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- 1/4
- >Work at an pet food company.
- >New product development; Fluffy Pony Department.
- >Work all day concocting new mixes for fluffy chow.
- >Try out the new blends on 40 test fluffies.
- >The goal; create the cheapest food that fluffy ponies will actually eat.
- >Chemical flavors sometimes prove toxic.
- >Test fluffies often die.
- >Easy to get more fluffies.
- >Trying a new flavor today.
- >Usual grain by-product mash.
- >Some dehydrated vegatable chunks.
- >Those make the owners think their fluffy is getting something nutritious.
- >Chemical flavoring...marinara sauce this time.
- >Lard to keep it all moist.
- >Yeah...lard. You've been feeding your precious fluffy animal fat all along.
- >That's probably why its shit stinks so bad.
- >Company keeps a couple control group fluffies.
- >They only get grain, grass and vegetables.
- >Their shit doesn't stink 1/4 as bad.
- >Dish out a ration of the new blend to three groups of fluffies.
- >One group has just eaten recently.
- >One group ate 5 hours ago, on a predictable meal schedule.
- >One group has been starved for 24 hours.
- >As usual, the control group gets none.
- >These cry & beg as usual.
- >"Why odder fwuffies get good nummies?" "Wan' good smewl nummies!" "Pwease diffwent nummies!"
- >Nope...you get grain & grass like always.
- 2/4
- >The 10 stuffed fluffies sniff at the new mix.
- >Despite their packed stomachs they eat.
- >Good...it's appealing to fluffies even when they're full.
- >The 10 fluffy ponies on a regular schedule eat too.
- >The 10 starved fluffies gobble their food down hungrily.
- >Results all good...now to wait.
- >The 10 control group fluffies watch the others feast on flavorful fluffy chow.
- >They sob as they chew on the same grass & grain they always get.
- >Each gets an ear tag denoting its group.
- >Scary & painful for fluffy ponies.
- >They know what the machine does...they know it hurts.
- >Fluffies squeal and try to hide in their cages.
- >No chance fluffies...every one gets pierced with a tag.
- >Tagged fluffies are released into the obsevation pen.
- >After some crying and hugging they gradually forget the painful tags.
- >Fluffies roll around playing and laughing.
- >Good...if this stuff is toxic it'll get into their blood-stream quicker.
- >None seem to be dying yet.
- >We might have a winner here.
- >Uh-ho...spoke too soon.
- >One fluffy stops playing and falls over.
- >"Owwwiiieeee! Tummy huwt! Need poopies!"
- >Fluffy knows the harsh penalty for pooping outside the box.
- >Fluffy tries to drag itself to the litterbox.
- >The cramps are too great...fluffy blasts diarrhea out of his butthole.
- >"Whaaaahhh! Poopies buwn! Owwiee!"
- >As you observe subject, several more fluffies suffer symptoms.
- >"Poopies pwace huwt!" "Buwning!" "Whhhaahhh! Hewp fwuffy!"
- 3/4
- >First few fluffies to suffer were from the starved group.
- >Soon all 30 that ate the new chow are groaning and crying.
- >Noxious liquid poop all over the observation pen.
- >Good ventilation fans keep the smell away from you & the research team.
- >This ain't your first rodeo.
- >Only the control group is unaffected.
- >They tip-toe around the fouled pen, trying to avoid the poop.
- >"Nu smewl pwetty!" "Pwease take fluffy out!" "No wike dis pwace!"
- >Well...that was a bust.
- >Results: New mix gives fluffy ponies explosive, burning diarrhea.
- >Summon the lab assistants.
- >Have the fluffies taken away for cleaning & sorry stick.
- >Yeah, I know...it wasn't their fault.
- >Rules are rules;
- >Every fluffy that pooped outside the litterbox gets an ass beating.
- >Unbelieveable...the litterbox is the only clean spot in the pen.
- >Assistants gag on nasty fluffy shit stench.
- >Glad that's below your pay grade.
- >You did 3 years of that.
- >Washing shitty fluffies.
- >Listening to them whimper and beg.
- >Hearing them bawl while you whipped their asses.
- >Glad you're a researcher now.
- >Still gotta tell the boss the new mix is a failure.
- 4/4
- >Boss isn't in.
- >It's Friday...he probably cut out early.
- >Now you remember; his kid had a soccer game.
- >Leave the report on his desk.
- >Go clock out yourself.
- >Vacation time.
- >Two weeks on a cruise ship.
- >Not one fucking fluffy pony.
- >Life is good.
- >Come back to work refreshed.
- >The boss greets you.
- >"Anon my boy! Great job on that last blend. We've already sold 50,000 cases."
- "What new blend?"
- >Boss pats you on the back.
- >"The new marinara flavored stuff you tested before you left."
- "I rejected that stuff! It caused burning diarrhea!"
- >Boss gets oh shit look on face.
- >"I didn't see the results page...I thought it was okay!"
- >Together you rush down to Public Relations Dept.
- >Expect thousands of complaints.
- >Only two.
- >One old lady thought the label print was too small.
- >One dumbass cut his finger opening the can.
- >Zero complaints about the food.
- >Re-test.
- >Same results.
- >Fluffies pooping, crying about how their assholes burned.
- >Re-test with all new fluffy ponies.
- >Same results...explosive, burning diarrhea.
- >Gather a focus group of fluffy pony owners.
- >Ask them if they've had any problems.
- >"Oh yeah...they shit themselves and scream about their asshole burning."
- >Absolutely zero fucks are given.
- >In fact, some owners think it's funny.
- >Some threaten misbehaving fluffies with the food.
- >Fluffy ponies fear "Poopies pwace buwny nummies."
- >Fuck it...if that's what the owners want.
- >Put a special warning label on the can.
- >WILL CAUSE EXPLOSIVE BURNING DIARRHEA.
- >Sales go up.
- >Suggest brilliant marketing tie-in...
- >Buy 12 cans; get a FREE sorry stick!
- >You get a promotion.
- >More money, company car, corner office.
- >Dump long time girlfriend...date better looking sluts.
- >Thanks, fluffy ponies.
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