can_you_fly_fucker explicit silly smarty_is_a_bitch walrustitty


Comments - Download - Toggle formatting

>be Chuck Shlomo.
>no, not THAT Chuck Shlomo - the other one.
>relaxing on your balcony on the eighth floor of a deluxe apartment in the skyyyyyyy
>a cold glass of iced tea in hand, a grilled cheese sandwich, and the newspaper
>the perfect beginning of a perfect...
>"dummeh hooman!"
>you look over at the balcony next to yours. a fat white unicorn fluffy pony sits there on a plush velvet pillow
>her mane and tail are freshly groomed and tied in pink bows
>a huge dish of deluxe fluffy food sits in front of her
>crawling around in her fluff (and fat) are four little pegasus foals, probably only a couple of weeks old.
>"Are you... talking to me?"
>"yus! miss pwetty pwincess nu wike dummeh hooman! go 'way so pwincess can wook at view!"
>"No. Slurp my balls, you dumb short-statured moose."
>"Fucking don't care."
>you take a big swallow of your iced tea and bite into your sandwich.
>"dummeh hooman! dis miss pwetty pwincess wand! naow giff nummies!"
>"Come get them, retarded antelope."
>princess looks at the distance between the two balconies. It's only ten feet or so, but to her it may as well be a thousand.
>"humph! pwincess nu feewl wike diwtying pwetty fwuff fo po people nummies!"
>"Honey, if I was poor I wouldn't be living here."
>oh, good. your fatass, obnoxious neighbor heard you talking to princess the talking half-a-fag rabbit sloth.
>"How DARE you speak to Mis Pretty Princess Le merde de chat au pancakes au gratin ala rectalsquash du klansman avec fuckstain III!"
>"She started it."
>"The very NERVE! Claiming my beautiful, prize-winning Princess would waste her time speaking to a... to a..."
>"dummeh!" chimes in Princess.
>"dummeh!" "poopie head!" "fwen?" "dummeh poopie poopie!" chatter the foals.
>unfortunately there's not much you can do about this fat fuck and her fatter fuckier owner.
>the bitch is on the apartment board. if you do something horrific she could get you kicked out.
>and fuck THAT noise. moving is about the worst thing imaginable, except maybe shoving your dick in a garbage disposal while high on crystal meth, Geritol, and Sanka.
>and you're never doing THAT shit again. not for no measly $20.
>"Look, I don't care. Do whatever it is you fluffy pony fags do."
>disapear behind your newspaper.
>you continue to ignore the dumb cunt, taking a drink of iced tea.
>finally she stops trying to buzzkill your good time.
>"Now, Princess, I'm going grocery shopping. I'll be back shortly. Unless that horrible black man is on the cash register... do you know he tried to say hello and wish me a nice day last time I was there? THOSE PEOPLE need to learn not to speak to their betters until spoken to!"
>"holy hopped-up christ on a pogo stick with barney the dinosaur and a douchebag full of Koolaide..." you mutter.
>"mummah! mummah! bwing bestest skettis fo pwincess! WAN SKETTIS!"
>"We'll see, dear. I don't want your pretty white fluff getting soiled. We have a competition tomorrow."
>"When I get back! Goodness!"
>fatass Von Shithead ala taco cunt finally leaves.
>"dat wite! dat wite! babbehs, yu see mummah tewll mummah's mummah wut do! get bestest skettis an bestest nummies an bestest toys an..."
>fuck me with a diesel-powered kangaroo.
>"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" you scream. although you're loud enough to startle the little white fuckhead, the outburst simply blends into the cacophony of city sounds around you.
>gotta think fast. you are NOT going to have your first real day off in two weeks ruined by Princess the stuck up, selfish wombat-warthog-parakeet-pride flag-jackass.
>aha. you've got an idea. that's why you make the big bucks in development at Bristol-Myers Squibb-Merck (only on alternate tuesdays) spongebob-johnson, johnson and johnson (no relation)-flim flam-trump-marasovec-douchebag-horowitz and Fightmaster.
>"Hey Princess. You want spaghetti?"
>"yus! pwincess wan bestest skettis an bestest toysies an bestest..."
>"Shut the fuck up. A simple yes would do."
>"Okay, I'll go make them."
>"dat wight! dummeh hooman go make skettis fo bestest fwuffy an bestest babbehs an..."
>you head back inside, the blithering babbling horseshit fading from your hearing as you enter the kitchen
>Cook up some cheap spaghetti and shitty sauce you've had laying around for a year or so. probably still edible but certainly of near-Raman level quality.
>Bring the spaghetti out to the balcony.
>"naow giff skettis!"
>"Sure, here you go... but wait... I have a question."
>"wha? wha dummeh wan know?"
>"All your babies are pegasi, right?"
>"yus! bestest babbehs am wingie..."
>"Good, good. Then just have them fly over here and bring the sketti back to you."
>"yus! babbehs... ummm... wut?"
>"Well I can't reach you. And *I* can't fly. So send them over."
>the mare seems unsure. maybe she's not as dumb and greedy as you thought...
>until you take a big bite of the steaming spaghetti, the steam wafting through the morning air to the mare's balcony.
>"mummah! babbeh wan nummies!" "wan skettis!" "derp?"
>"SOOOOO YUMMY AND DELICIOUS..." you mutter as you loudly slurp up a couple of strands.?
>I'd like to thank the Academy, my parents, Satan, and all the fans for this Oscar...
>"babbehs! go bwing back skettis fo mummah!"
>now the foals look unsure. they have wings, but they've never really tried to use them.
>"buh mummah... nu can fwy!"
>the other three foals chide their sibling. "dummeh bwotha!" "poopie head!" "fbwen?"
>somehow, the foals manage to jump from their mother's fluff to the stone railing around the balcony, some seventy or eighty feet up from the sidewalk.
>"It's RIGHT HERE, kids. MMMMMMMM." you smile, more resembling Ryuk or the Joker than a drug development scientist.
>as if on cue, the foals all jump from their balcony, their little wings buzzing nearly as fast as a hummingbird's... but completely useless.
>they hang in the air for but a second or two, like a sausage flung from a Toyota's window at a fat kid wearing a beanie.
>then they plummet.
>and not floating on the breeze like an autumn leaf, slowly drifting through the atmosphere to the waiting grass below as the smell of burning wood, marshmallows and Jews wafts through the air.
>no, these motherfuckers PLUMMET. like dropping a cinderblock from an overpass onto your mom's asshole boyfriend after he stole your favorite PlayHustler magazine, smoked your weed and fisted your mom while listening to the Nickelback album featuring Bieber, Minaj and Flo-Rida.
>man, you've really got to stop smoking that Neon Blue North Dakota Pemmican-flavored herb. That shit's giving you the most fucked up allegories.
>on the street below, the foals rain down on unsuspecting passers-by. one takes a pegasus to his Make Russia Great Again hat. two more splatter against a fellow's freshly-washed BMW windshield. the last somehow bounces off the sidewalk and ricochets into a guy's hot dog from the stand on the corner.
>"Quick! Use your unicorn magic to save them!"
>"wuh? NU KNO HOW!"
>"Just use your horn and float down! HURRY!"
>"mummah comin, babbehs! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..........."
>predictably, the mare's horn shoots a few sparks and does nothing else to prevent her from getting obliterated on a hipster douche too busy listening to retro Dave Matthews while eating a Vegan, Gluten-Free tuna sandwich on rye.
>when the police come to your door, you offer all the help you can. like how you made spaghetti and left it sitting on your balcony while taking an important call from work.
>and how the rude, nasty woman next door purposely left her valuable pet on her balcony instead of inside, where she would be safe and sound.
>clearly some sort of insurance scam.
>sounds good, says the cops. fucking asshole fluffy owners, always trying to pull one over on their insurance agent.
>the cops head out. you toss the spaghetti and reheat your grilled cheese.
>silence. beautiful silence.
>"Oh miss pretty princess! Mummy has nummies for you! PRINCESS!? EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"
>here we go again.


- Reply
deathproofpony: Inspired by cyrilsneer's picture.

I was originally going to do this as a comic but it worked better as a short story. Unless someone else wants to draw it, in which case go apeshit.

- Reply
Mis Pretty Princess Le merde de chat au pancakes au gratin ala rectalsquash du klansman avec fuckstain

A purebred fluffy then? Sounds very posh.
- Reply
Anonymous1: dope.
fun story
- Reply
Anonymous2: Fucking awesome! The only way to improve it would be for Brent Spiner to ++~##!! carrier dropped
- Reply
Anonymous3: Being as these are all purebred fluffies are the stains left on the sidewalk blue?
- Reply
Anonymous4: Glorious I say
- Reply
Cock_Anon: *i came*
- Reply
Nocturn: Beyond awesome!!

- Reply
Manchurro: dope.
also love the accusations of insurance fraud
- Reply
Anonymous5: Awful

- Reply
MostlyHereToLurk: I haven't seen fluffies this insufferable in a long time. Was good to see them die. Owner sounds just as insufferable, too. The nerve of some people to act all high and mighty, despite owning a fucking FLUFFY, of all creatures. Next time ya wanna flaunt how rich you are, get a fucking Siberian tiger or an eagle, or a Jellenheimer or something.

- Reply
deathproofpony: @Anonymous: I agree - the fluffy and its owner are awful.