Spare Parts

Vanner, December 5, 2012; 14:16 / FB 7247
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Spare Parts

>Today, you are a fluffy pony.
>You were also a fluffy pony yesterday, and the day before that.
>Before that? You're not so sure.
>The only things you're sure of? Today is a great day!
>The big sky ball is out, you got nummy kibbles when you woke up, and you made good poopies.
>Daddy gets mad when you make bad poopies, so you always make good poopies.
>Daddy is letting you play out in the yard today where there's grassies, and sometimes other fluffy friends to play with!
>Today there's not any fluffy friends, but there is a big black wingie not fluffy sitting on the fence.
>"Hewwo nu fwiend!" you say to him. "Nu fwend wan pway baww? Bwocks? Huggies?"
>The big black not fluffy just looks at you for a moment.
>Then his big black mouth opens and he yells at you for no reason!
>"CAW!"
>You make scaredy poopies and try to run away.
>Scaredy poopies are okay outside, but you get caught up in them and fall on your belly!
>The black not fluffy flaps it big, scary wings and lands in front of you.
>"Nuuu!" you cry out. "Nu wan be fwends! Scawy!"
>The black not fluffy lifts up its head and and starts pecking at your face!
>"Nuu!" you cry, covering your eyes with your hooves. "Nu wan! Daddeh! Hewp!"
>If you can't see it, it can't see you, right?
>It stops pecking a moment, so you look up from behind your hooves.
>It's still there!
>The beak comes forward again, filling your whole field of vision.
>And your entire world becomes an explosion of pain
>The world shifts and warps around you as the not fluffy pulls away from your head.
>Then your eye goes dark as daddy arrives to chase away the not fluffy.
>You're too busy sobbing and soiling yourself to form a coherent sentence.
…
>Be a fluffy pony owner.
>And holy shit, that raven just stole Billy's eyeball.
>Like "bam!" Just yanked it out of his pinto skull.
>It would have been an awesome display of nature if it hadn't been your pet.
>He's bleeding pretty bad; better take him to Dr. Stein.
>Toss Billy in a box, and head toward the vet's office.
>He's busy sobbing and asking "Why dawk? Nu see gud!"
>Arrive at the vet's office to see few other fluffies there in various states of injury and disease.
>One is missing a leg, another is missing a wing.
>There's one that looks like he ways thirty pounds and is wheezing with every breath.
>Another fluffy looks positively ancient. Well, for a fluffy anyway.
>Chatting up the owner, you find out that the fluffy is actually six years old.
>"Oh yes!" she says. "Dr. Stein is a miracle worker. I don't know what she does to keep Felix running, but I bring him in once every six months, and he leaves here happy and healthy as can be."
>Well, Dr. Stein is supposedly the best fluffy vet in the country.
>A guy in a ball cap and lab coat comes out of the back room with a hand truck full of equipment.
>Every fluffy in the room looks up at him, gasps, and cries "Asshowe!" in unison.
>Dude just grumbles and keeps walking.
>"Billy?" asks the nurse.
>Ah, that'd be you.
>Pick up your fluffy's box and take him into the exam room.
>A moment later, Dr. Stein walks into the room to take a look.
>"Hrm…" she says, examining the hole where Billy's blue eye used to be. "You say a raven took out his eye?"
>"Pwease gif fuwffy eye baww back!" your fluffy begs. "Biwwy be gud! Pwomise! Nu bad poopies if gif bak eye!"
>"Pretty rare coloration," she says. "Pinto with piebald eyes. Ever think of breeding him?"
>"Nah, got him from the shelter fixed," you say. "Didn't know he was worth anything."
>Dr. Stein fuzzes his head, and turns to you.
>"Well, the good news is that I can repair the damage," she says. "You're looking at about two hundred and fifty dollars for the procedure.
>Well, if Billy weren't such a great fluffy, you'd just dump him and get a new one, but he is well trained, if a little dim.
>"Alright," you say. "Let's do this."
>"Just leave him here, and you should be able to pick him up in two days."
…
>Be Dr. Francine Stein.
>You are the best god damn fluffy vet in the country because you help design parts of them.
>It's a brand new day, scheduled full of fluffy surgery.
>Hrm… neuter, neuter, spay, liposuction…
>Ah! Amputee repair, reconstructive eye surgery for the pinto, and a "youth-a-sizing"
>Shuffle around the schedule so you'll only have to make one trip to the basement.
…
>Be a pinto fluffy pony.
>You've been here for day, sobbing quietly, and waiting for anyone to give you huggies.
>But here there is only rows upon rows of sobbing fluffy friends.
>The ones that cannot stand hang from hooks embedded in their necks, carpeting the wall in a tapestry of multicolored suffering.
>You are fortunate enough to have all four of your leggies still, but your pretty tail is long gone.
>Still, you could be on the wall as the other fluffies are:
>A hook through your spine, devoid of limbs and doomed to sob in agony.
>The quiet sobs turn to full on screams of terror as the light from atop the stairs falls onto your cages.
>The screams are soon replaced with pleading of "Nu huwt fwuffy no mow!" "Gif wingie fwiend owies instea!" "Nu owies fow fwuffy!" and "Pwease nu huwties!"
>Stay silent. Dead silent. Fluffies that make the most noise seem to get picked first.
>The "Docta Munsta" carefully looks over the hanging fluffies for a moment before selecting a blue mare named Dancer.
>"Nuuu!" shrieks the horn friend. "Nu! Pwease nu huwties Danceh! Be gud! Pwomise! Nu haf nuffin!"
>"You've got a healthy set of lungs, obviously," says the Docta Munsta, as she pokes around the mare.
>"Feels like a healthy set of kidneys and liver too. You'll do just fine."
>She leaves the mare on the table for a moment and comes over to the cages.
>All the fluffies cry out in terror, trying to cover their eyes with their hooves as she passes.
>She's humming something.
>It sounds like a song your momma used to sing to you,
>But coming from her, it’s a tuneless dirge of sorrow.
>"Ah ha!" she says after a moment. "You're the right shade."
>Oh no! She's reaching for you cage!
>Wait, no she's going for the cage above yours.
>"Nu huwt Wawwy!" he cries. "No wan be on waww! Nuu! Hewp! Pwease!"
>Poor Larry. You knew he wouldn't last. The pink fluffies never keep their weggies or tailsies long.
>She straps him to the table before coming back to the cages one last time.
>Docta Munster is still humming that song as she approaches your cage.
>She opens the door, and reaches inside.
>Your mind races. Do you run? Do you hide? Do you make scaredy poopies?
>Do you fight? Fluffies who fight get the worst owies, but it's better than living in fear.
>Lunge forward and chomp down on her hand as hard as your fluffy teeth allow.
>She just kind of giggles at your assault.
>"I like you," she says, pulling her hand from between your weak teeth. "You got spunk."
>She turns you over a few times before scratching her chin.
>"Oh hey, you're not even neutered yet," she says. "Heck, I could have sold you for breeding stock a while ago. I'll do that right after I'm done."
>She grabs you by the scruff, and drags you over to the table where the blue mare and the pink stallion are struggling against their straps.
>For a moment, she lets you go and you think of escape.
>But alas, the straps come down and you too are bound to the table like your friends.
>Momma always said to be brave, but you're so scared of the Docta Munsta.
>She picks up the buzzy thing and flips over Dancer.
>"Nu have weggies to gif!" squeals the fluffy. "Pwease nu mow huwties! Nu make bad poopies ow be meanie! Pwease, Docta Munsta, nu!"
>"Don’t need your legs," she says, putting the buzzy thing to her chest fluff. "I need what's inside."
>The buzzy thing makes the beautiful blue fluff fall away in great sheets as it hums across her chest.
>The blue fluffy cries and sobs begging "nu take fwuff way, Docta Munsta!"
>Docta Munsta flicks her snout, and points a finger at her.
>"That's Doctor Stein, you little shit. No anesthetic for you."
>Then she picks up the shiny thing, and starts giving the blue mare owies.
>You want to cover your eyes with your hooves, or at least look away from the scene of carnage, but she forces you to watch as the owies get worse, and boo-boo juice spills across the table.
>For nearly ten minutes the blue mare screams in agony as Docta Munsta takes out pieces and sets them in a bin.
>You can only shed a single tear for her as Docta Munsta takes something else out, and Dancer finally goes silent.
>She's taking the big sleepies now. Docta munsta slides what's left of Dancer into the red bin
>You hope that your big sleep comes quicker than hers.
>Larry, on the other hand, has been screaming and struggling against his straps the entire time.
>"Nu!" he cries, trying to escape. "Nu! Nu! Nu! Nu!"
>"Christ almighty, shut up," says Docta Munsta. "No anesthesia for you either."
>She picks up a big, shiny thing, and drag Larry over to the table
> Nu wan owies! Wan weggies! Wan keep weggies! Pwease nu owies! Pwease nu huwties! Hewp! hewp fwuffy! Hewp!"
>The screams only get louder as the shiny thing saws through Larry's leggies.
>As they fall away from his body, the smell of burning fluff and skin reaches your nostrils.
>Larry's screams reach a crescendo of wailing before he finally loses consciousness.
>The leggies go into another bin before Docta Munsta jams a shiny new hook through the back of Larry's neck.
>The hook goes on the wall, to join the blanket of pain that lines it.
>Docta Munsta takes off her hand covers, and finally turns to you.
>"And you haven't said a word," she says to you. "Are you scared, fluffy pony?"
>Is this a trick? It has to be, but she's going to hurt you no matter what, so you'd better answer.
>"F…fwuffy scawed," you answer.
>"What are you afraid of?" she asks.
>"F…fwaid… of big huwties," you reply.
>"YOu didn't screech, you did't cry, you didn't even say anything as I gutted your friend. Did you even know her name?
>"Fwuffy wuz Danceh," you say. "You take Wawwy's weggies. Befow dat, wuz Daween, an Ginah, and Tewwy's weggies. Fwuffy no dem aww."
>"And what do you think I'm going to do to you?" she asks.
>"Dun know," you answer.
>"Well, you're going to be fine," she says. "In fact, you get to live a life of happiness making new babies with pretty mares."
>Now you know it's a trick. Fluffies don't leave the basement unless it's in the red plastic bags.
>"Unfortunately, I need that piebald eye of yours," she says. "But you'll get an eyepatch out of the deal, so I guess you win after all."
>She puts something underneath nose.
>"Smell this," she says.
>You give the rag a sniff and everything goes dark.
…
>Be a fluffy owner.
>And today's the day you get Billy back!
>Billy is happy as can be with a brand new eye.
>He keeps looking at things, saying "Biwwy see you now!" then giggling.
>Looks like Felix the ancient fluffy is feeling better too.
>And that little amputee is looking much happier with her brand new legs.
>"Billy was a perfect patient," says Dr. Stein. "Just keep him away from ravens from now on."
>"Tank yoo daddeh!" Billy tells you.
>"Thank Doctor Stein," you tell him. "She's the one who did it."
>"Tank you Docta stein!" he chants. "Wuv Docta Stein!"
>Dr. Stein fuzzes his head, and gives him a lolly-pop.
>You and your happy fluffy walk from the vet's office a few hundred dollars poorer, but much happier.
>As you buckle Billy into his car seat he gives you a big hug.
>You love your little pinto fluffy pony.
…
>Be Billy, the pinto fluffy pony.
>And today is the best day ever.
>Everything looks so much better now! You have no idea how, or why, but it's so fantastic!
>You look out the window, just seeing what you can see.
>And you can see a fluffy in a cage on the truck next to you.
>But he doesn't look very friendly.
>He's got a mean look on his face, and a black thingee going around his head that covers his eye.
>The mean fluffy just stares at you and turns away as you wave.
>It's too bad. You've never seen another fluffy with your color fluff before.
>You quickly put it out of your mind, though. There's so much fun stuff to do today!
>Why you ask?
>Well because today is the best day ever!