>You are a worker for the State of New Generica, Department of Fish and Wildlife, Division of Fluffy Pony Management.
>Which is otherwise known as the 'Fluffy Pony Judgment Squad'.
>You've been sent out on a very high-priority call to the city of Genericsburg, with such short notice that you weren't given a summary of the problem.
>Fluffy herds in populated areas are usually small, tightly-knit units.
>Since most members of these herds have been abused, they stay well clear of humans when possible.
>Abandoned, but not otherwise abused fluffies can be annoying, as they pester humans for love and food.
>They tend to travel in very small groups, rarely more than eight or ten at a time.
>Given that, you wonder what the rush could be.
>A few fluffies staying in an alley and pleading for hugs and spaghetti isn't that big of an issue.
>And a herd that runs from all human contact isn't even worth assessing; they're no threat to anything, and just want to be left alone.
>You arrive at the county office.  Like most of the local government, it's located at the City Hall.
>You get the report from the county supervisor.
>Now you see the issue.
>An unusually large group of fluffies has set up shop in the city landfill.
>Like many mammals, fluffy pony guts are home to methanogen bacteria.
>On normal diets, they produce harmless amounts of methane gas naturally.
>When they eat rotted food, however, that production increases, as does the stench of their feces and flatulence.
>That odor is a result of increased methanethiol, the compound that gives fluffy ponies their ungodly smell-producing power.
>Unfortunately, fluffies are not only a jigsaw puzzle of genetics, but of oddball bacteria.
>The methanogens in their guts are taken from soil, and can use methanethiol as a substrate to make methane.
>The bacteria multiply like mad, and pump out disproportionate amounts of the gas.
>This isn't usually a problem, because urban herds are so small.
>In fact, the increased stink usually fractures herds and lessens the danger.
>But a large herd like this one is a serious issue.
>Not only do they smell bad, but if they catch on fire, the concentrations of methane inside them are enough to ignite.
>They are literally fluffy time bombs, whose detonation could spread fire to the whole herd...and the city itself.
>It's happened already.
>A fluffy pony in the St. Beige city landfill exploded, catching her herd on fire and injuring eight workers who were trying to remove the ponies.
>From that time on, the State took jurisdiction in all dump herd situations.
>You head into the back of the office to get the special equipment.
>It is all kept together in a heavy plastic box.
>Once you get it in the truck, you drive out to the landfill on the outskirts of town.
>A few of the workers meet you at the gate, including the shift foreman.
>”Thank god you're here.  I got my guys away just as soon as we saw the herd,” he says.
“How long have they been here?”
>He shrugs.  “Dunno, could have been a couple of days.  Since we're closing the place down, we don't have people here as much as we would normally.”
“You're closing the landfill?”
>”Yeah, we were fillin' the final disposal cells before we bury 'em.”
>That's bad.  With the garbage all in one clump, the fluffies won't have any trouble finding and gorging themselves on food.
“All right, I'll take it from here.”
>You grab the box from the truck and enter the landfill.
>Most of it has already been covered up with soil.  You can see the bulldozers a distance away.
>It's not long before come upon one of the final disposal containers, a large box that's buried in the fresh dirt, but whose top hasn't been covered yet.
>It is surrounded by fluffy ponies.
>There must be at least a hundred.
>”Fwuffy see hooman!” one shouts.
>Some of them stop scrounging and eating to look at you.
>Every one of them has swollen stomachs, and looks a bit lethargic.
>When a few complain about 'tummy owwies', you realize they've been chowing down on refuse for a good while.
>Fortunately, city herds are generally more friendly than feral ones.
>You can actually talk to them.
“Hello.  How long have you been here?”
>”Shiny ball come up an' go down!  Shiny ball come up an' go down 'gain!” a unicorn replies.
>Over two days.
>They don't complain about being hungry.
>A lot of them are even eating now, babbling happily about the 'stinky nummies'.
>They were starving, and now they're not.
>Their guts are probably full of methane.
>You put the box down beside you and open it.  Some of the fluffies come over to investigate.
>”Wha dat?  Hooman haf nummies fo' fwuffies?”
>It's too tall for them to look into.
>While they try to see into the box, you scan the herd.
>There's a problem: you see no fluffy dams at all.
>A herd this size has to have a lot of moms somewhere.
>You'll deal with that later.
>You reach into the box and pull out a large, pink teddy bear.
>The fluffies babble happily.  “Wan' soft!  Fwuffy wuv softie!”, “Hooman be fwiend, gif pwesent!”
>You raise your hand to get their attention.
“You must share this toy, or I'll take it away.”
>The fluffies all nod rapidly.  You give the teddy bear to the herd.
>Of course, they all try to cling to it, cooing about 'huggies'.
>While they fuss over the bear, you reach back into the box and pull out something else.
>It's a large bag of fluffy pony treats.