Spare Parts: Training Day - 2

Vanner, March 25, 2013; 17:49 / FB 9897
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Spare Parts: Training day, part 2

>Be a wingie fluffy.
>And you’re so scared you can’t remember your name.
>All you know is that Docta Munsta is standing outside your cage while the mommeh and daddeh are standing there with her.
>You were hiding behind your hooves so hard, you don’t know how Docta Munsta found you.
>This is it. You’re going on the wall with the other fluffies.
>”As you can see, I keep stock of rare fluffies, in case a customer needs parts,” says Docta Munsta. “This fluffy has some of the rarest colorations found in fluffies. Silky golden fluff, iridescent silver mane, and most of all…”
>She pounds on the door of your cage with a balled fist.
>You make scaredy poopies and try to back away from Docta Munsta.
>But there’s nowhere to go. You can only flatten yourself against the back of the cage beg for mercy.
>”Pwease nu huwt fwuffy!” you bawl. “Nu be bad! Nu Wan die! Nu wan die! Hu hu hu…”
>”Oooh, purple eyes,” says the mummeh. “That’d be nice to see put back into a fluffy that someone cares about.”
>What? Your mummah cares about you!
>”M… mu… muumah cawes bout fwuffy…” you sputter.
> “No one cares about you,” says the mummeh. “You’re going to be cut up for parts and hung out to dry like the rest of your retarded little friends.”
>”Bu… bu…” you stammer.
>”Are you talking back?” asks Docta Munsta. “Oh, I don’t like fluffies that talk back.”
>You cram a hoof in your mouth, trying to hold back tears.
>Your mommy loves you. She just doesn’t know where you are. She’ll come and find you.
>”Why didn’t you ship her off to a breeder?” asks the daddeh. “A fluffy like that is worth a fortune.”
>”Some idiot removed her ovaries,” says Docta Munsta. “I’ve sent some samples out to an associate of mine to try to get a clone, but no luck so far.”
>You continue sobbing as Docta Munsta walks away from your cage.
>”Now where was I?” she says. “I think we’ll hold off on the eye surgery for the time being, and instead work on repair of typical fluffy injuries such as cut, burns, scrapes and blunt force trauma.
>” Go grab one of the common fluffies off the wall,” says Docta Munsta. “Then I’ll need you to cause some injures…”
>”I don’t think I can do that,” says the daddeh.
>”I got this,” says the meanie mummie. She grabs a horn friend and a wingie friend off the wall, and slams them down on the scary table.
>She slams them so hard you can hear snapping and popping coming from their bellies as they beg for mercy.
>”Nu huwties! Pwease! Nu mow big owies!” begs the wingie fluffy, as she tries to push herself away with her back weggies.
>”Oh I haven’t even begun,” says the meanie mommy. “You have a hammer down here? I’m going to work over this unicorn for Mr. Hugboxer here.”
>”That’s really not…”
>You can’t hear Mista Hugboxeh over the sound of the shattering bones, squelching thumps, and paniced shrieks of terror as the meanie mummie brings the hammer down again and again on the horn friend.
>She tosses him to the floor with a wet thump.
>”Pw… pwease gif… huggies…” he sobs as boo boo juice runs from his shattered face. “Big owies… hu hu hu…”
>Mistah Hugboxeh just stares at the fluffy for a moment before looking back to Docta Munsta.
>”Well you wanted to be a fluffy vet,” says Docta Munsta, with a smile. “Can you save that one?“
>Mistah Huxboxeh picks up the horn friend and puts him back on the table while Meanie Mummie picks up the scary shiny thing.
>”Fwower?” asks the wingie friend trying to crawl toward the horn friend. “Fwower need huggies! Pwease gif huggies to Fwower, Munsta wady! Nu have weggies to gif huggies!”
>”So you want legs do you?” says Meanie Mummie. “I’ll get you some legs.”
> Docta Munsta laugh makes you so scared.
>”You’re going to let him get away with calling you ‘Munsta?’ “ asks Docta Munsta.
>Meanie mummah just alughs too and she grabs another fluffy from the cages.
>You cover your eyes with your hooves again, but you’ve heard enough screaming and the sawing of the shiny thing to know that the green fluffy from the cage is getting its weggies taken away.
>After what seems like hours of screaming and sobbing, you finally look up to see the green fluffy going in the red bin, and the three people standing over two fluffies.
>The wingie friend now has green weggies in the front and is buzzing her wings happily.
>”Fwuffy have weggies!” she says. “Tank you Musta Way! Wuv Munsta Wady!”
>The horn friend is laying down on the table, but he’s not crying anymore, just sleeping.
>Mistah huxboxeh is just shaking his head.
>”I can’t believe I just gutted one fluffy to save another,” he says.
>”You two used every part of the fluffy, which is the ideal situation,” says Docta Munsta. “Surgery planning is important; if you can use all the limbs and organs from one fluffy, you just saved yourself a few bucks.”
>The wingie fluffy is rubbing against Meanie Mummie, and hugging her with her new green hoofsies.
>”So that wraps up today’s lesson,” says Docta Munsta. “We’ll continue tommorrow with more advanced techniques.”
>As they all leave the basement, Mistah Hugboxah looks back at the fluffies hanging on the wall in miseray, and to the sobbing fluffies in cages around you.
>”Do you actually care about fluffy ponies at all?” asks Mistah Hugboxah. “Or is this just how you make your money, Dr. Stein?”
> Docta Munsta takes off her eye covers and sort of smiles with that creepy, scary smile of hers.
>”These fluffies?” she says. “ I helped create them, and it’s only right they know their lives are worthless.”
>…worthless?
>You’re not worthless. Your mummah loved you, and she thought you were worth something.
>She loved you so much, and you ran away from her.
>”They’re toys, and like any toy, they need to be repaired from time to time.”
>but… but you’re not a toy. You’re a wingie fluffy.
>“I don’t care that they cry, or beg for mercy. The fluffies upstairs are beloved pets and cherished companions, and I treat them as such. Someone loves them very much, and I do my best to make sure they stay happy and healthy.”
>She points to the cages, and then right at you.
>”Maybe someone loved that one once, but these fluffies down here?”
>”They’re nothing more than spare parts.”
>The lights go out, and the door slams shut behind them, leaving you sobbing quietly in the dark
>Your voice joins the soft sounds of dozen whimpering fluffies as you try to remember your mommah.
>But you can’t remember her anymore.
>All you remember is how long you’ve been here, and how every day brings you closer to the table where Docta Munsta or Meanine Mummie, or Mistah Hugboxeh will tear you limb from limb so that some other fluffy that someone actually loves will live on.
>You cover your head with your hooves and continue to sob as your will to live drains.
>”wan die.”