You are a abuser, out to vent stress on some fluffballs! You know how, you know to wear clothes your ok with soiling, and armed with a Swiss Army knife you move out to your local Chinese place.
You order a noodle cup and head out back. You hear quiet hu-hus, chirps, the like. You know their hiding where they’re safe, the other abusers would have gotten them already. You dump the noodles out, and slowly, a piss green colt emerged from a crack in
A wall. Upon finding your prey, you stomp on its tail, eliciting loud screeees, ‘hu hus’ and begging. You take your knife out from your pocket, and smirk ‘im gonna enjoy hearing you scre-’
A empty noodle cup hits your head, and you whirl around, seeing the owner of the shop standing, angrily. ‘drop the fucking rat, dumbass!’ he shouts
What?! Was he protecting this fucking rat?
‘what are you, some kinda hugfucker?’
‘no, I’m trying to run a restaurant, but my customers don’t like eating to the sounds of a dying fluffy!
What kinda crazy bastard does?! You want to do it, do it in your own home!’
You try to comprehend this… These guys don’t love the sound of a broken fluffys? No, that’s not… Huh? ‘what, you don’t like the screams of hell in your ears?’
Your daughter went to sleep with her fluffy white noise machine, a fluffy colt with its balls In a vice!
‘no, what- what the fuck? Look, Mabey you should get some help… Or at least go to a abuser bar!’
The idea that the sounds of a dying creature was not like the sound of the opera… So strange! You drop the colt and shake your head… Such a strange city!
((Made some satire about how most headcannons portray the screams of fluffys as not highly annoying. At the verry least a passerby would cuss you out for hurting his ears! Not meant to attack anyone’s headcannons