East Meets West (Challenge No.04 winner)

LordPomposity, December 7, 2012; 07:25 / FB 7275
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EAST MEETS WEST

>You love your fluffy pony.

>You treat her well, feed her spaghetti a few times a week, take her to the park for a few hours on weekends, let her sleep in your bedroom, hold her and play with her, all the things that good fluffy pony owners do.

>She keeps you company, always keeps the mood in your house light and happy, runs up hand hugs your legs when you get home from work, does what you tell her happily, and never whines or misbehaves.

>Sure, she’s not the brightest, but she’s perfect in every way that matters.

>You just don’t understand it when you hear people criticizing fluffy ponies as selfish little shit machines, blah blah.

>You always shrug and tune that nonsense out.

>One day you’re sitting on your couch when Liberty walks up to you. “Daddeh?”

>You move aside to make room for her, and she hops up onto the cushion next to you and sits down, folding her legs underneath her fluff.

>“What is it, Liberty?”

>”Wibbahtee wuv daddeh…but duwing day, when daddeh at wuwk, Wibbahtee so wonewy. Wibbahtee wan’ new fwien.”

>Well, fluffy ponies are social herd animals.

>And you heard someone mention that Wally World is selling fluffy ponies for two dollars.

>”Alright, Liberty,” you say. “Tomorrow, we’ll go and get you a new friend to keep you company.”

>Next day, you take Liberty to Wally World to go shopping for another fluffy.

>You don’t like shopping here, but the shelter you adopted Liberty from was shut down by the FBI last year.

>Apparently it was a front for the mob.

>After dodging the greeters at the front door, you work your way over to the fluffy pony section.

>Along the way, people compliment you on Liberty’s coloration: white fluff with blue eyes and a red mane.

>She gets compliments everywhere you go.

>Finally, you reach the fluffy ponies.

>They’re all standing up against the edge of their cages, saying things like “pwease pick fwuffy” and “new daddeh?” and “fwuffy is gud fwuffy!”

>Actually, those are the only things they’re saying.

>They all seem to be freshly weaned, grown to about half size.

>”Okay, Liberty,” you say. “Pick the fluffy pony you’d like us to bring home.”

>”Otay, daddeh! Wibbahtee fin’ bes’ fwuffy fwien’!”

>She starts walking up and down the row of cages as the fluffies inside them say “new fwien’?” and “pway?” and “new fwien’?” and “pway?” and “new fwien’?” and “pway?” and…

>”Daddeh! Wibbahtee fin’ new fwien’!”

>She and a red fluffy with a yellow mane are trying to hug each other through the grating of its cage.

>It’s a stallion, but you had Liberty fixed when you adopted her, so no risk there.

>You open up the cage and scoop the fluffy out. “Fwuffy wuv new daddeh!” he babbles.

>”What should we call him, Liberty?”

>Liberty furrows her brow in deep concentration. “How ‘bout…‘Wed’?”

>Red.

>Very creative.

>”Fwuffy name ‘Wed’?” your new fluffy gasps excitedly. “Wed wuv ‘Wed’!”

>”Well, Red it is then,” you say, and proceed to the checkout with Liberty running at your heels, babbling her thanks.

>Your shift starts at ten, so after dropping Liberty and Red off at home, you have to hustle to work.

>You didn’t have time to show Red where the litterbox was, so you asked Liberty to do it for you.

>Red’s vocabulary seems quite a bit more limited than Liberty’s, but he’ll probably learn more as he spends more time with you and Liberty.

>For now, though, they can communicate through the universal fluffy pony language of hugs.

>When you left for work, they were pushing a ball around the living room, babbling to each other.

>It was pretty damn cute.

>That evening, you come home, open the door, and—

>Oh god, what is that smell?

>Is that…

>God Lord, how can a creature that size produce that much shit in a day?

>”Liberty? Liberty!”

>Liberty comes running down the stairs. “Wibbahtee sowwy! Wibbahtee show Wed wittahbawks jus’ wike daddeh say, but Wed nu unnastand! Wed jus’ say ‘wuv Wibbahtee’ an’ ‘huggies?’ an’ ‘pway!’ an’ den he make bad poopies aww ovah!”

>”Okay, it’s not your fault. Liberty, wait here.”

>Liberty nods and swallows. “O-otay, daddeh.”

>You open up the hallway closet and after some rummaging around, find the sorry stick.

>Never actually had to use it on Liberty.

>After that, Red isn’t hard to find.

>You just have to listen for “Dummy daddeh nevah fin’ fwuffy hewe” and look for the bright yellow tail sticking out from behind the couch.

>You grab him by the tail and yank him out. “Red! You have been a very bad fluffy!”

>”Nu! Wed be gud fwuffy!”

>”Good fluffies don’t crap all over the house! Bad fluffies get the sorry stick!”

>”Huu huuu, pwease nu sowwy stick!”

>You hold him up by the tail, lifting his hind legs off the floor and leaving his fluffy buttocks bare.

>He tries to scramble away with his front legs. “Fwuffy sowwy!”

>Whap!

>”Waaaaaaa! Owwies! Fwuffy sowwy!”

>Whap!

>CRACK!

>”AAAAAAH! BIGGES’ OWWIES! AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

>What the…?

>Did you just break Red’s leg?!

>You were barely tapping him!

>Oh fuck, time to go to the vet.

>You load Liberty and Red into the car and drive across town.

>Vet sees you as soon as you get there. “Hi. Something wrong with Liberty?”

>”No, not with her. I just got a second fluffy pony. His name’s Red.”

>”Creative.”

>”Yeah, yeah. Liberty picked it. Anyways, Red didn’t pick up on the whole litterbox thing, and I decided I needed to use the sorry stick. I barely tapped him with it, and I heard a bone snapping.”

>”Why weggie nu wuwk?” Red asks.

>”Hmm.” The doctor takes Red from your arms and starts looking him over. “He’s too young to be suffering from any sort of age-related bone disease. You said you just bought him…where from?”

>You blush and avoid eye contact. “Wally World.”

>”And when he talks, what does he say?”

>”Well, he’s got kind of a limited vocabulary. When we were choosing between him and the other fluffies at the store, it was all ‘pwease pick fwuffy’ and ‘new daddeh?’ and ‘fwuffy am gud fwuffy’, and after we picked him—look, doc, how is this relevant?”

>The vet sighs. “It’s just as I feared. You see…this isn’t a fluffy pony.”

>You blink. “What?”

>”This is the cut-rate Chinese knockoff. Drowns from a water bottle, chronically incontinent, dies in some ridiculous within a month of purchase, et cetera. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.”

>”Wow.” You sit down and sigh. It’s a bit much to take in. “I always assumed those were exaggerations. It sounded like the fluffy haters were talking about a completely different animal, and…I guess they were.”

>The vet shakes her head. “Not precisely. You see, these knockoffs don’t have actual brains—just a truncated brain stem. They don’t consciously process sensory data. They have primitive nerve clusters responsible for executing hard-wired responses to various external stimulae. They’ve got a pre-defined vocabulary of about five hundred phrases that they can pair with their reactions. Not to mention that their fluff has a higher content of lead, cadmium, and mercury than your average superfund site. So, no it’s not a completely different ‘animal’. Now get this filthy disgusting verminous BIOTOY out of my office. I have real animals to take care of.”

>”Uh, yeah. Sorry, doc.”

>You take Liberty and Red back out to the car, Red still whining and sobbing his fake tears in your arms.

>You set in the driver’s seat for several minutes, all three of you quiet.

>Finally, Red says “Huggies?”

>This is going to be tough to explain. “So…Liberty. How much of what the doctor said did you understand?”

>”Wibbahtee unnastand.” Liberty nods at you. “Wed nu be weaw animaw, it be toy. Wike baww, o’ wike bwocks.”

>Wow, that was amazingly perceptive.

>”But is bad toy,” she continues. “Nu smeww pwetty, an’…”

>She points at Red with a hoof. “…dis bad poopies be so fwagiwe, whish be bwoken by aww.”

>”Well, that settles it.”

>You drive to Wally World.

>”Liberty, wait in the car.”

>You crack the windows and make sure to lock it while you take Red in.

>Stomp over to the service desk, grab Red by the tail, and swing it around your head like a flail. “Taiw owwies! Nu wike dis game!”

>You slam it down on the counter, spraying a sunburst pattern of blood and teeth across the surface.

>Red tries to utter one of its phrases, but its shattered ribcage has torn its lungs to shreds.

>”Deceptive advertising, defective product. I want my goddamn money back.”

>The Wally World employee is happy to oblige, and thanks you for being calmer than any other person she can remember who returned a fluffy pony.

>You use the refund to buy Liberty some spaghetti by way of apology.

>Next time, you’ll buy American.