>The gig is up, so you put back the teddy bear.
>No way you can gain their trust with that now.
>You look in the box to see what you have to work with.
>Zinc 'firecrackers'.
>No fucking way, those could cause a disaster.
>Cans of spaghetti.
>Good for persuading even the most anxious stray, but you don't have nearly enough.
>Lastly, there's a Remington Model 700 rifle, chambered in .308 Winchester.
>This is great for knocking out a smarty friend and scattering a herd from distance.
>The noise will cause the attendants to scatter, though, and you can't cover the acres of land alone.
>Even worse, nobody knows how they got in, so you have no idea which part of the fence you need to secure.
>You leave the box behind and follow the panicking pegasus.
>As you get nearer, you count at least a hundred attendants and fifty pregnant dams.
>There are some other fluffies too, that don't seem to be looking after the expectant mothers.
>”Wun 'way!  Wun 'way!” the silver scout pegasus shrieks.
>Attendants are in action, shoving their muzzles and sides against pregnant bellies to get the dams rolling.
>The non-attendant fluffies come between you and the dams.
>”Go 'way munsta!  Big hewd come, gif owwies if munsta no go 'way!”
>Big herd?  Oh, the dead clump of fluff a few hundred yards behind you.
>Out of the corner of your eye, you see escaping, slightly swollen fluffies.
>They fart as they walk.
>The smell is unbelievable.
>Shit, again.
>Gotta act fast, no time to call the county for help.
>You need something to keep the group together.
>Suddenly, it hits you: the dams!
>You easily break through the fluffies threatening you and walk toward the dams.
>”Nuuuuuu!  Munsta twy huwt mummas!”
>The attendants cry out with effort, grunting as they attempt to get the mommies moving.
>You look for two of the less-swollen dams and grab them, since they have a smaller chance of fluffsploding.
“Stop right there!  If you run from me, I will hurt the mothers!”
>The dams in your grip cry, begging you not to hurt their babies.
>Attendants and regular fluffies alike freeze in fear.
>Even the stragglers stop waddling.
>”Pwease munsta!  No huwt mummas!  Fwuffies be stiww!”
>Another advantage of working with a city herd: they usually listen to directions.
“All the not-mommy fluffies follow me, or I will hurt them.”
>The stragglers and the attendants of the dams you're holding readily follow you, but the others refuse to leave their dams.
>That's okay, the dams will make them slow.
>The silver pegasus continues to scream about you, making the herd nervous.
>Gotta kill her soon, before she ruins everything.
>You look for something to corral the fluffies.
>A few yards ahead, you see a dent in the barren earth.
>It's another disposal cell, but it's virtually empty. Perfect.
>While you're trying to determine a way to get the remaining attendants to come over here, the silver pegasus continues shrieking.
>She's making the stragglers edgy.
>They begin scattering again.
>Out of frustration, you punt the pegasus into the cell.
>”Nuuuuuuu!  Munsta huwt fwuffy!  Hewp!  Hewp!” she cries from within it, limping around.
>Utter panic sets in.
>Fluffies scatter in all directions.
>Attendants abandon their dams and run for their lives.
>There is no way you'll catch all these little bastards alone.
>You toss the squealing dams under your arms into the cell.
>Something suddenly occurs to you.
“Help!”
>Every single fluffy stops and turns to look at you.
“Help!  I need you to help me get these mommies out!”
>The word help is ingrained into the fluffy mind almost from birth.
>Fluffies pay varying amounts of attention when another fluffy says it, but a human...
>”Why munsta say need hewp?  Munsta huwt fwuffy!”
“I didn't mean to.  I need your help now to save her!”
>”Fwuffy...fwuffy no suwe...”
“Please help, fluffies!”
>A primal reaction occurs within their brains.
>Their core programming finally takes over.
>Suddenly, a wave of fluffies rushes toward you.
>”Fwuffies hewp hooman!  Fwuffies hewp!”
>Asimov would be proud.
“Hurry!  I can't reach the mommies!”
>They barrel past you, hearing the noise in the disposal cell.
>Like fuzzy lemmings, they all waddle into the hole.
>”Hewp!  Fwuffy faww down!
>”Fwuffy no can get out!  Am stuck! Hewp!”
>”Owwies, why step on fwuffy?!”
>You look around.
>Every single mobile fluffy answered your call.
>Only the dams remain.
>Even they want to help you, yelling about how they can't move to come to your assistance.
>You wipe your brow and sigh.
>You have no problems retrieving the immobile dams, two at a time.
>While you carry them, you reassure them that you're taking them back to their herd.
>Or you're taking them home, if they have collars.
>Anything to keep them relaxed.
>You toss them into the fluffy mass below, where their attendants push and struggle to get to them.
>Once you've secured the dams, you grab your phone and dial a number.
“County, can you give me the number for the landfill foreman?”
>”Sure, just a second.”
>She does, and you talk to him.
“I've got the fluffies secured, but I need a bulldozer over here to finish the job.”
>”All right, I'll send Wayne out right now.  Where are you?”
“By an empty disposal cell...well, it was empty.”
>”Oh yeah, the spare.  Okay, he's on his way.”
>While you wait, you reflect on just how close you probably came to being injured.
>Since fluffy dams have an innate ability to explode, they are by far the most dangerous.
>Fluffy bones may be brittle, but they are very hard along their fractures.
>They can easily cause a spark if they strike each other.
>If one of the dams had fluffsploded with stress, there almost certainly would have been fire.
>And this jumpsuit isn't fire-retardant.
>Basically, you just spent a half hour moving fluffy hand grenades.
>You feel a bit faint, but the bulldozer has arrived.
>You can barely hear the fluffies scream above the loud noise.
>Wayne receives your instructions and gets to work burying the fluffies.
>Enormous piles of dirt fall into the cell as he moves the dozer.
>Suddenly, you see smoke.
>You look into the cell.
>Some of the dams have fluffsploded, their bones sparking off the metal.
>The part of their herd that hasn't been buried alive is now burning to death.
>You motion for Wayne to keep putting in dirt to smother the flames.
>Finally, the fire is out.
>You look again into the cell to make sure.
>”Hewp...hewp fwuffy...” the silver pegasus begs.
>You can only see her upper half, partially blackened and crushed underneath a pile of soil.
>You're done here.  
>You shake Wayne's hand and go back to get the truck.
>After making a final sweep of the area, you head back to the county office.
>Two days later, you're in New Generica City, the state capital.
>You receive a commendation for your bravery in dealing with the fluffies in Genericsburg.
>Smile for the camera.
>You get a nice plaque for your wall.
>The Genericsburg Post and Courier wants an interview.
>Smile for the camera.
>You even get a raise.  Local TV calls, wants you to come on.
>Smile for the camera.
>One more interview.
>Smile for the camera.
>The whole time, all you think of is how many foals were born directly into their graves.
>That's the last time you smile for weeks.