Polite Fluffy Ponies.

>Sitting in the swing out in the back yard.
>Might only have a quarter-acre of grass, but it's green and pretty, a rare sight in the city.
>The flowerbed is especially nice.
>You might get around to mowing it this weekend.
>The air isn't clean. Your view goes into a service access alley, and it's a constant struggle to keep trash out of your yard, but it's home.
>"Deh pwace heah! Fowwow Fwuffy!"
>Speaking of trash...
>You turn on your bench and watch a Concrete-grey fluffy pony... an earth pony by the looks of him, squirm in through a very tiny gap in your chain-link fence.
>He's covered in brown splotches, patches of missing fur, and the usual clear indications of a long-term stray.
>Almost as soon as he's through, another little brown turd wriggles it's way in, with much chanting of "Ehn! Ehn! Ehn!" as it squeezes it's fat body through the narrow gap.
>From somewhere outside your fence, you hear a third voice cry "ewww! Fwuffy make poopies on Fwuffy! No smeww pwetty!"
>Ah crap, a tiny family unit. Time to stop this.
>I think i'll go with a 5-Iron today.
>Stroll casually over to the distracted little horse-rat. He's trying to pull the fatter pony through the gap, while another one must be pushing from the other side.
>"This is my yard, pony."
>The Grey one slowly turns around, just as the fat brown one pops through, followed by a yellow one covered in shit pushing up from behind it.
>"Now get back out that hole, or I'll give you the sorry stick."
>The fat brown one... Hell with it, it's a pregnant dam, speaks up "Smawty fwiend, need foodies foh babbehs, babbehs come soon!" The shit covered yellow one groans "No wike smewwy pwace."
>The Grey one, must be a smarty friend. Time to use the good old backswing...
>He lowers his head, and maintains eye contact with you.
>"Sowwy hooman. Can we pwease eat sum of yow gwassies?"
>Claim this as your own? I'll... wait.. what?
>"Er, come again?"
>"Pwease? We hungies an' wan gwassies. Stay offa Fwowehs. Jus' wan some gwassies, den we go 'way."
>"Uh..."
>"An' we make poopies weah yu wan', pwease?"
>A fourth fluffy sticks it's head up. It's been in a fight, by the look of things... Now all seven little watery eyes are on you.
>Damn.
>"Okay. Make poopies over beside that mulch. Don't eat the flowers, and when you're done, tap on the glass here, and I'll let you out the gate instead of out through the hole. Do you get it?"
>JOY EXPLOSION
>Fluffy ponies seem so happy that they immediately move out and start browsing among the grass. The dirty one, who "no smeww pwetty" even hugs the dam.
>When the one-eyed one (with a green coat) stops and squats, the grey one immediately hobbles over to it.
>"Nuuu! Nuu poopies deh! Get sowwy stick! Fowwow Smawty Fwiend!"
>Smarty friend guides it over to the mulch, where it deposits a generously sized turd.
>For several hours, you watch, voyeuristic, as the four fluffies browse their way around your tiny lot. They babble to each other, comment on the state of "gwassies" and "poopies", any time a fluffy has to go poop, it announces it, and then either waddles over to the mulch itself, or, in the dam's case, gets assisted by the rest of the tiny urban "herd".
>As the sun sets, the Grey smarty friend trots over to your sliding glass door, then lifts up a forehoof and gently taps.
>"Hoomen? Fwuffy's had 'nuf gwassies, wan' go. Pwease?"
>Look over your lawn.
>It's not too bad.
>they basically just trimmed it down to a half-inch deep, in most places. Left a few patches uneaten... especially around dandelions.
>"Nuu eat fwowehs, Aww fwowehs stiww dewe. Nuu sowwy stick, pwease? Fwuffys wan' go.
>The Fluffy Pony just remembered everything you told it to do, and guided all the others to behave.
>"What was the first thing I said to you?"
>The tiny fluffy pony stares up at you in terror.
>"Yuu... yuu sed dis yur... yur 'yawd'. Yuu sed we could has the gwassies if we make poopies deh an' not eat deh fwowehs, an' I got yuu when we dun... Pwease nuu huwt fwuffies... fwuffies wu... wu..." it swallows, and closes it's mouth, trembling as it stares up at you.
>This may be the single longest coherent thought you've ever heard a fluffy pony express.
>Are you going to let an opportunity like this go to waste?
>"Listen, would you like to..."
>"Oooh! Smawty fwiend! Fwuffy make big poopies!"
>The tiny grey pony turns, still shaking.
>"Fwiend need fwuffy! Gonna make poopies too fah fwom pwace!"
>He fidgets in place. "Pwease Hoomen! Fwiend need fwuffy!"
>"Your friend isn't going to make poopies, she's going into labor."
>As if on cue, the dam cries out "Nuu! Not poopies! Bebbehs!" and the other two attendants gather around.
>"Go help your fwie- er, friend. I'll be right back."
>rush into the house
>get some old rags you won't miss.
>make one damp.
>run back outside.
>"Mummeh good fwuffy. Mummy wuv Bebbehs."
>Missed the miracle of birth, which is probably for the best, considering.
>The three foals are tiny, brightly colored, and very weakly crying.
>"Qwiet wittew bebbehs, Mummeh heah. Mummeh wuv bebbehs."
>The two attendants are all cooing quietly to the mother.
>The grey smarty looks sad.
>"Bebbehs tu bwight. Not hide. Not wive."
>You slide up behind them.
>"Hey"
>The attendants stare up at you, frozen.
>The smarty friend turns and stares up at you.
>"Pwease, no huwt fwuffy, fwuffy not wan' haf bebbehs heah. No huwt bebbehs, pwease."
>You offer them some rags.
>"I'm not going to hurt you. Or the Foals. Here. Bedding. Let me clean you up a little."
>You carefully run the damp rag through the matted fluff of the dam, removing an unhealthy amount of shit in the process. Turns out she's still brown, but a much lighter, more pleasant coffee-color.
>She continues to lay there, luxuriating in the gentle attention. "T'ank yuu."
>The Grey smarty is leery.
>"Huumen hewp fwuffys? Nuu sowwy stick?"
>"No. No sorry stick. Would you and your herd like to stay here for a while? At least, until the foals are bigger?"
>The Grey fluffy looks at you. "Not 'nuff gwassies fow long. Fwuffy wan' go tu gwassy pwace. Nuu hoomens gif' ouchies."
>you continue cleaning with the yellow one, whose fur has been matted down to the dullest shade of yellow you think there is. The cleaning reveals a very attractive black mane.
>"I could give you some food. Make a place that's warm and safe for you here."
>"Hoomen be... fwuffy nu fwiend?"
>"Yes. I'll be your friend."
>"Yu... wuv fwuffys?"
>"Yes, I'll love you."
>"Den fwiend wet fwuffys go 'way. Gotta wet fwiend go 'way, an' if fwuffys nuu come back, it not yuu fawwt."
>Holy fuck, a fluffy just used logic on you.
>"Wet Fwuffies go. Pwease?"
>You bow your head.
>"Allright. I'll open the gate. You sure you don;t want to rest here, just a little while?"
>"Fwuffys wan' go, gotta go. Thank Yuu... Fwiend."
>Obligingly, you open the gate.
>Grey stops just outside the gate.
>"Fwuffys! "wat du weh say?"
>A slightly disjointed chorus replies "T'ank yuu."
>"Gud. Gud fluffys. Fowwow fwuffy! Safe pwace soon!"
>The dam, tired from labor, shuffles along a little slower, her three foals buried in her fluff.
>One-eye helps her along, keeping his good eye to the outside, and his shoulder to hers.
>The dull yellow fluffy leaves last.
>"Tank yuu, Hoomen Fwiend." it smiles before falling back into line.
>Damn. you're actually going to miss the fuzzy little rats.

EPILOGUE

>It's been a week.
>After work every day, you check your back yard.
>Nope, still no fluffy ponies.
>Even though you actually widened the hole a little.
>As the sun sets, the weather abruptly changes.
>Pounding rain. Lightning everywhere.
>Glad you're not out there.
>As you turn back to the joys of YouTube, you hear a rhythmic tapping at your sliding glass door, louder then the rain.
>You rush down and open the sliding glass door.
>"F-f-f-Fwiend Hewp Fwuffys... P-p-p-P-p-PPwease?"
>It's Brown, and a very young fluffy that's a dirty shade of orange.
>And yellow, and one-eye green.
>They are all soaked to the bone.
>You usher them inside, and break out the towels.
>They are very happy to be in out of the rain, and that happiness is tracking mud all over your downstairs carpet. You hope it's mud at least. At the moment, you don't mind.
>"Where's your friend, the smarty pony?"
>"Smawty fwiend stop munstah. Smawty fwiend wead us tu howe. Whe' smawty?"
>Ohshit.
>You thrust open the door and push out into the torrential rain.
>It'll all blow over in a minute. it's a hard rain, these things start fast and end fast. You've lived through hundreds of them.
>You suddenly realize, you have no idea what to do.
>Finding a fluffy pony without a name has never been a high priority of yours.
>"SMARTY?" you yell into the fury of the storm.
>Looking towards the fence, you see tiny grey hooves poking out of the hole.
>The very definitely flooded hole.
>OHSHIT.
>you grab the tiny grey Fluffy, perhaps a bit roughly.
>"Oh no! You came back! I am NOT loosing you again!"
>It's still twitching! there's hope!
>Flip the pony over, so it's hanging head down, and squeeze it's belly lightly.
>It gurgles and vomits the pony equivalent of a lungful of water down the front of your pants. Coughing it struggles for a ragged breath.
>You couldn't be more happy.
>It then defecates on your shirt.
>Okay, you probably should have expected that.
>You rush the waterlogged smarty inside.
>it's dazed, and it appears to have recently lost a rear leg.
>eventually, it regains the ability to speak.
>"Fwuffy sowwy. Noh wan' make poopies dere..."
>"It's Allright."
>You are just so glad that you have to give the smarty a deep, deep hug.
>"Pwease fwiend, gif fwuffys home?"
>"Yes Fluffy, this will be your new home."
>"an' fwiend?"
>"Yes?"
>"Pwease wet fwuffy go'... yuu nuu smeww pwetty."

THE END.
AND THEN NOTHING BAD HAPPENED