Vengence of Fluffy Momma: Alternate Ending I

>this was the final straw
>you check the wound in the mirror later
>shit, you don't need a doctor for this
>the mother is watching her brood
>she tries to wither you with her glare, but she has made a huge mistake
>without a word and blood still on your face you reach down, gripping the back of her neck rather than the scruff
>she squirms, shouting death threats
A threat doesn't really mean much if you can't act on it
>"Fwuffy kiww you!"
>walking to the garage, you've placed newspaper on the concrete
>on the ground next to it are a collection of tools
>ball-peen hammer, pliers, iron, an electric shaver, and a space heater
>you carefully position her under your foot, weight holding the furious ball of fluff on her back
>grasping tightly, your whole body wrenches her forelegs upward
>even on a fluffy pony, connective tissues are tough
>she's screaming as her legs dislocate, and you repeat the process on the hind legs
>her eyes are full of pain and hate as you grab the hammer
>you bring it down on her useless limbs, bones shattering with each strike
>every time you kept you cool when she pooped on the floor or broke a lamp is now mirrored in this act of brutal crippling
>fluffy pony tries to bite you, but your hands force her mouth apart, far enough to dislocate that as well
>setting aside the hammer, you rip out her teeth one by one
>you plug in the iron and the space heater and begin shaving her
>she's trying to make words but between the pain and the dysfunctional jaw its useless
>the iron is nearly red with heat when you begin pressing it to her flesh
>it blackens and cracks, her wails shrill and incoherent
>you stand once she is a blackened, quivering pile of abused meat
I have one final surprise before I leave you here to die.
>you head in grabbing the cuddly little ponies
>they are affectionate and adorable, and despite their mother they still call you "fwiend"
There's a monster in the garage... I need you to get rid of it.
>they ask what a monster is, and you explain it to them
I want you to beat it up as best you can!
>when you put them onto the garage's floor, their mother shudders, trying to worm its way towards them
>four of them are clearly disgusted and crowd around your legs
>the colt though has more fire to him
>he smacks his little hoof into his mother's blackened, bloody snout
>the others draw their own courage from this, and join in
>after a minute of nonstop beating they are clearly tired, and you take them inside for a nap
>when you return, the fluffy pony is as broken as a living creature can be
There's something comical to all this. Even if I scared them, I'd
never hurt them. I'm going to tell your babies that you left them
because you didn't like them. You are going to wallow in this agony
for tonight because you thought you could threaten me.
>head inside, clean wound and bandage it
>the next morning you check on bad fluffy pony
>she has drowned in blood and tears