Smarty Goes Into Advertising

FractalFluff, February 8, 2014; 20:51 / FB 17607
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(From an original idea by Madmartigan. Contains only horror and misery for fluffies. Ixnay on the ugboxhay for once.)

Smarty Goes Into Advertising

>Be a Smarty Friend
>Light beige pointy with a neon-orange mane
>Called Blaze by your dimly-recalled hoomin owner.
>Sooo proud of your herd!
>Sooo many big strong Tuffies!
>Sooo many fat happy mummahs!
>Sooo many bouncing baby foals!
>You've led them wisely and well
>Other Smarties let their herds get mowed down by metaw-munstahs
>Or try to take land with too many two-leg munstahs.
>Not you!
>You've kept your Herd safe, kept them off the metaw-munstah-wocks
>Only settle in fields or big Pawks
>Places that hoomins won't defend with woof-woof munstahs or bangy-stickies.
>Now you've found a HUUUUGE Pawk!
>It's full of grassies, flower-nummies, berry nummies
>And there are lots of quiet places where the hoomins won't come very often.
>You and your Herd have settled down near a stand of raspberry canes
>You're nomming nummies
>Tasty red berries
>Mummahs are happy and well-fed, nursing their foals, plenty of milkies.
>Toughies are slouching around, keeping watch,
>Fetching nummies for pregnant dams
>Or just playing with their babies.
>Everyone is happy
>Everyone is full
>You are the Best Smarty.

>Suddenly there's a HISSS
>Is it a snakey-munstah?
>You look around, startled.
>Something wet sprays across your facey
>Sky-wawa?
>No, the sky is blue and bright.
>You hear more hissies
>All the fluffies are fussing now:
>"Nu wike hiss-hiss munstah!"
>"Nu wike wet! Wawa bad fow fwuffy!"
>The herd mills around nervously
>Pretty soon, everyone has caught a blast of the spray.
>The hissing subsides
>The fluffies start to settle down.
>Your nose wrinkles
>What is that smell..?

>One of the mummahs starts to lick her foal clean of the spray.
>"Babbeh wetties wif nasty hissy-wawa? Mummah cwean yu..."
>Her ears are suddenly flat
>Her eyes are suddenly big
>That smell...
>It smells like...
>Smells like...
>"BAD BABBEH!"
>The mare who was just about to give her foal a loving mummah-lickies bathie throws him aside.
>"Bad babbeh! Yu twick mummah! Yu pwetend yu gud babbeh! Steaw miwkies!"
>She kicks him away, then sniffs her other foal and does the same thing.
>All up and down the raspberry canes, the same scene is repeated:
>Foals ripped away from milkie places
>Foals tossed into the dirt
>"Bad babbeh! Yu twick mummah! Yu nu mah babbeh nu mowe!"
>"Miwkies onwy fow gud babbeh!"
>"Gu 'way, dummeh!"
>And the cries of the babies:
>"Whaa? Mummah! Why kickin babbeh? Why giffin hewties?"
>"Huuhuuhuu... Mummah nu wuv babbeh nu mowe?"
>Several mares bring you their babies, demanding that you give them forever sleeps
>You're bewildered
>They SMELL like bad babies
>But... but they were all good babies before!
>None of your mares has had a bad baby in many fat-moon-balls!
>They were good babies...
>Until...
>Until the hissy-munstah!
>"Hewd!" you shout.
>"Nu hewt babbehs! Dey nu bad babbehs! It a twick!"
>Frantically you run up and down among your Herd
>Screaming, pleading, begging them to stop hurting the babies
>They don't listen
>Even when you kick and bite they just glare at you
>Then stomp the babies anyway.
>You're making the biggest saddies!
>All those foals, all your prized fat babies
>The future of your Herd!
>They're all lying crumpled and bleeding
>You see babies crushed beneath Toughie hooves
>Babies having their heads twisted around
>Babies drowned in sorry-poopies
>You scream and beg
>Threaten and curse and cry
>But they don't listen.
>Only when all the foals are boo-boos and messes do they stop.
>Saddie-wawas pour from your eyes
>You hunt frantically for any foals that are still alive
>You gather them to you
>You can see they have worstest-owwies
>Soon they will take the forever-sleepies too.
>You sink to the ground, clutching the dying babies
>"Suuu sowwy, babbehs... huuhuuhuuhuu..."
>The little chirping bundles fall silent, one by one
>"Why... mummah... nu... wuv..."
>"Am... bad... babbeh..."
>"peep-peep... peep... peep..."
>"Bwaze faiw Hewd... Bwaze nu cud saf gud babbehs... am wowstes Smawty..."
>You sit like that, clutching the now-dead foals in your foreleggies
>You make saddies until you have no more saddie-wawas left in you.

>The Sky-ball moves across the sky.
>A mare stands up, looks around her.
>"Babbehs..?" she says. "Whewe babbehs gu?"
>She finds the corpse of the filly she stamped to death only hours before
>"Babbeh? Babbeh? Nuuuuu! Nu take fowevew sweepies, babbeh!"
>All up and down the Herd, the same thing is happening
>The meanie-trick-bad-baby-smell has gone
>The fluffies find their babies stomped, bitten, drowned, buried in the dirt
>They howl and wail
>They are all making the biggest saddies
>You see your most trusted Toughie
>A mighty earthie with a battle-scarred muzzle
>Cradling his day-old green twins in his great Toughie leggies
>Sobbing "Huuhuuhuu... mah babbehs... wan die... wan die..!"
>"Mah babbehs! Huuhuuhuuu! Wan die!" sobs everyfluffy.
>"Hewd babbehs! Huuhuuhuuu! Wan dieee!" you sob.

>Web cameras and microphones hidden in the sycamores pick up everything
>Every sniff, stomp, and sorry-poopie
>Every sob of remorse
>Every "huuhuu!"
>Every "wan die!"
>Goes out live via the Web
>15 Fluffy Liberation Front activists die from apoplexy.
>You leave your fluffies and wander the Park alone, mumbling "wan die".

>Unbeknownst to you, you end up starring in a new ad campaign.
>The recordings of you sobbing "Bwaze nu cud saf gud babbehs... am wowstes Smawty..."
>And "Huuhuuhuuu! Wan dieee!" —
>These are used to great effect.
>A cartoon rendition of you, holding dead foals
>Crying floods of cartoon tears
>Captioned "Wan die!" —
>That becomes the RuntSpray logo.
>Unwittingly, you help sell thousands of units.
>"Likeness rights" are not a thing for fluffies.
>Hundreds of farmers, park keepers and homeowners rush out to buy the system.
>RuntSpray's stock goes up 500%.