Fall of Cleveland - Vermin Supreme

>”Sir, the situation has escalated. The evacuation is underway, but more and more fluffies enter the city every hour.”
>”Where are they all coming from?”
>”Well...everywhere, sir. Satellite images show that this influx is coming from the entire country. Every continental state west of Illinois is reporting record low numbers of feral fluffy herds. Same with the East Coast.”
>”Do we have any statistics, numbers, hard data?”
>”Yes, Mr. President. It's hard to say with certainty, given how fluffies operate, but at a guess, we're looking at 50% of the nation's feral population converging on Cleveland.”
>”Jesus...so for every fluffy still out there in the wild, there's one in Ohio?”
>”Not exactly, sir. That 50% just represents the ferals that survived the trip. Taking into account all the ones that seem to have died or given up, America is down to 15% of its original feral fluffy population outside of Ohio.”
>”Wow. Okay, so what's our estimate for the number of fluffies in Cleveland's city limits right this very second?”
>”Somewhere between 30 and 50 million. And more are coming. Maybe twice as many. They're all so spread out in some areas and confined in some, it's impossible to be any more accurate than that.”
>You massage your temples with your hands. You didn't sign up for this shit.
>But you guess this is what the president of the free world has to deal with.
>”So you're telling me that a hundred square miles of land are about to contain a potential 150 million fluffies?”
>”I'm afraid so, sir.”
>You sigh, adjusting your hat.
>”What would you suggest I do?”
>”Off the record, sir? Cleveland's a lost cause. Once the people evacuate, declare martial law around the area and quarantine it off. Let the military do what it does best.”
>”You're saying I should order military action on American soil?”
>”I'm saying you're going to have to do something, Mr. President. You don't have many feasible options. If you let the herds disperse on their own, where will they go? It will be a wave of little hungry animals spreading across the Midwest. It's nearing the end of summer, sir. Crops will be annihilated. The economy has just barely crawled itself out of the Great Recession. If you don't contain the situation now, sir, the country is going to fall back down that hole.”
>You pop a Listerine strip and think.
>”Well, this stinks.”
>”Not as bad as Cleveland does right now. Imagine what millions of fluffies shitting smells like.”
>You chuckle. A little welcomed levity in the face of a decision you already know can't possibly end in your favor.
>An aide steps in.
>”Excuse me, Mr. President, but we think we might have something.”
>”And what would that be?”
>”We think we captured the fluffy that brought them all here. Hard to tell, obviously, but he may be able to tell us why they're all going to Cleveland. But he's refused to talk to anyone, he just cries and asks to be let go.”
>”Bring him in here. He'll talk to me.”
>”With all due respect, Mr. President, how do you plan to do that?”
>”Why wouldn't he talk? I'm a tyrant he can trust.”





>You are Vermin Love Supreme, political satirist and President of the United States.
>Don't know who I am? Google it.
((Seriously. Do it now, or this is going to sound like a stupid made up character. I assure, this guy is real.))
((I'm not kidding. Stop reading, open a new tab, go watch a video with this guy. The story will wait for you.))
>The circumstances of your election were as absurd as they were unlikely, but in the end, you found yourself being chosen by the American People to lead their country.
>The American People are pretty fucking stupid.
>Well, maybe not as dumb as one might think for electing a presidential candidate with a boot on his head and a platform built mainly on “brush your teeth” and “everyone gets a pony.”
>Five years into your presidency, and you've actually done an amazing job.
>Your campaign promise of “everyone gets a pony” was kept through the passing of the Fluffy Pony Adoption and Care Voucher Act.
>Every American citizen who paid taxes was given a voucher for one fluffy pony and the basic paraphernalia needed to take care of it.
>Exclusions were made for those with violent criminal records and those convicted of fluffy abuse.
>You pity the fluffies in the states that had no such laws against the abuse of fluffies.
>But the program was a resounding success.
>Many people found a new love in their fluffies, and the woefully overcrowded and underfunded fluffy shelters found immediate relief as the majority of their stock was depleted, leaving more than enough room for the remainder.
>Your approval ratings soared.
>You then engaged in a nationwide movement to improve dental hygiene. Though your attempt to make teeth brushing required by law failed for obvious reasons, it did manage to encourage better dental health.
>The dental industry flourished, creating new jobs. As people put more effort into brushing and flossing, they also found themselves focusing on other aspects of their health and appearance.
>You managed to put a sizable dent in the nation's obesity epidemic.
>America is back in the top charts for overall health and wellness.
>As for the other aspects of being the president, well, turns out that a president who doesn't take himself or his position too seriously can accomplish some impressive stuff.
>Your approval rating is hovering around eighty percent.
>Boot hats are now almost not a completely idiotic fashion statement.
>But all that's not important right now.
>Because right now, you have a national crisis on your hands.
>Something has drawn damn near every fluffy pony herd in the country to Ohio, specifically Cleveland.
>The city and the outlying suburbs are being evacuated right now, and you've flown in to the temporary headquarters in Akron, Ohio to meet with the governor, mayor of Cleveland, and several military staff.
>Your next move will decide what to do with the city after all the humans have left.
>And now you're going to talk to a fluffy pony to get information.
>If your entire candidacy hadn't been a farce, you'd find this whole situation ridiculous.

>The pegasus fluffy is brought into the room in a cage.
>He's banging on the bars, screaming to be released.
>”WET MEWCUWY GO NOW! WAN FIN' FWUFFIES!”
>You have the governor of Ohio and the mayor of Cleveland, Hamon McPhisten, enter the room and take a seat.
>It's just you three and the imprisoned fluffy.
>”Jesus, can you shut that thing up? I got enough exposure to those rats to last me a lifetime and a half.”
>”Easy, Mayor McPhisten. I want you and the governor to remain silent during this. I'll handle the interrogation.”
>”Interrogation? It's a fucking fluffy, Mr. President, not some towel head-”
>You put a finger to your lips and open the cage.
>The fluffy immediately tries to make a dash for the exit, but all the doors in the office are closed.
>He's pretty fast for a fluffy. He might even be able to outrun you.
>Not that that's hard, considering your age.
>Still, though, he's one speedy ball of fluff.
>After running around the edges of the office looking for an escape, he slowly approaches you.
>”Pwease wet fwuffy go. No wan' owwies, no wan' sowwy box, jus' wan' go back to fwends.”
>”We'll get you back to your friends, don't worry. But first I want to ask you some questions. Can you do that for me?”
>The fluffy looks at you with a suspicious gaze. “Why fwuffy twust Hooman?”
>”Because I'm a tyrant you can trust.”
>”Wha' tywant?”
>”Nevermind. Look, we want to know how you fluffies got here, and why you all came here. We want to help you. If you tell us what we want to know, it will help your friends from being hurt. Isn't that what you want?”
>The fluffy looks around the room at the other inhabitants. He shrinks away.
>”Hooman scawwy, gif angwy face...”
>”Mayor, cut the stinkeye, will you? He's going to help us.”
>”He's the cause of all this, isn't he?!”
>”I said knock it off. That's an executive order.”
>The governor chimes in.
>”Sir, I don't think that's how an executive order is supposed to-”
>”Don't care. Zip it.”
>You pull up a chair so it's facing you and away from the governor and very angry mayor.
>”I want you to sit here. It's more comfortable than the floor.”
>The fluffy obliges and jumps onto the chair.
>”Let's introduce ourselves. What's your name?”
>”...Mai name Mewcuwy.”
>”Mercury, that's a nice name. My name is Vermin Supreme. I'm the President.”
>”Wha' pwesident?”
>Oh right, fluffies have no understanding of politics.
>”I'm the Human Smarty Friend.”
>Mercury's eyes go wide.
>”Y-y-y-you....Hooman....s-s-ssmawty f-fwend?”
>The idea that humans could have leaders too probably just blew his mind.
>As far as most fluffies were concerned, humans were already the height of authority and power.
>”That's right.” You hold out your hand. “Nice to meet y-”
>Mercury yelps and shrinks back, hiding his head under his hooves.
>”Mewcuwy sowwy, pwease no gif owwies, Smawty Fwend! Wan' be good fwuffy, wan' hewp fwuffy fwends, no wan' owwies...”
>You give him a gentle pet on the head.
>”Hey, hey, easy, Mercury, I'm not going to hurt you. I want to be your friend, I want to help you.”
>Mercury ventures a peek from under his hooves. “Smawty fwend be...fwuffy fwend?”
>”Yes. I believe you fluffies commemorate a new friendship with a hug, so come over here and give me a hug.”
>The mayor rolls his eyes. “This is fucking insa-”
>A dirty look shuts him up.
>Mercury stands up and jumps into your lap. His little hooves wrap as far as they can around your chest.
>You gently hug him back.
>Damn, fluffies are soft. Even ferals that have lived their whole lives in the wild still have huggably soft coats of fluff.
>You put him back on his chair. He seems more at ease now, trusting that you won't hurt him.
>”We're friends now, right?”
>Mercury slowly nods his head.
>”So you can tell me what I want to know now, because I'm your friend, and you want to help your friends, is that right?”
>More nodding.
>”So tell me, my friend Mercury, why are all your fluffy friends here?”
>Mercury tells you the story of how he saw a commercial on TV for Spaghetti Land, Cleveland's new fluffy-friendly theme park. He ran out to spread the word of Spaghetti Land to every fluffy that he could find, and then all of his friends followed him to Cleveland. A few helpful humans told them what roads to follow, and a few months later, they found themselves in Ohio.
>Of course, it's nowhere near this coherent, Mercury still being a fluffy. By the end, you're sitting there pensively, the governor and mayor completely lost.
>”...Okay, I don't speak retarded pig-horse, so I hope you understood any of that.”
>”Well, it's actually pretty simple, mayor. Mercury here saw an advertisement for your city's theme park and interpreted as being some sort of fluffy land of milk and honey. Well, spaghetti and hugs. He ran out to spread the word to every fluffy he saw, and they in turn forwarded the message to others. Imagine a game of Telephone, mayor, only the entire country is playing. The message slowly gets distorted by the messengers, until Spaghetti Land becomes almost mythical, and every herd in the country wants to get there. No more fear of being hunted, or starving, or having to suffer through all of the things that fluffies can be subjected to in this harsh reality. As to how they all found their way here, well, maybe it was some sort of internal drive that navigated them. Or they found more people willing to point them in the right direction.”
>”And they all followed this one fluffy?”
>”Of course not. I imagine that Mercury was just one of many who saw those ads and were driven to find Spaghetti Land. It's impossible to say for sure which fluffy truly started this, but Mercury and his fluffies were among the first to arrive.”
>”So you're telling me this entire catastrophe is because we advertised our new theme park, and a bunch of wild fluffies thought it was the Holy Land?”
>”I'm not telling you that, Mercury is.”
>”Fuck. I knew I should have never greenlighted that damn thing. So what now?”
>”Well, we have a few million fluffies within the city limits, with more than a few more million expected to invade within the next few days. What are we going to do?”
>Mercury looks nervous. “Pwease no huwt fwends...”
>You sigh and scratch Mercury's ears. “I wish I could avoid that, Mercury, but I don't know if I can. You see, we humans live in the city your friends are all in right now. Have you ever been driven out of the place you live?”
>Mercury nods. “Hoomans and Munstas and meanie fwuffies make Mewcuwy wun away wots of times.”
>”It's not fun, is it? It makes you sad, especially when they ruin it once you leave.”
>Mercury nods dolefully. “Mewcuwy sowwy. Mewcuwy no mean fo' so many fwuffies come to Sketti Wand. Jus' wanted haf safe pwace fo' nummies and huggies. No wan' make Hoomans weave, haf fight otha fwuffies, no haf enuf nummies fo' aww fwuffies. Wan' be good fwuffy, hewp fwends...”
>Mercury starts sniffling.
>”There there, little guy, it's not your fault. If it hadn't been you, it would have been some other fluffy. But right now your friends need to leave. Cleveland is a human place, and we want it back. If you all don't leave right now, we'll have no choice but to kill all of you.”
>Mercury looks scared now, looking at you with wet eyes. “But, dey so many fwuffies! How Hoomans kiww aww fwuffies?”
>”You know how good humans are at hunting fluffies, don't you? You've seen it before. Well, it's going to be worse than that. Worse than anything you've ever seen before. But I want to give you a chance. Bill, how much longer will it take to complete the evacuation?”
>The governor checks a document in his briefcase.
>”From the looks of it, the military will have an acceptable percentage out of the city by around 6PM tomorrow. After that, they want to start rolling in the ordinance.”
>”Mercury, listen to me carefully. I'm going to have my men drop you back off where they found you. I need you to get as many of your friends as possible to get out of the city. Go back where you came from. You used your speed to gather all the fluffies here. I need you to use that speed to get them to safety now. You see where the sun is right now?”
>You point out the window to the setting sun.
>”Big sky baww?”
>”Yes, the big sky ball. When it's in that spot tomorrow, the humans are going to take the city back. And they're going to do it by killing every fluffy they see. You need to be gone by then. Get as many as you can to spread the word. There's no Spaghetti Land for you here. Get your friends. Lead them out of Cleveland. Do you understand?”
>Mercury looks terrified at the prospect of the humans coming into Cleveland to kill all the fluffies, but he nods his head. “Mewcuwy undastan'. Get fwends, take fwends back to safe places, not in Cwevewand.”
>”Then this is where we say goodbye. I'll miss you, Mercury.”
>You pick up Mercury and give him one last hug. Mercury hugs you back.
>You can see tears rolling down his cheeks.
>”Fank yoo, Smawty Hooman. Mewcuwy miss Vewmin too.”
>You put Mercury back in his cage and step outside the office.
>You give one of your aides your instructions to release Mercury back where they found him.
>You walk back into the office and sit down, suddenly feeling a lot older.
>”You know that isn't going to work, right?”
>You pop another Listerine tab.
>”I know.”
>”Most of those fluffies aren't going to listen to him when their fabled Spaghetti Land is so close.”
>”Probably not.”
>”Even if he does get a handful out of the city by the time the military rolls in, a few dozen fluffies isn't going to make a difference against the millions that will be killed.”
>”Barely a drop in the bucket.”
>”So why did you even bother?”
>You stand up.
>”Because I'm a tyrant you can trust. And that fluffy trusted me. He was a friend. You don't betray your friends.”
>You walk out of the office to give the generals your orders.
>At 6PM tomorrow, the military will declare martial law on Cleveland and begin eradication of the invading hordes.
>God help the little creatures.