Working Fluffies

>You hate mowing your lawn, so much so that you are willing to pay someone else to do it for you.
>You also happen to hate the goddamn loud industrial zero-point-turn lawnmowers that all the local landscapers use, and how they all use undocumented migrant workers who stop everything at the crack of noon and take a nap, on your lawn.
>But you REALLY hate your neighborhood association, and their insistence that you keep your grass at "an acceptable level".
>Goddamn nosy busybodies, one week of relative peace and quiet is not grounds for a $400 fine.
>Right now, you are seriously considering putting down AstroTurf.
>It's during your daily walk from your office to a nearby sandwich shop that a flier stapled to a telephone pole catches your eye.
>"ORGANIC LAWN CARE
>"FULL SERVICE
>"-Weed removal -Grass trimming -Fertilizer free with each call"
>"Quick, Quiet and Lawn Safe, no chemicals or power tools used"
>"Have it done by the naturals"
>They had you at the word "quiet".
>You almost fumble your smartphone dialing the number.
---
>The next day, at a little past nine in the morning, as promised, there's a man at your door.
>"Hello! I'm here from the organic lawn care service!"
"Is it really quiet?"
>"Yes sir! Less than half the decibel output of a lawnmower, I just nee-"
"And you don't use any undocumented workers?"
>"Er, no, no sir all my workers are thoroughly documented, licensed and everything. I have som-"
"Paperwork? Sure, this is a trial though, no long-term stuff yet."
"Okay, if you like our service, I'm sure you'll want us to come back again. Now, the first service is this much, and subsequent services are... that, right there on the contract, if you sign up for a weekly visit."
>You stare at the amounts, and your mind briefly boggles.
"That's under half what I would expect to pay."
>"Well, I work with a very low overhead."
"As long as it's quiet, I don't care if you're trimming my lawn with scissors. Here's the downpayment, when can I expect your men?"
>"Oh, everyone's in the bus outside. I'll go set things up."
>A bus?
>Why not a truck, or a trailer?
>This, you have to see.
---
>Outside, you see for the first time that he has parked a converted school-bus outside your home.
>You're fairly sure that this will piss off the neighborhood association twats, but at the moment you're too curious to care.
>The contractor pops over to the bus, and opens the emergency exit door.
>"Alright everyone, I'm going to lower the ramp. No pushing! Follow your smart friends!"
>Smart friends?
>Oh shit.
---
>Be smarty friend.
>You are the smartest smarty friend, leader of the weedy-friends!
>Weedy friends are all smart fluffies, ones who can tell the difference between creepy vines, not-nice flowers, bad clover, and good, nice plants.
>You leave the good, nice plants alone, but the other plants, they are Bad! Bad!
>And you give them biggest owwies!
>You make them foodies, sometimes.
>Ohh! the dummy human has taken you to another place!
>He is reminding your herd to follow their smart friends!
>Maybe he's not such a dummy after all, knowing that smarty friends know best.
>Time to get more nummies for the herd!
"Weedy fwiends fuwst! Fowwow smawty fwiend Kudzu!"
>You charge ahead, flapping your wings with much fervor, proudly displaying the extra smooth fluff that the human gave you.
>Behind you, your herd leaps to the ready.
>Another safe place, full of nummies, just WAITING for you!
---
>Be genuinely surprised, and more than a little entertained.
>Watching a procession of fluffy ponies wearing tiny high-visibility jackets.
"You've brought a herd of fluffy ponies? Oh gods, what are they going to do? HUG my lawn into shape?"
>"Just watch, I guarantee our service. Kudzu, the flower garden is right here out front."
>"Weedy fwiends tuu da muwch! Wash woses! Fin' bad pwants!"
>Even as they are scrambling towards your planters, another procession of fluffies, these ones wearing yellow instead of orange, is assembling in your driveway.
>They just seem to keep coming from the back of the bus... oh, here comes a dam, with three helpers in front and two behind managing her roll as she gently goes down the ramp.
>"Mummeh weady foh gwassies!"
>The landscaper asks that you excuse him.
>"I need to set up the perimeter string, so the lawn trimming team doesn't wander out of your property line. In this subdivision, I assume it's right along here?"
"You seriously have a herd of fluffy ponies mowing my lawn?"
>"That's the usual reaction. These are fluffies, they do landscaping."
"They'll shit everywhere!"
>"I collect it, bag it, dry it out a little, and pass it on to you. it's the "free fertilizer" we advertise."
"They babble constantly!"
>"At about 40 decibels, which is slightly less than half the volume of a lawnmower. If you go inside and close the door, you won't even hear it."
>He's walking along putting down some cheap dumbell weights, and tying a string between them to outline your property.
"You said it would be quick..."
>"There are a lot of fluffies here, with your small plot of land, they'll be done in about two hours, two and a half if a game of tag breaks out, which is faster than most organic means of lawn care."
"Okay smartass, what about undocumented workers?"
>"I have a bundle of receipts of sale for each and every single fluffy here, along with complete medical records."
>The yellow-vested fluffies are forming up along one side of your lawn, and carefully eating their way across, soft announcements of "gud nummies" and "Wuv gwassies" drift your way.
>Yo have to admit, it's a lot quieter than a lawnmower.
>As the fluffies move onward, grazing happily, you head back into your house.
---
>Two hours, fifteen minutes later, the landscaper has urged his herds of fluffy ponies back into the bus, and you have come out of your house with payment ready.
>No migrane, the lawn looks good, you guess you'll be a regular customer after all.
"Alright, fine, they do a good job. I have to ask... Why the jackets?"
>"OSHA requirements."
"I should have known."
>"Yeah, the government is really strict about those high-visibility vests."
---
>Be landscaper.
>Well, actually, it's your second job.
>In your main job, you manage the local fluffy pony shelter.
>Which is where you're taking your little fluffy charges back to after a long day of "work".
>Things were pretty bleak there for a while, overcrowding, too little food, filth everywhere.
>But then, an idea came to you.
>Well, actually, it was a fluffy pony asking you really simple questions, like "Wai yuu tak specha' fwiend 'way?" and "Wha job?" and "Wai nee' munnie?" and "How mush munnie fwuffy nee foh specha fwiend?" and "Wha can fwuffy do?"
>Mostly that last one.
>It turns out, fluffies, especially feral fluffies, are really good at telling plants apart.
>They're also pretty good at eating grass.
>A little coaching, some gentle persuasion, and a herd of fluffies can now do in two hours what a migrant worker with a lawn tractor could do in half of one.
>Ahh, home sweet home.
"Okay fluffies, we're back home for the night. Did everyone have enough to eat today?"
>"Nuu tummeh ouchies!" "Tummeh feew guud..." "Nee' wittaboks!" and other such cries greet your ears.
>Nobody on the lawn team is starving anymore, which is a huge improvement from the old days.
>After the fluffies have disembarked and been gently herded back to the "Lawn team" pens, you meet with your smarty "coworkers".
"Kudzu, Zoya, Sapling, Moss, Bastard, Zero... your herds each worked for a total of ten hours today. According to our contract, you each get ten cents an hour, and you get one penny an hour for each member of your herd..."
>"Maff hawd."
"Yes, it is hard Moss. That's why I do it for you."
>"Hoomen nuu cheat smawty Bastawd. Bastawd wash hoomen cownt munnee."
"Bastard, I have never shorted any of you, and I never will. Here's your money, you have enough money to buy spaghetti for every member of your herd for a week."
>At the magic words, Bastard's mouth begins to water.
"Do you want spaghetti for a week?"
>Zero smacks him in the side of the head.
>"Wha' ewse Bastawd get foh his munnee?" Zero asks, ever distrustful.
>It's like this every time.
>Bastard never gets spaghetti.
>You produce the little cardboard "price chart" you rigged up some time ago, and point to different things on the list, explaining how many of each offered product they could get.
"Sixteen fluffy ponies, thirteen new blankets, seven litterboxes, eight water bottles, five balls, twenty blocks, or one foal's shots."
>"Zewo know Bastawd pic' wite ting."
>Yes... Zero does know... she being his special friend and all.
>Pussy whipping works with fluffy ponies too.
>"Bastawd wan' bebbeh be heawfy..." he says, looking sad.
"I'll contact the vet in the morning.  You still have enough money left for... a blanket.  Would you like a blanket?"
>He looks to his wife for approval.
>"Hewd nee' beddies.  Wan' bwankie."
"Good choice.  I'll bring one to your "safe place" tonight."
>And so you go, around the smarty friends, each get a little pile of cash and coins, which they have for only a few precious moments before they spend it all in your company store, each one buying things for their herds in turn, be it medicine, bedding, or other basic necessities.
>One of them always picks the fluffy pony option, and buys as many fluffies as they can.
>Of course, after buying fluffies, it's usually several weeks of fluffy work to pay for their many needs, like their own bedding, bottle, litterbox, inoculations, and to cover any other expenses they may need.
>You don't mind, really, since the lawn care business started, your employee ponies have been getting along pretty well.
>Legally, the fluffy ponies all own themselves, but you doubt it would hold up in court if you had to argue to that effect.
>The smarty friends deal with all the finances, in the most basic way, and pick which of the fluffies from the shelter join their "herds" when they buy new ones from you.
>It's almost always ones who have been in the shelter the longest, and can only look forward to euthanasia in their future.
>Now the number of fluffies who you have to euthanize each month has sharply declined, which is good, because you really, REALLY hated that part of the job.
>You allready have the fluffies back down to the proper number for their cages, and you're feeding them enough kibble to live off of, instead of enough to just survive.
>And the extra money you've been bringing in with lawn care lets you do things like fix the roof, get good lights, and expand the exercise yard, part of which the lawn fluffies rent from you to live in as their "safe place".
>All in all, it's not so bad to manage the shelter anymore.