How a book helped me solving a vermin problem Part 1
„Dis am smawtys wand nao!“ Y’all heard that before, didn’t you? Sigh. These little shits never learn it. They come, hungry,
horny and incredibly stupid and demand food, shelters and your existence as a slave. I too, heard it very often. Spring,
summer, autumn, and winter. They always come crawling with their leathery hoofs, banging at your door, requesting things an
intelligent being or even an animal would never dare to request. In my part of the city, an empty and forgotten suburb of
Detroit, they prosper and are a plague like locusts. In the other parts of this city they are being hunted without mercy.
There may have been some hugboxers at the beginning in this city but that drastically changed with the case of Daquan Robinson
. Poor fella was a black guy, not this gangster-type of black guy, he was a normal citizen, worked at a bank and had a
wife and a two-year old son. One day, some jackass from the hood robbed him and instead of letting him go, shot him on
the street. That wasn’t the worst part. When the police were there and a crowd had gathered, there came a fluffy. It
walked peacefully to the dead, lifted up its rear and shit all over the breast of the corpse. Imagine that! When a black
police officer snatched that little piece of crap, it cried and had the nerves to say that it was a good fluffy! And
do you know why? Because it made poopies on the poopie pile! Calling a deceased person and pile of shit and crappinf on
them was a thing that summoned hell on earth. Since that moment, fluffies and hugboxers became hunted in this city by
everybody that wasn’t completely retarted. The black community called a headhunt for the heads of these little shits.
A hugboxer tried to rescue one fluffy oneday and was found dead the next morning. The hatred of the black community for
these biotoys knew no borders. I, personally, never concerned myself with that, I had better things to do. My home is
not very big and was very cheap when I bought it, but I managed to change with hard work and a lot of sweat. It was a cozy
house, a typical example of the American architecture of the early 20’th century with an addition of a German Fachwerk,
you know that Timber framing stuff. I renovated and build it by myself and with the help from some friends. Now I worked
from an home office and spent the afternoons in my large garden. Potatoes, corn, tomatoes, cucumbers, herbs, pumpkins and
a wonderful, old apple tree, all a man needed was there. My friend loved my barbeques with the self-grown salads and my other
recipes; they all taste just fucking awesome! There was just one problem. You guessed it: Fluffies. They were an annoyance
like I’ve never met back at home. I made the mistake of not having an wall around my garden and was soon faced with an sight
like Verdun 1918, only that the earth was replaced with shit! At first I took my Gewehr 98, a good antique, but still
working, I need that rifle in this city, and filled these little bastards with lead. But that was not enough. They came
back, every week, every month. I soon felled back on just smashing them with a spade or shovel, but it didn’t help. I soon
had a problem: Smashing fluffies and trying to rescue my garden or working and getting my money. I either had to build a
real good wall or I had to scare them off forever. I didn’t have money to get someone to build it for me but I also didn’t
had the time to do it myself! What does a man have to do, to just live in peace?! I asked the forums online. It didn’t help
much. They either suggested torturing them like some madmen or taking them in and caring for them all my fucking life!
I didn’t want to know anything of that rubbish. I had to scare them away. Forever. I took a look at my bookshelf and soon
found what I was searching for. “Torturing and executing methods throughout history.” What worked on murderers and rapists
would also work on living neon colored shitbags. No fluffy would ever enter my property again, that was sure.
Some days later, everything was ready. My equipment was laying in my garage and a herd was so foolish and entered my garden.
They were happy, numming at my raspberries, shitting at my nettles for stinging them and their foals suckled at the teats of
their mothers. They were eleven, a smarty, a lime green unicorn with an red mane, two toughies, five mares, one of them was
pregnant, that fat piece of filth, three stallions and some foals, either feeding or sleeping in the fluff of their mothers.
A peaceful scenario. Who would be so gruel and do harm to these little, innocent creatures, that just wanted to live in peace
and raise their children? This guy right here. I stepped out from my hiding spot behind a blackberry bush and put on my
sweetest face. “Woah there!” They twitched startled and stared at me with fearful eyes. The smarty came and stood before me,
puffed up his fat cheeks and opened his mouth: “„This am smawtys wand now! Gib gud nummies and skettis! Dummeh hoomin, do wat
smawty told yu ou yu will get wowstet huwties!” Go fuck yourself you little lardass, I thought. “Of course smarty! Come into
this nice housie here, I prepared good nummies and a nestie for everybody!” He grinned an posed like a goddamn war hero.
“Evewyfwuffie! Smawty got a gud housie and nummies! Smawty commanded a hoomin! All follow smawty!” I couldn’t believe that
these things didn’t die out in the weeks after these fools from PETA released them. Would any animal or human just follow a
stranger into an unknown place, when even he told them that a prepared something!? That means that he knew you were coming!
Fucking idiotic shit-rats. They all waddled through the opened door into my garage. “Wuv nue daddeh! Wuv nue housie!” Some old,
ragged blankets were lying on the floor and in some bowls was spaghetti with an sauce from some tomatoes that had their best
time behind them. I even put some blocks and a red ball there. My car and my workbench were protected by small, wooden walls
so that nothing got on them if I started working. The smarty rushed to a bowl, stuffing himself with spaghetti, not even
caring about his herd or inspecting his new domicile. The others did the same. Soon they were full, very happy, and very
sleepy. “Thank yu for new housie and da skettis new daddeh!” squeaked a mare, smiling at me. “No problemo little fluffy.
As long as you’re happy, I’m wish less happy.”
It happened in the middle of the night. A screech, followed by a “Biggest poopies!” I got up, put on some old clothes and
went into my garage. Therea she lay, surrounded by her herd, screaming her lungs out. I sat next to her and tried to calm
her down. “It’s all going to be okay little fluffy, everything is going to be okay.” She cried and I went behind her. She
had already shit out her first foal, a little filly unicorn, that had the colors of the smarty. So this was his special
friend. Good to know. The proud father just laid in the corner, yawning and waiting for this whole ruckus to be over.
I took the chirping foal and put it in its mother’s hoofs. “Dis am bestes babbeh!” she declared. “Luks like special fwend!”
The next foal was a sky-blue Pegasus, which she declared a gud babbeh. The next, a yellow earthy was also declared a gud
babbeh and the last, a brown unicorn colt, was, of course, the poopie babbeh. “This babbeh is a bad babbeh!” I said with an
angry voice. “It can’t live here with the good fluffies!” They all nodded. “Daddeh is bestes daddeh. Knuws best! Poopie
babbeh nu desewes being in da housie!” “You all are good fluffies! You will get a special surprise tomorrow!” They cheered,
jumping up and down and squeaking like a barn full of mice. “Yay, daddeh am bestes daddeh! Wuv suwpwise!” “Yeah, it is
really special… I’m going to love it…” As I walked out, the chirping foal in my hand, I looked around. I had forgotten
one important item for them, a litterbox. A pile of shit was in one corner, steaming and stinking like hell. Eh, it didn’t
matter. They would never ever shit again after tomorrow morning. I walked in to my kitchen and pondered what to do with the
brown foal. Should I save it? I was no hugboxer and I certainly didn’t want a brown shit-rat walking around and calling me daddy!
But then I had an wonderful idea: I would train this little shithead to be my guard dog! You see, my plan was to build decoys
of the fluffies in my garage around my garden. Impalements, gallows, breaking wheels, cages hanging from trees, pillories and
crosses, so everything that guaranteed to be a gruesome view. I would need somebody to tell me when it was time to take down the
dead bodies and to tell me when someone was foolish enough to enter my garden. This little guy here would be perfect for that.
He would never be loved by other fluffies and he would never love them. But, of course, there were always some mares that loved
everybody and I couldn’t risk having to deal with a fluffy that realized the truth about me. I needed a eunuch. I went outside,
the colt in one hand, a knife and some disinfectant in the other. I turned on the lights on my terrace and put the squeaking foal
on the table. Carefully I spread his legs and placed the knife directly under his ‘special lumps’. One clean cut and he screamed
like a rat in a boiling pot of water. His now useless penis and balls were thrown in the trash can, didn’t want to have any rats
around here. Disinfection and some fondling later, he only whimpered and cried silently while I was feeding him some milk formula
I had bought some time ago. I put him in small box filled with some old papers and put it on the heater. I also gave him a
flannel to cuddle with. I knew these things needed a feeling of comfort in their first days of their hopefully short lives. The
next step of my plan was also fairly easy. I took an old mobile phone of mine, downloaded tracks of fluffies talking hateful
to babbehs and laid it next to the box. The colt would only know the voices of fluffies full of hate and he would to learn hate
them. I would also be the only one to ever show compassion or love towards him. The only one in his world that would not hate
him would be I and soon he would be the perfect lure and doom for his brethren. Then I had supper and went to bed.
It was a wonderful morning. I had a healthy breakfast, read the newspaper and then went to the little colt. It looked like he didn’t
had any sleep and cried the whole night through. There was a lot of shit on the papers and I almost had to puke because of this
disgusting, stinging odor while I changed them. I stopped the recording and took the little foal in my hand. “Oh you poor little
thing!” I said with a calm and kind voice. “All the other fluffies hate you, but not your daddy. Your daddy will always love you.
You are very special and I will always look out for you. But not fluffies. They hate you and want to hurt you. Only I love and care
for you.” I repeated this for a while and the chirping foal seemed to relax. I put it back in the box, recorded some of my sentences,
mixed them with the recordings of the fluffies and started to play it again. Then I went outside.
I prepared my stuff and opened the garage. A foul stench hit my like a wrecking ball. The fluffies ran to me and started to talk with
heir pitched voices. “Daddeh, tummy of fwuffy make hurties! Need nummies!” The mare that had the birth last night was also like crazy
about food. “Daddeh, fwuffy need nummies NOW! Need to make bestest miwkies for bestes babbeh!” “Yes, yes, just let me…” “GIB NUMMIES NOW!”
The smarty stood before me, its cheeks puffed and with a look of an very pissed of cotton ball. “NEED NUMMIES FOR SPECIAW FWEND! GIB
SMAWTY NUMMIES NOW OW GET WOWSTEST HUWTIES!” “No.” The whole herd was shocked, their little jaws had fallen down. The smarty seemed to
explode any second now. “SMAWTY GIV DUMMEH DADDEH SOWWY POOPIES!” He turned around and lifted his fat little ass. A fountain of liquid
shit sprayed across the room. When he turned around, a triumphant smile on his face, he looked at nothing. I had simply stepped aside
and now stood before him. I grabbed him by the neck which resulted in a loud ‘Bad Upsies’. “Now, now, Sun Tzu would be ashamed if he
would look at the tactics of you little fucks. I invited you in my home, gave you good food, gave you shelter, helped one of yours to
bring her offspring into the world and this is how you pay it back? You have broken the guest right and have misused my hospitality.
For something this wicked you deserve to be punished!” At the mention of punishment the fluffies lost their shit. “PWEASE NO SOWWY STICK!"
AM GUD FWUFFIES! NUW HUWT FWUFFIES! FWUSSIES AM SOWWY, WIW…” “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” They quivered and try to hide but they could not escape
“For a crime like this, all of you will be punished. Neither the babbehs nor the mummahs will be spared. You have broken a taboo
and you will pay. You all will pay.”