Burglar 2: Poopy-Time

>Used to be a burglar.
>Now you're obsessed with ruining fluffy pony's lives.
>Keep an eye on a fluffy pony owner's house.
>Wait for him to leave for work.
>Break into house.
>Fluffy pony comes skittering down the hall.
>"Daddy! Daddy back fwom workies!"
>He sees you and stops in his tracks.
>"New... new fwend?"
>"Yep! I'm you're new friend!"
>His eyes light up. "New fwend!" Runs up to your feet.
>"Huggies!"
>You pick him up and hug him.
>"Fwuffy wuv new fwend! Wanna pway!"
>"Sure! Let's play poop-time!"
>Fluffy blinks at you. "Poopy-time? How pway poopy-time?"
>Carry him over to the plasma screen. Squeeze him.
>"Owie! Too tight, fwend!"
>Shit pours out of fluffy, all over TV.
>"No!" Fluffy panics. "No squeeze! Make poopy on tee-vee! Nooo!"
>He starts sobbing. "Daddy gonna be angwy! Daddy gonna huwt fwuffy!"
>"Don't worry," you cackle. "You want some spaghetti?"
>Fluffy shakes off tears. Weak short-term memory is conquered by thoughts of spaghetti.
>"Sketties!" Fluffy smiles. "Fwuffy wan' sketties! Pwese sketties!"
>"Okay!"
>You put down fluffy and reach into your burglar bag.
>Pull out a can of cheap Chef Boyardo knockoff.
>Pour into bowl, nuke for thirty seconds until luke-warm. Serve to fluffy.
>"Sketties!" fluffy cheers. "Wuv fwend! Wuv sketties!"
>While fluffy is nomming his sketties, dig around for stuff to steal.
>A watch, a thumbdrive, a couple DVD's. Stuff he won't notice missing.
>An hour later, you pick up fluffy again.
>"Feel full, fluffy?"
>He nods. "Ya! Tummy wuv sketties too! Tummy wewy happy!"
>Carry him over to computer in the office.
>"Time to play more poop-time, fluffy!"
>Fluffy panics. "No! No! No pway poopy-time!"
>Squeeze him. More shit gushes out of fluffy. Pours all over keyboard and moniter.
>"Nooo!" Fluffy sobs, trying to wriggle free from your grip. "NO!! Fwuffy no wan' poopies! Need witterbox, fwend! Pwese!"
>Continues crying as you squeeze him all over the desk.  Shit everywhere.  Probably fried the computer, too.
>Place fluffy down without a word.
>He's crying and muttering. "Daddy gonna' be angwy... daddy gonna huwt fwuffy again..."
>Sneak out. Besides some missing junk, no sign you were there.
>Wait in backyard until homeowner returns.
>Listen to the fantastic sound of screaming and yelling.
>The sound of fluffy begging for its safety.
>The sound of his daddy threatening to "slice him open with a fucking knife."
>Finally, daddy calms down, but is still pissed.
>"Obviously, I can't trust you around the house when I'm gone."
>"Safe woom?" Fluffy whimpers. "No wike safe woom..."
>"Nope. You're getting amputated tomorrow. If you're gonna shit like this, you're spending all day in the litter box."
>You've completely ruined fluffy pony's life. Will lose his legs tomorrow because of you.
>Cackle and run off. Go buy yourself an ounce of OG Kush.
>You've earned it.