Fall of Cleveland 43 - The Last Day of Spaghetti Land, 1 & 2

http://www.fluffybooru.org/post/view/3160

Written by Vanner

The Last Day of Spaghetti Land, Part 1
>Spaghetti Land at dawn is something to behold.
>The rising sun illuminates the mountain of spaghetti, beckoning all to visit the marina mountains.
>And the whine of wood chippers eliminating excess ferals is all that spoils the otherwise idyllic scene.
>As you look out into the park from atop Spaghetti Mountain, you can't help but smile.
>Those crazy sons of bitches really did it. A theme park dedicated to fluffies.
>Sure, there've been some bumps and bruises along the way, and the unexpected ferals were a bit of a nuisance.
>You saw on the news this morning that a mega herd somehow got past the gates at Perry and caused a blackout last night.
>But that's all done with now, and Spaghetti Land is ready to open for another glorious day in fluffy paradise.
>Thousands of people and their fluffies are lining up outside the gates as the chipper trucks slink away into the dawn.
>It's a good day to visit the park. Going to be temperate, and not a cloud in the sky. Makes you glad you didn't take that job at Cedar Point after all.
>You are Dwayne, Head of Maintenance at Spaghetti Land, and it's a wonderful day to be alive.
>With a twist of the screwdriver, you're done with the wireless tower inside Spaghetti Land, and you're ready to start another day.
>Climbing back down the inside of the spaghetti Land, you can already hear the kitchen staff turning on the Super Speedy Spaghetti Squeezy 9001.
>But your hatch doesn't go through the kitchens. It leads straight back down to the maintenance tunnels where you lurk.
>Down here it's always calm and cool. No fluffies causing havoc like they do on the surface and no stuck up teenagers giving you lip.
>But you've got more to do than lurk beneath the park like a troll. You've got shit to do.
>Had a few people call off work. Something about not being able to leave their houses.
>So you hop in a golf cart and start your checklist by yourself.
>Good Fluffy Ride in working order. Check.
>Fluffy Coaster sewer pumps, operating at 100%, check.
>Vapid sixteen year old giving you the stink eye. Check.
>Midway lit up like the fourth of July. Check.
>Annette and Colleen with their fluffies ready for a brand new day, check.
>Astroturf completely covered in ferals, che...
>Jesus, they still haven't thrown the bunch of free-loading fluffy ponies out?
>Well, management says leave them alone till they get aggressive, and they did walk a long way to get here, so check.
>Arcade manager hung over, trying to not look like he was partying all last night, check.
>" Morning Greg," you say.
>" Mngghh," he moans back.
>Ryan, head Non-Human Relations Specialist, scraping up the fluffies that killed themselves during the night. Check.
>"Do you even have a home?" asks Ryan. You stare at the pile of fluffies that apparently tried to eat Astroturf.
>" Work to live, live to work," you reply. "Besides, Spaghetti Land would fall to pieces without me."
>Share a laugh, go on about your day as the fluffies and their owners begin to take over the park.
>You're headed back downstairs when a call comes over the radio.
>"Dwayne, the wireless tower's lost signal again, can you take a look at it?"
>Sure, I'll happily climb up a big ass ladder to flip a breaker that you wouldn't let me install properly, you assholes.
>Trudge all the way up the ladder, taking your good ol' time. At least ten minutes because, damn, you're not as young as you once were.
>Up top, you flip the breaker again, only to have it flip off a second later.
>Huh. Something must be shorting out the circuit. Flip open the mountain, and see if you can find it with a quick...
>There's a fluffy pegasus up here wailing on the fiberglass spaghetti mountain with all her fluffy fury.
>" WAN SKETTI, WAN SKETT, WAN SKETTI NOW!"
>"How did you get up here?" you ask the pegasus. She ignores you and continues to hammer on the fiberglass.
>" I'm going to need an NHRS to the... east side of spaghetti mountain," you say over the radio. "Fluffy has fallen off the side of the Mountain, over."
>" I nawt faww!" protests the pegasus, stomping her hooves. She continues to glare at you as she slowly slides sideways down the dome.
>" Why you get smawwer?" she asks as she continues her descent. "I tawkin you! Git bak here meanie hooman muster and GIF SKETTIS!"
>She slides off the mountain a moment later, still yelling about spagheti.
>You're not psychic, but there was really no other way for that to end.
>Patch the wire she stomped and you've got full signal again.
>Admire the Cleveland skyline for a moment and...
>That is the biggest herd of anything you've ever seen in your life.
>They're taking up every square inch of the horizon, and they are only more coining behind them.
>Literally millions of feral fluffies are descending on Spaghetti Land this moment from every direction.
>You pick up your radio, hardly believing what you're about to say. >"Guys? We've got a situation here."


The Last Day of Spaghetti Land, Part 2
>From atop Spaghetti Mountain, the entirety of Cleveland lays stretched before you like the distended asshole of the Goatse man.
>It's an apt analogy, consider what's about to happen here.
>You are Dwayne, Head of Maintenance for Spaghetti Land, and you've spotted the biggest herd of fluffy ponies in history waddling toward you from all sides.
>Some quick math says that with a density of one fluffy per square foot, you're looking at about 150 million fluffy ponies
>All babbling and shitting their way to your doorstep.
>A carpet of fluffies ponies has already enveloped the entire southern half of Cleveland, and is making their way toward the glowing beacon of Spaghetti
Mountain.
>This is what you get for showing up to work today. Overrun by fluffy ponies.
>You slide down the ladder and hit the ground running. You've got to get to the manager's office. Maybe get the mayor on the phone.
>Shit, who knows what you're going to have to do? Hopefully not cause a panic. The morning's infestation was enough of a hassle.
>So here's your plan: make your way outside to the park proper and alk to the manager's office to tell him that a tsunami of fluffies is headed your way.
>Calmly open the door to a Spaghetti Land already engulfed in chaos.
>Thousands of fluffies pour in from the entrances, choking the streets with their numbers.
>Some are just babbling and wandering around in sheer joy while others are harassing the guests for "skettis" and "'tummies."
>Most, however, are making a B-line for Spaghetti Mountain, shoving paying customer's fluffies out of the way, and grabbing all the spaghetti they can eat.
>You're trapped at ground zero in a sea of fluffy fury.
>This is bad. Really, really, bad. The ultra herd hasn't even made its way here yet, and already the park overflows with the babble and fluff of more fluffies than
you can count.
>Herds are snatching mouthfuls of spaghetti from one another, fighting over the slightest morsel of their favorite treat.
>Others are trying to establish dominance by biting ears and making "sorry poopies" on their fellow fluffies.
>The ferals that got here a few days ago are fighting back the hardest though.
>"DIS OUW SKETTI WAND MEANIE FWUFFIES!" they yell, kicking and pulling ears. "UNI SAY WE STAY HEWE IF GOOD FWUFFIES! YOU MEANIE
FWUFFIES NO STAY!"
>As a thousand miniature battles rage around you, you realize with a suddenly clarity that you're in serious fucking trouble.
>There's no response from the management, and the park goers seem lost as to what to do among the sea of fluffies.
>Wade through the fluffies to a pole, and unlock the phone box. Now what was the code for park wide intercom?
>Oh yeah, 109.
>" Attention Spaghetti Land Customers," the speakers squeal.
>Thousands of fluffies cover their ears screaming "Too woud! nu wike!"
>"Due to an influx of feral fluffies, Spaghetti Land will be closing early today to deal with the problem. Please gather your belongings and your fluffy ponies and
make your way to the front gate where a park assistant will help you get to your car. Remember that feral fluffies can't hurt you. They are just fluffy ponies, after
all."
>Hang up the phone, grab up your radio.
>"Gather up every Gator you can and start getting the customers out of here, now. This is not a drill. Customer safety is priority one."
>A dozen voice chirp back "Roger," as you kick your way through the sea of fluffies.
>A park goer holding a yellow and green fluffy is stranded atop a table as a few dozen ferals chirp and beg at their feet.
>" I said go away!" they yell at them. "I don't have any food."
>"Pwease gif skettis!" they whine. "Fwuffy haf Majic sketti cowwaw! Pwease gif!"
>The patron tears the collar off the fluffy and heaves it into the crowd. The ferals go apeshit after it, leaving a small clearing.
>"Buh daddeh!" protests the fluffy. "Dat my cowwaw! No wan shawe wif meanie fwuffies!""
>The fluffies fighting over the collar clear a path to the maintenance door. You seize the opportunity, and direct the few remaining patrons into the tunnels.
>"Follow the red path to the entrance," you tell them. " The door marked "Front Gate Maintenance will put you at the front gate. I'm going to go back for more
customers."
>" Tank you nice hooman!" says the yellow and green fluffy. " Mawigowd wuv you!"
>Pat the fluffy's head before diving once again into the breach.
>With the Park covered in ferals like this, bodies are bound to be piling up all over the place.
>Sure enough, some have gotten themselves caught in the litter grates and are flailing in panic as the screws turn and suck them into a pit of fluffy waste.
>You're so glad to have backup power here.
>Others have started trying to eat the astroturf and are complaining of "Bad tummy owies fwom meanie nawt gwassies."
>To say nothing of the warm wading pool, which is now just a ring of fluffies laying face down.
>Man, what you would give for a real gully washer at the moment. Drown all the bastards right out so you can start clean up.
>It occurs to you as you pause a moment to look around that there might not be a clean-up.
>With the hundreds of thousands of fluffies that are pouring into to park at this minute, cleaning them up is going to take more than wood chippers and brooms.
>You get the feeling that the worst hasn't even started yet.