1/7
>You are a dumb anon.
>How dumb?
>You adopted a fluffy pony runt.
>Saw him at the breeder's.
>The mother fluffy had rejected him.
>The breeder was going to let him die.
>He was so pathetic & helpless.
>Squirming around on the birthing towel.
>Shivering; cold without his momma to keep him warm.
>Hungry; crying for milk he would never get.
>Scared; he didn't know why he was rejected.
>You had to help him.
>Breeder shakes his head.
>"That runt didn't get enough oxygen or nutrition in the womb."
>"Even if he lives he'll have a lifetime of problems."
>"That runt will probably be a retard...more than usual that is."
>"It's best to just let nature run its course."
>You didn't listen.
>You're a dumb anon, remember?
>The breeder gave you the runt for free.
>You bottle fed him with fluffy formula.
>You kept him warm with an electric heating pad.
>You gave him all the affection a momma would.
>Against all odds your fluffy runt lived.
 
>Fluffy is an adult now.
>He actually has a reasonably normal brain.
>Still dumb as a rock...but no more than a normal fluffy.
>He does have problems though.
>All food makes fluffy violently sick.
 
2/7
>You've tried everything.
>Human food...fluffy food...organic food...grass & grain.
>Liquid food paste...nutritional shakes.
>Everything gives fluffy terrible stomach cramps.
>He pukes a lot.
>Meals are a time of fear for fluffy.
>He knows eating will make him sick for hours.
>The veterinarian can't do anything.
>"Your fluffy pony was a runt.  His digestive tract never properly developed."
"Is there anything I can do, Doc?"
>"Euthanize him. Go back & get a normal fluffy pony."
>You don't euthanize your beloved fluffy.
>You continue to try everything.
>Every single brand of fluffy chow on the market.
>No luck...everything makes fluffy sick.
>It breaks your heart.
>Fluffy can not even eat spaghetti.
>You have to force him to eat, just to get some nutrition into his little body.
>Fluffy cries and whimpers every time.
>"Nuu wan' sickies, daddee...pwease nu make fwuffy eat!"
"Come on, just a few bites, boy."
>Fluffy chokes a few bites down.
>It always ends the same.
>Fluffy hunched over in pain, crying and clutching his gut.
>"Whhhaaaa! Tummy huwt! Fwuffy nu wike sickies!"
>All you can do is hold him in your lap and stroke his fluff.
>Many pairs of pants have been ruined by puke & diarrhea.
 
3/7
>It's just like any other day.
>You spoon out today's meal into fluffy's bowl.
>Trying a new brand...Fluffy Chunks.
>Grain mash & vegetables pressed into bite sized pieces.
"Come on boy, it's time for dinner."
>You have to pull fluffy out of his hiding place under the couch.
>"Whhaaa!Pwease daddee! Nu wan' sickies! Nu wan' eat nummies!"
"Come on, you need to have something.  Just a few bites."
>Whimpering, fluffy takes a nervous bite.
>You go to get towels, in case he pukes.
>Come back.
>Fluffy's bowl is empty.
"Did you eat it all, boy?"
>Fluffy pony nods happily.
>"Nummies good! Fwuffy wike!"
>Hot damn! He's not getting sick!
>Watch him for the next few hours.
>Fluffy plays happily, shows no sign of distress.
>For the first time in ages fluffy goes to bed happy.
 
>Next morning.
>No puke, no poop accidents in his bed.
"Are you feeling okay?"
>"Fwuffy fewl happy! Pwease mowe good nummies?"
>Of course he can have more.
>Give him the rest of the can.
>Fluffy devours his breakfast with gusto.
>"Yay! Nu sickies! Fwuffy wuv dis nummies!"
>It's a winner...you have to get more of this.
>Look at the can.
>Fluffy Chunks.
 
4/7
>Stop at the store on the way home.
>Same place you bought the Fluffy Chunks.
>Hmmm...only 2 cans left.  Must be popular.
>The next two days are happy.
>Fluffy pony eats like never before and doesn't get sick.
>He has energy to run and play.
>Gotta get more of this food for him.
>The store still doesn't have any more in stock.
>Find a manager.
"Excuse me; when will you be getting more Fluffy Chunks in stock?"
>"Sorry, our chain was only carrying that on a trial basis. We're not getting any more."
>This is a problem.
>Check numerous other stores.
>Nobody has even heard of it.
>Go home, fish the can out of the garbage.
>Bring it with you to show employees.
>"No, sorry, we don't carry that."
>That night, fluffy begs for Fluffy Chunks.
"I'm sorry boy, I'm trying to find more."
>Whimpering, he has a few bites of normal Fluffy Chow.
>As expected, fluffy gets sick & miserable.
 
>Travel to 25 stores that weekend.
>Nobody carries Fluffy Chunks.
>You scan the can label.
>Post a question on fluffyowners.net
>Wait for responses.
>Meanwhile, your fluffy cries and begs for nummies that won't make him sick.
 
5/7
>A hit...somebody answered your question!
>Fluffy Chunks came from a factory in Ohio.
>Poster provides an e-mail & physical address.
>Maybe you can buy Fluffy Chunks direct from the factory.
>You e-mail them.
>Two days go by...no response.
>You write to the physical address.
>You get no reply.
>Every night fluffy cries "Pwease Fwuffy Chunks?"
"Sorry boy...I'm trying real hard."
>Every night poor fluffy gets sick from regular food.
 
>Enough of this shit.
>Ohio is only 700 miles away.
>Put fluffy in his pet carrier.
>Road-trip time.
>Fluffy is excited...looks forward to finally getting Fluffy Chunks.
>It's slow going with a sick fluffy pony.
>Frequent stops for puke & diarrhea.
>The journey takes two days.
>GPS guides you to the address.
>Fluffy is super-excited.
>"Almoss dhewe daddee? Almoss time fow Fwuffy Chunks nummies?"
"Almost there, boy."
>Round the corner.
>Your heart crashes to the floor.
>The factory is a burned out ruin.
 
6/7
>Fluffy is crying...he doesn't understand.
>"Why nu Fwuffy Chunks?
>You sift thru the ruins.
>Find a few empty cans of Fluffy Chunks...yeah, this is the place.
>This isn't over.
>Even if the factory is gone somebody must have the recipe.
>You'll make Fluffy Chunks yourself if you have to!
>Track down a worker from the factory.
>Old fat lady on a Rascal scooter.
>"Oh yeah. That factory brought a lot of jobs to town."
"What about the recipe?"
>"But then the fire burned it all down."
"So who has the recipe?"
>"The owners decided to take the insurance money and bail."
"But is there a place I can find the recipe?"
>"Nobody rebuilt the factory. Lotta folks lost their jobs."
"Lady...the recipe!?"
>"The recipe? Oh, that burned up in the fire.
>"The head nutritionalist moved to Florida & died in a boating accident."
"Wait...you mean?"
>"The recipe for Fluffy Chunks is lost forever."
 
 
7/7
>Walk out to the car sadly.
>Sit down in driver's seat.
>Fluffy scrambles over and paws at you.
>"Nice wady gif Fwuffy Chunks?"
"No, boy.  She didn't have any Fluffy Chunks."
>"Who haf? Fwuffy wuv Fwuffy Chunks. Nu gif sickies."
"I'm sorry boy. There's no more Fluffy Chunks, and there never will be again."
>Fluffy looks up at you with big wet eyes.
>"Nu Fwuffy Chunks ebew?" he sobs.
"Never again."
>Fluffy cries, understanding what this means.
>"Daddee, why bad fing habben? Why nu mowe Fwuffy Chunks?"
"I don't know, boy."
 
>Fluffy lives another 18 months.
>You try every new food on the market.
>Nothing works.
>Fluffy is sick every day until he dies.
>You put his ashes in an empty Fluffy Chunks can.
 
>Go to the fluffy pony breeder.
>See what he has in stock.
>Plenty of happy young fluffies want to be adopted.
>One mare has just given birth.
>She delivered a healthy blue filly, and a runt.
>As the healthy filly suckles the runt tries to squirm into momma's fluff.
>She rejects it...kicks it away.
>The runt squeaks and cries; cold, scared, hungry.
>It is ignored.  The momma focuses on her good baby.
>This time you turn away too.
>Let nature run its course.
>You're not such a dumb anon anymore.