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#Post#: 627--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: PhilSrobeighn
Date: June 20, 2012, 6:39 am
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Marcus, here's what I would suggest to make these stories in to
postable pieces of top-tier fluffy literature:
1) Take an image program and select a blue background
2) Select a green color for text that is clearly readable
against the blue background
3) Copy and paste the text into the image
4) Save, post, repeat for second story.
Seriously, great work. ;D Our illustrators are writing and
our writers are illustrating. Behold the power of
collaboration.
#Post#: 630--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Lord Anubis
Date: June 20, 2012, 8:28 am
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Holy crap, Marcus, that was amazing.
#Post#: 631--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: fluff_n_stuff
Date: June 20, 2012, 1:00 pm
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Here's a short story about a Fuzzy pony trial:
>You are a responsible fluffy owner.
>Not stingy with the hugs or treats, and quick to the sorry
stick when fluffy pony misbehaves. You know how the fluffy brain
operates, and you use it raise good fluffies.
>Still, you've had six fluffy ponies this year.
>Ricardo chewed through an electrical cord and fried his brains.
>Daisy ate an entire bottle of aspirin before you could pick up
the tablets.
>Baldwin got snatched by a hawk.
>Jersey picked a fight with a bunny and got eviscerated.
>And Alex just exploded for no good reason at all.
>Now the local breeder wont sell to you because he thinks you're
an abusefag.
>Tried picking up some strays only to find that they weren't
interested in coming home with you because they were headed to
"Sketti Land," whatever that is.
>So now you're a fluffy pony owner without a fluffy.
>Pick up the phone and call one of your friends to see if he
wants to hang out. He asks you about your fluffies, and you tell
him that you are sans fluffy at the moment.
>"Well, I can get you a very special fluffy," he says. "I know
that you've hit a string of bad luck, and I know that you're a
great fluffy parent. I'll drop him off later."
>Sweet, free fluffy.
>A few hours later, there's a knock at the door. You answer it
to find a pure white fluffy pony staring straight ahead with
crystal blue eyes.
>"Hello?"
>"Hewwo," says the fluffy, looking up at you.
>...weird, he didn't ask for "nummies" or to "pway."
>"You belong to someone?" you ask the White fluffy.
>"I Pwopety of Hasbwo Biotoy. Pwease wetuwn fuzzy dere."
>...what.
>"Anon!" says your friend. "This is a brand new type of fluffy
pony and I want you to test him out for a few days."
>Say what now?
>"We're getting ready to roll these guys out at the opening of
Spaghetti Land. You know, the big ass fluffy pony amusement
park?"
>Oh, right, that thing.
>"Anyway, I wanted to get some last minute field data and I
can't think of a better person than you. So here's a bag of
fuzzy food, and some instructions..."
>"I feed my fluffies spaghetti and fluffy chow," you tell your
friend.
>"Fuzzy no wike spaghetti."
>Okay, now that you've never heard before.
>"Yeah, they don't eat spaghetti," says your friend. "They only
eat fuzzy food. Contains vital proteins to keep them alive."
>"Sounds like a racket," you say.
>"Trust me," says your friend. "When you've spent a couple days
with fuzzy, you'll never want another fluffy pony again."
>Your friend drives off, leaving you with the fuzzy pony
standing on your doorstep. You keep expecting him to walk in,
but he just sits there, staring straight ahead.
>If he weren't breathing, you'd swear that he was just a stuffed
toy.
>"Fuzzy, come in," you say.
>The pure white fluffy strides into the house, stops, and
continues to stare straight ahead.
>Creepy.
>You read over the instructions to find that Fuzzies respond to
voice commands to the best of their abilities and will not do
anything they're not instructed too.
>Hrm... can't keep calling him fuzzy. Gotta think of a name,
something to fit his weird, creepy little personality.
>"Fuzzy pony, your name is Klaus," you say at last.
>"Awk-now-dege," says the fluffy. "Fuzzy 000078 name Kwaus."
>Ten minutes with the guy and he's already freaking you out.
>"Follow me Klaus, and I'll show you where the litter box is."
>Claus dutifully follows you around as you show him the safe
room full of toys and his litter box.
>You walk away for a minute to find a treat for him, only to
find him unmoving in the exact spot you left him in.
>There's enough toys and blocks in here to make a fluffy pony go
mad with joy. "Why aren't you playing, Claus?
>"Hooman nawt teww Kwaus pway."
>"Jesus, call me Daddy," you say.
>"Daddeh nawt teww me pway," he repeats.
>"Just... play," you say, backing away from the monotone baby
voice. "Play, and eat, and use the litterbox when you have to."
>The next few days are full of the same thing. You find Klaus
dutifully pushing around blocks, or rolling a ball into the
wall, but he doesn't seem to be having fun.
>In fact, you can't read him at all, and you're really good at
telling what fluffies want.
>After a week, you've noticed there's been no accidents,
nothing's broken, and there's never a sound from Klaus other
than the pattering of hooves on carpet.
>Klaus is unfailingly polite, always thanks you for meals, and
says that he "wuvs" you whenever you ask him to.
>He's not manipulative, or selfish, or noisy, or bossy, or
stupid. He's not pushy, or rude, or sweet, or anything really.
>He's not the bundles of fluff and failure that you've come to
love.
>Maybe he just doesn't know how to be a fluffy because he was
raised in a lab. He's got no personality, and you think you know
how to fix that.
>Manage to find a fluffy pegaus name Rainbow
>Rainbow greets Klaus with huggies and bouncing around like a
lunatic. Klaus just stares ahead with his normal blank
expression.
>"Klaus, I want you to be friends with Rainbow," you tell him.
>"Wainbow fwiend, Awk-now-dege," says Klaus. "I wiww pway wif
Wainbow."
>A week later, and nothing's changed. Klaus still roboticly
plays while Rainbow dances around and runs into things.
>Her constant jabbering doesn't even seem to register to him. He
just play, eats, and goes to the litter-box like you told him
too.
>He's really starting to freak you out.
>At the end of the third week, you've finally figured out what
bugs you about Klaus.
>He's not a fluffy pony.
>Fluffy ponies have personality. They're accident prone. They're
stupid. They're noisy and messy and nothing but trouble.
>But that's their appeal. Their fun to have because they have
the mentality of a slightly retarded child.
>This fuzzy is just a living robot, and it creeps you out.
>Call up your scientist friend to come and get Klaus.
>"What's a matter?" he asks. "Did he do something wrong?"
>"That's just it," you tell him. "he didn't do ANYTHING I didn't
tell him to do."
>"I'm pretty sure that if I'd told him to stay put, he'd have
just stayed in one spot until he died."
>"That's the beauty of it!" says your friend. "They're the
perfect pet. They listen and do what they're told. They're fuzzy
and cute and..."
>"They're boring," you tell him, handing Klaus back.
>"Daddeh!" whines Rainbow. "Gawt weggies stuck in mop! Hewp
Wainbow! Pwease!"
>"And if fluffies are anything, they're never boring."
#Post#: 632--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: PhilSrobeighn
Date: June 20, 2012, 1:16 pm
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After your lead-in, it took me a while to realize I shouldn't
expect a judge.
Excellent work, as always. We now have a quintescential "Why
fluzzies suck as pets (even if they were not secretly created to
kill fluffies)" story. We can still manage to work it in, write
more like this from different artists' perspectives and
personalities, maybe even a niche story here or there of how
some people like fuzzies; but at least we know we have a lock on
a solid why-people-will-hate-fuzzies-in-the-end story.
It makes me want to write someone trying to take a fuzzy they
adopted to Spaghetti Land, though... maybe they buy one when
their vanilla fuzzy dies upon viewing Lake Erie...
(edited to remind everyone that just because we have one person
writing a story in which someone rejects a fuzzy doesn't mean we
can't have another)
#Post#: 633--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Lord Anubis
Date: June 20, 2012, 1:18 pm
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"They're never boring."
Couldn't have said it better myself. Absolutely prefect story.
#Post#: 635--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Tabula_Rojo
Date: June 20, 2012, 2:57 pm
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Excellent Vanner, this was the story I wanted to write but you
did it better than I ever would have...
#Post#: 638--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Mayclore
Date: June 20, 2012, 3:32 pm
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/was about to write about fuzzies
/obsoleted by Marcus before he even gets started
/flips metaphorical table
#Post#: 641--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: PhilSrobeighn
Date: June 20, 2012, 4:12 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Okay, rolling three ideas into one here with my own fuzzy-owner
story:
>Be a fluffy pony owner in Delta, Ohio
>Got fluffy last year when fluffies were in vogue
>Dark blue pegasus filly with tan, spiked mane and green eyes
>Named her Adrian, after the street you lived on
>Not for long though, needed to move
>Found a nice house in the south part of town with a big lawn
>Adrian likes to run in the yard and play
>But she’s been a little down lately
>One day, though as she is playing in the yard, you hear the
dreaded noise
>The “enf enf enf” of a feral colt wandering through the yard
>You thought you had heard Adrian’s voice talking
>You reach the door and are shocked to see Adrian smiling
>Meh, no need to stop them, Adrian is fixed
>“Enf enf!” the colt is screaming “Fwuffy feew good feew!”
>“Adwian feew good feew too!”
>They collapse together after a few moments of blissful strain
>Adrian sets to licking herself clean
>Feral died after ejaculation
>Bring Adrian in ASAP to avoid her realizing this
>Will have to compost the feral
>“Adwian sowwy! Nice boy fwuffy wan speciaw hugs an-”
>Adrian knows you can be stern
>But you’re a sexually liberated woman, why can’t she be too?
>You just want a happy fluffy again
>Tell her she’s a good fluffy and that you just want to let the
colt… nap.
>“Oh” Adrian whispers, “Bye boy fwuffy! Tanks fow tewwin me
good news!”
>Good news?
>farnsworth.wav
>“Yeah!” says Adrian “Boy fwuff teww Adwian bout Sketti Pawk!”
>Spaghetti… Park?
>“Is nice pwace! Good fwuffies go dew! Hugs! Sketti mountin!”
>Good news indeed
>Fucking fluffy feral evangelist here, talking about Fluffy
Heaven
>That night, hanging out with some pals, tell it as a joke
>One of the guys who hang with you snickers at you
>“Dude, Spaghetti Land. It’s real.”
>Dafuq?
>“It’s a theme park they’re building in Cleveland. Opens in a
few weeks.”
>Pulls up the website
>There is indeed a spaghetti-shaped mountain-sized spaghetti
restaurant
>Seems to be the icon
>You scoff at the concept of a fluffy theme park
>Then it hits you
>But Adrian has been so lethargic, this might be the answer
>You just want a happy fluffy again
>Cough up the fee for the ticket during the opening weekdays
>No way you are going to fight the crowds that Saturday
>And “Feral Adoption Day?” please
>Just asking for a disaster
>The big day finally arrives
>Strap in the little fluffy in a fluffy booster seat and head
out
>Already dropped a handsome sum to get tickets
>No way you are paying tolls too
>Not to save 15 minutes of drive time at least
>So you take a bit more scenic route
>Adrian watches out the window the entire time
>Babbling along about the excite for almost two hours
>Finally she falls asleep
>You enjoy the gentle sounds of Lake Erie as you drive through
Huron
>About an hour later, you arrive
>Open the door and call for your fluffy
>She doesn’t come
>“Yo, Adrian!” you call
>Apparently, the gentle sounds of Lake Erie were too much for
Adrian
>Fluffy pony drowned
>You start to cry
>All you wanted was a happy fluffy again
>A nice woman in a white lab coat comes up
>“Are you alright, miss?”
>Explain what happened
>“Yes, that is troubling. It is a shame to waste your ticket,
though.”
>You get it, she’s trying to sell you a new fluffy
>“Not just any fluffy! This is a new line. This one won’t
drown.
>No mess, no accidents, just a cuddly, soft pony.”
>No accidents? You like the sound of that
>Dispose of Adrian in a marked bin and follow the labcoat
>Just outside the gate, in a little kiosk, is rows of stuffed
fluffy ponies
>At least, you think they’re stuffed until you get right up on
them
>Then you notice they are breathing, blinking, shifting their
weight
>Holy crap! You jump about a foot back upon noticing they are
real animals
>“Oh yes, they are live. They won’t do a thing unless ordered.”
>You walk up to one and say hello
>“Hewwo, hooman,” it says back
>You ask its name
>“Fuzzy have desgnation zewo-zewo-one-fow-one-sevn-dash-ess-eww”
>It taps it’s collar – sure enough, 001417-SL is its tag number
>You command it to stand
>It noiselessly lifts up on its hind hooves and you offer it
your hand to balance
>Everything seems in place, it is a girl
>Release her, she tries to keep standing
>Tell her she can sit back down
>She sits
>Creepy
>You tell her to roll over, she rolls over
>Tell her to dance, she does a little shuffle, tapping her
hooves
>You ask her to do your taxes
>“Pwease downwoad Fuzzy Tax Hewpah by Tuwbo Tax
>Fuzzy wecommend Pwemium unwess you have business ow invesmens.
>Onwy fiffy-five dowwaws, avaiwabaw at aww fwuffy stowes.”
>The labcoat girl grins
>“We’ve prepared it for several situations
>Like fluffy ponies, fuzzy ponies can be reprogrammed by
electric shock
>However, the fuzzies are built so that they won’t be shocked
externally
>We have a microchip inside that do the shocking
>We can use it to add additional information to your fluffy
>Or in this case, functions that pesky companies forced us to
not program them with
>Something about gaining an unfair market advantage”
>You question if it is really a robot
>“Oh no, it is a living, breathing organism
>We just made it reprogrammable at our stores”
>Ingenious, you conclude
>Fluffy pony without the problems of fluffy pony!
>You shell out the money for the deluxe replacement package
>Confirmed ticketholders who lost fluffies get a fuzzy,
registration
>Also a portable chow bag – won’t eat the spaghetti, apparently
>You take 001417-SL – noting it, as you will buy that Turbo Tax
download –
>Ask to register has Madison – again, the street you live on
>Nothing ominous about that, right?
>Give her the name and ground rules, tell her there will be more
rules at home
>“Awk-now-dege” it states
>You smile, but ask her if she is happy
>“Madisown happy,” it states
>You give it a directive to sound and look like a happy fluffy,
then
>“Awk-now-dege!” it smiles
>Better
>You take it inside the park
>A little fluffy salon catches your eye
>Ask Madison how she feels about a makeover
>“If hooman wan, dat make Madisown happy” it smiles
>Hooray, you have a happy fluffy!
>Take her in, get a high-priced package
>The plain white bothers you – too much like a Wii
>Get a punk streak of blue for both of you, bit of makeup,
pedis.
>This place is packed with the best
>Come out looking ready to start a rock band with your blue all
over
>Matches the eyes of both of you
>Men and colts take a second glance
>Nice
>You can tell already that the “Good Fluffy” ride won’t be
needed for Madison
>Ask her if she wants to go to the Midway
>“If hooman wan, dat make Madisown happy” it smiles
>Ask her what game she wants to play
>“What hooman wan Madisown pway?” she asks happily
>You rephrase the question into a directive
>Actually nice, you are used to questions like that
>Only way fluffies can understand some things
>You would much rather give directives
>Tell Madison to pick a game she thinks looks best
>She process this thoughtfully
>Then chooses the Strength Test game
>You notice that the game is rigged that it cannot be lost
>Just an automatic prize-get for cash
>A little more cash than what the same thing would run in a
souvenir store
>Not that it matters, Madison chose this game to play
>You just want her to be a happy fluffy
>Winning a game would make you happy
>So she steps up, you pay the game owner
>She hits the target and the bell rings
>You cheer her on
>“Hooman… happy Madisown make beww wing?” she asks with the same
smile
>You tell her you are excited, she won!
>There is an audible click in Madison’s head
>“Madisown excited! Madisown won!” it cheers like you had
>You hug her, she hugs back
>The rest of the day goes like this
>It’s so nice to have a fluffy that likes the same sort of thing
you like!
>Throughout the park there are little things for fluffies and
humans to do
>A fluffy coffee shop selling spaghetti sauce that looks like
coffee
>Along with your favorite latté
>Madison drinks, smiles, and asks for some Fuzzy Chow
>You oblige, she smiles
>You go on the roller coaster
>You squeal and throw your arms up like the six foot drop is
amazing fun
>Madison squeals and throws her hooves up like the six foot drop
is amazing fun
>It is so nice to have a happy fluffy again!
>The day is long and nice
>At the end of the day, you leave with Madison
>You are worried about drowning, still, so you take the Turnpike
back
>Show Madison her room, her litter box, her bed
>Tell her it is sleep time, she smiles and curls up
>You ask tentatively if she is happy
>“Madisown happy. Madisown go sweep now, sweep time” she smiles
>You tell her you love her
>“Wuv you too”
>You shed a small tear
>It is so nice to have a happy fluffy again!
>You go to biotoys.hasbro.com
>You want to see what kinds of apps you can get for Madison at
the stores
>Can’t wait to see your happy fuzzy fluffy doing taxes
#Post#: 643--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Mayclore
Date: June 20, 2012, 5:33 pm
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Sarah's final analysis of the fuzzy pony, as only she can
deliver it:
>You are Lucy, and somehow you're still alive.
>Your sister Sarah and slightly batshit insane cousin Tiffany
escaped Cleveland, somehow.
>Probably because Sarah drove her rental Cayenne like a fucking
lunatic.
>You're not the only ones flying back home on mom's obnoxious
plane, though.
>One of the really creepy fluffy ponies is with you.
>He...she...it? is all white. Completely. With icy blue eyes.
>It's also a little bigger than the fluffies you're used to.
>And it hasn't done anything for an hour!
>Well, besides say 'Fuzzy am hung'y'.
>It won't eat the stuff you've tried to give it, though.
>It says 'wan' fuzzy foodies'.
“This is foodies!”
>You try to give it another Dorito.
>”No wan'. Dis not fuzzy foodies. Gif fuzzy foodies pwease.”
>Tiffany tilts her head.
>”What's wrong with this fucking thing?”
>It replies, “Am hung'y.”
>Sarah comes back and sits beside you, looking at the weird
fluffy.
>”It still hasn't done anything else?”
>You nod.
“Just sit here on the table and ask for 'fuzzy foodies'...”
>”Why'd you take this damn thing? It's no fun,” Tiffany pouts,
looking out the window.
>”Just to see what we've got. Fluffy, let's play a game.”
>”No am fwuffy, am fuzzy. Pway game wif fuzzy?”
>You blink at it, then at Sarah.
“What are you doing?”
>She smiles. Oh crap.
>”Fuzzy, roll over.”
>It instantly begins rolling around on the table. It doesn't
stop.
>It just keeps rolling...and rolling...
>In fact, it keeps on rolling and rolling and rolling for
fifteen minutes.
“Um...what the heck?”
>”Fuzzy, stop rolling.”
>It snaps back into a sitting position, staring at Sarah.
>”Fuzzy, stand on your hind legs.”
>It does, in a wobbly fashion. Every time it falls, it gets
right back up.
>It doesn't emit even the slightest noise of pain.
>After twenty minutes, Sarah tells it to go to sleep.
>It does, just like that.
“Wow. What kind of fluffy is this?”
>”It's not a fluffy, it's a cheap imitation.”
>You both look over at Sarah as she leans back in the seat.
>Tiffany looks down at the sleeping fuzzy, then up at Sarah.
”What d'ya mean?”
>She just shrugs a little.
>”This is a fluffy pony without any of the fluffy pony in it.
It may as well be a robot.”
>You can't help but agree with that.
>It's the creepiest living thing you've ever seen, besides most
spiders and the occasional centipede.
>”Not sure who thought this would be a good idea. Part of the
appeal of fluffies is the challenge of having one.”
>”And making them scream!” Tiffany adds with a smirk.
>You shoot her a nasty look.
“Anyway, what are we going to do when we get home?”
>You resist the urge to poke the sleeping fuzzy. It looks dead.
>”Depends on how bad the crackdown on fluffies is, I guess.”
“There hardly are any back home...besides the ones we keep
making.”
>Sarah grins. “I guess you have a point. Still, we might have
to stop selling if people get pissed.”
>”What about me?” Tiffany blinks.
>You and Sarah both look at her, and for once you think the
exact same thing:
“You'll just have to get an actual job.”
>She shoots you a bird. Typical.
“What about the fuzzy...fluffy...whatever this is?”
>You all look down at the motionless fuzzy freak.
>Sarah folds her arms. ”It goes in the trash, just like all the
other useless fluffy, pony-shaped things that came before it.”
#Post#: 644--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Lord Anubis
Date: June 20, 2012, 5:35 pm
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@Phil
Well that was a nice take. I guess some people like fuzzies
after all.
>Fuzzy Tax Helper
I'd nitpick about the fuzzies' mental capacity, but I'm too busy
laughing at the mental image.
@Mayclore
Yeah, that seems about right for Sarah.
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