Title:           New Fluffy Chow
Author:          Ginger_Fig
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/NgYKpszr
First Edit:      Wednesday 20th of June 2012 06:58:52 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Wednesday 20th of June 2012 06:58:52 AM CDT

1/4
>Work at an pet food company.
>New product development; Fluffy Pony Department.
>Work all day concocting new mixes for fluffy chow.
>Try out the new blends on 40 test fluffies.
>The goal; create the cheapest food that fluffy ponies will actually eat.
>Chemical flavors sometimes prove toxic.
>Test fluffies often die.
>Easy to get more fluffies.
 
>Trying a new flavor today.
>Usual grain by-product mash.
>Some dehydrated vegatable chunks.
>Those make the owners think their fluffy is getting something nutritious.
>Chemical flavoring...marinara sauce this time.
>Lard to keep it all moist.
>Yeah...lard.  You've been feeding your precious fluffy animal fat all along.
>That's probably why its shit stinks so bad.
>Company keeps a couple control group fluffies.
>They only get grain, grass and vegetables.
>Their shit doesn't stink 1/4 as bad.
 
>Dish out a ration of the new blend to three groups of fluffies.
>One group has just eaten recently.
>One group ate 5 hours ago, on a predictable meal schedule.
>One group has been starved for 24 hours.
>As usual, the control group gets none.
>These cry & beg as usual.
>"Why odder fwuffies get good nummies?" "Wan' good smewl nummies!" "Pwease diffwent nummies!"
>Nope...you get grain & grass like always.
 
2/4
>The 10 stuffed fluffies sniff at the new mix.
>Despite their packed stomachs they eat.
>Good...it's appealing to fluffies even when they're full.
>The 10 fluffy ponies on a regular schedule eat too.
>The 10 starved fluffies gobble their food down hungrily.
>Results all good...now to wait.
>The 10 control group fluffies watch the others feast on flavorful fluffy chow.
>They sob as they chew on the same grass & grain they always get.
 
>Each gets an ear tag denoting its group.
>Scary & painful for fluffy ponies.
>They know what the machine does...they know it hurts.
>Fluffies squeal and try to hide in their cages.
>No chance fluffies...every one gets pierced with a tag.
>Tagged fluffies are released into the obsevation pen.
>After some crying and hugging they gradually forget the painful tags.
>Fluffies roll around playing and laughing.
>Good...if this stuff is toxic it'll get into their blood-stream quicker.
>None seem to be dying yet.
>We might have a winner here.
>Uh-ho...spoke too soon.
>One fluffy stops playing and falls over.
>"Owwwiiieeee! Tummy huwt! Need poopies!"
>Fluffy knows the harsh penalty for pooping outside the box.
>Fluffy tries to drag itself to the litterbox.
>The cramps are too great...fluffy blasts diarrhea out of his butthole.
>"Whaaaahhh! Poopies buwn! Owwiee!"
>As you observe subject, several more fluffies suffer symptoms.
>"Poopies pwace huwt!" "Buwning!" "Whhhaahhh! Hewp fwuffy!"
 
3/4
>First few fluffies to suffer were from the starved group.
>Soon all 30 that ate the new chow are groaning and crying.
>Noxious liquid poop all over the observation pen.
>Good ventilation fans keep the smell away from you & the research team.
>This ain't your first rodeo.
>Only the control group is unaffected.
>They tip-toe around the fouled pen, trying to avoid the poop.
>"Nu smewl pwetty!" "Pwease take fluffy out!" "No wike dis pwace!"
>Well...that was a bust.
>Results: New mix gives fluffy ponies explosive, burning diarrhea.
>Summon the lab assistants.
>Have the fluffies taken away for cleaning & sorry stick.
>Yeah, I know...it wasn't their fault.
>Rules are rules;
>Every fluffy that pooped outside the litterbox gets an ass beating.
>Unbelieveable...the litterbox is the only clean spot in the pen.
>Assistants gag on nasty fluffy shit stench.
>Glad that's below your pay grade.
>You did 3 years of that.
>Washing shitty fluffies.
>Listening to them whimper and beg.
>Hearing them bawl while you whipped their asses.
>Glad you're a researcher now.
>Still gotta tell the boss the new mix is a failure.
 
4/4
>Boss isn't in.
>It's Friday...he probably cut out early.
>Now you remember; his kid had a soccer game.
>Leave the report on his desk.
>Go clock out yourself.
>Vacation time.
>Two weeks on a cruise ship.
>Not one fucking fluffy pony.
>Life is good.
 
>Come back to work refreshed.
>The boss greets you.
>"Anon my boy! Great job on that last blend. We've already sold 50,000 cases."
"What new blend?"
>Boss pats you on the back.
>"The new marinara flavored stuff you tested before you left."
"I rejected that stuff! It caused burning diarrhea!"
>Boss gets oh shit look on face.
>"I didn't see the results page...I thought it was okay!"
>Together you rush down to Public Relations Dept.
>Expect thousands of complaints.
>Only two.
>One old lady thought the label print was too small.
>One dumbass cut his finger opening the can.
>Zero complaints about the food.
 
>Re-test.
>Same results.
>Fluffies pooping, crying about how their assholes burned.
>Re-test with all new fluffy ponies.
>Same results...explosive, burning diarrhea.
>Gather a focus group of fluffy pony owners.
>Ask them if they've had any problems.
>"Oh yeah...they shit themselves and scream about their asshole burning."
>Absolutely zero fucks are given.
>In fact, some owners think it's funny.
>Some threaten misbehaving fluffies with the food.
>Fluffy ponies fear "Poopies pwace buwny nummies."
>Fuck it...if that's what the owners want.
>Put a special warning label on the can.
>WILL CAUSE EXPLOSIVE BURNING DIARRHEA.
>Sales go up.
>Suggest brilliant marketing tie-in...
>Buy 12 cans; get a FREE sorry stick!
>You get a promotion.
>More money, company car, corner office.
>Dump long time girlfriend...date better looking sluts.
>Thanks, fluffy ponies.