Fluffy at the Symphony
(Absurd, no gore)
 
>Have a fluffy pony
>He's a pegasus and his name is Presto.
>Dark blue with a sort of brownish mane.
>He's a pretty good fluffy overall.
>Loves cartoons and music.
>Loves any cartoon and any music.
>Even Rick Astley.
>You decide your fluffy needs some culture.
>You purchase a couple of tickets to the symphony.
>People at door look at you funny, try to protest.
>You say there's nothing in the rules that say a fluffy pony can't come to orchestra hall.
>They argue.
>You bought Presto his own ticket.
>Dressed him in little bow tie.
>Finally you bribe the fucking usher.
>Shown to your prime seats in a balcony box.
>After all, you are a man of means
>The lights dim.
>"Scawy! Why dawk?" Presto screams.
>Annoyed "shh" from the audience.
>You whisper to Presto, reminding him that he has to be good, or no sketties.
>The audience applauds as the conductor takes the stage.
>"Woud! Scawy noise!" Presto bleats.
>Luckily, the applause it too loud to hear him.
>The conductor turns and raises his baton.
>you could hear a pin drop.
>"When myoosic pway, daddy?" Presto shrieks.
>You bop him on the nose, he whines, you clamp his muzzle with your hand.
>"You have to be quiet! Understand?"
>The other people in the audience are glaring at you. You glare back. You could probably buy them all, insignificant fucks.
>The music starts.
>Presto is enchanted.
>Eyes light up.
>He listens quietly for about two minutes.
>Probably longer than he’s been quiet and still in his entire life.
>Holy crap, maybe he gets it...
>The first movement ends.
>Allegro becomes andante.
>"Music pwetty! Pwesto wike!" He shouts.
>Maybe not.
>You give him a stern whack.
>"Be. Quiet." You hiss.
>"Sowwy daddy." Presto actually whispers.
>You sit him in his seat.
>Get enchanted by the music.
>Movement to your right catches your eye.
>Presto is up on the railing, just out of your reach.
>"It high." Presto squeaks.
>"Get down!" You hiss.
>Okay daddy!"
>OH SHIT
>Presto leaps off the balcony.
>Little wings extended, flapping like crazy.
>"WHEEEEE"
>He loses altitude rapidly, zooming over the stage.
>FWUNK
>Face-first into the bell of the tuba.
>His little leggies wiggle uselessly.
>The tuba guy blows.
>Presto goes rocketing out of the bell.
>"WHEEEEE"
>He lands on the xylophone.
>Starts walking around, notices his feet make noise.
>You can't hear him but you know he's giggling.
>He runs around making noise and fucking up the piece.
>Xylophonist tries whacking him with mallets, but they bounce off the fluff and he's an old fart anyway.
>Audience starts to murmur and point.
>Xylophonist sweeps Presto off xylophone
>Onto timpani
>BOM BOM BOM BOM BOM
>You slide down the curtain like Indiana Jones.
>Meanwhile the percussionist has picked up and tossed Presto.
>He lands on the back of a cellist.
>She freaks out and falls over.
>crash, crash, crash
>the whole string section falls like dominoes.
>Priceless Stradavarius violins are crushed like matchwood.
>As you reach the stage your fluffy is now for some reason clinging to the conductor's head.
>As you hear him, you figure out why.
>"New fwiend! Speciaw huggsies!"
>He's trying to hump the conductor's toupee.
>Eenf eenf eenf.
>The toupee falls off, presto with it.
>The crowd is panicking.
>The orchestra is panicking and trying to escape the stage.
>They knock over the cannons to be used for the finale of the 1812 Overture.
>They go off.
>BOOM BOOM
>Presto panics at the noise, shits and pisses all over the toupee and runs in circles, still trailing shit.
>People slip in fluffy shit and fall.
>Sparks from the cannons ignite the curtains.
>You're pushed back by the crowd.
>Fire alarms.
>Sprinklers on.
>Can't find Presto.
>Outside, half hour later.
>FD won't let you inside.
>Presto must have died.
>Feel a tug on your leg.
>"Daddy?"
>Sheepish-looking fluffy, soaking wet, covered in soot, and a violin bow stuck in his fluff.
>You pick him up and spirit him away.
>Time-out room and no treats for a month.
>you have to buy some whiny bitch another Stradavarius.
>At least fluffy pony got exposed to some culture.