friends? They’ve got fluffies too. It’s just that, uh, um, I kinda…”
“Made a bet with someone who didn’t believe that you had actually met me?”
Damn, he’s shrewd.
“It’s happened before?”
“So many times. I’ve lost count, Cal. And I can count pretty high. Yes, you can bring your friends. The more the merrier. See you Saturday.”
After rousing Seth from his stupor and collecting your winnings from him, your group enters the play area. Piccolo was a bit reluctant to come, what with Snowball’s situation, but you reassured him that Judy was taking good care of Snowball and her tummeh babbehs. That you’d all come running if you heard that Snowball was in labor.
You greet Pierre, introduce your friends to him, and shake his hand. He’s wearing his silver suit again, and in the sunlight, it actually sparkles.
“Ow!”
“Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry, Calvin. The tailor must have left a pin in the sleeve.”
“It’s alright, I’m all too familiar with how annoying a prick can be.” As you say this, you glance in the direction you had last seen Dave fleeing from having to pay child support. He really is an asshole.
Then it’s time to let the fluffies all get acquainted.
“So, these are my boys, and those two over there are Caelum and Magic. Marley, Piccolo, say hello to Pierre and… what did you say your fluffies are called?”
“This is Nikola, and this is Audrey. And this scrappy little fighter is Scarface, my friend Victor’s fluffy.”
Your fluffies exchange their greetings with Pierre and Victor’s trio, which of course, involves a lot of hugs. Scarface, oddly enough, doesn’t seem to actually like hugs.
Pierre explains that it’s just because Scarface doesn’t know your fluffies that well. He tells you to give it some time.
Pierre’s friend, Victor, refuses to shake your hand.
“Look, I’m only here because Pierre’s brother insisted that I give Scarface some time at the park. I’ve got enough friends. Don’t expect Scarface to like your flufflies. He doesn’t like a lot of fluffies. But he’ll be civil, right Scarface? Oh.”
Scarface is now in the middle of discussing movies with your boys and Caelum. Apparently, he’s a movie lover too, and is happy to meet fluffies who appreciate the silver screen as much as he does. Even if their taste in movies differs, they seem to be getting along.
“Deadpoow am cuh-muw-shuw twash. Twust Scawface, see Da Gawdfawfa, dat moo-vee wiww change Mawwey wife.”
The boys and Caelum agree to disagree with Scarface and resolve their differences by literally hugging it out with him. This time he seems to actually enjoy it.
You think it’s great that they’re bonding so quickly, but you couldn’t disagree with Scarface more. Deadpool kicks ass.
beep-beep beep-beep beep-beep
Victor holds his hand to his ear.
“Pierre, I’ve gotta jet, there’s a you-know-what at you-know-where. Can you keep an eye on Scarface, and take him home for me later? This one might take me all night.”
You have no idea what he’s talking about.
“Of course, Victor. Good luck. Remember, we must–”
“Not in front of the normos. But thanks.”
We must what? And what’s a normo?
After Victor leaves, and it was strange, you looked away for a second and he was gone, the playdate is pleasant, but uneventful. At about 3 PM, Pierre remarks how quickly time can fly, and that while he and his fluffies must be off, he has genuinely enjoyed the appointment, as he insists on referring to fluffy playdates. Pierre sincerely thanks you and your friends for the experience, allows the fluffies to say goodbye to each other, with yet more hugs, and promises that they’ll all meet again. And then, he says goodbye to you and your friends, giving you in particular a meaningful look, and saying that he will probably see you again very soon. He then takes his leave, with his and Victor’s fluffies, muttering something about “Phenomenon X”, whatever that is, and a positive blood test. You’re pretty sure you’re the only one who hears it.
You spend the rest of the day wondering what that was about.
The day after the playdate, the Fluffy Cabal gathers, sans the Fondas, who are currently bathing Blueberry’s herd again. All of them have seriously concerned looks on their faces.
On the table, there is a small stack of documents.
The words “Calvin Korkea”, “DNA test”, “POSITIVE” and “OMEGA CLASS” are visible, along with a photo of Calvin.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Really sure?”
“Yes.”
“Really really su–”
“Yes! I am absolutely, positively sure! I ran the test over and over and over again until there could be no doubt! He’s not just positive, his potential eclipses all other known cases! So Victor! Please! Stop! Asking me if I’m sure!”
“I was just checking, Pierre.”
Pierre slumps back in his seat, looking at the papers on the table, at the face of the man on whose shoulders the fate of the entire world, and the future of humankind and fluffykind, may yet rest. Nikola and Audrey, resting on matching cushions on the table, can see the look of concern, dread, and fear on his face. Scarface, on another cushion, watching a movie on Victor’s phone, is not paying attention to the conversation at all.
After two minutes of silent deliberation, everyone except Scarface staring at him, he finally speaks up.
“I don’t know how to tell Calvin that he tested positive for Phenomenon X.”