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I would just take them and put them into separate small cages and never let them out but i would keep two or three foals appart and force them to exercise to become stronger than their then obese parents and siblings, then get a way to give rabies to the stronger fluffies and put all of them in a corral or something and never feed them again, if they cant manage to kill each other at least they will be fighting or starve to death. i’m not very creative.
You’ve seen nothing yet. I’d feed them nothing but spicy food loaded with laxatives for the next week. Because the foals will have been lifted off the ground the parents will eventually shit all over their own kids. Untie the parents, put them in a box and keep them to the same diet while they watch their own childrens’ bodies slowly rot from acidic poop. They eventually drown in their own shit too. Throw that down as lawn mulch and grow poison ivy. A fluffy will eventually eat it. I’ll adopt the sick fluffy, bring it to a fluffy shelter at night and set it on fire in the middle of all the fluffies’ cages. They breath in the poisonous fumes and all die from their lungs swelling up.
Replace my garden with petunias or something. Another herd comes up to me. I’ll force them to breed as fast as humanly possible. Every week-old foal I’ll suffocate to death at night and put in a box. It was all a dream; but you’re going to get some babies I’ll say. A hundred foals later I’ll buy a raft, go camping with my herd. Float the fluffies out to sea anchoring the raft down with a milk carton full on rocksand dumping 100 dead foals with them as sustenance. Bon voyage.
(You see a pick-up carting away a mass of vinyl tubing down the street, and you have an idea!)
“Oh look! It’s the magical spaghetti-truck! If you hurry, you might catch it!”
(The fluffies turn and gasp when they see it. As the truck turns the corner, they soon bolt after it, their foals clinging to them for dear life or struggling to keep up. As they leave, you just shake your head…)
“Works every time!”
I’m a sucker of happyness.
I would tell them that is okay, they are scared, there’s a lot of bad people in the world but I’m not like them. I would order the smarty to attack me with all his might, that is not much until he sees that I’m not attacking him. I would ask them if they have names and proceed to give it to the ones who don’t have.
After showing them that I’m not a treat, I would bring them to my house, where they would have a happy life, the same kind of life that would have any other pet.
Yeah, I’m kind of a sick freak, I’m the kind of guy who prefers the happyness than the suffering.