My Little Scootaloo

     “Daddy it’s beautiful!” Scoot said, turning around in front the big mirror in our living room, admiring my work. I couldn’t let all that soft, supple skin go to waste, now could I, and I’d felt like doing something special for my little darling to celebrate her first time. When I was a boy my mother had taught me how to sew, and she’d taught me well. Scoot’s new dress was a testament to that. Suddenly she looked at me quizzically. “What did you do with the rest of her?”

     “I saved her. You see Scoots, life is full of fun things to do, but after we have fun, sometimes we have to clean up…”

     “Otherwise we could get in trouble, huh?”

     “Exactly,” I said sagely, “so now I’m going to show you how to clean up.”

     “Okay!” she was as enthusiastic as ever. I went to the large freezer and opened it up. Nurse Maggie’s skinless body was wedged in there with some TV dinners, part of a pot roast I was never going to eat, and a few bags of frozen peas. Always freeze them; a rigid body is much easier to deal with than a limp one. With some effort I lifted the slight woman’s body out of the freezer and laid her down on a plastic tarp I’d set up on the living room floor.

     “Now Scoots, we need to cut her up. Little pieces, nothing bigger than an arm.”

     “Okay Daddy!”

     I went back to the kitchen and opened my knife drawer, selecting a large cleaver for myself, and a smaller one for my little darling.

     “Think you can hack it?” I asked jocularly as I handed it to her. She giggled. I love a girl with a good sense of humor. So we set about cutting up the body into little pieces. Scootaloo, eager to please, was chopping wildly at anything within her reach. “Cut at the joints,” I told her, “It’ll make things easier.”

     “Damn boy,” the plumber had said when he’d finished installing my industrial strength garbage disposal, “what ya gonna do with this thing, grind up bodies?”

     “Yes, actually,” I had replied. He was the first one to go down the chute.

     Once the body was in properly sized pieces, Scoots and I began feeding body parts into the garbage disposal. She really seemed to enjoy this part, the sounds of tearing flesh and snapping bones making her positively giddy. I watched her chuckle as she stood on the counter and fed an arm into the whirring blades, marveling at what I’d created. The scared little filly had grown up to be a party animal just like me! She was beautiful; long sleek legs, those big lavender eyes, one of them partly covered by her once short and spiky mane that was now long and wavy, a forelock draped over one side of her face in a devil-may-care sort of way.

     When all was said and done we were both covered in blood. “Aww! My pretty dress is all stained! So is my fur!”

     “Don’t worry kid, I’ll clean you right up,” I smiled. I got a we rag and began wiping her down.

     “Hey don’t rub my butt so hard, I’m getting all horny.”

     “Sorry darling, but this bit of blood won’t come off. Suddenly she went rigid, jumping off the counter and running to the big mirror in the living room.”

     “MY CUTIE MARK!”

     “Your what now?”

     “My cutie mark! It’s what a pony gets when she finds her special talent! Look!” Upon closer examination I could see that the spot was in a perfect blood-drop shape. And she had one on either flank I could see as she danced around jovially, stopping every so often to admire the mark in the mirror.

     “I may not be familiar with cutie marks, but I’m proud of you kid,” I said, tousling her mane and kissing her on the cheek. She kissed me back and pretty soon we were going at it, rolling around on the floor and making a bloody mess. I didn’t care, I was just so happy for her.

     “I love you, my little Scootaloo,” I said, smiling as I picked a stray bit of bone out of her hair.

     “I love you too Daddy.”