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#Post#: 99--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Lord Anubis
Date: June 1, 2012, 8:59 pm
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--- Quote from: Tabula_Rojo link ---
>
> [quote author=Lord Anubis link=topic=4.msg96#msg96
date=1338602018] How about good old-fashioned chemical warfare?
>
--- End Quote ---
do tell
[/quote]
I'll do you one better. Let me write up another Phase 1.1
#Post#: 103--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Lord Anubis
Date: June 1, 2012, 10:33 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
This was an idea I had a long time ago, but never was inspired
enough to write.
EDIT: Fixed some bits and pieces, and added the part where he
sprays the area to keep more fluffies from coming. Which I
forgot to add last time because I'm a moron.
>You are a professional fluffy exterminator.
>And no, that doesn't mean you're some punk with a pipe wrench
and anger management issues.
>You run a respectable business. You work efficiently, kill
quickly, and clean thoroughly.
>The phone in your office rings.
>”Hello, Movin' James Dean Extermination Services... yes, like
the actor... no, no relation...Do you have need of our services?
Okay. What's the address? How many? How long have they been
there? Do you want me to just exterminate, or do you want me to
set up defenses too? Well, we have several packages and
rates...”
>Half an hour later and you're driving your exterminator vehicle
to the client's property.
>It's a large Ford King Ranch pickup, loaded with everything you
need to deal with the little multicolored varmints. You call it
the Fluffabago.
>Shut up, you love that show.
>Also along for the ride are your business' work dogs.
>4 collies, all bred for shepherding. Ace, Woodchuck, Hornsby,
and Strongbow.
>From how the client described it, it's another medium to large
herd.
>For the smaller herds of 5-15, it's usually a simple matter
that you can handle alone.
>For the larger herds, you need help.
>All your other employees are off on their own assignments, so
you brought the dogs instead.
>You arrive at the place, a rural home outside of the city, and
roll up the driveway.
>You get out of the truck and knock on the door.
>The client, an elderly man, answers the door. “Thanks for
coming. They set up shop in my backyard and they won't leave. I
tried to chase them off, but I'm too old for that crap. You guys
clean up afterward, right?”
>”Correct. You also agreed to have anti-fluffy measures set up
around the property?”
>”Yeah. I don't want to have to call you guys again.”
>Under the old man's legs a little fluffy face pops out.
>”Gwampa, new fwends!”
>The old man slowly bends down and picks up his dark lavender
fluffy.
>”No, Fireball. They're bad fluffies. They won't listen to
grandpa.”
>Fireball puffs out her cheeks.
>”Den Gwampa gif dem sowwy owies!”
>”That's what this man is here for, honey.”
>Fireball looks at you. “Fank you, mista! Gwampa no move good no
mo, you hewp him gif owies to naughty fwuffies?”
>You nod, confused. “Fireball?”
>”Yep. Because her fluff color is a deep purple.”
>It takes you a second, but you get the reference.
>You grin. “Clever. I'll get to work. Keep your fluffy inside.
I'm going to be using some stuff that won't be safe for her.”
>”Is it going to be bloody? Should I put her out of view?”
>”It shouldn't be bloody, but it's hard to say with herds like
this. Best keep her in her safe room.”
>”Are you going to kill them all?”
>”If I can, I'll run them off your property. If not, well...”
>”I understand.”
>You walk back to the truck and let the dogs out.
>You grab what looks like a handheld fertilizer pump and a
foldable baby cage.
>You slowly walk along the side of the house until you can see
the herd.
>Looks to be about 45 of them. Pretty good number for driving
all the way out here.
>They're spread out all over the guy's backyard, some of them
pooping, some eating grass, some mating with their little sounds
of “enf enf enf.” There are a few mothers nursing their babies,
and one fluffy who seems to be barking orders.
>The smarty friend.
>These things annoy the everloving shit out of most people.
>You're less bothered, usually because when you run into a herd,
you're there to exterminate them.
>You don't have to deal with the smarty friend's shit.
>No sign of any pregnant mares, to your relief. Making sure a
dam and its unborn babies are killed is extra work and kinda
depressing.
>Taken out before they even started.
>”Ace, Hornsby.”
>The two collies jump to your side at the mention of their
names.
>You motion to them. “Go around the house.”
>They run over to the other side of the house and start barking
as soon as they get within sight of the fluffies.
>The fluffies, of course, start screaming about monsters and run
away from the dogs.
>You snap your fingers, and Strongbow and Woodchuck start
barking and run around the other side.
>The fluffies on the other side start running away too.
>They run in slowly shrinking circles around the herd until
they're all bunched together in a frightened technicolor crowd.
>Many of them are shitting themselves out of fear, right onto
their herdmates, much to their chagrin.
>”Ewwwies! Why make poopies on fwuffy? No smew pwetty!”
>”Sowwy fwend, fwuffy so scawed! Munstas!”
>While the collies keep the herd contained, you walk up and set
up the baby cage.
>You whistle once, and the collies stop running.
>One fluffy tries to run through the space between Ace and
Woodchuck. Woodchuck lets out a threatening bark, and the fluffy
yelps and runs back to the herd. A few more escape attempts, and
the herd stays put.
>The baby cage set up, you step before the herd.
>”I am going to give you one chance and one chance only to leave
this place and never come back.”
>Most of the herd is too busy staring at the dogs in terror. One
green fluffy blows a rasberry at you and puffs out his cheeks.
>”Dis fwuffy wand now! Yuu and munstas and dummy owd hooman
weave now!”
>This happens almost every time.
>Not every time, though. Sometimes they're smart enough to know
when they're beaten.
>”Who here knows how to count?”
>Blank stares.
>After a few moments one fluffy starts softly saying “Wan, too
fwee, fow...”
>You reach over and grab her, dropping her into the baby cage.
>”Waaa, why take fwuffy fwom hewd?!”
>”Because you're a smart fluffy.”
>That same green fluffy pushes his way towards you through the
herd until he's standing before you.
>”No fwuffy am smawty fwend but me! You take munstas and go way
befow gif ouchies!”
>You bend down and flick the smarty friend hard on the snout. He
recoils and tries to grab his nose with his stubby little
hooves.
>”Owwies! Why huwt smawty fwend?”
>”That was your only warning. Shut up and go back to your herd,
or you get worse.”
>The smarty friend stamps his hooves and puffs out his cheeks.
“Nuu! I smawty fwend, I say you go way!”
>Saw that one coming.
>”Hornsby, hold!”
>Hornsby runs over and grabs the fluffy by the scruff of its
neck.
>”Put smawty fwend down! No wan!”
>Hornsby carries the flailing smarty friend back to where he was
standing guard before.
>He's been trained how to hold a fluffy without hurting it, and
he holds the smarty friend up in his jaw, the uppity little jerk
wiggling his useless hooves and shouting for help.
>Nobody wants to try their luck against the big monsters.
>”Anybody else want to argue with me?”
>No responses, only terrified shaking.
>”Good, let's continue.”
>You give various intelligence tests, including counting, color
and shape recognition, and following instructions.
>Each time one of the herd gets a question correct, they get put
in the Smarty Pen.
>After seven tests, you have 14 fluffies in the pen.
>”Well, that's the end of Round 1. Sorry you couldn't all win,
but I have a lovely parting gift.”
>You start pumping the fertilizer sprayer. Once it's built up
enough pressure, you spray all of the fluffies not in the Smarty
Pen.
>The chemical is a trade secret, a mixture of painkiller,
chloroform, and poison.
>You call it Fluff Snuff.
>It's an effective three part mixture.
>The first thing that hits is the painkiller. The fluffies
slowly go numb, and any who are injured forget their pain.
>The second part is the chloroform. Because fluffies have no
resistance to anything, they drop within seconds.
>The final part is the poison. It targets both the brain and the
heart, cutting off blood flow to the brain, and stopping the
heart.
>Because they're drugged up and knocked out, they don't feel a
thing. A swift and painless death.
>The difficulty is when you use this stuff on dams. You have to
crush the body afterward to make sure the babies aren't still
alive.
>Also, the mixture falls apart within a few minutes of being
sprayed. Even if a fluffy eats grass that's been sprayed with
Fluff Snuff, it won't kill them if it's dried. Might cause a
stomachache, though. You've never really tested it like that.
>In less than a minute, most of the herd lies dead in a pile. No
screams, no cries.
>You administer another round of tests to the fluffies in the
pen. Five get taken out and sprayed.
>Round three. You're left with four fluffies still in the Smarty
Pen. The other five get Fluff Snuff to the face and are thrown
on the pile.
>You work is almost done.
>You wish they all were that easy.
>You walk over to the smarty friend, who's still being held up
by Hornsby.
>”Hornsby, drop.”
>Hornsby opens his mouth and the smarty friend falls to the
ground with a small “oof.”
>He gets back on his hooves and runs over to where most of his
herd lies dead.
>”Fwends! Wake up! Gotta wun fwom munstas!”
>You guess spending that much time stuck in the jaws of a dog
will give you a new appreciation for them. The smarty friend's
now entirely on board with running away.
>Too late.
>”Fwends? Why no wake up?”
>He shakes and nudges and hugs as many of his herd as he can
reach.
>Eventually it dawns on him.
>He looks up at you with angry eyes filled with tears. “WHY YOU
KIWW FWENDS?! FWENDS NO HUWT HOOMAN!”
>”You should have left. You know this is human land. Fluffies
don't get to live on human land unless the human lets them.”
>”Smawty fwend no cawe! We take stoopid human wand, eat
gwasses!”
>”Then it's your fault they're all dead. If you hadn't told them
to stay here, they're still be alive.”
>His expression changes from anger to shock.
>”Smawty fwend make....fwends die?”
>”Yes.”
>He sits and lets this realization sink in. He starts bawling.
>”Smawty sowwy, fwends. No mean fo yuu get kiwwed. Wan gif
nummies, haf safe pwace fo hewd. Haf baybehs, haf huggies, no
haf wowwy bout munstas...”
>You've wiped out tons of herds before.
>Usually you save the smarty friend for last, to teach them one
last lesson about not biting off more than they can chew.
>Most smarty friends are obstinate to the end.
>Some of them abandon any sense of leadership in favor of
panicked begging for their life.
>Very rarely, you come across a smarty friend who really
understands the ramifications of his actions.
>It's pretty heartbreaking to see a former leader look at the
bodies of his friends, understanding that he could have saved
them if only he had backed down.
>Poor guy just wanted his herd to be safe. And now they're gone.
”P-pwease....wan die.....”
>You oblige with a quick spray of Fluff Snuff.
>With surprising resistance, the smarty friend crawls over to
the pile of fluffy corpses and flops down on it, giving his herd
one last hug.
>”Sssssssssssssmawtyyyyy fwennnnnnnnnnnnd
sowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwyyyyyyyy, fwennnnnnndssssssssss.....”
>His eyes close, and his breathing stops soon after.
>Well that was unexpectedly poignant.
>You pick up the last four smarties in the Smarty Pen and carry
them over to the truck.
>They're pretty quiet. You guess having to watch all that would
take the words out of anyone's mouth, even a fluffy's.
>You place them in a large cage in the bed.
>One of the fluffies looks up at you. “Whewe mista take us?”
>”To the shelter. They always like getting the smarty fluffies.
They usually get good homes.”
>The other fluffies perk up at the word.
>”Home? Fwuffies get daddehs?”
>”If you're good, sure.”
>You let them babble excitedly about the prospect of being
adopted while you collect the rest of your equipment.
>You come back to the backyard with a small plastic barrel, a
shovel, and some bags.
>You shovel up the fluffy feces into the barrel, and throw the
bodies into the bags.
>Once it's all picked up, you close up the barrel and throw all
the stuff into the bed.
>The fluffies in the cage have no idea how close they are to the
rest of their herd.
>You take out a different sprayer, this one with red labels.
>Inside is a mixture of fluffy blood, wolf urine, and habanero
juice.
>You walk around the old man's property line, spraying the
mixture on the ground.
>The smells will deter almost any fluffy from getting close. The
smell of dead friends, dangerous predators, and burning peppers
are an effective repellant.
>You also spray some nearby rocks and trees, in case it rains
before the mixture gets to properly set.
>Letting the dogs play around for a bit, you knock on the door.
>You let the old man know that the jobs has been done, and he's
very grateful.
>So is Fireball, who gives you a big hug.
>Well, as big as a fluffy can manage.
>Still, you appreciate the effort.
>You scratch her behind her ears while the old man plays a few
old classic rock records he has.
>The man's got fine taste in music.
>After twenty minutes of small talk, legendary tunes, and soft
belly rubs, you excuse yourself and go back outside.
>"Fank yoo again, mista! Byyyyyye!"
>Fireball is waving. You smile.
>Such a cute little fluffy. The old man must be a real nurturer.
>You get to your truck and open the back seat.
>You call for the dogs, and they all jump in. You give them some
treats for their hard work.
>You make the trip back towards the office, but first you drop
off the four fluffies that proved to be the true smarties.
>It's a good shelter, they'll be well taken care of.
>Soon, they'll forget all about their herd.
>You return to the office, and carry the bags out back to the
incinerator.
>The ash, as well as the poop, are sold to a local fertilizer
manufacturer.
>Not a whole lot of money, but it's a nice little bonus everyone
pockets at the end of a job.
>The dogs run to their doghouses for a nice midday nap.
>You go into the office and your secretary greets you.
>”You have a call waiting for you in the office.”
>”So soon?”
>Business has been busy lately. You and your team have been
exterminating herds in the area left and right.
>It's like every herd west of the Appalachians is heading your
way.
>Oh well, it's money in your pocket.
>”Movin' James Dean Extermination Services....yes, like the
song...”
#Post#: 104--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: PhilSrobeighn
Date: June 1, 2012, 11:51 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
LIKE THE SONG. I GET IT NOW.
109 is a big arc number for my long-term,
one-day-I-want-to-use-my-Creative-Writing-degree-to-make-money
story that Officer Mary Sue and all that come from, so I am torn
between my love for the number and my desire to keep it for my
own. But I love randomization and fate, so if that's what you
came up with, I like it. Whatever it is, we have to spread it
around.
#Post#: 105--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Lord Anubis
Date: June 2, 2012, 12:01 am
---------------------------------------------------------
--- Quote from: Phil Srobeighn link ---
>
> LIKE THE SONG. I GET IT NOW.
>
--- End Quote ---
I am going to drop references until it hurts.
--- Quote ---
>
> 109 is a big arc number for my long-term,
one-day-I-want-to-use-my-Creative-Writing-degree-to-make-money
story that Officer Mary Sue and all that come from, so I am torn
between my love for the number and my desire to keep it for my
own. But I love randomization and fate, so if that's what you
came up with, I like it. Whatever it is, we have to spread it
around.
>
--- End Quote ---
Well that's just a crazy coincidence, ain't it?
Is anyone else working on stories? I don't want to feel like I
made a thread just to toot my own horn.
#Post#: 107--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: PhilSrobeighn
Date: June 2, 2012, 12:04 am
---------------------------------------------------------
--- Quote from: Lord Anubis link ---
>
> Is anyone else working on stories? I don't want to feel like I
made a thread just to toot my own horn.
>
--- End Quote ---
No, this is a great idea, and I am totally going to post here
ASAP, it's just I have a class next week and I've been prepping
all this time, and this weekend is full because I see my kids on
the weekend and I have a baseball game I have tickets to and
there's my new Magic cards. When my class starts, I'll
fluffy_pone whilst my co-instructor is instructing, that'll give
me a good 8-10 hours of writing.
#Post#: 118--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Tabula_Rojo
Date: June 2, 2012, 1:21 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
James Dean never installed preventative measures like he said he
was going to
Other wise cool stuff, but how does fluff snuff replace the
virus? will Fuzzies released in herds be given a special glad
that sprays a similar chemical solution perhaps?
#Post#: 119--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Lord Anubis
Date: June 2, 2012, 1:23 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
--- Quote from: Tabula_Rojo link ---
>
> James Dean never installed preventative measures like he said
he was going to
>
--- End Quote ---
Whoops.
--- Quote ---
>
> Other wise cool stuff, but how does fluff snuff replace the
virus? will Fuzzies released in herds be given a special glad
that sprays a similar chemical solution perhaps?
>
--- End Quote ---
It doesn't replace the virus, you now have an extermination
service in Cleveland that can wipe out large numbers of fluffies
with chemical weapons.
#Post#: 124--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Tabula_Rojo
Date: June 2, 2012, 2:34 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
--- Quote from: Lord Anubis link ---
>
> It doesn't replace the virus, you now have an extermination
service in Cleveland that can wipe out large numbers of fluffies
with chemical weapons.
>
--- End Quote ---
K lols
Also I"ll have that story I said I was going to have up tonight
sometime around 10:00PM, I'm gonna need some constructive
critique cause it's my first time doing a Fluffy POV
#Post#: 133--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: fluff_n_stuff
Date: June 2, 2012, 7:15 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
>You are Mercury, fastest fluffy pegasus in the world.
>You can outrun any fluffy, no matter how fast they think they
are.
>Your mommy was fast too, but not fast enough to outrun that
stupid human munster that kicked her. When you left you hidey
hole.
>Since then, you’ve done nothing but run. Got to keep running.
>You’re running down the street one night with fresh nummies in
your teeth, when you see something from the corner of your eye.
>It’s a light box in some human’s house and it’s showing
mountains of the fabled Spaghetti.
>This is worth stopping for.
>As the Light box goes on and on, other fluffies start gathering
around you, plopping down on their fuzzy rumps to listen to the
light box talk.
>”Spaghetti land is the premier destination for all you fluffy
lovers out there!” says the human voice.
>”Litterboxes every 15 feet!” he says. “Every ride fluffy safe!
All the spaghetti your happy fuzz balls could ever want!”
>There there’s a blue earth fluffy on the light box. “Fwuffy wuv
sketti wand!” he says. “Bwring you fwuffies to Sketti wand in
Cweavwand!”
>”I say dat wite?” he asks, before the camera cuts back to a
mountain of spaghetti.
>”Come visit Spaghetti Land TODAY!”
>You look to the fluffies who are positively bouncing off the
sidewalk with delight.
>”Dere sketti wand?” “Dis weal?” “Wan Sketti wand!” “Where
Cweavwand?”
>You feel as if it was your destiny to see this, and you run up
on top of a stoop.
>”Wisten up fuwffies!” you say. “My name mecuwy! I nawt smawty
fwiend, but know dis Sketti wand is weal!”
>”Gweat Sketti Gawd choosed us to heaw dis!” you say. “We teww
aww fwuffies evey where!”
>”Gweat sketti gawd?” “Wat gawd?” “Pway?”
>You stamp a hoof to the ground to regain their attention.
>”Go fwiends!” you say. “Wun an teww aww fwuffies bout Sketti
Wand! Fwuffies be safe dere! Fwuffies no hide fwom hooman
munsters dere!”
>”What the hell is all that noise?” says a human voice from the
house. “Are those fucking fluffies? Where’s my shovel?”
>You jump down from the stairs, and start running. Running to
tell everyfluffy.
>”Wun!” you yell back at them. “Wun an teww aww you fwiends!
Sketti wand is weal!”
>Now your running has a purpose. You’ll visit every herd of
fluffies, tell them the legend of Spaghetti Land.
>You may not be the smartest fluffy in the world, and your
memory may not be great, but you’ll never forget this.
>You are the fastest fluffy alive.
>Fast enough to tell every fluffy about the Promised Land.
#Post#: 134--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Lord Anubis
Date: June 2, 2012, 7:32 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Hahaha, wonderful. I'd add a bit somewhere where he meets a
fluffy with a good sense of direction, and together, they lead
the way towards Spaghetti Land!
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