Thirty Strands of Sketti

Slack, July 13, 2014; 19:17 / FB 23733
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Thirty Strands of Sketti

On the edge of a large post-harvest field, a lone fluffy stallion is wandering. Every now and then he stops to look under the leaves of a bush.

"Hewwo? Any sketties hewe?"

After waiting for a few seconds for an answer, he sobs a little and continues walking. For every moment that he is awake and isn't absent-mindedly munching some grass or drinking some water, he continues with this routine. He has been doing this for close to five days by now. Due to his carelessness, he is likely to be eaten by a predator before he makes it to seven.

Why does he do this though? One might be tempted to attribute his behaviour to his kind's questionable mental capabilites, but there's more than meets the eye here.

You see, he used to be a smarty friend...

***

You're Smarty! You're the leader of your herd, and you're the bestest Smarty ever! They are safe under your leadership: You know when to stay hidden and silent so munstahs don't catch anyfluffy, and you know who eats first in order to make the herd big and strong.

Your herd is big! You have more walkie-babbehs than you can count, and there's almost as many chirpy babbehs, all cared for by... eight mummahs! There's eight and two stallions, and four of them are even toughies!

The herd always does as Smarty says! Dummeh fluffies who don't do as Smarty says get in trouble. One wingie friend got caught by a hoomin when trying to get some nummies from a hoomin house, even when you told him to stay away. The hoomin gave him biggest owwies with a branch. He got forever sleepies.

Your toughies gave biggest owwies and forever sleepies to another fluffy when he wouldn't stay silent in the safe place at night. That dummeh wouldn't stop yelling at a buggie munstah! Stupid dummeh! Didn't he know that bigger munstahs could come if he yelled like that? The herd was sad that he took forever sleepies, but they know you're the bestest Smarty!

Today you and some of the stallions are going to try to get nummies from a hoomin trashie place. You really don't like going close to hoomins, but you're desperate. The big nummies field got eaten by a big metal munstah two bright-times ago, and other nummies are hard to find. You know that the mummahs of the herd need milk to feed the babbehs, so just before it got dark you sneaked close to the only hoomin around.

"Tuffies, stay hewe and be quiet. Smawty gon' wisten to hoomin!", you whisper to your gang.

Carefully you walk up to the opening of the hoomin housie while leaving the stallions near the can. There's a small noise coming from inside, but you don't know what it is. If there was no noise at all the hoomin could be sleeping, which would be good. On the other hoof, if there's a noise inside, then maybe he won't hear you when you go through the trashies for nummies.

You stand in front of the door and listen carefully. Your sensitive muzzle notices a smell... Something smells really bad from around here, but you can't determine what it is, or even if it's dangerous. You try to concentrate on listening and-

*scrape*

You look to your toughies: Apparently one of them had too big tummy owwies and tried to open the can. His leggies didn't reach the top though, so he just scraped the side a little, but the can is wiggling now!

*wooobble, wooble, woble, woble, woble*

No more noise. It is dead silent. You stare with your angriest eyes at the toughies. Without being too loud, you whisper a reprimand:

"Be qui-"

The door shoots open and hits you in the face. You tumble over, and everything goes dark...

***

You wake up. Your muzzle is sore.

Where are you? Is that a rope around your neck? Oh no, you're caught! This is bad!

"Ah, you've come to, fluffy?"

MUNSTAH!

"NUUU, PWEASE NO HUWT SMAWTY! AM GUD FWUFFY, AM BESTEST SMAWTY!"

"Oh, so I've caught a smarty? Fancy that..."

What will happen to you?

"P-pwease no huwt... Hewd onwy wan' nummies, haf mummahs, nee' miwkies fow babbehs"
"Relax, I don't really have much against fluffies... I mean, you're a pest, but what can we do? It's not like we can magically erase all of you..."

He's using hard words, but you think he doesn't want to harm your herd.

"Hoomin no huwt hewd?"
"Naw, if you stay out of my way I'll stay out of yours."

You sigh with relief.

"On the other hand... I could have a use for foals."
"Wha? Wha hoomin wan' babbehs fow?"
"Oh, never you mind. But tell you what: If you bring me a foal, I'll give you food."

"Nuu, babbehs nee' be with mummah!"
"I only want one, though. At least for now."
"Babbehs gwow big and stwong, be pawt of biggew hewd. Hewd nu wan gif away babbehs."
"Hmm... I'll make you a better offer then. What if the food is... spaghetti?"
"...sketties?"
"Yep."
"...nu. Babbehs nee' be with mummah!"
"Well, let me get you a sampler."

You don't know what that means, but at least he seems nice. The hoomin goes away, and you're alone in what you think is the backside of the hoomin housie, out on the grass.

You're very hungry though, and so must the rest of the herd be. If only that dummeh munstah hadn't eaten your nummies this wouldn't have had to happen.

The hoomin returns with a plate... It smells fantastic! That must be sketties!

"Dinner.", the hoomin says and points at the plate. Then he starts eating.

You watch him eat for a while and you catch yourself drooling a couple of times. Your stomach rumbles, and you dare a request:

"Can Smawty pwease haf some sketties?"
"Sure, help yourself."

The hoomin places the plate in front of you and you instantly start eating.

Oh. Oooooooooooooh.

Never in your bestest dreams could you have imagined that nummies could be this good.

There were only two mouthfuls for you to eat and you're sad that they're already gone.

"Doesn't that taste good?", the hoomin smiles.
"YES! These bestest nummies, fank 'ou!"
"You can have a whole plate like that to yourself, if you just bring me a foal. I'm sure you have plenty of foals in the herd, and I only want one."

Could you really do that? These were the bestest nummies you have ever eaten, but babbehs are the bestest thing to hug and love...

"Smawty nu know..."
"Well, I tried. Let's get you out."

The hoomin removes the rope around your neck and grabs you by the scruff. You hope he isn't angry that you won't give him a babbeh!

"Alright, you can go now. Stay away from my yard, unless you want to bring me a foal."

He sets you down outside the walls around his grassie place.

"Bye, hoomin. Fank 'ou fow sketties."

He waves a little and goes back to his housie. You start running back to your herd.

***

It's the next bright-time. The herd was very happy that you returned, but everyfluffy fell asleep soon afterwards. Today you were out looking for nummies again, but since you didn't want to go near the hoomin you and your stallions had to walk so very far to get them. When you found them, you ate first since you're the Smarty, and then you packed whatever nummies you could find in your fluff and walked back.

When you returned you gave the gathered nummies to the mummahs with the littlest babbehs first, and then to the other mummahs. They didn't really get enough to make their tummies happy, and with the long walk even you have some tummy owwies. You don't like tummy owwies.

You think back to the sketties you ate the last bright-time. They were wonderful, fantastic and the bestest! Why can't fluffies eat like that all the time? It's so unfair you even get a little angry.

There's a lot of foals in the herd. You notice a walkie babbeh that has almost stopped drinking milkies blowing a raspberry at a crying filly. That one's always been trouble. He's very mean to other babbehs.

Perhaps... he won't be missed? You're irritated and hungry enough to try. Just this one time though, mummahs will be upset if any more babbehs should disappear.

You walk up to the troublemaker.

"Babbeh is dummeh! Bad fo' hewd!"

He looks back at you and seems a little scared, but calms down as his mummah runs up to the both of you.

"Bad babbeh nee' go 'way! Smawty nu wan!"

Both mare and babbeh gasp now, exile from the herd, from all the friends in it, is the worst thing that can happen to a fluffy! They also know that when Smarty says something, it will be done.

"Nuu, babbeh too widdwe, nu can weave hewd! Pwease Smawty, mummah wuv babbeh..."
"Dummeh babbeh go 'way! If mummah wan be wif hewd, mummah no be dummeh babbeh mummah no mowe!"

She cries, but she is not about to let her emotions get the best of her. She has more babbehs that need her, and she knows how dangerous it is without a herd.

"Huu... dummeh babbeh go 'way... huuhuu..."

You're glad! She turn around and starts walking away from the both of you.

"Nuu, mummah, nu am dummeh! Wuv babbeh, pwease! Babbeh nu am bad! Am bestest babbeh!"

He pleads, but his mother picks up her pace and her crying. You grab the colt by the scruff and walk away to the edge of the herd.

"NUU, nu am dummeh, babbeh sowwy! Pwease, hewp babbeh!"

You drop the foal and pin it down with one of your hooves.

"Owwies!"
"Smawty take cawe of dummeh babbeh! Tuffies watch hewd, hewd no weave!"

The toughies nod in recognition, they respect your word. You grab the crying foal and start walking to the hoomin housie.

***

There's still a little light out when you reach the hoomin. He's sitting outside the door and watches with a happy smile as you approach him.

"EEEP! MUNSTAH!", the colt cries and wriggles harder in your bite.

The hoomin walks up to you and squats down, grabbing the foal around his tummy. You let go.

"Is dummeh babbeh, hoomin wan?"
"Yes, this will do nicely."
"Hoomin gif Smawty sketties?"
"Of course, wait right here."

The hoomin stands up and walks inside his housie.

"NUUUU! SMAWTY, PWEASE HEWP BABBEH! BABBEH SOWWY, BABBEH BE-"

The door closes, and you can't hear the colt anymore.

After a short while the hoomin returns, without the babbeh.

"The spaghetti will be done soon.", he says, sitting down.

You and the hoomin do some strange talking for a while. He asks about how your herd is doing, about how you think the weather will be. The hoomin calls it "small talk". It's a little strange, but nice at the same time.

The hoomin leaves, and soon comes back with a big plate of sketties!

"Here you go, enjoy!"

You gobble down immediately. It's so warm it almost hurts your muzzle, but it's sooo good. The food is gone far too soon, but this time your tummy is very happy.

"Fank 'ou fow bestest sketties, hoomin."
"No problem. If you want more, you just have to bring me another foal."
"Smawty nu know... Dat babbeh dummeh, bad fo' hewd... nu know if can bwing good babbeh."

The hoomin scratches his muzzle-fluff.

"Well... you're a smart fellow, maybe you can trick them if I teach you how..."
"Wha?"
"You could tell the herd that you can tell which babies are bad babies by smelling them. Tell them that only Smarty is smart enough to smell it."
"Then smell one and pretend you smelled the bad smell on it, then take it away."

Could that work?

Maybe it could, the herd trusts you! You have plenty of babbehs, so maybe you can actually do this again?

"Don't take a foal every day though, only every other day or so."
"Avoid taking foals from your toughies, you want them to stay loyal. Don't take the last foal of a mother either, you want the mares to stay."

This hoomin is so smart! You're smart too, you understand exactly how this will work!

"Yes, Smawty wike idea! Hoomin smawty too!"

He laughs a little.

"Well, I don't know if I'd go that far..."

"Bye hoomin, Smawty be back wif one mowe babbeh fo' skettis!"
"Bye now, see you soon."

***

It's a few bright-times later. You've had a little more luck with finding food, but it's still not enough.

You've told the herd daily about how some babbehs can be tricky, being bad without the herd being able to tell that they are. They looked a little worried, but you told them that Smarty can tell which ones are bad for the herd, and promised that you'd tell them if you found one. They were very relieved at hearing that.

You're hungry again. You want sketties. A pegasus filly is napping next to her mummah and her brother when you walk up to her. You sniff her for show a few times.

"This bad babbeh! Bad fo' hewd!"

The rest of the herd pause in their activities and gasp. The filly wakes drowsily, wondering what is going on.

"Smawty take bad babbeh 'way! Save hewd!"

The herd reacts in a variety of ways. The toughies look determined, and are eyeing the rest of the herd. Some fluffies are looking sad, they might be worried about their own babbehs, or about their friend going away. Some others are happy, and are praising you like good fluffies.

"Bestest smawty!"
"Smawty good, save hewd!"
"Smawty gif bad babbeh biggest owwies! Dummeh babbeh!"

The filly cries, and tries to plead with you.

"Nu, babbeh is gud babbeh, nu am bad."
"Smawty knows best, babbeh is bad!"

Her mummah and brother also plead:

"Pwease smawty, babbeh no am bad, babbeh awways nice, nu do nothing bad."
"Pwease mummah, save sissy!"

Your word is law.

"Smawty smeww bad babbeh, nee' go 'way! Hewd stay hewe!"

You pick up the crying filly and walk away. The mummah tries to stop you, but two of your toughies hold her down.

"NUUU! PWEASE SMAWTY, NU TAKE BABBEH! WUV BABBEH! HUUUHUUU..."

You walk to the hoomin again.

***

When you arrive the hoomin isn't out, so you stomp on the door for a bit. The hoomin soon comes out.

"Hi again! You have another foal for me?"

You drop the filly and pin her under a hoof before responding.

"Owwies! Babbeh scawed, hewp babbeh!"
"Yus, Smawty haf babbeh fow sketties."

"Great, I'll take her and get started on the spaghetti."
"NUU! Pwease smawty, no wet munstah huwt babbeh! Wan mummah! WAN MUMMAH! HEWP! *CHIRP* *CHI-"

The hoomin takes the filly inside and soon returns without her.

"Spaghetti's on the stove, it will be done soon."

You decide to take this moment to ask something you thought of when walking here.

"Wha hoomin wan' babbehs fow?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Wha not?"
"I just can't. I might kill them, or I might give them hugs, or I might help them find a human mommy or daddy."
"...Smawty nu know wha Smawty nu can know..."
"Just don't try to think too much about it."

You'll try that. You hope he doesn't give the foals owwies though. At least not this one. The dummeh was a dummeh, but this one wasn't really bad. You almost feel a little guilty, but maybe it's fine: He might be nice to her, and you'll get sketties!

Once more you eat well and go back to your herd.

***

It is much later. You've brought the hoomin plenty of babbehs and followed his plan. No mummah has lost all her babbehs, and no toughie babbehs have been taken. No grown fluffies have left the herd!

The herd has had new babbehs too, and the babbehs that were walkie babbehs when you first met the hoomin are now almost big fluffies! You've taken some of the babbehs that were chirping back then to the hoomin though, but you don't feel bad about it any longer.

You're on your way with a babbeh for another plate of sketties.

"Hewwo hoomin, Smawty wan sketties! Bwing babbeh!"
"How nice! I'll be right back!"

While eating, the hoomin says something that makes you sad.

"I won't need any more foals."
"Wha? Wha ho- *munch* -min nu wan babbehs?"
"Well this was nice and all, but I can't take in any more foals now."
"Nu mowe sketties?"
"No, I'm sorry."

Your ears droop.

"But don't worry: As a special treat you and all of your herd can have spaghetti here tomorrow night. Doesn't that sound like fun?"
"Yus, Smawty wike! Smawty bwing hewd fo' sketties!"

You're happy for one more meal of sketties, but sad about it being the last.

***

It's the next bright-time. You told the herd that a nice hoomin has promised to give you all sketties. Half of them were happy and saying what a good smarty you are, but the others were scared.

"Nu wike hoomins... hoomins gif owwies."
"Nu, Smawty know hoomin is nice! Hoomin wike fwuffies! Gif sketties!"

They were easily won over, and now you stand in front of the hoomin housie. The front door opens and the hoomin comes out amidst gasps from the herd.

"Hi Smarty!"
"Hi hoomin!"
"Wow, what a big herd you have here. So many pretty fluffies!"
"Smawty haf bestest hewd!"

The herd eases up at hearing the conversation, and many of them smile from the compliment.

"Come on, the food will be served in the back. Follow me, Smarty!"
"Hewd, come with Smawty!"

You follow the hoomin and the herd follows you. You get to the back of the hoomin housie, and he opens a door in the wall around his grass place.

"In here.", he says, motioning for you to enter. You oblige.

When all of the herd is inside, he closes the door.

"We don't want any bad herds coming in here and stealing your food, do we?", he smiles.

"Smawty hoomin!", a mare replies.

"I'll be back with the food in a minute."

He leaves, and you and your herd spend some time playing and hugging.

The hoomin returns, carrying the biggest metal can you've ever seen!

"Alright everyone, stand away from the tarp there."

The herd scatters from the strange ground. The hoomin lowers the can and tips it over, and out over the strange ground rolls bestest nummies, the sketties!

"SKETTIES!"
"NUMMIES!"

The herd digs in and giggle happily between bites, even if some of them complain about mouth owwies from the heat. You join your herd and start eating.

After a while the hoomin fiddles with something strange, and it turns into a hoomin sitting place.

"Here Smarty, I've prepared your seat."

The hoomin gently grabs you under your forelegs and gives you upsies, then places you in the sitting thingy. It's really soft! You're glad you've gotten it: You're the smarty!

"This soft! Smawty wike!"
"Glad to hear it! Let me get you some sketties."

He grabs a plate and throws some of the sketties on it, then places it in front of you on your seat. The hoomin sits down next to you and you do some more "small talk" between eating.

After a while, the sketties are all gone. The strange ground has been licked clean of all the sketti wawa and all the fluffies of the herd are licking each other's muzzles, both to get the sketti wawa out and to clean a friend.

"Say Smarty: Would you and the herd like to see something pretty?"
"Yes, wuv pwetties", a stallion replies.
"Can hewd see, pwease?", a mare asks.

"Yes, show bestest hewd pwetty thing!", you say.
"I'll be right back."

This bright-time is great. The herd is happy and have eaten the bestest nummies of their lives. You know that the hoomin said that this was the last time you'll eat sketties, but perhaps you can convince him to at least let you eat sketties here sometimes?

The hoomin comes back with something rolled up under his not-leggies. He grabs a part of it and rolls it out in the air in front of him. You and the herd look at it: It looks light brown, and has some holes in it.

Is it a blankie? Some friends in the herd mentioned that they make the bestest nesties: They are big, fluffy and warm, and can keep fluffies happy even during the worstest cold. It's not very pretty though, and won't the holes be cold?

The hoomin turns it around. Oh! This side is really pretty! There's many different colours, and it's fluffy! Almost like a fluffy with many colours!

But what are those things hanging under the holes? Are those little fluffy he-

IS THAT A BLANKIE MADE OUT OF FLUFFY BABBEHS?

Your blood runs cold, and you are stunned. From the "Ooohs!" and "Aaahs!" from when the blankie was turned around, all fluffies have gone silent.

"...babbehs?", one mare asks.

Another follows up:

"...bestest babbeh? Mummah see bestest babbeh, smeww bestest babbeh! Wha... nu.... NUNUNU! BABBEH!"

"Yes, this beautiful blanket is a 'babbeh blanket', isn't it nice?"
"Made with the skin of sixteen little foals, sown together with the heads intact, this is a carpet to die for. Literally."

The hoomin giggles.

A stallion runs over to the hoomin and bucks him in his leggies, but the hoomin doesn't move.

"But the main attraction of the evening is here. You've gorged yourselves on spaghetti, now I want to gorge on blood."

He then brings his leggie up and stomps on the back of the stallion next to him!

"OWWIES! HUU... BIG HUWTIES..."

Some fluffies start to panic when seeing the stallion being hurt, but others just sit and shake. The hoomin walks away to the door leading to his housie and drops the... babbeh blankie on the ground. He picks up a three-pointy thing made out of metal: It can only be made for giving owwies.

"And by the way: Thank you Smarty, for bringing me the foals for the blanket."

The fluffies that aren't running around stare at you. They've never looked at you like that before. They've looked at you happy and sad, but never with anger and disgust. A mare speaks:

"Wha Smawty give babbehs to hoomin munstah? Babbehs good babbehs, babbehs no am fow bwankies?"
"Hoomin is munstah, but Smawty wowstest munstah! Smawty must get biggest owwies!", one of your toughies say.

You try to walk backwards into the chair you're on, as if to protect you from the big toughie that just spoke, but he very quickly gets the owwie stick straight through his tummy!

"eeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEH! OWWIES! OWWIES!"

You trace the worstest sorry stick from the toughie up to the hoomin's face. He smiles at you.

You slump down. You don't really notice much of what happens, but the herd first screams louder, then fewer and fewer screams remain. Somewhere a fluffy flies over you, spattering you with blood.

***

The hoomin place is silent now.

You must...

What?

You must do something?

Smarty! Bestest Smarty!

Think! You must think!

DO SOMETHING SMARTY!

The hoomin stands in front of you, herd blood all over his not-fluff.

"Smawty wan twade, no wan skettis anymowe!"
"Oh? What do you want then?", the hoomin says, smiling.
"Smawty nu wan babbehs to haf owwies, wan babbehs back."
"And who will care for them? All the mares are dead. All of the herd except you are dead!"
"SMAWTY NU CAWE! SMAWTY IS BESTEST SMAWTY, SMAWTY CAN TAKE CAWE OF BABBEHS!"
"The foals are also dead."
"Huu... Smawty jus' wan babbehs back, Smawty gif back sketties. Pwease hewp Smawty?"

You start sobbing while staring at the hoomin. He gives a small laugh.

"But you've already eaten the 'sketties', how could you give them back?"
"Huu... Smawty... Smawty... mabbeh can find sketties fow nice mistah? Pwease, Smawty wan' babbehs back, pwease..."

He crouches down, staring you in the eyes.

"Alright, I'm a fair man. If you-"

He lightly pokes your muzzle.

"-can bring me the same amount of spaghetti you've eaten, you can have the 'babbehs' back."
"Fank 'ou nice mistah, Smawty wiww find sketties! Bwing back fo' bestest babbehs!"
"It's a deal."

The hoomin picks you up and places you outside his walls again.

"Good luck. You're a good smarty."

You run away, smiling and crying.