Princess Sparklepuff

Awful_Writer, August 14, 2016; 23:45 / FB 40762
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It was a pleasantly warm afternoon in Los Angeles, and Tony "Tony Linguine" Leggiero had a problem. Actually, put a P on that, he had a capital-P Problem. Tony ran the city's most upper-class, upper-crust (pardon the pun) italian joint; they were one of three restaurants in the entire United States to have 3 M*chelin stars. Their pizza was fired in a traditional stone oven, and their linguine the best you could find on the continent, prepared in-house and cooked to perfection. They served over 300 varieties of pasta on demand, and 100 more if you called in your order at least 3 days in advance. But by far, by far, Tony Linguine's most popular dish was their spaghetti.

It wasn't popular with humans, mind you. It was Tony's greatest shame, the thing that had for years denied his restaurant their third Michelin star before he had moved to the states. His spaghetti was *awful*. It wasn't inedible, it wasn't green, or tasteless, or something like that. It was just... bland. It was average. You could go to any high-class restaurant that served spaghetti and come out two or three times more satisfied, and half their fuckin' cooks weren't even italians.

What had set Tony's spaghetti apart, what had turned this from a downside into something that had boosted his restaurant into superstardom, was the fact that Tony's spaghetti was like crack cocaine to a fluffy pony's palate. It was far and away the best spaghetti any fluffy pony had ever tasted, to the point that nearly every hollywood fluffy in existence ate at his restaurant.

Rich clientele-- movie stars, billionaires, producers all-- would reserve seats months in advance, all so their little fluffy ponies could have a bowl of his terrible spaghetti. Half the time they wouldn't even order anything for themselves; once he had even been forced to endure the shame of a human couple bringing in food from one of his competitors, all while their little shitrat praised him for his awful spaghetti recipe.

So in general, fluffy ponies were both his bane, but also the reason his business was booming. His Problem, capital P, was not fluffies in general. His Problem was Princess Sparklepuff. Princess Sparklepuff (The unicorn) was the most popular non-human hollywood actor there was, next to King Albert the pegasus. If anything, her stardom outranked his among stallions, for obvious reasons. She had starred or cameoed in hundreds of movies; they made fluffy 'huggy fwiend' plushies of her; she even had her slimy little hooves stamped on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. She was practically legendary.

She was also "legendary" for being possibly the worst case of Smarty Syndrome known to man. The little pink fluffy was a gold-collared bitch, and that was putting it lightly. She had eaten at Tony's restaurant exactly once before, and she had complained the entire time-- between bites of his spaghetti-- about everything. The waiters weren't paying her enough attention, the waiters were paying her too much attention, the music was too loud, the music wasn't 'ecktiting' enough, the music was too soft, she didn't like the table color (actually the tablecloth), her seat wasn't comfortable, she-- errrgh. It practically gave him an aneurysm just thinking about it. He'd heard that they had tried to replace the little shit once, but her stand-in for that film, Princess Sparklemane, hadn't tested well. Fluffy ponies all looked alike to Tony, but they could apparently tell the difference. "Dat nu pwincess spawklepuff! Dat fakew!" It had apparently made the ponies who watched the film very distraught, to the point that they had to reshoot the whole film prior to release.

Dances with Alicorns had gone on to be a smash hit, but that meant that Tony still had his Problem. Currently he was trying to get everything perfect. The band had been instructed personally on how to play 'ecktiting' music that was neither too loud nor too soft; the tablecloth colors had been sent to Sparklepuff's "mummah" and "daddeh" ahead of time so they could test them for him, and an appropriate color had been chosen. The waiters had been rigorously trained on how to practically be tsundere to the little shit, so she would feel neither neglected nor overly bothered. Even the 'icky pwant' she didn't like over in the corner had been replaced-- temporarily, it was his favorite plant-- by something more suitable.

Tony was in the middle of talking to his chefs about the menu for the night when his most trusted employee, Bob, had pulled him aside. And then the man had taken him out back. And then Bob had shot him. Bob had shot him ten times in the skull, right between the eyes, and Tony had died so he didn't have to deal with this shit. Tony closed his eyes, and he drifted off to death. Peaceful, wonderful death. Right? Right???

"Hewwo! Um, fwuffy am smawty, an' fwuffy's hewd needs nu mummahs an' daddehs. Cuud yu be nyu daddeh fow smawty's hewd? Nu haf tu be daddeh fow howe hewd if yu don' wan'." Called a voice just below him.

Shit.

Tony opened his eyes again, free of literal gunshot wounds, and looked at the fluffy herd that was currently trying to figure out how to get to the 'tastee smewwing nummies' in his dumpster. They could smell 'bestest sketties evew' from inside, according to the pink and beige one that was trying to climb up the front. The one that had addressed him, red like pasta sauce, with a spaghetti-yellow mane and tail, stood directly in front of him.

"So what do you want me to do, boss?" Bob asked. "You want me to call an exterminator?"

"NO! No, no no." Tony said, turning to address Bob. "An exterminator, are you mad? Sparklepuff is coming tonight! She's going to be here in three hours, and if her owners catch even a single hint that there's been a fluffy exterminator in a twelve mile radius, they'll take her and they'll leave."

The smarty below him gasped. "Pwincess Spawklepuff wiww be HEWE?!" The little fluffy pony's face lit up, and a few others looked over, excited or curious.

"Erk- er, no. No, sorry, we're talking about someone else." Tony said. "We're talking about, uh, a brown fluffy! A brown earth fluffy who is a boy and who uh, is completely normal. He just has a very nice name." The fluffies around him calmed down, and he grabbed Bob by the shoulder and practically dragged the man inside, shutting the door behind them.

"Well uh," Bob started, looking sheepish. "Should we just leave them there, then?"

Tony had started pacing. "We can't do that, either. Sparklepuff hates other fluffies, and she's extremely jealous with her food. If they end up being loud enough that she hears them- there's a reason King Albert's owners refuse to work with her these days."

King Albert had also visited the restaurant a few times- he was one of the good ones, as far as Tony was concerned. He was nice, like most fluffy ponies were programmed to be, but the gray pegasus had gone above and beyond mere programming, complimenting the restaurant on everything. The food was 'bestest', the waiters were 'mistah su nicey waitew!', the music was 'bestest dancie an' nummeh music!", he had even (politely) demanded that he be allowed to go around the restaurant and give each of the staff 'tankie huggies' for his 'bestest nummies'. A few of his staff had gotten fluffies of their own after that night. A few others had put theirs up for adoption after Sparklepuff's first visit.

"Well then what are we supposed to do, boss? We can't leave 'em, we can't call an exterminator." Bob said. "We don't have anywhere to put 'em in the restaurant, either."

"Not to mention health services would have an absolute shit-fit." Tony added, nodding. "Those are ferals, they aren't housekept fluffies. If they so much as set a foot in the building, it would be like letting rats or pigeons in. God forbid they get into the kitchen."

Tony thought about it for a bit. "Alright, Bob, you go- you go make sure the preparations keep coming along. I'll think of something." Bob sighed and gave him that look, that 'you're about to do something dumb aren't you' look, but he went back inside as ordered. As for Tony, the lanky italian man walked back out to the alleyway, making absolutely certain to shut the door, and then he stooped down and watched the fluffies try (and fail) repeatedly to get in his dumpster. They were quite creative, inbetween bouts of coming up to him and asking if he was, or would be, their 'nyu daddeh':

They had tried pushing the dumpster over.
They had tried singing to the dumpster.
They tried asking the dumpster for food.
They tried hugging the dumpster and *then* asking for food.
They had tried giving 'gwassie nummies' to the dumpster-- dried leaves, basically-- in exchange for 'good nummies'.

One had tried crawling under the dumpster, but no others had attempted to repeat the feat after he came back covered in filth and, as they put it, 'nu smeww pwetty'. Tony kind of agreed with them.
At one point a few of them even formed a kind of fluffy pyramid. Two stood on the bottom, then a third stood on top of the other two. Of course, being fluffies, that meant they didn't even come up halfway. It was almost sad, watching the one on top stretch- and then it had toppled backward and fallen, and the other two had given him 'sowwy hugsies' to make him feel better.

There were a few mothers among the herd, pastel-colored mares with little fluffies on their backs. Most of the foals were still in the peeping, close-eyed phase of things by the look of it, but one mare had an older foal on her back complaining about 'hungwy' and what sounded like boredom? 'Bowdies'- it was hard to tell through the cutesy-speak.

Either way, it gave Tony an idea. The block Tony's restaurant was on, it went a little something like this: On the corner there was the parking lot. Next to the parking lot was "Tony Linguine's", his restaurant. Past that was an alley, which went around a bend and ran behind a few other shops on the block. The third one down? Electronics store. They had all kinds of TVs, a lot of which were usually pointed toward the front window, but maybe...

Tony got up and walked past the fluffy herd, ignoring the new cries of 'Nyu daddeh?' this prompted, and he walked off down the alleyway. One or two of the fluffies tried to follow him for a bit, but they soon grew bored or disinterested and quickly went back to trying to please their dumpster god. Tony would've laughed if he wasn't this close to a panic attack.

After a bit of walking, he found the correct door and knocked loudly on the back of the electronics store. The owner, Milton, had helped him out once before with some business stuff. Maybe he would again?

After a solid minute, Milton peeked out the door. "Who the fuck- oh! Tony! Hey my man, how's it going?" Milton offered a hand, and Tony shook it.

"I've got a problem, Milton." Tony said. "I've got Sparklepuff coming tonight-"

"Ol' Lamashtu herself?" Milton asked.

"What?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Er, demoness, causes death of newborns, night demon, brings diseases..." Milton kind of pinwheeled his hand as he spoke. "A real bitch, is what I meant."

"Sounds like good woman compared to Sparklepuff." Tony shook his head, a bitter expression on his face. "Listen, queen bitch hates other fluffies, yes? My problem is, I have a whole feral herd outside my dumpster because they smelled a test batch of the spaghetti."

"Oh, oh shit." Milton held a hand to his mouth. "Uh, what do you need, then? Power tools? A cattle prod? I don't have either of those, incidentally. Nets would be two or three stores down-"

"I need a TV." Tony said.

Milton's face partly scrunched up, and partly stretched out. His eyebrows went up, then down, and he opened his mouth, then shut it again. "Why?"

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It had taken some explaining, but Tony had gotten Milton to lend him one of his older TVs. A CRT, Milton said he wouldn't care even if the fluffies broke it somehow. He even let Tony borrow a pair of those digital bunny ear things. One back-alley plug-in later, and Tony had set up the TV behind Milton's shop. Static danced across the screen as he got the bunny ears hooked in, and then he twisted the dial on the front.

News, no.
Sports, no.
Sports news, no.
Crime drama, no.
Children's cartoon-- maybe, maybe if he was desperate, but probably no.
Movie, no.
Come on, come on...
Porn? They actually got porn on these things? No!
More movies... more sports...
There! Tony had to twist the knob back a little as he passed it, but the FluffTV logo shone brightly in the bottom right of the screen, and the theme song for some inane fluffy television show or another started blaring. Tony turned it up a bit.

Phase 1 was go. Tony stalked back to his restaurant, and found that the fluffies hadn't moved a bit. Well, they had, but they'd stayed in the vicinity of his dumpster. Several of them were rather loudly crying about how they could smell 'bestest sketties evew' but couldn't get to it, a few were giving the dumpster a very stern-sounding talking-to for being 'su meanie' and how that you were supposed to be 'nice, like good fwuffy'. The foal that had been complaining earlier about being bored was somewhere between whining and crying, letting out a sound that even his mother seemed annoyed with.

Tony walked over to the dumpster, ignoring the continued queries of 'nyu daddeh' as if the fluffies seemed to forget they had asked, and he popped the lid on the dumpster. The test batches were always thrown out in these barf-green bags that were extra thick, specifically because they'd had a problem like this once before. That was also when Tony had switched to a fluffy-proofed dumpster instead of several smaller bins, even though it was more expensive.

It didn't take him much digging to find the green bag, and the fluffies noticed as he carried it past them. "Fwuffy smeww sketties!" "Sketties!?" "Mistah haf sketties in bag?" "Fowwow nicey sketty mistah!" "Mistah gif sketties to gud fwuffies!?" It seemed Tony didn't need to encourage them; he was like the pied goddamn piper as he led the rat-horses around by the nose, keeping them following the bag as he waved it back and forth. When they reached the TV, Tony picked a spot that looked easy enough to clean and then opened the bag, upending its' contents onto the alley pavement.

At least a dozen cheers and tearful cries of 'YAY SKETTIES' echoed out, and a tiny stampede erupted as they all rushed the pot's worth of spaghetti before them. It took a bit of pushing and shoving, but soon enough the entire herd was eating one way or the other, mothers eating on their sides while their babies fed. Tony wadded up the bag and threw it in one of the bins behind Milton's shop, and then he very quietly sidled off, hoping the ponies wouldn't notice.

Once he'd gotten back to his shop, he double-checked the alleyway. Not a single fluffy pony had stayed behind! Perfect. They'd eat themselves stupid over there, and then they'd watch fluff tv or whatever OVER THERE, and then they'd probably fall asleep OVER. THERE. Honestly he didn't care what they did, so long as they did it over there, so that was perfect. He nearly headed back inside right then, but then he noticed the dumpster was a bit mispositioned. They usually kept it right next to the back exit so they could pop the door and toss bags in; as it was, it was a good three feet away. Maybe the fluffies had pushed it?

Tony didn't care, he was happy! Or happier, at least. He grabbed the dumpster's handle, and while it took some struggling, and the first yank made the most hideous sound, he got it back into position. Satisfied, he walked back into his restaurant.

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Smarty felt like the best smarty. His herd was happy, and seeing his herd so happy made him happy too. He had never been so full in his life, and he'd never had such good nummies either! He could remember once before they'd found nummies almost as good as these, but he didn't get to eat them, they gave them to a soon-mother in the herd because she needed them more. But this was the best day smarty had ever had! His whole herd was happy, his whole herd was full, and they even got to watch FluffTV! They never got to watch FluffTV! He had seen it a few times in his life, but mean monster humans always chased his herd away, even after he became smarty!

But the nicest spaghetti mister ever had given them all food, and he'd even let them watch fluff TV! And it was the best! They had sat and eaten for so many forevers, and now the big bright ball in the sky was going down while they watched the tee-bee. There was this fluffy named Rocky, and he went around the whole world meeting all these famous fluffies! They were all so pretty, and they looked so nice! Not like Smarty and his herd, they were dirty. Which seemed normal to him, but maybe it wasn't? These fluffies on the TV looked like they liked being clean...

But then, then smarty saw her! Princess Sparklepuff, the prettiest pink mare he'd ever seen! Her horn was adorable, and it made his no-nos place feel weird looking at her, but she was so pretty! Rocky introduced her, not that smarty needed him to, but hearing her name from someone else got his pea-sized brain working. He thought and he thought, and he remembered he heard the nicest spaghetti mister ever say that name! Was she there, in his res- rus- his boxie house? With more bestest spaghetti?

He got up. "Whewe smawty goin'?" One of his herdmates, a gray mare, asked.

"Hewd stay hewe. Smawty gon' go twy find Pwincess Spawklepuff." Smarty told her.

"Siwwy smawty, Pwincess Spawklepuff on teebee!" The mare giggled.

Smarty opened his mouth, but he found he couldn't really figure out how to explain what he meant. "Smawty gun go find. Yu see!" He said. The mare shook her head, still giggling, and he started to walk away. A few of his tough friends followed him. There was the blue one, and the white one, and the yellow one, but the yellow one stayed behind as the three of them made their way to The Nicest Spaghetti Mister Ever's boxie house. He wasn't here! That made smarty sad, but if he wasn't here, maybe he was inside?

Smarty tried pushing on the door, but it wouldn't open. "Pwease nicey doow mistah, open fow smawty?" He asked. The door still did not open. "Smawty, smawty look!" One of his tough friends called out from near the big box. He walked over toward the far side, where his tough friends were, and he saw what they saw; there was a silver hole in the wall near the big box, like a box, and it was fluffy-sized! Some sort of other silver thing looked like it had been bent away from it, toward the big box thingy, but smarty didn't care about that. It was low enough that he was able to climb inside, and then there was this kind of ramp going up.

"Fowwow smawty, toughie fwiends! Pwincess Spawklepuff inside!" He called out. His two tough friends started bouncing up and down happily. "Gon' meet Pwincess Spawklepuff! Su happies!" "Pwincess Spawklepuff be nyu fwiend? Dis weawwy is bestest bwight time evew!"

His hooves made little 'clang clang' sounds that echoed off the box around him as he started to climb in, and he made scaredy-poopies from the sound as he crawled further inside. He wouldn't tell Princess Sparklepuff about those, he decided.

"Nu smeww pwetty, smawty!" "Tu dawkies! Nu wike!" His tough friends complained behind him. He could hear them following, either way, so he let out a snort through his nose. He clanged his way higher and higher in the metal boxie cave, and then the path flattened out before him.

"NU! PWINCESS SPAWKLEPUFF WAN' BETTAH MOOSIC FWOM MOOSIC MAN!" He heard a fluffy's voice, echoing loud and shrill off of the metal boxie thing, and he gasped. "Pwincess Spawklepuff weally is hewe!?" One of his tough friends exclaimed. Smarty started clomping and clanging his way toward Sparklepuff's voice, his fear forgotten, and soon enough he dropped down a little dip that left him enough height to stand all the way up. There were some kind of thin holes beneath him, and he looked down- he could see her! She was there! Princess Sparklepuff!

"Yay! Yay! Princess Sparklepuff!" He started hopping up and down. "Now can haf bestest fwiend, an' happiest hewd, an' m-maybe even b-bestest speshaw huggies wif Pwincess Spawklepuff!" Clang, clang, clang went the fluffy's little hooves. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clung. Clung. His tough friends reached the grate he was bouncing on, and then one after the other they fell on top of him.

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"Madame Sparklepuff, your table awaits." Tony said at the door, bowing low. She had finally arrived. She was here! All he had to do was get through one meal, one meal and she would be gone. Her "daddeh" and "mummah" had come with her of course-- a broad-chested, blonde haired man and his auburn-haired, cowed-looking wife. The latter of the two was carrying Sparklepuff, who was fat enough that she looked quite heavy.

"NU AM MADAME! AM PWINCESS SPAWKLEPUFF!" Sparklepuff screeched at him. Tony winced. "Sorry! Sorry, uh, prettiest Princess Sparklepuff. We have your table and your spaghetti all ready." Tony said, correcting himself.

Sparklepuff looked almost pleased. "Dat's bettew, dummeh hooman. Mummah, cawwy Spawklepuff to sketties!" With what sounded to Tony like a sigh, Sparklepuff's mother began to follow him, followed by her father. Tony, meanwhile, as having that panic attack he'd been worried about earlier. His eyes kept scanning the whole restaurant as he walked, double-checking everything. Bad plant was gone. Tablecloth? Tablecloth was good. Band was playing the music she'd liked last time, the spaghetti was warm, but not too hot, but not so cold that it would get cold before she was done, she hated that last time.

"Here you are, m- er, Prettiest Princess Sparklepuff." Tony bowed again, holding out an arm toward the table. There was a baby chair draped with Sparklepuff's favorite colors, modified to better fit a fluffy pony, and just in front of it was Tony's shame, his awful spaghetti.

"Wet Spawklepuff down, dummeh Mummah! Spawklepuff wan' sketties WIGHT NOW!" She started squirming in the woman's arms.

"Just a second, dear-" The woman started.

"WIGHT NOW! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Sparklepuff started letting out a shrill cry, like a baby throwing a tantrum, and her mother quickly put her down in the baby chair. It was too good for her, Tony thought to himself. She only shut up once she'd buried her face in the spaghetti, and all three of them let out a sigh as she started eating. Sparklepuff's mother and father sat down, and Tony sat down nearby. Not close enough to make Sparklepuff upset, he'd learned that lesson, but close enough he could be right there if she needed anything.

About halfway through the fat little shitrat's meal, Princess Sparklepuff had been interrupted when the AC vent above her table broke off, swinging down and bending the screw still holding it up. The spaghetti-colored fluff from earlier fell from it along with a blue and a white, and he ended up doing a belly-flop right into Princess Sparklepuff's spaghetti. The two that followed him bounced off of his fluff and went rolling across the floor. The band had stopped playing outright, and several of the waiters were trying to restrain their laughter. Bob had pulled out his phone. Even the pastel-colored little bitch had been shut up by the shock of it, not to mention her owners, and Tony could still hear the white and blue ones crying in separate corners of the restaurant about their 'owwies'.

As for Sparklepuff... her cheeks began to bulge, and then bulge, and bulge, puffing up full of air until they were about as big as her head. Her entire body began to shake, and for a second Tony thought he was going to see one of those legendary 'fluffsplosions' he'd heard about on the internet. Especially so when she began to let out a sound between a roar, a growl, and a child's scream between her closed lips, like a really angry balloon with a leak.

"Pwincess Spawklepuff!" The red, spaghetti-stained fluffy said, his voice full of joy. He stood up, his dirty coat covered in Sparklepuff's ruined meal. "Smawty am cawwed smawty! Yu wan join hewd? O-or wan' be nyu fwiend? M-maybe even... speshaw fwiend?" Sparklepuff only grew more and more livid as he spoke, until at the mention of 'special friend' she finally burst.

"YU AM BIGGEST SOWWY POPPIE DUMMEH EVEW!" Sparklepuff yelled at last, loud enough that the red-colored fluffy shat himself in terror. "SPAWKLEPUFF HATECHU! SPAWKLEPUFF HATE DUMMEH FWUFFIES! AN' NOW YU WUIN SPAWKLEPUFF'S SKETTIES!"

"Dear, we can have them bring you another plate-" Her 'mother' started, looking almost- regretful? Afraid?

"SHADDAP DUMMEH MUMMAH! SPAWKLEPUFF WANN'ED DIS SKETTIES! SPAWKLEPUFF NU WAN OTHA DUMMEH SKETTIES! DIS AM WOWSTEST SKETTIES PWACE EVEW! SPAWKLEPUFF HATECHU! HATECHU MUMMAH! HATECHU DADDEH! HATECHU DUMMEH FWUFFY!" She 'hit' the red-colored fluffy on the nose with her hooves, and he started to cry as she continued beating him. "Huhuhuuuuu, nu am dummeh! Am gud fwuffy! Jus' wann'ed huggies an' wuv!"

Sparklepuff wasn't hearing any of it. "SPAWKLEPUFF HATE DUMMEH MOOSIC MAN! SPAWKLEPUFF HATE'CHU WAITEW MAN! SPAWKLEPUFF HATE DUMMIES SKETTIES MAN! SPAWKLEPUFF HATE AWW OF YU! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" She let out another loud, long, shrill cry, causing everyone in the restaurant to cover their ears. When it was over she seemed to have said her peace, or at least worn herself out. Her cheeks were no longer practically as big as her head, and she was huffing and panting. "SPAWKLEPUFF WAN GO HOME!" She dismounted the fluffy in the spaghetti, leaving him bruised and crying. "Pwease nu mowe huwties... hu hu huuuuuuu..."

The woman, Sparklepuff's "mother", picked her up and began to carry her out to their car. She glared at Tony as she passed, and his heart sank in his chest as Sparklepuff's 'daddy' came up to him, looking most definitely perturbed. "I can't believe this. A fluffy infestation? In your vents of all things? And to ruin my darling Sparklepuff's dinner no less!" He crossed his arms.

"I-I'm sorry, sir, I had no idea, this never-" Tony began, brain working a hundred miles an hour, trying to think of something, anything-

"SAVE IT!" The man said. "I'm going to report your shitty restaurant to the sanitation board for this, you burnt pizza asshole! And I'm going to tell all of Sparklepuff's friends not to eat here, either! You hear me, you insufferable linguini bastard? I'm going to have to listen to that shitrat's squealing about this for a month at least, maybe two! Do you have any idea the shit I have to put up with when she's in a good mood?"

"B-but sir, I-" Tony didn't have the words.

"YOU will be lucky if you have even ONE star left on your shitty restaurant's front window after I am done dragging your reputation through the mud, you meatball FUCK!" He turned to leave, taking the remaining shreds of Tony's heart with him, but Bob stood in the way. "Move it, short-round!"

Bob was not impressed. "I got this entire encounter, including your 'darling' pony's behavior and your racially-loaded epithet against my boss, on camera with my phone. I cloud-saved it, too, so don't even bother trying anything."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Sparklepuff's owner snorted.

"Okay, let me spell it out: Your little mealticket is only famous because she's nice on the silver screen. If I put this online, you think anyone's going to take their ponies to see her movies? You think anyone's going to hire her after the kind of comments you just made?" Bob's tone began to grow an edge. "I know this is probably one of those 'hollywood secret' things everyone in your little clique knows about already, but I think the public will feel different when they see your little brat beating a fluffy who's begging for mercy."

Sparklepuff's owner seemed to process this for a moment, before rage won out over reason. "...You fuck, who do you think you are? I'll-"

"No. You're going to walk out of this fucking restaurant, you're going to tell everyone you had a GREAT FUCKING TIME, and you're going to leave a glowing review on every website you can find that lists us. And if you don't, I swear on my pizza-roll linguine meatball ass that I will end your easy-street, pink-shitrat-fueled fortune." Bob's voice stayed relatively even throughout the entire rant, though even Tony jumped when Bob spoke again. "Now get out!"

Cowed, the other man stormed out of the restaurant, swearing under his breath. Tony watched him go, his jaw agape. "Bob- Bob, I-" He walked over to Bob, who put a hand on Tony's shoulder. "You-"

"Don't worry, boss. I got it covered." Bob said, grinning.

"No, no, I... I didn't know you were italian!" Tony said.

"Oh." Bob didn't seem to know what to say to that. "I'm not, I'm Irish. It just seemed right to say at the time, you know?"

Tony could feel a chuckle rising up from the bottom of his throat. "And- and you really got all of that on video?" he asked, incredulous.

"Fuck no." Bob said, without hesitation.

Tony burst out laughing, howling loud enough and hard enough that he started to cry. He was halfway to actual sobbing when one of the waiters tapped him on the shoulder. "I did get it on video, Mister Leggiero."

"Ah, see!" Bob grinned, starting to chuckle. "Wasn't technically lying after all!"

Tony and Bob sat there laughing for a fair bit, with Tony in various states between shock and joy and terror. It was only when they heard a voice that they gathered themselves again.

"Um... h-hewwo?" A little voice called, followed by a sniffle.

All three of them turned toward the table, where the fluffy was still standing on Sparklepuff's former plate. Visibly swelling in a few spots on his face, with shit stuck to his back legs (and also scattered in a shotgun-esque spray on the tablecloth behind him), the red and yellow fluffy was a bit of a sight. "Um... s-smawty s-sowwy fow make bad poopies. Pwease nu h-huwt smawty?" His entire body was shaking.

For a few moments, Tony considered doing just that. Were it not for Bob's quick thinking, the little fucker would have cost him his reputation, maybe even his restaurant period. But thanks to Bob's quick thinking, he had just saved Tony from having to deal with his biggest headache, and maybe gotten him some free promotion to boot. On top of that... Tony looked him over. Sparklepuff had beaten the shit out of the little pony, or at least done the fluffy equivalent of that. Tony didn't feel quite right, punishing him after that.

Tony walked up to the scared fluffy, scratching his own chin. "What's your name, little guy?"

The pony didn't move, but started shaking harder as Tony approached. "F-f-fwuffy haf nu name, just am c-c-cawwed smawty because f-fwuffy am hewd's smawty."

"Well..." Tony thought about it. He did have the room at his place... "How would you like to have a new daddy?"

It took a second to register past the fear and the confusion, but eventually the little pony gasped. "A nyu daddeh!? Fwuffy wud- wud- Buh... er..." He seemed to think about it, shaking less and less. "W-what about smawty's hewd? Dey need huggies an' wuv an', an' daddehs too!" Welp, Tony was sold.

"We'll find them some homes as well, but- how would you like for me to be your new daddy?" Tony asked.

The little fluffy's eyes went wide- well, one did, the otheer was half-hidden behind a swollen bruise- and his tail started wagging. "Bestest sketties mistah be nyu daddeh!? Of coase fwuffy wan' bestest sketties mistah to be nyu daddeh! Dis am bestest bwight time of whole wife!" The little pony started making little hops up and down, causing little splat sounds when his hooves hit the spaghetti.

Tony laughed. "Well, I think I've figured out a name for you too." He watched the little pony bounce, unable to keep the smirk off his face. "I think I'll call you Meatball."

Meatball continued jumping up and down, but this time every bounce was accompanied with his cheering. "Meatbaww! Meatbaww! Meatbaww wuv name! Meatbaww, Meatbaww, Meatbaww!"

-----------------------------

Not all of the fluffies in Meatball's former herd were able to be put into the adoption programs nearby; for some of them, that was because Tony's friends had called dibs, meaning they didn't have to wait for homes. For a few others, sadly, it was because they had diseases and needed to be put down. Meatball himself was one of the lucky ones; a clean bill of health, and Tony had adopted him personally. He was even thinking of getting Meatball a special friend to keep the little guy company.

As for Sparklepuff? It was a full year before her owners brought her back to the restaurant. To say that Tony was surprised they came back at all was an understatement, but their behavior was... shocking, to say the least; it was like someone had put the fear of god in that little shitrat. Sparklepuff was shaking like a leaf the whole time Tony had seen her, but that little fluffy bitch at least pretended to be the most polite little fluffy you ever did see. She ate calmly and quietly, she thanked Tony for the meal, and her owner even slipped Tony 500 bucks on his way out, in addition to what he'd paid for the meal. He'd questioned Bob about the whole thing later, especially the 500 bucks, but the little shit wasn't talking.

Good old Bob.