Good Daddeh 5

Swindle, March 30, 2014; 15:23 / FB 19855
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Good Daddeh

Part 5

You're Rock. You're a red and brown fluffy stallion. You're living in a den under a very big pokey bush with Dusty, your special friend, your babies, a blue colt, a black colt, a yellow filly, and a pink poofy filly, and a nameless stallion you rescued a while ago.

The stallion was very, very badly hurt by a hoomin monster and is still incapable of leaving the den, but he seems to be healing and he's very talkative; you get the sense that he was lonely and desperate for company. He's a good story teller; he told you his own story first, which was as sad and tragic as your own, and then he started telling other stories to the babies. He's a very clever speaker, and the babies all like him. They're big enough that Dusty has started pushing them away when they try to drink miwkies and are eating nummies like big fluffies now. Dusty has started leaving the den more and more, helping you gather nummies and bring them back to the den; you insist on being the only one to make the dangerous journey to get wawa from the hoomin lands, but you made sure she watched you from a safe distance so she would know where the wawa was and how to get it in case anything happened to you.

While you and Dusty are away, the nameless stallion keeps an eye on the babies. He tells them stories to keep them entertained, and you've listened in and found yourself chuckling at the funnier ones. Many are cautionary tales, teaching the babies valuable lessons about not making poopies in the den, avoiding monsters, and not bullying. The poor stallion can't move around on his own, not until his leggies heal, but he lays near the entrance to the den; this came in handy when your black colt got adventurous and tried to slip out of the den to go exploring on his own. He got bopped on the nose for his trouble and cried to you about it when you and Dusty returned with nummies; he thought the stallion would get in trouble for bopping him, but instead he got bopped on the nose again by you and a scolding from Dusty. He behaved himself after that, and the babies were more respectful to the stallion once they understood he was perfectly capable of disciplining them. Your yellow filly seems especially fond of him and keeps begging for more stories, snuggling up to him for nappies.

Unfortunately, it seems the good times are coming to an end again. Hoomins are all over the place in the day time, stomping around, shouting, and knocking down trees and bushes. Their huge metal monsters growl and roar, tearing up the very earth itself, and there is a constant rumble and chatter of loud, scary noises beyond your comprehension. You can feel the ground inside the den shake from the noise, and once part of the den collapsed and buried you and your family in dirt that had to be shoved aside and stomped flat to pack it down. You're deeply worried; Dusty seems to believe the pokey bush will keep the monsters away from the den, but you know that it's only a matter of time. A hoomin might be deterred by the pokey bush, but their metal monsters won't even notice. The stallion is beyond terrified of the hoomin activity and doesn't offer an opinion one way or the other.

You and Dusty have started gathering nummies in the dark now, when there are no hoomins around, but it's harder to find nummies. Not just because you can't see very well, but also because there are fewer and fewer nummies to be found; the hoomins are destroying them all. Between that and the scary darkness (you once heard a hoohoo monster and forced Dusty to return to the den without enough nummies for everyone. You and the stallion volunteered to go hungry so the babies wouldn't get tummeh owies. Dusty only ate after you told her the babies might need just a little more miwkies to get by with the growing scarcity of nummies.), foraging has become a hazardous proposition. You go very early in the morning to fetch wawa, before the sky ball rises, and wait for the wawa to start spraying from the ground. This is also a very risky proposition, because you've seen several hoomin monsters leaving their houses and getting in their metal monsters at this time.

Finally though, after days of loud, scary activity by the hoomins, all is quiet. You emerge from the den to look around and the terrain has been altered drastically. Where there were trees and bushes, now there is only bare soil, flattened and leveled. The small hill is gone. You can now see the hoomin lands from the den, where before trees hid them from view. Where before there was a rocky area and trees, now there is the smooth, flat, black rock that metal monsters prefer to run on. There's barely any grassies left, hardly any trees. You notice odd orange and red marks on the ground, on trees, and on the pokey bush that hides the den and wonder what they signify. Nothing good, you're certain.

You need to relocate your family again. You really, really don't want to because of how hard it was to find a good place the last time you relocated, and it will be even harder now because all of you will need nummies, not just you and Dusty, and the stallion still isn't well enough to travel on his own. You gather some nummies in your fluff to bring back to the den, and go inside to tell everyone the bad news.

Dusty accepts the news with calm resignation; she knows this isn't a safe place anymore. The babies all cry, not wanting to leave their home, and the blue colt is especially upset because he equates everything outside the den with danger now. You really need to work with him on that. The stallion agrees that this isn't a good place to be, but he tugs on your leggie and looks up at you, tears staining his fluff.

"Fwuffy haf babbehs in hoomin wand. Haf babbehs wif fwuffy name Wosy, pwetty bwue mawe wif white mane and taiw. Hoomin gif fwuffy wowstest huwties after speshow huggies wif Wosy, den take Wosy inside house, say gon gif huwties tu babbehs. Pwease," he begs, a whine entering his voice. "Fwuffy nu wan wose babbehs agin. Nee see if babbehs otay. Hoomin munsta nu wan babbehs, mebbe wet fwuffy take dem way. Pwease, fwuffy haf tu know babbehs otay."

You have bad heart hurties, remembering the loss of your orange baby and the grieving that followed. You understand the hurties he feels, not knowing if his babies are ok.

You sit down with the stallion and Dusty and formulate a plan.

It's a stupid plan. An incredibly dangerous, stupid plan. You know that. But after thinking so hard and so long your heads all had hurties, none of you could come up with a better idea.

Dusty and the babies remain in the den, awaiting your return. If you don't come back by dark, then she and the babies are to leave the den and search for a new safe place the next morning, never to return. They aren't to come looking for you, either. Dusty helps the crippled stallion onto your back (but not before your yellow filly gives him huggies; you're kind of wondering about her fondness toward him.) and, loaded down, you slowly carry him toward the hoomin lands.

This is a seriously bad idea.

Peeking out from behind the boxes of trashies and rotten nummies, you watch the front of the hoomin's house. The stallion shifts himself on your back and leans on one of his front leggies, trying to take some of the weight off you. His back leggies aren't healed enough to hold him yet. You're not sure they ever will be.

The door opens and a hoomin monster walks out. The stallion whispers a confirmation that it's the hoomin that attacked him and took Rosy away. Right as the hoomin bends over to pick up his news-pepper from the grey rock next to the black rock, you call out to him.

"Nice mista!"

He looks up, sees you, and immediately looks angry. You almost make scaredy poopies. You can feel the stallion on your back make scaredy poopies, feel them as they slide down your back leggies. Great.

"Fwuffies nu make twubbwe fow hoomin! Fwuffies gu way and weave hoomin awone! Jus wan ask kwest-yun!"

"The fuck do you little shit rats want? You better stay outta my trash!"

"Nu wan twashies! Jus wan ask kwest-yun!"

He looks at you, still angry but now curious.

"So what do you want?"

The stallion on your back whimpers, then asks, "Fwuffy gif speshow huggies tu pwetty mawe name Wosy. Fwuffy wan know if babbehs otay."

"Oh, so you're the little bastard that knocked her up. I wondered where you went after I beat the shit out of you."

"Pwease, fwuffy nu wan twubbwe! Jus wan know babbehs otay!"

"Huh. A feral stallion that gives a shit about his foals. That's a new one. I flushed three of your stupid spawn down the toilet because Rosy was turning into a total cunt, but there's two left."

"Nice mista nu wan babbehs? Fwuffy take babbehs if hoomin nu wan dem, take dem faw, faw way su hoomin nefew haf see agin."

Now the hoomin looks like he's about to laugh.

"You're seriously offering to take the little shitlings if I don't want them?"

"Yus. Pwease mista, fwuffy nee know babbehs otay. Gu way and nefew boffew hoomin agin."

"Ok, sure. You want your babies? You can have 'em."

The hoomin goes back inside and you shift the stallion on your back into a better position for running. He seems hopeful, excited even, but you're suspicious. This is way too easy.

But, true to his word, here comes the hoomin, with two peeping babies in his not-hoofsies. You hear another fluffy screeching at him not to take them away, but he kicks something and shuts the door behind him.

"Chirp! Chirp! Mummah! Miwkies! Chirp!"

"Mummah! Chirp! Scawy! Hewp! Chirp!"

"You want your babies, you little shit rat? Here they are!"

He throws one baby so hard that when it hits the trashies box next to you it explodes in a spray of fluff and booboojuice. You feel hot booboo juice spray onto your face and gasp in shock; you don't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't that. He throws the other baby and it manages one last chirp before it hits the grassies, rolls, and comes to a stop at your feet, clearly broken and dead. The stallion screams in horror and you turn to run as fast as you can. Even if you weren't weighed down with the crippled stallion, out in the open like this you have no hope of outrunning the hoomin monster; but you won't leave him behind to be killed by the hoomin, not again. Not like your baby. But the monster doesn't chase you, he just laughs and yells at you not to come back.

Leggies burning with exertion, you carry the sobbing stallion back to the den, tears staining your own fluff as well. Why did he do that? There was no reason to do that. They were little chirpy babies; they'd never done anything! They weren't CAPABLE of hurting anyone or doing anything bad! The stallion had offered to take them away if the hoomin didn't want them. So why... why would he do that?

They're monsters. Horrible, horrible monsters. You grit your teeth in anger and feel the hatred seeping into your heart; if only you could hurt them the way they kept hurting you. Maybe then they'd leave you alone and just let you live in peace.

You hear the noise and feel the ground shake beneath you as you get closer to the den and you already know what's happening before you get close enough to see.

The hoomins and their metal monsters are back, tearing apart the world. They were just late today.

You watch in horror as one of the metal monsters goes straight toward the pokey bush hiding your den and crashes into it. The bush doesn't even slow it down and is swept aside like it was nothing. You scream. Your family!

You watch as a blue ball emerges from the ground where the pokey bush had been, followed by smaller blobs of blue, black, yellow, and pink. You watch your family run screaming into the scant protection offered by the few remaining trees nearby as another monster chews a long, deep hole in the ground in a straight line, going right through where the den was; had anyone been inside when it came, they would have been torn to pieces in an instant. Your family is alive, for now, but they need you.

You run as hard as you can, the stallion holding on tight to keep from falling off, and make a beeline for where you last saw your family. Several hoomins spot you and yell, one makes a half-hearted attempt to catch you as you pass near, but none chase you. Circling around the monster chewing a hole in the ground, you finally reach the trees and start looking for your family.

"Dewe! Dey ofew dewe!"

You look where the stallion is pointing his hoofsie and see a hint of pink disappear behind a bush. You run in that direction, calling for Dusty and your babies.

There! They're all here, huddled under a bush, crying and hugging each other. Dusty is trying to reassure the babies, and the relief in her eyes when she sees you is evident.

"Tum un! Fwuffies nee wun! Hoomin munstas know we hewe, haf tu wun! Mofe!"

You get your family moving. The crippled stallion keeps riding on your back, and your leggies are burning with exertion from carrying him. But you're strong. You only need to carry him a little further. You hope. Your pink filly can't quite keep up with the others and is slowing you all down, so Dusty lets her ride on her back, even though she's getting too big for that now.

With your family all together, you run as far and as fast as you can away from the hoomins.

Finally, none of you can run any more. You're especially exhausted, having carried a full-grown fluffy around on your back, and he slides off your back, yelping as he puts weight on his hurt leggies, and flops onto his side. You collapse beside him, and your family lays all around you, panting for breath. Finally, your blue colt speaks up, asking, "Whu fwuffies du nao?"

"Du know," you answer truthfully. "Du know. Fine safe pwace. Nummies. Wawa. Fwuffies west fow nao dough."

Your leggies are starting to cramp painfully. Ow, ow, owies! The stallion sort of wiggles through the grass, dragging himself with his front leggies and pushing occasionally with his hind leggies, and hugs your blue colt and yellow filly. He starts crying again. You can't blame him, having seen his babies killed horribly right in front of him.

Now your entire family is crying and hugging. They're frightened, they've lost their home, and they're tired. You're so exhausted, you just want to fall asleep right here.

The metallic clank behind you makes you stand and turn, horror growing in your chestie as you see the hoomin who has just shut the gate behind you. You thought you had walked through a gap in a big, straight bush. Now you see it's a fence, covered with vines and flowers. You're trapped.

"Well now, what's all this? A herd of ferals in my backyard?"

You stand between the monster and your family. Dusty squeaks in fright and shelters two of the babies under her body, while the stallion does the same for the others. You're prepared to fight to the death, though you know it's completely hopeless. You stand no chance whatsoever against this monster. But you're not leaving your family to die. Not again.

You puff your cheeks and stomp a hoof, trying to ignore the shaking in your burning leggies, and say, as intimidatingly as possible, "Nu huwt famiwy!"