The Fluffy That Hated Spaghetti

The Fluffy That Hated Spaghetti


Dearest readers, gather ‘round, and let me tell you a tale
Be warned, this is not one of balloons, or confetti
No, dear readers, this is a sordid story, one of great woe
Of a small fluffy pony that absolutely hated spaghetti

An average foal, the young fluffy seemed normal
He would eat, play, laugh, and sleep, just like any other
It was as though no wrong could occur
Until the family got a call from their mother

“Daddeh gon’ make sketties todai!” She cried,
Eyes wide, mouth salivating, heart racing
The very words triggered a deep-seated excitement
Each and every fluffy began pacing

Except, of course, our main fluffy in question
Sketties being THAT great? Pfft, what a thought!
He merely sat on the floor, awaiting his meal
Separate from the rest of the prancing, singing lot

“Fluffies? Your spaghetti is ready!” their owner announced
The plate of pasta was placed on the floor, waiting
Instantly, a flurry of fluff and cheers moved towards the dish
Excluding our hero, who found the whole concept quite grating

The small fluffy sat in the corner, looking at the food
“Babbeh? Ea’ sketties! Dey gud nummies, nu bad!”
The ‘baby’, however, was planted right where he sat
“Pwease, ea’ sketties, befawh daddeh ge’ss mad!”

“You little fucker!” The family’s daddy shouted, quite loud
“You don’t like the food I made for you?”
“The food that every single fluffy pony loves?”
“Fine, you don’t like it? Get out, shoo!”

The young, spaghetti-hating fluff was kicked out
Quite literally, and he landed on his rear
Despite cries from his mother, he was forced to leave
And our dear fluffy is far from being out of the clear

He remembered, however, a primal, instinctual lesson
That he needed to find a friendly feral herd
“Dat’s whuh fwuffy do!” he proclaimed, chest swelled with pride
“Eben if dat simpow idea’s absewd!”

He wandered for hours and hours, and wandered some more
Until he eventually came upon a small group of seven
“Hewwo, nu fwends!” He called. “Who yu?”
The herd all replied at once: “We da Twavewwin’ Twoupe!”

“Fwuffy wan’ join twoupe! How do?”
“Den’ fwuffy nee’ pass da test!”
“Fwuffy am weady faw test! Wan’ join!”
“Otay, answer dis: Wha’ nummies is best?”

The small fwuffy was stunned, he had no idea
What food was truly supreme?
“Fwuffy nu know! Gwassies, ow buggies?”
“YU BIG DUMMEH! GO FAWW IN A STWEAM!”

The small fluffy cried, but moved on regardless
Finally reaching the residential streets
He needed to find a human and fast
His stomach was begging for food and treats

The fluffy went door to door, begging for donations
Door slammed in his face nearly each time
The poor young fluffy couldn’t get any sympathy
Nobody wanted to help a fluffy coated in grime

But on that street lived a young girl, Eliza
Her family poor, clothes all torn up and ratty
And when that fluffy knocked on her door, she vowed
“I’ll raise you just right; make sure you’re not bratty.”

She carried the fluffy inside, and set him down on the floor
“You need food, sweetie. I’ll get something, I swear.”
She looked and looked through the cupboards, and got a small can
“It’s not spaghetti, but I hope you don’t care.”

Eliza cracked open the can, and pulled back the top
“It’s ham. I think it might suit you fine.”
The fluffy edged towards the meal, and opened his mouth
Slowly but surely, he began to dine

This food was amazing! Incredible, even!
The best food the fluffy had ever tried!
“You like it huh?” The young girl asked
The fluffy just nodded, vigorously, eyes wide

The lesson he learned, dear readers, is this:
Being different isn’t a thing that’s bad
And if you’re willing to branch out
There’s a world of fun to be had

But then the fluffy contracted Fluffy AIDS from seemingly nowhere.

THE END