>you are now Jethro
>despite your rustic exterior, you are an educated man of philosophical leanings
>you work as a farm hand because a masters in humanities is really just expensive toilet paper
>the new guy is finally catching on to the callousness this job requires
>raising fluffy ponies is dirty, emotion-deadening work
>most of the time you block it out
>except when you have to amputate a fluffy ponies limbs
>it is precise work that requires focus or you could kill the merchandise or lose a finger to the saw
>some inner sadistic half of you does churn with glee when it finally hits the fluffy pony that its legs just got sawed off, and is then seared with a blowtorch
>you do take a bit of solace that they'll become a cherished pet
>you showed him how to do it, but he's still very green
>one of them slipped his grip while cutting the first forelimb
>damned shed door wasn't locked and the little guy escaped
>at least escaped into the main paddock, scaring the hell out of the rest of the herd before bleeding out
>took the heat so new guy wouldn't get sacked
>"accidents happen" you said
>of course, now you're cleaning out the stables
>you wouldn't mind if so many of the fluffies didn't try to play Hide and Seek among their dead...
>it keeps happening