Puyol, King of Bastards (Captain_Emo)

Chicken used to be everywhere once.

As a food I mean.

It was such a cheap food and something that was so versatile to cook with, honestly you could reel off your tongue with ease what you could use chicken for in whatever meal you wanted.

Then the food industry turned to fluffies

Due to an overpopulation problem which created a huge surplus supply, as well as several incidents nationwide in which fluffies ate away at food crops….

(Which then created a food shortage….)

What else could be done with the things?

A scientist guy discovered that fluffy meat was safe for human consumption (after numerous treatments…), and then the rest as they say is history….

You might be wondering why anyone would pick fluffies over chickens?!

It seems such an unusual thing to do, plus they’re nothing alike….

Well, from an industrial perspective, fluffies are perfect to make into produce.

To start with, fluffies of all genders are used on the production line.

Whereas only female chicks would be chosen for selection to go into production…

male chicks are simply eviscerated

Now hens have a gestational period of around 20-21 days, which is actually similar to fluffy mares (there’s is between 18-28 days).

But fluffies do have one advantage over hens in this regard.

Fluffies are known to be good at two things……pumping out shit, and making more shitrats.

A fluffy mare can get pregnant straight after giving birth too.

They can also be treated with hormonal treatments and steroids which produce a larger yield of foals for production!!

And everyone quite likes their foal meat!

Whereas some people are squeamish over the treatment of chickens, and a lot of people would’ve liked to see them treated better.

No one particularly gave a shit about fluffies and the way they were treated…due to their notoriously bad hygiene. They’re called Shitrats for a reasons after all…,

They may as well be pigs.

And pigs live in their own filth……

But they’re not pigs, and they’re not even viewed as real animals.

Fluffies made for the definition of GMO foods, and due to how artificial they are, their meat was easy to produce into different meat products!!

All of the above, plus a disease which affected poultry livestocks spread at a frightening rate.

It made eating chicken unsafe, and large numbers of livestock were destroyed.

Ironically, the disease was spread to them by fluffies, but no one knew at the time how so many chickens and poultry had caught the illness.

No one had ever suspected the fluffies….which are dangerous to all animals’ health and well-being.

And so, production was moved from chicken to fluffies.

Now you might be wondering, what the fuck actually happened to chickens?!

No one talks about them anymore!!

But we’re still getting eggs! So they have to still be around.

The answer to the above is, yes, chickens are still around….and they’ve become popular in gardens and in markets.

Now I want you to do a bit of thinking, if people believe that they can make money from fluffies (breeding and whatever) then why can’t they make money from chickens too?

Buying a hen now was a good investment. People still wanted actual eggs from a chicken! No one really liked the substitute.

In your back garden, you could keep a coop of chickens safely, letting them lay their eggs for you to sell at fresh food markets.

All in exchange for a warm home and some food.

No one was all that interested in eating them after the health scare, such was it’s scale, and people took steps to ensure they could raise hens safely and keep their gardens in order to not pass on diseases.

After such a bleak and uncertain change, the future was looking up for free range eggs and keeping chickens domestically…

Jaime didn’t know the first thing about chickens, other than what spices went well with them.

In fact, the last time he had anything chicken related to eat was as a kid. It felt both such a short time and so long ago.

But here he was, living back at his mom’s. And she was crazy about chickens!

She’d get up early, feed them, clean the yard, check their eggs if any (she’d give some to Mrs Rodrigues next door, this kept her from complaining about noises and keep her sweet) and check on their health too.

She’d even talk to them when she could. No she didn’t really have many friends….

His mom’s alarm would go off at what? 3 or 4am?! There should only be one of those in a day!

He’d look out the window from his bedroom and she’d let them out the coop and direct them to wherever to eat and then they would.

And then she’d go back in and make him a cup of coffee and leave it on his bedside table.

The strong scent would wake him up. Jesus mom, really?! It was just like being in high school again.

And then one evening, his mom took a fall. As she had done many times without telling Jaime.

But one evening she couldn’t hide it anymore.

A trip to the hospital confirmed that she really was sick

Jaime felt sick to his stomach, he’d never thought it would be his mom who got it

His mom had known for some time, or more accurately had a feeling something wasn’t right, she had been frightened by it when she decided to Google her symptoms one evening.

Her list of symptoms when entered gave her a name of what it could be.

She was so scared by it, she couldn’t even say the name of it.

Her own mom had it too. And died.

She was so scared by it that she had to say something else. Sick felt like the right word to use.

She knew she had it, she knew she was sick, she knew she could face it without calling it by its true name.

And she made Jaime agree to never call it by it’s true name. Not ever.

Jaime had been out of work for some time, and then his girlfriend had enough of seeing him bumming out on the couch asking his other workless buddies to come join him while she was out working.

It just wasn’t fun anymore. And he had no one else to turn to.

He hadn’t much luck even getting an interview, let alone a job.

But maybe this was right? Maybe he shouldn’t have a job at this moment? He was back with his mom, and then she ends up sick?

It felt right for him to take a step back and take care of her.

And once her treatment started, he felt right being home with her.

The embarrassing stuff, the stuff he knew he would cringe at; washing his mom, feeding her, taking her to the toilet, cleaning up after her…the embarrassment and awkwardness didn’t last long and it became a routine.

There was one thing that Jaime just couldn’t get right and that involved his mom’s other love.

His mom was too weak to manage to do her daily chores with the hens, she would watch from the kitchen window and realise she hadn’t enough strength to go into the garden.

Jaime was worse. He realised if there was one job he knew he could never do it was this.

The hens weren’t fed on time, and then when he did feed them the hens never went directly over to the food.

Which made a lot more mess.

They weren’t producing enough eggs, which meant Mrs Rodrigues was pissed not getting her normal amount.

The hens also seemed unhappy. Like they knew his mom wasn’t there and just seemed unhappy in general, especially with how badly Jaime was taking care of them.

Looking after them felt harder than looking after his mom. His mom, he knew what he was doing. The birds outside seemed alien to him, like he knew he could never get into the swing of caring for them.

His mom didn’t want to sell them, or give them up.

Though she didn’t make that much money from selling their eggs, giving them up would’ve meant another normal part of her life was over.

Having spent most of it in her bed, she felt like life as she knew it was over.

At least if the hens were doing well then she knew that she could be happy.

And Jaime was determined that he would get it right for his mom.

One evening in bed, he decided to Google facts about the hens and tips on how to take care of them.

He had been concerned that the hens hadn’t been going over to where he had spread their feed.

As it turned out, they need to be directed to where their food was.

Which explained why his mom was getting up early before, and moving about the garden to help them find the food.

But there was something else that could do the job too.

Jaime had done his phone research.

He had googled “Roosters for sale”…and he found the most appropriate (cheapest) seller. He’d go in the afternoon.

Gogo Villas’ hands shook as had picked up his cup of coffee. His hands were full of pock marks and scars. He regretted not ever wearing gloves.

Especially around Puyol

Gogo was an old guy, he’d seen enough around town to see local shops become franchises, and people moving away from the old ways.

He used to make money from cock fighting. The angriest bastards, they’d only have one purpose.

No one was into that anymore. The taste of the town changed as he had always said to himself.

Then the chicken flu passed around and there definitely wasn’t anyone interested in roosters fighting one another.

Puyol was the last of his kind.

Everyone had moved on to Fluffies

Cute little colourful things that could talk. Like talking horses or rabbits or pigs or something. It felt like everyone had one of these little guys and seen them.

Everyone Gogo knew was determined to make a buck from them too.

And Gogo thought he’d try it out. Truthfully he was charmed by them. They kind of spoke like kids, were always dumb. Always speaking and pooping and fucking.

Couldn’t kids just stick to transformers like he had as a boy….

You could never have just the one fluffy it seemed. There’d always end up being more.

Breeding them to sell onto kids, as prizes at the fair, meat to sell to diners….you could also use them for “fighting”

Actually, that’s a bad word, the Fluffies don’t actually “fight” really….not in a satisfying way.

For a starter, they don’t really have any fighting instincts….they can have a bratty one but that takes time to instil into them.

They’re also pretty bad at fighting one another….the “sorry hoofies” didn’t look brutal enough to sate many people’s bloodlust.

They could also injure themselves even hitting another fluffy, they’re just that brittle.

In fact, they were better off as something else entirely. Bait.

A group of fluffies would be put into a pit, all of them would have different colours than the other.

And then they would be torn apart by whatever dangerous and aggressive animal was thrown in.

The last survivor, or the one that was killed last, would be declared winner….and so the winner go the spoils. And guys would bet on whoever would be the winner.

You could call it pretty fair, it was easy to keep track of form and it wasn’t like any fluffy had an advantage over the other.

And Puyol was murderous……

In fact he was too murderous. To the point where it was hard to tell which fluffy survived to the end.

Each time he created a bloodbath.

He was just too aggressive….there was something about fluffies that made him that way.

Although tbf he was kind of like that when fighting other cocks……

He had to go. He was just too much. And he was costing too much money in bets.

It was just too hard to decide which fluffy had been killed last…which was causing a lot of arguments over money…

Even Gogo couldn’t take the guy. Puyol would go out of his way just to damage Gigi’s hands further from handling him.

His aggression seemed funny to onlookers….and they even suggested getting him neutered to calm Puyol down.

What they hadn’t realised was that Puyol already had been caponized.

And his aggression remained unrelenting….he just got a little fatter but that’s it.

Looking into Puyol’s eye (he had only the one, the other scarred from a previous fight), the cock would meet you with a challenging and fierce gaze. He always stood upright and would try and get into a position to look down on you.

A lot of the guys got hurt by him too, and seeing his behaviour, gave him a nickname, “The King of All Bastards”

It fit him quite well.

Gogo was pretty sad to let the guy go.

And relieved.

The amount of times this fucking guy attacked him!! If those assaults were hot dinners, Gogo would never go hungry…Jesus……

He’d raised him from an unassuming chick to what he is today.

Pure, concentrated fury….but as a rooster. Why was he so calm?! Why now? Gogo began to wonder if Puyol was casing him out, like he was working exactly what he wanted to do with him and get rid of him.

Gogo could barely hold a cup with one hand, or even text on his phone such were his injuries.

Whoever gets you then may God go with them.

Gogo was focussing on raising fluffies for the pit now…and making sure the pit animal wasn’t insane and super aggressive when tearing them apart….

Fluffies were little angels, and they played so nicely together….If only they were tough enough to survive the damn pit

Puyol was just too good at killing fluffies……and he was aging too.

Best for him to retire before it cost Gogo too much money from lost bets.

And cost Gogo any fingers.

The kid who had messaged wanted to use Puyol for his mom’s chickens or whatever….it seemed a nice idea.

Puyol, king of the garden. A retired prizefighter out to the pasture. It had some romance to it.

He got his niece to text the kid back….he really wished he had one of those big button cells….maybe with the money from Puyol. Just maybe….

Retire Puyol to some hens to keep watch over, let him lead a life as nature intended.

He decided to drop the price for the kid just to make it an easier sale.

Puyol kept watch over Gogo….and it made Gogo uneasy. Like he knew he was being sold out and replaced with some fluffies. He kept Puyol in his cage and didn’t let him out.

Lest he feel his wrath

And then gave the kid an ample warning about wearing gloves around this guy at all times….

Jaime took a look at the guy’s crooked fingers and began to wonder what he let himself in for.

That ain’t arthritis y’know

Jaime brought “Puyol” back home with him. It caught a lot of people’s eye and ears.

He hadn’t exactly discussed it with his mom, but maybe the hens needed another presence there to keep them happy.

It only cost $20 too…he hadn’t exactly broke the bank for an old scarred up rooster with one eye.

Though the guy did warn him about wearing gloves or something

Those fingers……

How did this little guy get so scarred up?

Oh……

People still do that with roosters?

Damn….poor little guy gets a nice new home and some chicks to live with. Seemed a good deal for him….

Jaime brought the cage into the garden. Puyol began to unsettle inside. He wanted out right now….

Jamie let the latch loose and Puyol sprung out and began to run around the garden. Where were the hens?!

Jaime put the cage down.

Puyol responded by taking a bite on Jaime’s thumb.

He let out a yell of “FUCK!!” and hoped his mom didn’t hear it.

He scrambled back away from Puyol, who had jumped to the top of the cage.

Puyol looked down upon Jaime.

His one eye seemed to be like a ball of hate. Or was it confusion? He was a fighting bird after all.

Puyol observed Jaime getting up. Puyol was casing him out. Working out what kinda newbie this kid was. At least there were no worthy challengers in the garden for Puyol to fight…

Jaime had reasoned with himself that maybe Puyol had got scent of the hens and was angry and confused that they weren’t there.

But why was he so calm now? After nearly taking his thumb off too. Jaime realised that he had drawn blood from a cut.

Puyol kept watching for any suspicious movement from this new human

Jaime wasn’t a bird psychologist and was going from pure gut. His thumb was also too sore to use Google on his phone….

What was this things deal?!

Puyol kept an eye on him as he moved closer to the hen hutch……Jaime opened up the hutch to let the hens out.

The hens scattered into the garden making their confused and absent and hungry clucks.

Puyol did not move.

He observed each of the hens moving. His eye kept wandering back to Jaime….as if he was a threat….or was Puyol waiting for something?

Jaime’s alarm buzzed on his phone.

Feeding time.

The hens were hungry.

He realised he had to open the hutch for a reason.

He moved himself towards the hutch and opened the door. The hens came flocking out clucking as loudly and as dumbly as ever.

Puyol’s gaze left Jaime and had turned to the flock. He got from the top of the cage and began to join in.

Maybe he was hungry too.

Jaime picked up the bag of the feed and began to cast it into the garden.

The hens flocked to the feed wherever it had been casted.

Puyol remained observant.

He had gone to the furthest parts of the garden were some of the feed had went. He led some of the hens to the spot and they began to feed too.

And then another.

Another spot.

Other than the bird shit there was barely any wasted feed.

Puyol had a good start to his new job.

Maybe things wouldn’t be that bad with him around

It was a few weeks but Puyol had settled straight into his new role. Jaime’s fingers had barely suffered like the other guy. And Jaime had learned to keep his distance.

The new king of the garden would watch over his flock and make sure they were all fed and cared for.

He allowed the human to cast the feed. The hens would be fed and the eggs would be made.

The hens seemed more settled and happier that Puyol was there.

A silent contract had been declared between the king and the human. The human would cast his feed and take the eggs, the king would look after the flock and the garden would be his.

And there would be no invaders in the king’s realm.

The fluffy herd had been on the street for roughly a week now.

There was no smarty, a tuffie had taken on the role of smarty. He was no smarty and couldn’t refer to himself as that. His friend that gave the best huggies would be the other tuffie.

Both of them got pretty confused by who the real tuffie was.

But the one thing they weren’t confused about was their tummy hurties. In fact the whole herd had tummy hurties.

People here in the street were pretty indifferent to them. No one exactly got riled up by them, they were an inconvenience, a nuisance to put up with. Maybe they should be ignored….the fluffies that we want to keep are here already.

A fluffy will always try to stay around a human. This is the case for both domestics and ferals.

This is why ferals will favour urban areas or streets.

On the off-chance a human will save them.

Because why not? They’re good fluffies and Daddehs love good fluffies so why not save them? A Daddeh is meant to love their fluffy and give them a new house and toys and nummies and love.

And this is why feral fluffies will always make a nuisance of themselves and never make themselves scarce.

Hope springs eternal after all.

The fluffies had tried to endear themselves. They had knocked nicely on doors for nummies.

Some nummies were given but the majority of the time, nummies were not given.

There were a few tuts and a lot of shoos. The people in the street had enough of their time taken caring for their own fluffies rather than some dirty ferals.

Can they not see how unclean they are?!

Scraps of food were given and received by the fluffies. They couldn’t help but wish they had more.

But if they stayed around longer the Daddehs would see that they’re all good little fluffies and give them some more.

But more never came, and only scraps came. A portion of scraps could feed one fluffy, not a herd….

The herd were so, so hungry.

What about the little Babbehs and tummy babbehs?!

Nummies for milkies for Babbehs and to stop tummy hurties too!!

Fluffies are programmed to be cheery, happy and friendly. If they’re kept as they should, they wouldn’t feel any negative thoughts or feelings.

Which is why they have such a hard time being feral….there’s just no way they can process all of that negative energy.

A fluffy has a very hard time dealing with being sad. Being sad should only be temporary like boo-boos or if Daddeh goes away, this is all the time!

They’re fluffies!!

Fluffies are for love and for play and Huggies and love.

Not this

As the week wore on, the herd became more desperate.

Scraps of food that had fell out of the bins had been consumed…whatever crap was on the pavement was eaten…it didn’t matter about the tummy hurties it would give, it would stop the tummy hurties from being hungry.

Eventually they found their way into the gardens…

Fluffies that were playing outside in the comfort of their own garden would see the ferals

Food was stolen from Magic, Mr and Mrs Wood’s fluffy. The tuffie had seen that Magic was going to be having a picnic with his Mummeh, and the food was ready. Magic was a good fluffy, and he listened to his Mummeh when she said no touchies.

The tuffie couldn’t believe all the food that he saw. And neither could the other tuffie.

The herd were waiting outside the garden, one of the mares was a dam and couldn’t fit through the fence.

The two tuffie asked Magic if he could share his nummies with them they were so hungry.

Magic really wanted to. All fluffies are good fluffies. But his Mummeh had said to wait. Magic began to worry about the sorry stick.

Magic wanted to say Otay but he was a good fluffy and a fluffy that listened to his Mummeh.

He wanted to tell them that his Mummeh had said no, he himself was incapable of saying no, but the little tuffie had made a start eating at the food on the picnic rug.

Magic wailed out, he wailed out for the small tuffie to stop, but the big tuffie got in his way!

A fight broke out between the two of them!

Both of them sat on their rear. It looked like they were trying to hug.

Light taps were exchanged with light taps.

Tapping was met with tapping. Their limbs flailing at each other gently, nearly entangling against each other.

The tuffie would try and give a sorry hoofie that felt like being pressed by a cushion, Magic had the same strength and would meet the tuffie with what little strength he had too.

The fight would’ve went on and on, except the small tuffie had enough nummies and grabbed some nummies for his special friend.

He ran out and managed to knock against both of the duelling fluffies unintendedly, such was his carelessness.

Both Magic and the tuffie could feel their balance going, and they both felt dizzy.

The tuffie was bigger than Magic, but only just, but it was enough to balance the odds in his favour.

Magic fell on his back and the tuffie landed on the belly of magic.

He had won.

Magic was crying and flailing on his back, crying for his Mummeh. Fluffies once on their back cannot get back up without assistance.

The tuffie gloated and gave Magic sorry poopies, his foul diarrhoea covered all of the top half of Magic, who cried even more.

The tuffie went to eat some nummies and to take them too. Unfortunately for him, Magic had fired his poopies all over the nummies!!

The tuffie cried when he ate some of the Poopie tasting nummies.

He then heard a human voice.

It was Magic’s mummeh.

She had told the fluffy to stop what he was doing. The tuffie wanted to run but he wailed instead and made even more bad poopies.

Magic was picked up from his back and made even more tears. His Mummeh wanted to hug him but the stench of the poopies, and the fact he was coated in them, made her not want to.

She was also really sick and vomited after a while.

The tuffie was shaking, would he get the sorry stick?!

Mrs Wood had seen these fluffies. She felt sorry for them at first but now?

She had given scraps sure but she’d never let a feral near Magic. What if he got sick? Don’t people know how dirty these things are, how easy they can spread disease?!

She regretted not calling fluffy services and taking them when she should’ve earlier in the week. She’d have thought someone else would’ve or at least wanted to take them in or whatever.

Jesus, she hoped there was nothing wrong with Magic.

He was crying still. Had he caught anything or been hurt by that big fluffy?

She made a call to the fluffy vet and asked for him to be checked out. And she also called fluffy services.

Unfortunately, they would come but at an inconvenient time. When Magic would be getting checked out at the vets.

She then realised that someone would need to wait for fluffy services for her, to take them away.

And then she heard the noise of a cockerel. A loud sound vibrating in the air. Everyone had gotten used to it (even, surprisingly Mrs Rodrigues). But not her….

She cursed under her breath.

Jesus, she could live with one of her neighbours having hens but a rooster?!

She decided to round up the feral fluffies and marched them to Jaime’s house.

At least the jobless chicken boy could keep an eye on them until they were taken.

She asked if he could wait in for her to get these ferals taken away. For good.

She slipped Jaime a 10 dollar bill for the inconvenience and asked him how his mom was.

She then went back to her house and wrapped Magic in a blanket to go to the appointment. Magic began to cry that he smelt of poopies and had no picnic nummies….

Jaime looked at the herd. Who were now asking him if he was their new daddeh. And if he had any nummies…

Jaime tutted, like he didn’t have his hands full already between his mom and the chicken…now fluffies?

At least it was temporary. And he got a few dollars for it.

It’s not like they were going to be there that long

He acquiesced and he went back in for some soft food he could give these guys. They weren’t exactly picky neither….

The garden was pretty big after all. And the garden was separated with chicken wire forming a fence to keep the chickens in their part, and the fluffies in their own.

The fluffies cheered at the sight of the nummies. And gobbled them up barely chewing such was their hunger.

And across the garden, atop a cage, a malevolent eye set his sights on the noisy and colourful beings who were now neighbouring his kingdom.

He had torn through their flesh many, many times and were never a match. If only they would come closer. He could feel his legs tensing and talons becoming more gripped to the cage. Like he could feel how sharp they were.

The fluffies were given scraps of nummies. Finally Daddeh had saved them!! The mare could make milkies for Babbehs and the dam could have enough for her tummy babbehs.

They settled down and they began to play and chirp.

The angry eye remained on them across the garden. He observed each movement the fluffies would make

Jaime observed them to distract himself long enough for his next chore, and that involved mom, he hadn’t realised how tiring it could be. But he would press on.

The big tuffie began to ask if he could have more nummies as they were still hungry. He ignored the fluffy and reached for the chicken feed. He scattered it across the chicken’s part of the garden.

The tuffie and the fluffies gasped out at the sight of the clunky-munstahs.

There were so many of them.

So many cluckies

Daddeh had given them nummies.

Why couldn’t the good little fluffies have any nummies too?!

They had tummy hurties and needed the nummies!!

The hens pecked at the ground to feed

As did the king, whom kept his one eye on the accursed creatures braying and crying

The hens clucked and clucked and moved around quickly pecking at the ground.

What were they pecking at?

The fluffies couldn’t exactly see what they were pecking.

A lot of the clucky munstahs were heading towards their howsies.

THEY HAD THEIR OWN HOWSIES?!

Some of the fluffies began to cry at this. The clucky-munstahs had their own, why wouldn’t Daddeh let them have their own too?!

The tuffie began to get closer to the fence. He had to see what the house was like. Maybe he could see the nummies too.

The chicken fence was in the way. He began to climb over it but struggled and his tummy got caught on the top.

The fence was giving him more tummy hurties now and he began to let out a huuuuuu. Blood dripped from the slit that it made in his skin. The wire began to bore into his flesh.

He was stuck.

Confused, the fluffies thought he needed some upsies to get over.

The mare and the small tuffie began to help their friend over.

The weight of the big tuffie and the additional push brought down the chicken wire. Another job Jaime had forgotten to do was to fix the thing and make it further. He was never a handyman and he was never all that good with his hands to begin with.

The fence came down and the big tuffie too, landing on his nose indignantly.

Unfortunately for him, he was caught on the fence and couldn’t move without hurting his belly more. The wire now caught in his flesh. He let out pained cries when he tried to move.

He other fluffies, the dam who managed to stumble over, the other mare, the small tuffie and the other male in the group managed to get over. The other male in particular trampling on top of the big tuffie who cried out some more from the hurties and stompies.

The big tuffie had company.

4 of the mare’s foals got caught in the wire. Their little leggies caught against the wire and stopping them from moving. They all cried out for their mummeh to come back.

The mare looked really upset. Her babbehs had hurties. But she had hungries. She promised to come back over and give them all huggies and milkies as soon as she had more nummies.

The babbehs cried out a lot more and begged their mummeh to come back.

The big tuffie sniffled. He wished he could join the herd for nummies.

The King had been well aware of the noise. And assessed the creatures that had now invaded his territitory

He was only one. And they were 5 in all. Plus some tiny ones. The King was unusual amongst the other fighters. He had always waited for them to draw closer to him. Draw closer to allow him to unleash his carnage. He observed one of the creatures drawing closer. A challenger for the kingdom? A threat to the hens? This would not stand….

The small tuffie had only just noticed the small door for the hens and attempted to approach it……unfortunately he was stopped in his tracks.

The clucky-munstah was here.

He had jumped onto the fluffy’s face with his talons first and the skin from the small tuffie’s face came clean off.

The small fluffy couldn’t even let out a wail before he was scratched and plucked to death. Small bits of his flesh flew up into the air and boo-boo juice spread across the garden.

The fluffies who could freely move wailed and let out a lot of poopies.

The clucky-munstah had leapt up into the air and began to chase the invaders in the garden.

The dam had no chance. The clucky-munstah chased her into the wire were she got caught.

She screamed out in agony and begged her leggies to move. But she had too many hurties from being caught on the wire.

The talons dug into her flesh and burrowed deep, the Munstah began to peck at the dam’s head, exposing her brain.

It was unfortunately around then that she had the biggest poopies. Her Babbehs were born…and then covered in a lot of poopies from the dying mare. Suffocated by her shit….

The male fluffy and the other mare had the same issues too.

Caught up in the chicken fence of death.

The male had tried to scramble over the female. But all of her limbs had been caught in the fence wire. As he had tried to climb over her clumsily to get away, his back legs had got caught now too. He was in a position similar to mounting.

There was nothing left to do now but beg for their lives……and have special huggies….the male began to enfie away, the mare wanted to hide her see places from the Munstah but couldn’t as her leggies couldn’t move.

The Munstah was very quick for the both of them.

The Munstah had managed to rip off the male’s head with a few choice pecks around the neck to tear the head off with the loose flesh.

His body twitched to give the enfies still. Even dead he wasn’t done with that yet.

The mare had her head pecked at and her brains were plucked out and flung across the garden and her flesh was torn apart by the clawed feet of the Munstah….

It was the big tuffie left now….and the Babbehs…who were crying and begging to be saved….

The Munstah had plucked their heads off one by one and swallowed them as if they were feed, silencing each foal whilst avoiding the Poopie after taste.

The tuffie had scrambled and scrambled and flailed but he finally managed to get himself off the wire fencing……leaving a slit in his belly, and an intestine caught in the wire still.

He began to crawl to the other part of the garden were he could be saved, away from the munstah

But the Munstah had other ideas.

He plucked and plucked at the intestine that was caught against the wire.

He caught it in his beak.

He pulled and pulled……more intestine came out.

And then some organs….the slit in his belly grew bigger and more of the fluffy’s insides fell out with him.

He struggled to breathe….this was the forever sleepies now…no more hurties……

Puyol stood over him……

And plucked out each eyeball whilst scratching and pecking his face into oblivion….

His bowels had long expellled the shit out but he had more and more and blood and other fluids seeped out of his butthole too.

Puyol crowed victorious and let out a massive sound to declare his victory to the neighbourhood.

Jaime had been watching from his window. He had brought the fluffy guys in to go into the back to get the fluffies out and taken away.

All 3 of them looking out the window witnessed a bloodbath.

One of the guys went onto his phone to another guy to work out how to deal with an angry rooster. It was a first time for him in dealing with anything like this.

The other guy on the phone was stumped too.

The other guy went to the van to fetch some plastic disposable bags and some gear to pick up the sloppy remains of some of the fluffies.

Jaime was just glad his mom was asleep now and was working out how to clean up the yard and not piss off Puyol….

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Previously submitted last night, but the update to the website took off. I’ve reuploaded it as was.

This one is for @LeroyLettering for the idea for the story.

Puyol is based on POYO from the comic series Chew

POYO is a literal weapon of destruction in the comic and Puyol, to a fluffy, would be like a WMD too.

I can imagine that with the invention of fluffies, animal bloodsports would become more rare and infrequent.

Fluffies would just be used to be torn apart by whatever you wanted or money could be bet on who would survive.

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All hail Puyol.

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Good rooster! Give him a treat!

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Apparently roosters love strands of noodles…we might see some jealous fluffies looking on with envy

Wanted to just say, awesome story and thank you for turning me on to the Chew series. I’ve been looking for something new to read and it’s a hellova read.

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Hey it’s not a problem :slight_smile: and it’s a good, and complete, series from not long ago.

If you get the chance to, and if you’ve not before, try Transmetropolitan. Warren Ellis’ finest work

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THEY HAD THEIR OWN HOWSIES?!

Some of the fluffies began to cry at this. The clucky-munstahs had their own, why wouldn’t Daddeh let them have their own too?!

What entitled, narcissistic bastards, thinking they’re worth a chicken’s dignity. I love seeing animals get treated better than them, and for good reason.

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:star:PUYOL!!!:star:

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Long may he reign

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