The Fluffy Factory: There's One Born Every Minute

>You are a young suburbanite.
>Decent job, pretty nice house, very nice car.
>You are sad, despite your success.
>Your cat just died.  He had a good, long life.
>Now, though, your nice house seems awfully empty.
>You don't want another cat, not right now.  You're not ready.
>The house just isn't the same now that you're alone in it, however.
>You drive past a store everyday that sells fluffy ponies.
>Your brother bought his two ponies from here, and constantly sings its praises.
>It seems nice enough, not like that hellhole public shelter he told you about.
>You've been considering getting a fluffy pony to keep you company, to fight the emptiness.
>Owning a fluffy pony can't be that hard, right?
>They can talk to you, tell you when they're hungry, when they're sick, what they want to do.
>Your brother loves his fluffies dearly, and says they're not hard to take care of, even if they are difficult to train.
>Finally, your curiosity overwhelms you.
>Today, when you get out of the office, you park in front of that store.
>'Sunny Meadows Fluffy Store', the sign up top says.
>You see a board in the window advertising foal amputations and hesitate.
>You've heard of this.  Fluffy ponies are legendary for their ability to die.
>Still, cutting the legs off a mostly-sentient creature bothers you a bit.
>After peeking in through one of the plate glass windows, you go finally inside.
>The left side of the store is walled off.  There are two openings in the wall where staff are helping customers.
>There is a door between these openings, which seems to be the only way into that part of the building.
>As you look to your right, you see a fluffy paradise.
>The first thing you notice are the bright colors.
>The walls are white, but they have colorful images painted on them
>Most of the back and side walls are lined with spacious, spotless cages, stacked five high.
>Some cages are empty, but most have a single fluffy occupant.
>A few of these are eating dinner.  The aroma of spaghetti fills the room.
>Others are just having fun, nosing a ball back and forth, or rolling around and babbling.
>Still others are sleeping, nestled comfortably in clean basket beds.
>On the blue carpeted floor, there is a large pen where some young fluffies play, or hug each other.
>A few other customers are walking around, browsing the selection.
>”Can I help you?”
>You turn to see a...purple-haired punk/goth chick?
>Not the kind of person you'd expect to like cute, fuzzy things.
“I was thinking about buying a fluffy pony...”
>She smiles at you.
>“You've come to the right place.  I'm Sarah, the owner,” she says, offering her hand.
>You shake it.  She leads you to the cages.
>The fluffies that are awake come to the doors, trying to hug you.
>”New fwiend!”, “Pway!”, “Gif huggies to new fwiend!” they say.
>”Have you ever owned a fluffy before?”
>You just shake your head.
>”Well, I recommend starting with an earth fluffy.  Pegasus fluffies are fast and like to jump from high places.  Unicorns can be a little fragile.”
>You follow her to the back right corner of the store.
>Young earth fluffies stretch their hooves through the bars, desperate to hug you.
>They bleat inane, but adoring phrases like 'wuv new fwiend!' and 'gif huggies to hooman!'.
>”Here's all the earth fluffies we have at the moment, besides the ones in the pen.  If you have any questions, I'll be around.”
>You nod and begin looking at the earth fluffies.
>The majority of them are very outgoing and active.
>You're looking for one that's a bit more subdued, if that's even possible.
>A lime green fluffy with a black mane and tail and blue eyes catches your attention.
>It stands at the door of its cage, beaming at you.
>”New fwiend fo' fwuffy?” it asks.  Unlike most of its fellows, it's not trying to hug you.
“Maybe.  What things do you like to do?”
>The other fluffies reply loudly about hugs and playing.
>”Wike pway bwocks!  Wike nappies!” the lime fluffy says.
“What about running around?”
>The lime fluffy plops down on its haunches, apparently thinking hard.
>”No wike wun.  Wike bwocks, wike pway baww.”
>You have to admit, the concept of a pet that you can converse with is turning out to be a bit creepy.
>It sure removes a lot of guesswork, though.
>You begin looking around.  Sarah sees you and walks back over.
>”Oh, he's a hugger,” she says upon noticing the fluffy you're looking at.  “Most laid back fluffy I've ever seen. Loves his blocks.”
>So it's a colt.
“I noticed.  I'd like to start with a less energetic one, just to be sure I can keep up with them.”
>Sarah nods, opening the cage and taking him out.  She offers him to you.
>You take the young fluffy and hold him.  He's only about seven inches tall at the top of his head.
>His fluffy body conforms to your chest.  His legs cling to you.
>”Fwuffy wuv new daddy,” he says.  “Fwuffy gif wawm huggies, make daddy happy.”
>He called you daddy.  Your heart melts instantly.
“...how much?”
>Sarah motions you over to the left wall, disappearing into the door before appearing again in one of the openings.
>You snuggle the fluffy while she fusses with something out of your sight.
>Suddenly, something occurs to you.
“You guys don't sell adult fluffies?”
>She looks up. “Nope.  We specialize in young ones because they're easier to train.”
“I see.  Where did you get them all?”
>She puts some paperwork on the desk.  “Orphaned strays, breeders that have gone under, overcrowded shelters, places like that.  We have some low-volume breeders that supply us too.”
>You look around again at all the happy foals and nod.
>Sarah begins explaining the price.
>The base price for this foal is $35.
>She offers you the amputation service, explaining that it helps keep them safe, but you decline.
>It just doesn't feel right.
>Next, she points at some shelves on the back wall, nestled into the left corner.
>These contain, among other things, starter kits for new fluffy owners.
>The kits have manuals about discipline and care, as well as coloring books and crayons for fluffies to enjoy.
>They also have samples of various brands of fluffy chow for pets to try.
>You go pick one up.  That's another $20.
>Next, Sarah tells you that the store has an in-house grooming shop, and asks if you'd like to open an account.
>Your brother uses their service regularly and loves it, so you readily agree.
>You fill out the papers while your fluffy sits on the desk, babbling about how much he loves his new daddy.
“Will he need shots?”
>”He already has them.  We make sure every foal gets their shots or has them already when they come here to be sold.  That's covered in the owner's fee.”
>You're finished with the paperwork.
>Under 'fluffy name', you've put Lime.
>It sounds lame when you say it out loud to your new pet.
>“Fwuffy name Wime?  Wime wike name!”
>Maybe not so lame after all.
>While Sarah goes to file your account info, you browse the shelves with your new fluffy in hand.
>You buy him a nice white collar, a red ball and a set of fluffy-safe blocks that he points out and asks for, as well as a fluffy-safe litter box and special non-toxic litter.
>Sarah and another employee help you with checkout.  The latter even takes the stuff to your car for you.
>All told, you just spent $145.
>The gently babbling fluffy clings to you.
>You cannot stop smiling as you get ready to leave.
>”Oh, I nearly forgot,” Sarah stops you.  “We can make him a collar tag before you go.”
“Perhaps when I get him groomed.  I just want to get him home right now.”
>She nods and smiles.  “Okay, have a good day, you two!”
>”Bye nice wady!  Wime go wif new daddy now!” he waves at her.
>The chattering fluffy in your arms continues to say he loves you.
>You get in your car and head home.
>Sarah smiles at you and waves as you drive away.
>A new sucker is born.