> You are the owner of Boogie. A fluffy who is less of a fluffy and more of a giant mass of sentient blueberry jell-o.
> But still a fluffy. He speaks like a fluffy, has the mindset of a fluffy. Likes spaghetti like a fluffy.
> You got him from some weird bloke in a pointed hat and a beard. Looked like a character from a Harry Potter movie.
> That’s the one with the midgets and the ring, right?
> Anyway, you delivered pizza to him, and he asked if you’d take Boogie after he paid.
> You remember how in the foolishness of your childhood, you kept begging your Dad for a pet Jellyfish. This could be the next best thing to a pet jellyfish, you reasoned with yourself.
> And hell, little bastard seemed unique, so, on a whim, you said “What the hell?”.
> You took him home in a box.
> You fed him abit of canned spaghetti.
> Which was…interesting…
> He didn’t chew it. Didn’t put it in his mouth.
> He kind of…phaged it.
> His little jelly ‘arm’ stretched out and enveloped the plate. You watched the noodles slide up inside his body.
> “dat was yummy, daddeh. Boogie wuvs spaghetti.”
> He…talks very well for a fluffy…thing.
> Playing was also interesting, as his favorite game involved you rolling him the ball, him phaging the ball and spitting it back at you through his mouth-crevasse-thing that he speaks out of. He would giggle hysterically after each tossback.
> Another game he likes is when you put him on top of your stereo and turn it up really loud so he jiggles with the bass.
> His laugh sounds like something between a gargle and a high-pitched boiling sound. That took abit to get used to.
> Surprisingly, he moves about as fast as any normal fluffy. He kind of slides and slithers along floors and carpets, and doesn’t leave a slime-trail or anything.
> There are only two problems that you have with Boogie.
> One is an odd phobia of his.
> The other has to do with his waste.
> You attempted to bathe him, and he kept squirming, sliding and squiggling out of your arms.
> “NU DADDEH! Too much wa’ta! Too much wa’ta is bad fow Boogie!”
> He would pick up bits of hair and dust slithering everywhere.
> Normally he would be fine with water, but too much water it seems scares him. You remember the first time you saw him drink- he put his little appendage in the waterbowl and drained it. It made a sucking sound, like a kid drinking the last bit of his milkshake.
> So, you had to resort to wiping him down with a facecloth. Which he liked a lot better.
> “heee, dat tickwes daddeh!”
> That you can deal with.
> His method of dealing with waste is a lot more screwy.
> After digesting food (which seems to disappear in his gelatinous body), two rapidly growing oblong shapes begin to grow inside him.
> One is brown and lumpen. The other is a mix of white and yellow and is pill shaped.
> The former is a turd, plain and simple. The latter is an urate- literally a chunk of solidified urine. You’ve seen your friend’s pet Iguana pass one before. Freaked you right out.
> If you allow these to get far too large, he will complain about “feewin’ sickies”.
> You have to actually extract the two wretched things yourself. With gloves, obviously. This happens once a day. You throw them in the toilet and flush afterwards.
> You’d call him cuddly.
> If he could cuddle.
> Mostly he just forms little appendages with which to hold onto you.
 
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> Your sister, Sue, always used to have abit of an ant problem in her front yard.
> So, after seeing a fly land on Boogie and get enveloped inside him (which led to him smacking his ‘lips’ and murmuring about “guud snackies”), you had an idea: why not just let Boogie roll around on her lawn for abit? Maybe sit on an anthill?
> Your sister was hesitant at first- afraid he would destroy her shrubbery.
> “Boogie won’t eat shwubbawy. Boogie dun wike gweens.” The little blob promised.
> He can be quite the little charmer, it seems, because your sister relented.
> She let him roll and slither around her front yard, gathering up ants, bugs, a few spiders…
> Giggling his weird giggle all the while.
> You watched him for a little while.
> But eventually, nature called.
> “Hey, Sue? Can I use your washroom?”
> “Ah, sure thing, Jay. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
> So, you went to the can.
> Number two to be needlessly specific.
> When you walked back outside, you beheld Boogie.
> Who was laying around at least twelve giant piles of fluffy shit, with a dead fluffy floating inside of him, already being digested.
> Sue was trying to clean up the crap.
>…
> “Jesus Fuck Sue! What the fuck happened here!?”
> “I kept fucking calling you, Jay! What, couldn’t hear me over the sound of your own loud, stuttering farts!?”
> “Auntie, pwease dun yeww at *hic* daddeh. Boogie feew fine. Hav sum guud speciaw hugs.”
> You simply stared at Boogie.
> Sue sighed. “I went inside for two minutes to get some coffee. When I came out, I found this.”
> “Sum smawty and his dummy hewd twied to take Auntie’s yard! Cawwed Boogie an munsta. So Boogie show him. *hic*. Now Boogie wiww hav babbehs!”
> “…Boogie, you’re a girl?” you asked.
> “Dun know at dat is, daddeh.”
> Then it dawned on you, Boogie is an ‘it’.
> “Well…at least you don’t have to worry about ants. Why don’t you dump some of that in your garden? I hear fluffy crap is almost as good as normal fertilizer.”
> With that, you took Boogie home.
> In your mind, he’s still a ‘he’, regardless.
> Hopefully some social justice yahoo won’t try to jump down your throat about it.
> You watched him over the next few days. He drank normally, but didn’t eat anything.
> The fluffy stuck inside him, however, slowly started to dissolve. Bits of fluff and flakes of skin sloughing off to reveal bone and tissue.
> Then bone and tissue to nothingness. All the while he made cute hiccup sounds and giggled his weird giggle.
> He was so full he couldn’t eve play his ball game.
> You grew concerned that no turd or urate was forming. After the fifth day, you figured out why.
> “BIG POOPIES!!!!!”
 
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> You are the weird bloke with the beard and pointed hat.
> You go by many names.
> ‘Funkshire’ is one of them.
> Though ladies and lady-esque beings call you ‘Big Daddy’.
> You don’t wear a robe for nothing!
> This evening, you had an unexpected surprise.
> That pizza guy that you gave Boogie to came back. With two pizza boxes.
> One held pizza.
> The other box made strange gurgly cheeping noises. At first you thought it was a new type of pizza, but it turned out to be eight small gelatinous fluffy foals of different colors and temperament.
> You spent around forty five minutes on your porch with that charming young lad, sharing pizza as he told you all about how Boogie was doing, how he/it reproduced and the like.
> “I’m not sure who would want them.” He told you. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought them back here. I mean, you gave them to me, and I was hoping you’d be able to point me in the right direction.”
> You considered it for a few minutes, and decided that you would take the spawnlings.
> You’re wondering if any of the Wardens would care for a few of them.
> The Lord of Death should most certainly, as well as the Boneman. Heck, maybe even the Noodleman would like one.
> You can see the Chickenman just being annoyed with them, though.
> There was one dark red spawnling they kept trying to phage its siblings though. It would kind of latch onto them and wiggle aggressively.
> That one you’re going to keep. Can probably break it down into some alchemical components.
> And you’re VERY interested in their ability to break down and dissolve things.
> Like your poor shoes.