The herd of Rushville

>Herein is a brief history of the formation of a herd of fluffy ponies in the city of Rushville, followed by a detailed description of its contrived demise.

>In the early days of Fluffy Ponies, a trucker was passing through the town of Rushville on its way to a fluffy pony store in a major metropolis. The truck hit a bump a little too fast, and as a result, the entire trailer was sent careening over an overpass, tumbling several yards before coming to a halt.

>Roughly half of the fluffies, having the fortitude of wet paper, died as a result of the accident. Those that survived crawled out of their battered crates, pleading non-existent "daddies" for assistance. Of course, some fluffies remained trapped, batting at the wooden planks of their tombs, complaining of "fwuffy hung'y" and "nu smeww pwetty" until they starved. Injured fluffies complained of "weggies nu wowk" or "why nu wun? fwuffy wan' go 'way", and died shortly thereafter of infection or blood loss.

>A great majority of the surviving fluffies had assembled into a sort of "herd", being innately attuned to social settings. Fluffies, as a remnant of their genetic donors, are not fond of the smell of their rotting brethren, and are unconsciously driven away from them, babbling "nu smeww pwetty" and "fwien' scawy! Hewp fwuffy!" This "herd", more or less a pack for want of a leader, led itself into a nearby forest by sheer luck. Here, they would find nutritious, if unpalatable, detritus, on which they would survive.


>Fluffy ponies are engineered to be pets, and as such, they need a "daddy", or at least a surrogate one. Many of the abandoned fluffies became stressed. Weeping to themselves, they complained, "Wan' dadee! Fwuffy scawed!" One completely indistinguishable fluffy, grey of fluff and red of mane, had, for a brief instant, a particulary intense thought. The cells in his pea-brain fired in a strange pattern, and, at that moment, he was overcome with an atypical, unconscious thought: HE should be this surrogate "daddee". Pleading for the attention of his peers, he volunteered for the position of "smawty fwien'", a proposition which was met with "yaaaaaaaay"s, a veritable cacophany of "fwuffy wuv smawty!, and a round of "huggies" which lasted well into "nappy time" and resulted in two rapes and a pregnancy.

>Affairs for the fluffy herd were pretty uneventful. Playtime abounded. Whenever a fluffy is hungry, its psychological dependence on an owner-figure drives it to beg for food. The "smarty" complies, pointing to any one of the obvious piles of rotting leaves in the forest. The herd, about fifteen strong, does not move but twelve yards over the course of a month, driven mostly by the dead or dying.

>The fluffies had it pretty good. Aside from the barrage of ticks and fleas ("Fwuffy itchy! Waaaah!" "Peese huggies! Tummy huwty!") their survival was facilitated pretty well by the forest.

>Fluffies like to "play". Their interpretation of "playing" consists mostly of running around and giggling. Whenever the clumsy little critters collide, they sob a little, and give hugs to make up. One energetic fluffy ran a little too far away from the herd, getting caught in a patch of burrs. As such, she pleaded for help from her friends. "Hewp fwuffy!" she begs, struggling against the grip of the plants. "Fwuffy stuck! Fwuffy nee' hewp, whaaaaaaaah! Fwuffy scawed, nee' huggies!" Her "friends" shied away from her pleas, complaining of "scawy noise"s and shitting themselves profusely. Those brave enough to make the five-foot trek from the herd to the lost friend were driven away by the smell of poop, made by the fluffy, now literally scared shitless.

>One day, a strong storm rolls through Rushville. At around noon, the preceding cloud cover tricks the fluffies into thinking it's "nappy time", and as such, they assemble into a "fluff pile".

>The distant thunder herds them into a tighter clump. Cries of "Fwuffy nu can bweave!" or "Nu huwt fwuffy!" are unrequited in the face of "scawy snappy-cwack". Many fluffies unleash their colons upon their "friends" in fear, to their chagrin.

>And then the rain starts. "Fwuffy nu wike wawa!" "Wawa scawy!" "Fwuffy nu wan' wawa! Huggies pwease!" "Fwuffy scawed!" "Why wawa? Whewe wawa fwom?"

>One of the fluffies had drowned, as fluffy ponies do, pinning a dam to the ground. The "smawty" fluffy had, through stress, another incredibly intense thought. The volume of neurons firing in his brain had nearly fried his fragile, incompetent mind. Through a process of connections that could technically be considered thought, the "smarty" had deduced a pair of what could loosely be considered ideas. The first, human daddies live in houses! His tiny mind strained itself as he notices a pump station, cleverly disguised as a human dwelling to hide the garish maze of pipes from concerned citizens. The second, "smawty" could get the human daddy in this house to help them from the scary wawa!

>The smarty tries to gather his herd to execute his plan, but few comply. "Fwuffy scawed!" "Nu wan' go! Fwuffy wan' fwuff piwe!" "Nee' huggies!"

>Fortuitously, a bolt of lightning strikes a tree a scant 20 yards away, scattering the herd in a sort of cone shape away from the blast, smarty included. They shriek as they scatter towards the pump house, leaving several trails of shit in their wake. The dam, partially trampled and unable to move, soils herself as she realizes she is alone. "Hewp fwuffy! Nu wan' cwack-munsta get fwuffy! FWuffy mumma scawed!" Her pleas, of course, go unanswered.

>The smarty, herd adjacent, beats on the door of the pump house. "Hewp fwuffy, dadee? Fwuffy wan' wawm, fwuffy nu wan' wawa!"

>He beats on the door some more. "P-pwease hewp fwuffy! Fwuffy nee' hewp!"

>He beats on the door again.

>And again.

>And again.

>Fluffy ponies, being too stupid to comprehend what a plan is, much less whether or not said plan has failed or succeeded, stick around the mock house, waiting for salvation. The rain-soaked herd doles out "huggies" to each other as they shiver, the winds cooling their damp bodies well below the temperature at which they can survive. The sickly herd becomes distressed, begging the confused smarty for an answer. "Waaaaaaah, fwuffy make sicky wawa!" "F-fwuffy cowd! Nu wan' cowd, wan' wawm!" "Why babee nu huggies?" "Wawa f-fwien'? Wawa nu make fwuffy cowd?" "Fwien' nu wan' huggies?" "Fwuffy c-cowd! Smawty haf wawm now?" "Wawa scawy! Wan' 'way fwom wawa!"

>The smarty friend beats on the door of the pump house well into the morning. His herd long dead, tears streaming down his face, he pleads dutifully to a master that never existed.