Replacement - Part 5

>Be average joe.
>Owner of Plumsweet, the fluffy who shat on your dad's vodka.
>But dad's home now.
>And he's pissed.
>In both senses of the word.

>"I SHAID WHERE'SH THAT LITTLE FLUFFY FUCHKING THING?!"
>Plumsweet, who has been asleep on your lap until now, wakes up and covers her ears.
>Bad, woud wowds! Nu wan'!"
>You and your mother both look at each other and quickly agree on a course of action.
>Mum's always been a quick thinker
>"Plumsweet, come with Mummy for a while, ok? We're going to play a game!"
>Plumsweet brightens up a little but is still nervous about the noise your dad is making
>"Pway? Wat game we pway, mummah?"
>CRASH!
>"FUCHKIN' HELL, WHO LEFT THIS THING HERE?!"
>Thank God for Aunty Cheryl giving you that hat rack for Christmas.
>It may buy you some time while your Wine-O father untangles himself.
>Your mother continues;
>"We're going to play... Hide and Seek!"
>"Pwumsweet wuv hidenseek! Favwit game!"
>"Ok Plumsweet, I'll help you hide, but you have to stay as quiet as you can, ok? No noises! Shhhhh!"
>Mum puts her finger on her lips
>"Okay mummah! Pwumsweet no make noisey! Ssssssssss!"
>Plumsweet places her bandaged hoof on her mouth.
>HNNN- Fuck, no time for diabeetus.
"Mum, help her hide. I'll handle dad."
>She nods, and picks up Plumsweet and places her behind the bookshelf.
>Plumsweet giggles, then remembers the rules and shushes herself.
>"Nu make noisey, wan win hidenseek."

>Dad's finally untangled himself from the hat rack, and stumbled into the back room.
>"Oi, you anshwer me when I fuchkin' talk ta ya. Where's that little fluffy shhhhit?"
"Dad, sit down. You're drunk off your arse."
>"Don't tell me what ta do, now show me where that little rat ish sho I can fuchkin' skin it."
>You and your mum exchange glances
"Dad, you're not skinning anything. Plumsweet didn't do anything to you."
>This makes him go red in the face
>"The little furball took a shhhit on my pissh!"
>You've had enough of this
"She didn't do anything that we weren't already doing! We're sick of you drinking, dad. We're sick of you killing yourself, we're sick of seeing you so sorry for yourself, and we're SICK of being pushed around by a man who needs to drink himself stupid to even TRY and attack a fluffy pon-"
>SMACK.
>Why is the room upside down...?

>...
>Well.
>Fuck.
>You think your nose is broken.
>But you can't stop laughing.

>"What'sh sho funny, you little cunt?"
>Between laughs, you manage to say;
"Looks like you need to be drunk to attack me, too."

>You're probably going to regret that.

>Dad starts laying into you, kicking you while you're down.
>Once in the head, twice in the stomach, before you hear a high-pitched squeal.
>"NU HUWT DADDEH! DADAD NU BE MEANIE!"
>Plumsweet charges out from behind the bookshelf and grabs onto your Dad's ankle with all of her tiny might.
>You cough up a little blood and manage to grunt;
"Plumsweet, no!"
>She's still yelling at your dad to not be a meanie, not even listening to you.
>It doesn't look like she's attacking him...
>It looks more like... Hugging?
>Is she trying to hug him and calm him down?

>Your dad looks down at his ankle and snarls.
>He puts his foot down slowly, and picks up Plumsweet by the scruff of her neck.
>He stares directly at her, showing nothing but drunken rage.
>She stares back, trembling a little, but still with a determined face.
>"N-no be meanie dadad! Nu be siwwy an' huwty D-daddy! Be nice an' g-gif huggies an say 's-sowwy'!"
>Woah, is she actually standing up to him?
>For a minute, your dad's face softens.
>He lowers his arm slowly...

>... Then throws Plumsweet against the bookshelf.
>She screams when she hits, it's the kind of sound you never want to hear again.
>It's like a small child being tortured.
>It hurts.
>She cries.
>"PWUMSWEET HAF WEGGIE OWIEEEES! WEGGIE NO WOWK! HUWWWWTTT! WAAAHHHHH!"
>Your mother has run over to her, grabbed her off the shelf and lay her on the carpet.
>She's trying to console Plumsweet, but it's not working.
>She's still crying.
>It's the most heart-wrenching thing you've ever heard...
>Your dad is just standing there staring at her, his eyes wide.
>Looks like he hates the sound too.
>He might just try and finish the job...

>... No.

>You move quickly, grab your dad's knee joint, pull, and force him to the ground
>You punch him in the diaphragm to wind him, then roll yourself behind him and force one arm up behind his back, getting him face down under you.
"Listen to that, dad! THAT'S what you're doing! You hurt an innocent creature because you can't control yourself! You need help!"
>He tries struggling for a few seconds, but slows, and stops.
>He listens to Plumsweet's tears, her howls of pain. Of betrayal.
"She only wanted to help you, dad! She said so herself. She only wanted you to be happy."
>You stare down at your dad, who is facing away from you.
>He remains silent.
"Say something, God damn it!"
>He slowly turns his face to you...

>He's crying.
>Dear God, your tough-as-nails dad is crying.
>You would never know if it was the booze or true emotion, but he was bawling like a child.
>"I'm sorry. Oh God, I'm so sorry..."
>You get off him.
>He crawls out of the room, and locks himself in the bathroom.
>You can still hear him crying.
>Plumsweet, however, takes precedence.

>You rush over to your tiny friend
"Plumsweet, tell daddy where it hurts."
>She tries her hardest to speak between sobs
"P-Pwumsweet haf *hic* W-WOWST weggie ow-ow-owieeeees!"
>Woah, she's not kidding.
>The front right foreleg that took the brunt of the blow is all bent and twisted.
>The very same leg that you bandaged not 2 hours ago.
>You see blood seeping through the bandage, and dripping through her white fluff.
>She's probably got a few broken ribs too, knowing fluffy pony fragility.

>Your mum speaks
>"We've got to get you to a hospital, (average joe). Your nose-"
"Will be fine. I have to help Plumsweet. Call the vet."

>You cuddle the tiny fluffy pony to your chest.
>You are NOT losing another pet.