Power Point Presentation

FractalFluff, January 25, 2014; 23:57 / FB 16939
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(Hugbox with abuse sprinkles.)

POWER POINT PRESENTATION

You ever hear the quote — I think it's one of Heinlein's — that goes: "It is impossible to make anything foolproof, because fools are so ingenious"? If Heinlein had ever met a fluffy pony, he might have written "It is impossible to make anywhere fluff-proof, because fluffies are really fucking excellent at dying."

I was very proud of the girls' saferoom. Washable, non-toxic, non-flammable floor-coverings and wall paint. Plastic covers screwed over the power outlets. Unshreddable bedding, hazard-free toys, shatterproof drinking bottles instead of water dishes, plastic covering the windows, no sharp edges, nothing that they could break, fall off, choke on, swallow or set on fire.

And I still walked in to find one of the fillies trying to stick her horn in the wall socket. Her sister was whining that she wanted a turn, while her mother was sitting by with a look of benevolent pride on her pretty face.

"Ruby, what the heck are you DOING?" I yelped, snatching the socket-bound filly out of harm's way. I had to grab her sister next, since she immediately attempted to do the same thing. "Amy, why didn't you try and stop her?"

Amethyst, the purple-maned unicorn mare, beamed up at me. "It otay, Daddeh," she said soothingly. "Mummah wettin babbehs go fiwst."

"Go... first... what?"

"Amy foun dah spawty pwace! Bweak dah siwwy shutty-fing so dat Mummah an babbehs can haf bestes hownies an be bestes pointies!"

I grabbed one of the large blocks from the PoniJym and stood it in front of the wall socket as a temporary shield so that I could set the two fillies down. All three sat there gazing up at me, their white-fluffed faces expectant and puzzled. "Amy," I said, trying to keep my voice level, "The... the sparky-place isn't for fluffies. Okay? Very bad for fluffies." I ran my hand over her purple mane and stroked her snowy-white fluff. "It could really hurt you if you put your horn there. It could hurt Ruby and 'Phire if they put their horns in there. You don't want to hurt your babies, do you?"

Her face clouded briefly, but then brightened again. "Spawties nu huwt pointy-fwends, Daddeh," she said happily. "We makin spawties aww da time! Spawty-pwace fwend hewp make dah bigges' spawties, su we can haf dah bestes hownies!"

"No, Amy, the sparky-place is not your friend," I improvised "The sparky-place is a meanie and wants to hurt you and your babies. Very bad sparky-place." Was she taking any of this in?

"Spawties nu meanies, Daddeh," she responded calmly. "Pointy-fwends make aww dah time. Wook!" She sent a shower of little sparks from her horn-tip.

"I see your pretty sparkies, Amy, but wall-sparkies are... well, they're different..."

It was no good. She was just sitting there beaming happily, lost in her dream of supercharged unicorns and oblivious to any warning I might give. Meanwhile, Ruby and Sapphire were already trying to move the block away from the wall socket. Frantically, I gathered the two fillies up again, clutching one under each arm as I began to hustle their mother out of the room.

"Look, let's all go outside for a little while, huh?" I said, pushing Amy towards the kitchen and the back door. "You and your babies can play outside on the grass, and Daddy will... Daddy will think of something, I guess."

"Yaaay! Gwassies!"

I got them all out to the back garden and into their fluffy run. The garden itself was carefully fenced off, with tall, sturdy wooden panels and a gate that locked rather than just latching. To be on the safe side, though, I'd built a chicken-wire run that led off the back door. It even had a "roof" of chicken-wire so I could let them play outside without the danger of a buzzard or a hawk or something snatching one, like I'd read about. Did we even have hawks round here? I didn't know, I just knew that if one should happen by it would be drawn to the fluffies like a magnet. There was a small pony door to let them back into the house, although I'd dunned it into them that if they came back inside they were to find me immediately or go straight to their saferoom, and that they were not to touch anything.

Leaving the trio to frolic on the lawn, I went out of the front door and headed to the garage for my tools. Having dug around and procured a sturdy piece of wood that I could turn into a new cover for the power outlet, I grabbed my drill, a packet of screws and my toolbox before jogging back to the house. I was heading for the saferoom when I heard the screams.

"Dad-deeh! Dad-deeeeeh! HEWP!"

I dropped everything and ran to the back door.

Goddamnit, there was a strange fluffy in the run. A strange MALE fluffy. "Dummeh mawe!" it was shouting, "nu wun! Smawty gonna gif speshuw huggies!"

Ruby was cowering in one corner while Amy was kicking ineffectually at the stallions flank, crying "Nu! Bad fow babbeh! Bad fow babbeh!" Sapphire was...

I saw red as I strode over and grabbed the Smarty by the scruff of his neck, dragging him off Sapphire. To my relief, I'd stopped him in time. She didn't look to have been hurt, but was obviously very frightened. I lifted the Smarty up and glared right into his mean little eyes as my girls hugged my legs and cried.

"Dummeh hoomin!" yelled the Smarty. "Dis mai wand nao! Dese mai mawes! Leave ow get bigges —"

I didn't let him finish. Pointing his backside away from us and aiming outside the run, I changed my grip so that I had him round the belly and squeezed. "Yeeeeeep!" screamed the Smarty. "Nu gif owwies! Smawty gif sowwy poopies!"

"That's the idea," I told him. I squeezed harder. Liquid poop sprayed out through the chicken-wire, saturating a recently-dug garden bed. He peed some as well. I kept on squeezing him until I was certain he was empty, then wiped his butt on the grass. His protests got shriller and shriller.

I don't care much for ferals and I care less for Smarties, but I'd normally avoid harming them. This guy, though? He was a real piece of work. Ruby and Sapphire were just barely four months old, clearly still immature even by feral standards. Under the grime, the Smarty himself was well-made, with thick creamy-white fluff and a rainbow mane and tail: colours that would have given him the pick of the mares in just about any herd. If anything, he could have been a more impressive specimen even than my girls. The fact that he was alone and invading someone's yard to assault a half-grown filly spoke volumes.

"Huuhuuhuuu! Pwease nu mowe owwies," he begged. "Why huwt Fwuffy? Fwuffy nu du nuffink. Huuuhuuhuuu!"

I held him up again. "How did you get in?" I demanded. "You find a hole in the fence? Well? Answer me!"

"S-Smawty gu in doow," he sniffled. "Smawty seed dah doow open, gu in hoomin housie, smeww mawe, gu fwoo da wittew doow dewe. Huuhuuuhuuu... pwease wet Smawty gu!"

Dammit. I'd been in such a hurry to get my tools, I hadn't shut the front door all the way. He'd waltzed right into my house and out into my garden. The girls had been trapped. They could have been terribly hurt, and it was all my own fault. My grip on the Smarty slackened as the shock hit me.

He realized that I was no longer holding him as tightly as before, and his fawning manner disappeared.

"Dummeh hoomin!" he demanded. "Wet Smawty gu! Yu weave! Dis mai wand nao! Yu —"

That just about did it. His rant ended with a small "ulk" noise as I grabbed him in a headlock.

"Come on, girls," I said. "Mister Smarty here is going to help me show you something."

I dragged him back into the house, snagging an "amusing" Kiss The Cook apron my brother had given me as I passed through the kitchen. Outside the saferoom, I paused to wrap the Smarty firmly in the thick plastic-coated fabric. Pinning the struggling feral in place with one arm, I grabbed a pair of thick rubber gloves from the toolbox and slipped them on for good measure. I dragged the Smarty into the room and kicked aside the block. My fluffies followed me, looking confused.

"Now then," I addressed the feral, "Tell me your name."

"Fwuffy — Fwuffy name am Spectwum," he said. So he was a probably a former domestic; ferals normally go for colours or plant names, if they bother with names at all.

"And who is your Smarty friend, Spectrum?"

"Spectwum am Smawty! Yu wet gu!"

"And where are you, Spectrum?" I demanded.

"Spectwum am inna hoomin... Spectwum am in Spectwum housie!" he stated belligerantly. "Dummeh hoomin, dis Smawty housie nao. Yu weave ow —"

"Okay, girls," I said, "Watch THIS!"

And I jammed that arsehole's horn right into the power socket.

At first, nothing happened. I shoved harder, digging around with the horn while he shrieked and struggled. "Owwie! Owwie! Nu huwt Fwuffy! Nu huwt Spectwum! Spectwum nu du nuffink! Wet Spectwum —"

There was a ZZZT! and a shower of sparks. The fluffy went limp.

I am not a fan of resetting fluffies. Maybe in cases where they're going to suffer severe distress, you can make a case for it; but it's a brutal thing to do to a sentient (or semi-sentient) creature. It's a violation of their mental integrity; even an incomplete wipe takes away some essential part of who they are. Cruel, unethical, indefensible.

But seriously, fuck Spectrum.

I sat him up on his haunches and gave him a good shake. "Hey, fluffy. Hey! Wake up!"

His eyes fluttered open.

"Huwwo, nice mistah," he said politely. "Whewe am Fwuffy? Nice mistah be nyu Daddeh?" His eyes fell upon the girls. "Nyu fwends?" he asked. Amy scowled and all three inched away.

"Nu yu fwends," spat Amy. "Nu wike yu."

"What's your name?" I demanded, giving him a shake.

"Fwuffy name am... Name am..." he looked baffled. "Fwuffy nu haf name, nice mistah. Nice mistah wan gif name?"

"You name is, uh..." I thought for a second, reaching for something that would make an impression on my fluffies.. "Your name is Poopies!" I announced. Shocked giggles from the audience.

The fluffy's face fell.

"Your name is Poopies because you're the WORST fluffy and nobody likes you! Poopies has NO Daddy and NO friends!"

"Waahhh... Poopies nu wike name! Poopies nu wanna be wows' fwuffy. Poopies wanna haf a Daddeh an fwends. Poopies nu wanna be Poopies! Poopies nu wanna be Poopies nu moooowe... huuhuuhuuu..."

"Fair enough!"

I picked him up again and jammed his horn back into the socket. There was another ZZZZZT! and another shower of sparks. Again, he went limp. This time it took longer for me to wake him up.

"Huuhh... wuhh?" he said, his eyes opening slowly. "Whewe... whewe... whewe am Fwuffy?" He looked around, then back at me. "Nice... mistah... nice... nyu... Daddeh?"

For an answer, I shoved him back in the socket.

ZZZZT!

He took longer than ever to open his eyes, even with my shaking him. As soon as they began to flutter, I stated clearly: "Your name is Rainbow. I'm your Daddy. You're a kind, friendly pony who's nice to other fluffies, and you just hate Smarty friends. These three fluffies here? They are very, very important to you. You want to keep them safe and happy."

He blinked blearily up at me. I couldn't help noticing that his eyes had wandered off in different directions: one looking up and to the left, one down and to the right.

"Fbwend?"

I shook him again. His eyes focused a little better. "Daddeh," he smiled. "Fbwends."

My three were no longer scared. Amy had come closer and was peering curiously at the confused ex-Smarty. Ruby was giggling, and even Sapphire had started to smile.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"Dambe? Nambe. Bwain... Bwain...bowb. Name."

"Do you like Smarties, Rainbow?"

"Sbawtied? Nuuuu! Bwainbow gotta sabe fbwends! Wun way, fbwends! Bwainbow gedda Sbawtied fow oo! Bwainbow keeb fbwends sabe!" He looked around frantically, trying to find the Smarties. Then an expression of bewilderment crept across his face. He turned back to me. Shaking one hoof free of the apron, he placed it on my knee in a beseeching sort of gesture.

"Daddeeeh," he said plaintively. "Fbwuffy? Whewe?"

Finally satisfied, I laid a hand on his grubby mane and said: "You're home, Rainbow. You're home."

***

"...And so why don't we touch the sparky places?" I asked the unicorns yet again.

"Because dey make us fowget effwyfin an be siwwy-fwends!" chorused the three mares. Two months on, and Ruby and Sapphire had grown appreciably, maturing into happy, confident young adults.

"That's my bestest pointies," I congratulated them.

"...be... siwwy... fwends..." concluded Rainbow, bringing up the rear. I ruffled his mane affectionately. He'd recovered his faculties to a great degree, although he'd probably never be quite as sharp as the others.

Most importantly, he showed absolutely no sign of his former personality. Spectrum was gone. In his place was Rainbow: a quiet, considerate pony who delighted in keeping his white fluff and colourful mane and tail fastidiously clean. He played well with other fluffies, bristled at any mention of Smarty Friends, and he was unfailingly devoted to Amethyst, Ruby and Sapphire.

The only flaw in an otherwise ideal fluffy pony was his intractable phobia of electrical outlets.