"What is up, bitches and bros and nonbinary hoes!" California arrived at the States Annual Meeting with a giant grin. "Before we get started, I want all of you to meet my beautiful gay son."

"Your what?" Everyone in the room raised their eyebrows, blinked their eyes, and formed their mouths of mixed emotions in reaction to her announcement.

"His name is Sergey!" She proudly held up a thick four-foot-long caterpillar-like creature with the face of a Furby. "If you want to know his full name and title, it's Sir Gaylord Avocado Yogurt of Anaheim and Fucking. He's nonbinary, but he prefers to go by masculine pronouns in case anyone is wondering about that."

"Uh-huh..." New York stared dubiously.

"That's quite interesting to know," Pennsylvania remarked.

"You got that right," Rhode Island grumbled. "No offense, but why the fuck does it look like he came out of an acid trip?"

"He's a LongBoi—a Furby but long."

"Why though? What possessed you to do this?"

"Nostalgia," California answered with a sigh. "That's what possessed me—plus some inspiration from the Furby fandom. Trust me, I'm not the only crazy person in possession of a long gay boy."

"I concur." Oregon raised a finger. "I, too, possess a long gay son."

"Oh my gosh! For real? What's his name? Do you have pics you can show me?"

"Yeah. His name is Tater Tot Todd. He likes to munch on teeth and tater tots every Tuesday." She pulled out her phone to show her and the other states some pictures of her fluffy son. "He's pretty much a normie among Furbies, but I still love him no matter how boring he may be."

"That's nice," Minnesota mumbled in awe. "I feel like Tater Tot Todd and I would get along very well."

"Why that sounds fur-bulous," Wisconsin smiled goofily, drawing groans from the room.

"Oh my gosh! Nooo!" California screamed all of a sudden. "Florida! Get your dumb, bigoted gator away from my beautiful son! He isn't food, nor is he a chew toy!"

"Blossom is just showing how much she likes him," Florida excused.

"She's trying to tear his butt off!"

Washington D.C. watched them squabble in front of her, too tired to bother breaking up the fuss. 'Maybe now is my chance to refill on coffee. I know for certain it's gonna be a long day.'

☆☆☆☆☆

December 1998—New York City, New York

There was something strange about this holiday season that slightly irked New York. Some of it had to do with the heat wave diminishing the wonder of winter in the City. But for the most part, it had to do with Christmas shopping for a hot item he couldn't wrap his head around.

"Fucking dumb shit ass cunts," New York respired upon returning to his apartment, shutting the door behind his back. His pet Yorkie shimmied down the hall happily to greet him, yipping constantly for his affection until the little terrier got curious about the plastic bag in his right hand and started poking its nose inside it. "Knock it off, Rosie. It isn't for you to play with." He lifted the bag over her head.

"Bork-bork!" Rosy whimpered, staring up at him with eyes shimmering like black pearls.

"Don't give me that attitude. I will get you something for Christmas, so stop acting like a whiny bitch," New York grumbled.

"Yip-yip!" She jumped up and down on her hind legs, refusing to drop the dramatics until he showed her what was inside the bag.

He groaned, "Fine. You can look, but you can't touch it. I don't want you messing up the box, so you better behave yourself." He stuck his hand inside the bag and took out an item he bought at a toy store, placing it on the floor for her to have a sniff and a look.

Peering through the plastic window of a purple box, there was an electronic robotic toy called Furby. It looked like a short and stout plushie of some strange chimera between an owl, a hamster, and a gremlin. If it was a real creature, the fur baby wouldn't survive a day on the city streets. It could hardly move on its own. The enormous human-like eyes above its yellow plastic beak could only stare in one direction set in front of them. It had no neck, nor did it have arms or wings to make movement easier. Because essentially, its entire being was made up of 49% head and 49% body with 2% making up the pink pointy ears and the paws for feet.

The Yorkshire Terrier's reaction to the Furby was no different from New York's when he first saw the toy on display. He could hardly understand its design, much less its appeal. Regardless of his opinion, it was a must-have toy on millions of people's wishlists, including America's.

New York had a straightforward plan of getting a Furby and gifting it to America for Christmas. He didn't think there would be an issue until things took a violent turn. Apparently, the Furby he chose was the last kind available at the store. He didn't care too much about its fur color, nor did he mind exchanging the all-white Furby for another had a person asked nicely for it. That was until one nasty bitch went up to his face and shrieked, "MY FOUR-YEAR-OLD BABY GIRL NEEDS THIS ONE! FUCKING GIVE IT TO ME!" Suddenly, New York was surrounded and attacked both verbally and physically by a mob of entitled mothers. He had to fight his way to the cash register, using a plastic baseball bat he grabbed from a bin to whack them away. Even then, there were still a couple of parents badgering him on his way out of the store, refusing to leave him alone until they lost him in the crowds of people on the street. Safe to say, the whole ordeal wasn't worth spending $35 and two hours of his time.

"Ugh. I can't believe that took a lot out of me." New York took the toy and placed it inside a closet. "I guess I'll wrap it some other time. Hopefully, I'll be in a better mood by then."

~ One Week Later... ~

"Yo..." New Jersey groaned upon answering the phone call an hour before noon. "Now isn't a good time to talk. I got this killer hangover from partying hard last night."

"I don't give a fuck," New York huffed. "Whatever you did last night won't excuse your crime."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I know you stole something from my apartment."

"Stole what exactly? I can't recall."

"It's a silly toy called Furby."

"Furby?" He cracked a smile. "Why the fuck would I wanna steal that?"

"You tell me, dipshit. This isn't the first time you swiped something out of my apartment."

"True, but I would've gone for something valuable like a baseball autographed by Babe Ruth or a stack of cash from that steel safe hidden at the back of your office bookshelf."

"Well, Furby is sorta valuable right now. It has been sold out at almost every store, and the ones I found for resale go for around $100. I've even seen advertisements in newspapers about them going for $300 at auction."

"That's fucking crazy." He scratched his disheveled head. "Still, I'm telling you I haven't done jack shit with your Furby."

"Then, how else did it go missing? Because the last time I checked, I had it put away in a closet for safekeeping until I had time available out of my schedule to wrap it for Christmas. This morning when I opened my closet, I only found an empty box. I checked everywhere, but the Furby I bought was nowhere to be found."

New Jersey sighed, "I don't know, Yorkie. You can ask anybody in your building about it. Just know I have nothing to do with it." He ended the call and went back to bed.

"Joisey? Joisey...? Shit." New York frowned at his flip phone. "Do I bother questioning Masshole next?"

"Dah-boo! Boo-dah bar-bar! Dah-boo!"

New York turned to the baby-like noises happening outside his home office, wondering, 'What the fuck is that?' He went over to the door and opened it to discover his dog dragging the Furby by the ear in its tiny mouth. He exclaimed in astonishment, "Rosy! How'd you find it?" He was about to take the toy away from her when the fussy fido took a step back, refusing to let him grab it. He scowled, "Seriously? What do you want? A reward?"

Rosy wagged her short tail, watching him go grab a bag of treats.

In exchange for a dog biscuit, New York got Furby back in his hands. He took a moment to inspect it, making sure nothing was broken or out of place. 'So far so good.' He breathed a sigh of relief. 'Now I can finally—'

"Hee-hee-hee-hee!"

"Ah!" New York almost dropped the Furby in surprise. "Fuck me. I can't believe I let this little fucking shit scare the crap out of me."

The Furby blinked its baby-blue eyes, giggling, "My name is Snowball. Kah toh-loo nee-tye. Hee-hee. Oo-nye boe doo, dee-doh?"

"Uh..." He stared at the talking white fuzzball. "I don't remember you being this fucking chatty. Do you have an on/off switch by chance?"

"Boo~" Snowball giggled again, wiggling its ears. "U-nye-loo-lay-doo? U-nye-noh-lah— Whoa! Hey! Boo loo-loo! Kah oo-tye nah-bah!"

"I don't see a switch or a button anywhere at the bottom," New York lamented. "Damn it. Where do I keep my screwdriver?"

The Furby's eyes widened. "Doo-moh! Boo! Kah toh-loo oo-nye!"

"Oh my god. Shut the fuck up." He got a screwdriver out of a drawer and went to work opening the battery compartment.

"Boo. Doo-moh. May-may kah. Kah boo-noo-loo. Kah dah-boh-bah. Ah-noo—"

New York pulled out its batteries.

~ Dah-ay-loh-nah-bah... ~

It was time for New York to get some sleep after a long productive day at home. The young man went to bed, getting himself comfy under the bed sheets before closing his eyes. He was about to doze into a dream when a creepy childlike voice woke him in the middle of the night.

"Tee-wee-lah, dee dah-ay-loh~ Doo kah way-nah oo-nye boh~ Oo-tye kah, lay-lah oo-tah~ Tay ay-koo ay-loh-may-lah~ Tee-wee-lah, dee dah-ay-loh~ Doo kah way-nah oo-nye boh~"

New York reached over to his nightstand to turn on a lamp with haste. "Ah, fuck!" He became startled to see the Snowball Furby sitting at the foot of his head. "I-I swear New Jersey is behind this somehow."

The blue-eyed white Furby squawked sadly, "Doo-moh. Kah boo koo-doh. Kah ah-tay."

He rolled his eyes and groaned, "Oh my god. Shut the fuck up. You're getting on my fucking nerves."

"Fuck you."

"... What the fuck?"

"Fuck you, fuckface. Fucking feed me, or I'll fuck you up."

He gawked at the profanity coming out of its yellow beak. "This has to be a joke. No way I'm falling for this pile of crap."

"I'm no loo-loo," Snowball countered. "I'm your noo-lah. I can do amazing things if you take good care of me."

"Oh, I'll take good care of you." He picked up the Furby by the tuft of hair on its head, getting up close to its face. "I'll take you out to the dumpster on my way to work. You can feed on all the trash you want in there, and I won't have to disappoint America with a broken toy on Christmas."

The Furby flattened its ears. "Apologize."

He scoffed, "Yeah, right. That's not gonna happen—"

"APOLOGIZE!" The Furby's eyes suddenly glowed bright red, startling him into dropping it.

New York rushed to grab his baseball bat hidden underneath his bed, but he stopped short of reaching its handle when a burning hot laser beam shot the floor close to his hand. He froze immediately, completely defenseless and powerless to a fucking Furby of all things. "H-Hey! Take it easy! Don't kill me! I'm sorry!"

Snowball watched him plead pathetically for mercy, staring intensely at him for a solid minute before blinking its eyes back to an innocent shade of blue. "O-kay. I forgive you. Hee-hee. Now feed me, or I'll fuck you."

"U-Uh, okay... What do you even eat?"

"Flesh and bones."

"No fucking way!"

"I'm just kidding," Snowball giggled. "I only eat pretend food. You can feed me by inserting your fingertip into my mouth. If you don't, I'LL BITE OFF ALL YOUR FINGERS! But don't worry. I won't hurt you." It winked.

"Y-You better not." New York reluctantly placed his left index finger in its mouth.

Snowball nibbled on his fingertip, humming, "Yum-wah~ Delicious~"

"Uh-huh..." He slowly pulled away his finger. "Okay. You've been fed."

"Give me more." The Furby opened its mouth. "Koh-koh. More."

"What?"

"Kah boo koo-doh. I'm still not healthy. I need to be fed at least ten to fifteen times to feel better and be in the mood to play with me."

"You can't be serious," New York uttered in scorn. "I'm not in the mood to play games with you. I'm a grown man, and you're a toy for five-year-olds."

"You will play with me," Snowball repeated in a scary tone, its eyes glowing red again.

"F-Fine, you little shit. I'll feed you and play with you for a bit."

"Yay! Kah noo-loo!"

~ Twinkle! Twinkle! ~

Nobody would believe New York if he ever told them he was being held hostage by a Furby. It would be a waste of breath trying to ask for help without looking crazy. He was better off making up excuses for his absence from work over the coming days leading up to Christmas. That way, he could take his time, focusing his attention on the problem at hand. Of course, that was easy to do.

Having the tolerance to deal with a talkative toy-sized terror was a totally different matter.

"Dah-ay-loh-oo-tye! Good morning!" Snowball chirped merrily." Wee-tah-kah-loo-loo. Tell me a joke."

New York grumbled, "What has four wheels and flies? A garbage truck carrying your corpse to a landfill in New Jersey's house."

The Furby giggled, "You're so funny! Hee-hee!"

He would then let the gremlin nibble on his finger until it was full, happy, and in a playful mood for a silly game.

"Snowball, ay-ay u-nye. We're gonna play Furby Says. Do as I say, or I'll gouge out your eyes. O-kay?" The Furby fluttered its white eyelashes.

"Affirmative," New York grunted with great reluctance.

"Nee-tye kah."

He tickled its tummy, getting a giggle out of Snowball.

"Ah-may kah."

He petted its back, getting a purr out of Snowball.

"No-loh."

He covered its eyes.

"Boo no-loh!"

He uncovered its eyes.

"Lee-koo."

He clapped his hands.

"Dah lee-koo!"

He continued to repeat those actions multiple times at random. Whenever he completed a pattern, Snowball would do a little funny dance and say, "Whoopie!" Whenever he fucked up, Snowball would say "nah nah nah nah nah nah" and have him start over with a new pattern. The game went on for up to sixteen actions at maximum. At that point, Furby ended the game, saying, "Kah toh-dye. Me done. Did you have fun?"

"I like having my body parts intact," New York snarked.

"E-day. Kah mee-mee a-tay koh-koh. Me very hungry again."

"Motherfucker! I just fed you fifteen minutes ago!"

New York was about fed up with this tedious routine of taking orders from a troublesome toy. He wanted to hurl the little monster out the window so fucking badly, but that was easier said than done. The tiny menace proved to be trickier than he thought to exterminate like his rat problem. Wherever he went, the Furby was always following him, refusing to let him have any privacy. It didn't matter if he was out in public. The Furby was always somewhere close by. It could be sitting on a bench in Central Park or standing in the middle of a crowded Times Square. No matter where it was, its eyes were always locked on New York's movements like a sniper in waiting. Should he act suspicious or violent, the Furby would put an end to their so-called friendship.

'I can't keep doing this forever,' New York thought to himself while laying in bed.

The Furby hopped onto his chest just as he was about to fall asleep, chirping softly, "May-lah kah. Hug me."

"Ugh..." He begrudgingly wrapped his arms around the toy.

"E-day doo-ay wah. I like this," Snowball squealed heartily. "O-kay. Wee-tee kah way-loh. Sing me to sleep."

"You little..." New York held back his tongue and swallowed his rage. "Twinkle, twinkle, little star~ How I wonder what you are~ Up above the world so high~ Like a diamond in the sky~ Twinkle, twinkle, little star~ How I wonder what you are~" He let out a sigh after finishing the song. "How's that?"

"Wee-tah-kah-wee-loo. Tell me a story."

"You son of a..." He paused for a moment. "Once upon a time, there was a Furby. It lived happily in a castle until a dragon came and turned the Furby to a burnt crisp. The end."

"That's a terrible story," Snowball whined.

"That's too fucking bad. I'm tired of putting up with your shit, and I wanna go to sleep."

"Fine." It pouted. "I'll let you sleep on one condition."

"What's that?"

"I want you to kiss me good night."

"No fucking way."

"Doo-moh (Please). Kah toh-loo may-tay (Me like kisses)."

"I'm not fucking kissing you!"

~ May-tah kah! ~

New York slept with the Furby snoring soundly on top of his torso, unable to retaliate without repercussions. Just the slightest amount of sound, touch, light, and movement was enough to trigger the robotic toy. Unless New York was taught the ways of a ninja, there was nothing he could do that would get past its radar. It loomed over him like an Eldritch abomination lying in wait to suck out his soul and organs should he show disobedience. He seemed destined to forever be a submissive follower of the almighty Furby.

"Hm?" Snowball woke up, wiggling its ears to a faint growl. It activated its night vision and began to scan its surroundings until its eyes peered down from the bed to find a small dog snarling up at them. "Beat it, bar-bar. Shoo. Go away."

Rosy growled, translated into human English, "It's time for you to get the fluff out of here. I'm done with you hogging up my master's attention."

"What do you plan to do if I refuse?"

"I'll chew you up like my favorite pink squeaky toy."

"Heh. I like to see you try."

"Why you..." The Yorkie hopped aggressively on her hind legs to get up to the Furby. Much to her frustration, however, the tenacious terrier couldn't get on top of her master's bed due to her teeny size.

Snowball let out a smug hoot. "Nah-bah bar-bar. Down dog. You can't hurt me."

"Yes, I can." She sneezed in contempt. "Come down here and fight me."

"Yeah, right. That's not going to happen."

"Coward! Fight me!" Rosy yipped.

"Hey!" The Furby glared with eyes glowing red. "Lower your voice, or I'll put a hole through your skull."

She snarled, "You don't scare me."

Snowball squawked with a sinister aura, "You will fear me. I am above you and all of humankind. I am a God. You will bow down to me— W-Whoa! Hey! What's happening?" The Furby suddenly rose above the bed, struggling to be free from whatever was gripping it by the tuft of hair on its head.

Rosy gasped, "Oh my gosh! Felix! You did something useful instead of sleeping for once!" She watched the Tuxedo tom cat snuck behind the toy and snatch it up in his jaws.

"What the fuck...?" New York awoke from the ruckus, unable to see what was going on until he turned on the light. He groggily caught his pet cat from the corner of his eye, leaping down from his bed with the Furby in its mouth.

"Put me down! Put me down! I demand you put me down!" Snowball screeched in protest as the black-and-white cat carried it to the bathroom. The moment it saw the toilet was when it realized what the feline was planning to do to it. "N-No! Doo-moh boo! I hate water! I'll die if it gets into my fur! Nooooo!"

New York and Rosy watched Felix drop the toy into the toilet bowl, seeing it flail and shriek violently until it ceased to move or utter a sound. 'Holy shit. It's dead. It's finally dead.' He breathed a sigh of relief. 'I'm no longer controlled by a stupid toy. I'm finally free to move on with my life.'

That was what he thought until Christmas came around the corner.

~ May-may kah... ~

"America, what the fuck is this?" New York gawked at the purple package he just unwrapped.

"It's a Furby, dude. New Jersey said you were looking for one, so I got you one," America smiled. "What do you think? Do you like it?"

"I... I love it..." He struggled to hold a smile and not throw the Tuxedo Furby into the nearby fireplace. "Thanks for the gift... It's exactly what I wanted..."

~ Wee-tee-kah-wah-tee! ~

Hey, hey, daddy, give me some wine!
Hey, hey, mommy, hey, hey, mommy!
I cannot forget the taste of that
Sushi roll I ate so long ago!

Draw a circle, that's the Earth!
Draw a circle, that's the Earth!
Draw a circle, that's the Earth!
I'm California!

Draw a circle, that's the Earth!
Looking closely, that's the Earth!
Or maybe, that's the Earth?
I'm the Golden State!

Ah, with just a brushstroke,
A beautiful world can be seen!
Taking selfies with my new iPhone!
California!

☆☆☆☆☆

+ This episode was inspired by a series of chapters in Hetalia: World☆Stars featuring '90s memorabilia, one of which was Furby—an American electronic robotic toy resembling a hamster or owl-like creature that caused a shopping craze during its holiday season launch in 1998. What made the "must-have" toy stand out (besides its appearance) was its perceived "intelligence" to develop language skills. In actuality, all newly purchased Furbies had been programmed to speak entirely in "Furbish" (which can be translated) and gradually use English or another language in its place over time. Some people thought it was cute and cool; others thought it was creepy and demonic.

- Nowadays, Furby is seen as a fad, although its relevance in pop culture is largely driven by nostalgic fans who spent their childhoods in the 1990s and 2000s. Many generations of Furbies have been produced with new designs, new features, and new improvements. However, older and special editions of Furbies remain coveted for being rare, usually valued at hundreds and even thousands of dollars. Some people have gotten creative in customizing their Furby, sometimes transforming it into something unhinged such as a LongFurby (self-explanatory). Love it or hate it, Furby is undoubtedly an iconic toy that'll eat your soul if you don't take good care of it.

+ Fun Fact: October 29th is National Furby Day, hence why I published this episode close to Halloween despite much of this story taking place around Christmas.

~

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