In the Blood - 1

FractalFluff, January 6, 2014; 22:35 / FB 16231
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In the Blood (1/2)

You're a patient individual, but sometimes your colleagues' obtuseness taxes that faculty to its utmost. If only you could find an intellectual equal to converse with! But alas, you must toil on amongst these nitwits, hoping to bring a glimmer of understanding to their ignorant minds. Once again, you take a deep breath, and begin to expound your unified theory of heredity to your hopelessly unintellectual audience.

"Fwuffy baww am wed. Dat babbeh taiwy an maney am wed. Daddeh teww tefinone dat white fwuffy wif wed mane am bestes babbeh wif vaw-yoo-baww cuwuh. Fwuffy am bestes mummah. Dat babbeh am Fwuffy babbeh."

"Nuuu!" wails the foolish mare, clutching what is quite clearly YOUR baby. "Dis mah babbeh! Dose yu babbehs!"

"Dose nu am Fwuffy babbehs!" you say, aiming a kick at one of the earth-toned colts. The russet-fluffed baby starts making a distressed "peep peep peep" noise, so you kick at it again. You miss him and connect with his ochre-coloured brother, who joins in. "DAT am!"

Now the unicorn stallion joins in. He puffs out his cheeks and stamps. "Dummeh mawe!" he says. "Dis Yoonee's babbeh! Yu weave wone!"

Clearly these addlepated fools won't respond to reason. Still, you toss back your chestnut mane and try one last time. "Dese fwuffies am cowts," you say, "an Fwuffy am mawe. DAT fwuffy am fiwwy, wike Fwuffy when was babbeh."

They just stare at you.

There's only one thing left to do. You feign distraction. "Oooh," you say. "Weccy twick pwace! Fwuffy gon make hownie stwongah." You walk over to the wall and make as if to shove your horn into the electrical socket, imprudently left uncovered by your owner.

"Nu! Dat Yoonee's weccy twick pwace! Yoonee make hownie stwongah fiwst!" Ignoring the other mare's pleas ("nu touch, Yoonee, daddeh sa nu touch!") he jams his horn into the socket. Nothing happens at first, so he pulls it out and tries again. He does this a few times. On something like the fourth try, the brittle plastic of the aging wall socket gives way. There are no sparks, but he does become completely stuck.

"Hewp! Waww munsta eat hownie!" he screams. You ignore him and go over to the mare. You try bucking her in the back and sides, but she won't drop your baby. "Nuuu!" she screams. "Nu take babbeh 'gain! He mah babbeh! He mah babbeh!"

You back up, take very careful aim at the mare's foreleg, and charge. You completely miss the limb you were aiming for, and instead lodge your horn in the mare's ribs. She screams again, but doesn't drop the baby. Damn! You leave her weeping in the corner and stalk back over to the three ugly foals.

Ugh. Totally hers! Nothing so ugly could belong to you. A smile creeps across your face as an idea strikes you; so she wants to play hardball, does she?

"Dummeh mawe. If yu nu gif Fwuffy dat babbeh, Fwuffy gon gif aww YU babbehs fowevew sweepies!"

"Nuuu... nuu huwt babbehs..." says the mare weakly. "Dey gud, dey pwetty, nu huwt dem..." But she doesn't relinquish the baby. Just sits there making a mess on the floor! Doesn't that dummy mare know that Bad Puddles get you the sorry-stick? Granted, this is boo-boo-juice rather than pee-pee, but a puddle is a puddle. The boo-boo-juice is making her white fluff all yikkie.

To show her you mean business, you stamp your hoofsie down on the ugliest baby, the one with the terra-cotta fluff. It shrieks. She moans. You stamp it again and again until it stops squealing. "Nao," you say, "gif babbeh."

"Nuu..."

You wait for her to change her mind, then stamp the russet-brown baby until it goes to sleep. "Gif babbeh!"

She does't respond, just sits curled up in the corner staring at you out of glassy eyes. You bring your hoof down on the very last baby. It's still squeaking a little when she finally sees sense and lets go of your baby. Dummy mare lets it fall to the floor instead of bringing it to you. You trot over and pick up the disputed baby in your teeth.

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