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- >Be the loving owner of Pearl, a pregnant white unicorn.
- >She’s literally ecstatic at the idea of having foals in her belly. In the last three weeks all she did – except for eating, pooping and sleeping – was singing at them and babbling tenderly that she loves them.
- >Today, finally, is the day: after breakfast, Pearl starts complaining about “big poopies”.
- “Dahdeh, Peawl nee’ hewp fo’ poopies! No can weach wittew box!”.
- >Well, you can blame her for that, she’s basically a sphere with a muzzle and four useless wiggling stubs.
- >You hurriedly bring her to the safe room and start squeezing her belly gently to help her give birth. She shrieks in pain, but smiles weakly at you: she knows you’re not trying to hurt her.
- >After a couple of minutes, Pearl finally gives birth to the first foal… but something’s wrong with it.
- >It isn’t crying.
- >It isn’t trying to crawl to its mother to drink milk.
- >You touch its minuscule chest. No pulse.
- >In the meantime, Pearl is squeezing her second foal out. “Big poopies!”, she’s screaming at the top of her little lungs. “Big poopies comin’!”.
- >You catch the second foal before it falls on the blanket.
- >It’s female, and a unicorn.
- >And stillborn.
- >Pearl has shrunk to the size she was before pregnancy, and the third foal slides out of her pussy.
- >You feel your heart twist painfully.
- >The third one is dead, too.
- >An entire litter of stillborns.
- >How can you tell the bad news to your beloved fluffy? It would surely break her little heart into pieces…
- >Pearl lets out a big sigh.
- “Peawl fee’ bettah now. Bahbes come soon?”
- >You quickly scoop out the three small corpses and hide them behind your back. Luckily, she didn’t notice them, probably because they didn’t mewl or cry.
- >You pat her gently on her head with your free hand.
- “Sure, Pearl. You should take a nap, now. I’m sure when you wake up, you’ll find your babies right here with you”.
- >Pearl’s eyes sparkle.
- “Peawl take napsies in bwankie den! Wan’ see bahbes soon!”
- >She crawls under her blanket and falls asleep after a couple of seconds. The delivery must have exhausted her.
- >You close the safe room’s door behind and toss the foals’ corpses in the trash.
- >You know what you have to do now.
- >You just hope you’re lucky enough to find what you need.
- >After twenty minutes of frantically searching in your neighbourhood’s alleys, you finally find what you’ve been looking for: you hear mewls coming from a cardboard box, and when you come near you see a mare – a steel blue earth fluffy – trying to nurse her three newborns.
- >Bingo.
- “Sowwy bahbes! Mumma no haf mo’ miwkie! Need nummies!”
- >The mare is clearly malnourished, chunks of her fluff missing. Her foals wouldn’t probably survive the night.
- >It still doesn’t make what you’re going to do any easier.
- >Finally, the fluffy mother spots you. She smiles and tries to wave at you.
- “Mistah hewp fwuffy mumma and bahbes? Pwease, need nummies!”.
- >You crouch in front of the box, without saying a word.
- >The mare keeps babbling at you.
- “Pwease, be new dahdeh fo’ mumma an’ bahbes! Bahbes cowd, need miwkies and huggies!”.
- >The foals – two earth fluffies and a pegasus – are indeed shivering, but you don’t think it’s because they’re cold. They’re probably hungry as hell, condemned to starve to death in a few hours.
- >You gently pick up the pegasus foal. He – because he’s clearly male – murmurs something intelligible and tries to hug your thumb.
- >The mother, on the other hand, starts trembling and screaming like a madwoman.
- “GIF BAHBE BACK! BAHBE NEE’ MUMMA! MISTAH NO GOOD, MISTAH MUNSTA! HEWP FWUFFY, HEWP!”
- >You quickly put the baby next to her. The pegasus tries unsuccessfully to suck one of the mare’s teats and starts crying softly.
- “Calm down!”, you tell the mare. “I wasn’t trying to snatch your baby, see? I was just looking at him”.
- >The fluffy looks at you incredulously.
- “No wan’ huwt… bahbes?”
- >You shake your head.
- “No, I’m not gonna hurt your babies. In fact, I want to give them a new home!”.
- >The mare squees in delight.
- “Bahbes, mistah be new dahdeh, heaw? Gif mumma and bahbes nummies and wuv!”
- >You absent-mindedly pet the fluffy’s head.
- >It’s now or never, you think.
- “Well, yes and no…”.
- >With a quick movement, you put your other hand on the mare’s mouth and nose, shutting off her air.
- >The fluffy looks at you, her eyes wide with terror; she tries to squirm and cry for help, but your hold is too firm for her to escape.
- “I’m sorry”, you mutter. “But what I said before is true: I’ll give your babies a home, and love, and toys to play, and they’ll never feel hungry or cold again… I promise”.
- >And, just as you says the last two words, the mare stops her feeble attempts of saving her own life. She closes her eyes, as if she accepted her fate. A couple of seconds later, her body goes limp.
- >You quickly grab the mewling foals and start running towards your house, your heart heavy.
- >The moment you open the front door, Pearl starts crying from her locked safe room.
- “Dahdeh, whev bahbes? Peawl wake upsies, bu’ no bahbes! Peawl scawed!”
- >You enter the safe room: Pearl is looking at you from a corner, tears in her eyes. Blankets and toys are scattered everywhere, probably because she tried to find where her babies were hidden.
- >Well, at least she didn’t make “bad poopies”.
- >You crouch down and open your hands, showing her the little fluff balls.
- “Look! Your babies are here, Pearl!”
- >For one long, horrible moment, you realize she could realize the foals are not hers: surely, they must have the other mare’s scent on them. Also, one of them is clearly a pegasus…
- >But then Pearl’s lips widen in an ecstatic, dopey smile.
- “Dahdeh, that bahbes! Peawl gif bahbes miwk, otay?”
- >She’s such a sweetie… she’s not crying or throwing a tantrum, she’s actually asking you to let the foals suck her milk!
- >You put the three baby fluffies on the soft blanket and they eagerly crawl to their new mother’s teats. You watch Pearl bond with them for a couple of minutes, softly cooing that she loves them, that she’ll give them hugs and love and spaghettis.
- >You feel like puking. Every time you close your eyes you see the terrified face of the dying mare.
- >You killed a living, talking creature, even if it was a starving stray fluffy pony. Was it really worth?
- >Pearl is looking at you quizzically.
- “Dahdeh, dat bahbe haf wingies!”
- >You pat her on the head.
- “That’s because you’re a very good mumma, Pearl!”.
- >She beams at you. You’ve never seen her so happy.
- “Yay! Peawl bes’ mumma!”.
- >She pauses for a second.
- “An’ dahdeh bes’ dahdeh. Peawl wuv dahdeh”.
- >You scratch her behind the ears.
- >Maybe you didn’t do a good thing.
- >But, looking at Pearl and her new babies, you think that – maybe – you did the right thing.
- “I love you too, Pearl”.
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