|Slip Sliding Around
by Michael Bard
© Michael Bard -- all rights reserved
"I've done it! I've done it!" Sly said.
The very pale, overweight, underwashed, teenaged genius started laughing to himself, the high pitched squeaking giggle echoing and tickling around the cold basement crowded with wires and electronics and smoking circuit boards. No more would he be called "The Dingbat" by people who knew him, by people who tried to create a bad pun based on his last name "Ding".
Instead, they would respect him as the Creator of a Better World.
With that thought, he threw The Switch.
All of reality shook and quivered. Alternities shattered, trillions, died is too gentle a word, trillions ceased to have ever existed. Universes collapsed, stories ceased to be, animals transformed into humans. Reality wavered and melted like hot butter on a snow bank.
The pale, overweight, underwashed, teenaged genius, who was no longer either pale, overweight or underwashed, looked down at the crimson fox fur around his dainty long muzzle. He had all of a second to be awed. All around him, his hardware exploded as he hadn't been able to afford fuses. His time remaining was just enough for him to scream as the wall of flame swept through his luxurious fur, burning his flesh from his bones, even as he was losing his balance.
All over the world, everybody changed, their human forms stretching and morphing. Clothing vanished, as furs obviously didn't need clothing. Underwear, undershirts, pants, shirts, ties, coats, socks shoes-- It all vanished. Poof. Gone. In their place people stood up digitigrade on padded toes and unshod hooves as tails bloomphed out behind.
Industrial divers drowned as their air supply equipment vanished. Astronauts screamed in silence as the water in their bodies slowly boiled out leaved dried fuzzy husks drifting in orbits, naked as their spacesuits had vanished. Parachutists plummeted to a hideous splattery death, and motorcyclists lost control and scraped to a long hideous smear as their fuzzy naked bodies experienced the ultimate in road rash.
But, most survived.
For a second they all stood, standing on tiny unshod hooves, trying to balance on skinny little padded paws, feeling with lobes of cloven hooves. Just standing there, nothing between them and the surface.
All over the world, people lost their balance, not able to stand in a digitigrade stance. Either because of badly thought out body structure (all vixens had massive mammaries), teeny tiny hooves, or the ultimate evil of linoleum tiles.
Because of their tiny, low surface area, low friction co-efficient paws and hooves, most fell backwards onto their tails. The rest slid forward onto their muzzles.
If only they knew that this was all the fault of Sly Ding--
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