Chuq’s story is mostly 1 cozy, and set 40 years before the events of The Flucks. She seems like she’d enjoy cozy more than Slacy and his sardonic wit. Chuq died from catching the Flucks early, having lived a long life with Slacy’s endearing friendship. These are her memoirs.
—Ed
Chuq
I never thought of myself as a writer. But a friend of mine has been writing a silly blog for years—long after everyone else stopped doing that in favor of posting short videos. He showed me that anyone can write about anything.
He’s a bit scatterbrained, so if he can do it, then I can definitely do it. I’m not going to publish anything, I’ll just keep this file on my computer, hoping no one will ever find it—while secretly hoping everyone does.
Might as well start with the day I met that lovable doofus Slacy.
P.S. Don’t tell him I said lovable, doofus is fine.
—Charlotte
Christmas Eve 2055
I was curled up in my chair, a velvety blanket on my lap, reading a book while sitting by the fire. I set my book down and took a sip of my tea, enjoying it while it was still at the perfect temperature. The cat jumped into my lap, snuggling into the blanket to make some biscuits.
“I’m trying to read, Hubble.”
He gave me that look of You look like you’re drinking tea to me, your other hand is free.
He was right, of course, so I pet him on his back, which made him raise his tail-less butt in the air, then fall over into my lap. He started attacking my hand with nibbles.
“Alright, I’m really trying to read.”
He nibbled again, so I frantically scratched his belly, my hand making quick back-and-forth swipes. He jumped onto the floor, twirled around, and walked backward-sideways, never taking his eyes off me. I was too cozy in my chair to get up and play, so I pulled off my slipper and threw it at him. He attacked it ferociously.
“Grr, get it!”
He got it. So I went back to reading. But, no matter how much I tried, I could no longer focus on the page. Maybe I should go out, get some fresh air. Except that fresh air would bite at my exposed face, gnawing its way into my bones.
Maybe some poetry would help. What is warm and cozy? The Sun!
〜〜〜
Your light warms, fills with life, brightens me Then spreading thinner, no longer sustaining us, collapses under your own brilliance I swirl around your destructive path, forever moving forward, yet never ahead Wind in mylar sails, now rusted anchor, pulling me deeper You give nothing, but cold embrace, I can’t escape
〜〜〜
Keep it cozy Charlotte, keep it cozy.
“Alright, I’m going out!” Hubble did not give the appreciation my announcement deserved. I tossed the book in my satchel.
Putting on some presentable clothes, then my coat, I went for a walk. A blue sky greeted me, having cleared the clouds away, and leaving crisp air in its place. The warm sun on my skin almost made up for the slight chill.
I forgot about the warm front that had pushed through. Today, we got a reprieve, but once the arctic air catches up tonight, we’ll be paying for it with torrential rain, followed by a frozen week and potentially snow. I hate snow.
Christmas trees were too messy—especially with a cat. But I loved the smell. A walk down to the cafe by the tree lot should lift my spirits. With a day like this, I can sit outside with my book, a hot cup of green tea, and the scent of pine needles on the breeze.
Main street looked like some Hallmark Christmas movie. Even though that channel is no more, the streams keep pushing old movies like The Christmas Contract 2. Fucking Luke Winter. Holly should have ended up with Noelle. I crushed on her so hard when I was a teenager. Crazy what happened to the author 3, though.
“Why, hello, Miss Charlotte,” the café owner greeted.
“Good morning, Mrs. Shaw, and it’s just ‘Charlotte’,” I replied, like always. She insisted I call her ‘Mrs. Shaw’, no matter what I insisted she call me. The faded progress flag in the shop’s window told me she was just old-fashioned, not hostile.
“Yes ma’am, you’ll be having your tea I assume?”
Fuck my life. Why did I move to this cliché town? Oh, right, cozy clichés. “Yes please.”
I took a seat on the patio. The metal seats grated my behind, but I was here for the atmosphere. This place was really happening—ten tables, twenty chairs, two customers.
I checked out the other patron. A middle-aged guy, clean-shaven, average height, I guess—hard to tell because he sat in the same type of torture device I did. He looked like he probably worked out, but was past the age where that showed easily.
He was ignoring the book and coffee in front of him. Really, not much stood out, probably not a creep. Just a guy reaching a hand under the table, moving vigorously—the-fuck?
I looked under his table to see a scruffy dog. What kind? I don’t know, I don’t know dogs, but it was adorable. He was petting the dog in what seemed only to be out of instinct, because his attention was elsewhere. Since I got here a month ago, I’ve walked here every other day, and I haven’t seen this guy.
My tea arrived. “Thanks, Mrs. Shaw.”
I took a sip and opened my book. Dammit, where’s my bookmark. I flipped through, trying to remember what page I was on, reading a few top sentences before I realized I’d never find my place again. Whatever, it wasn’t very good anyway.
My eyes drifted back to the man, his eyes still focusing elsewhere. I grabbed my tea and got up, leaving the book for some other hapless victim. I sat at the table right behind him, peering over his shoulder, trying to figure out what he was looking at, when I spotted his target.
“She’s hot.”
He startled, but didn’t look back. “What? I wasn’t—”
“You should go say ‘hi’.” If he didn’t, I would.
“No, it’s not like that.”
“What is it like then?”
“I think—I think I know her.”
“Uh huh, that’s what all stalkers say.”
At that, he turned his head towards me while simultaneously moving his shoulders away from me. He stared. Then continued to stare. Shit, I think I broke him.
“Use your words,” I prompted. I think he wanted to roll eyes, but maybe he had more—couth? patience?—than me.
“Uh. I mean, I went to school with her. It was thirty-something years ago, so I can’t be sure.”
“Thirty-something? Do you not know when you went to school?”
“Sure, it’s on the calendar, let me get my phone—”
“No no. That’s quite alright. Why don’t you go ask her? She probably knows.”
“I’m just curious. I don’t really want to talk to her.”
“C’mon, I’ll go with you. I can be your wing-woman.”
“No, thanks. Like I said, it’s not like that. I’m not interested. Just trying to reconcile memory with reality.”
Oh, brother. Is this guy from Mars? He’s about the right age for an astronaut. “You should say ‘hi’ anyway. Maybe that will jog your memory.”
“I wouldn’t know what to say.”
“How about ‘hi, I’m your-name-here.’ Besides, you have a dog, the ultimate ice-breaker.”
“I’m not going to break ice like some sort of meet-cute, I’m really not interested. Besides, my name isn’t your-name-here, it’s Slacy.”
Is he really that dense? He was staring directly at me, barely a lift in the corner of his lip. Oh, he got me.
“You ass,” I laughed. His chuckle was obnoxious, but I got the feeling it would grow on me.
I offered my fist. “Hi Slacy, I’m Charlotte.”
He bumped it. “That’s a nice name, but it seems a little—”
“Boomerish? Yeah. Also, we just met, and you’re going straight for the jugular.”
“You accused me of stalking.”
“Oh, right. Well, let’s get to the stalking then, c’mon.”
This time, he got up and his dog dutifully followed. We walked over to the woman sorting out Christmas trees.
She had dark, silver-streaked hair that was clearly long, but braided tight like a horse rider to avoid tangling with twigs. It only helped a little because she had pine needles all in her hair and sap all over her red checkered shirt and leather gloves.
I kid you not, these small towns have a secret rulebook they must follow. But, still... it was working for me.
“Mornin’, what can I do for you?” she asked.
“Hello. We’re not here for a tree, but I wanted to introduce you to my friend.”
At that, Slacy froze. I think he was taking ice-breaking too literally.
“Oh, Slacy, I already know him. We went to high school together.”
I looked at Slacy for confirmation, but I think he needed a few more seconds to thaw.
“Of course, I thought so. What was he like then?”
“A bit like this, honestly. He didn’t talk to me much. We were in different circles, I guess. But I knew he was cool with the queer bunch—I think we were too loud for him.”
“No, not too loud. I was just focused on engineering then.” Slacy, warming up, then smirking. “You were a bit loud though... Mable?”
“Come the fuck on now, Mable? Jesus. Maddie. I’m Maddie.”
“Sorry, yes, Maddie. I’m surprised I got ‘Ma’ right. I’m not great matching names to faces.” Slacy’s own face was beet red.
Maddie’s face twisted in confusion—so fucking adorable. “We didn’t have engineering courses in high school.”
Slacy just shrugged.
“Aw, this is so cute, friends catching up.” Jazz hands framed my face. I don’t know why, they have a mind of their own.
Slacy looked at my performance, then grinned. “Maddie? This is Charlotte. She thinks you’re hot.”
“Oh, now he can talk.” It was my turn to blush. I looked down at her shoulders, broad and firm. Surely not just from tree hauling—maybe she spends a lot of time in the gym. Looking back up, I found my voice. “And, yes, he’s right. Want to get some coffee sometime?”
Maddie smiled and I swear I heard a chorus. She removed one glove and proffered a fist. “I’d like that.”
I bumped it with my left hand and our watches chimed. “Cooowool.” What the fuck was that? “I’ll, uh, text you later.”
Slacy had stepped away and was kneeling down, petting his dog. He must have sensed the conversation was over, but didn’t want to leave without saying anything.
I walked over. “What’s his name?”
“Did you just misgender my dog?” he said, with that smirk I was learning made me want to punch his arm. This fucking guy. “It’s Taylor.”
“Um. You named your dog Taylor, a human name? And how the hell am I supposed to know what gender it is based on this information?” I don’t know why I was giving him shit, my cat was named after a human astronomer.
“Context clues. Why should I not give her a human name? She’s got feelings too.” Her tail wagged.
“Right. Okay. Do you want a sandwich?”
He looked dubious. “A knuckle sandwich?”
“Something a little less violent, c’mon.”
We went to Frank’s for a hoagie. Yes. Frank’s. There was no outdoor seating, so we crammed into curved Formica booths that were too close together. Our legs got intertwined, and we had no choice but to go with it. Taylor lay on the ground beside Slacy. Frank didn’t seem to mind.
“Are you from here?” I opened.
“Sort of. Not anymore.” Slacy replied.
“Going to need a bit more than that.”
“My mom died.”
Shit. That’s what I get for snark. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry.”
“No worries. Sorry, it’s not recent—but still not easy to talk about.”
“Yeah, I understand.”
“You do?”
“Oh, no, not really. That’s just a thing people say. I hated my parents. They might be dead. I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh.”
He sat there for a bit, I think he didn’t know how to proceed. I would have to get this conversation train back on track alone. “So, what does your... mom—have to do with your belonging here or lack thereof?”
“Oh, right. I’m here for a while. Fixing up her house so I can sell it.”
“Ah. Here to oversee the work?”
“No, they’ll just fuck it up. I’m doing most of the work.” He popped open a bag of kettle chips and started crunching, then tilted the open end towards me, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, so you’re a contractor?” I said while digging into the bag for a chip.
He swallowed, wiped his hands with a napkin, took a swig of water, then replied. “I did some construction work in my twenties. Then I watched a bunch of vids. I’ll figure it out.” He waved his hand like he was swatting a fly away.
“Um. Sure. Sounds fun.”
“How about you? You’re clearly not from around here.”
“That obvious? I wanted a break from city life.”
“All right then, keep your secrets.” He grinned.
I couldn’t help it, I grinned back at the reference. But he was on to me. Time for deflection. “How long are you here then?”
“Until it’s done, I guess.”
“No job?”
“Nothing that needs my undivided attention.”
“Is that something you possess?”
“Sorry, what were we talking about?”
If he keeps this up, I’ll have to ask him over for dinner. No, not a date, ew—just ew.
“Any plans for Christmas?”
“I don’t really celebrate. I’ve got some walls to knock down.”
“That sounds fun!”
“It is,” he tilted his head. “You want to try it?”
“I—uh—um.” This guy had me stammering twice in one day. Pull it together Charlotte.
“It’s perfectly safe, I have gloves, goggles, hardhat. All IOSHA compliant. I’m sure I can find some composite toe boots—”
“No no, that will be fine. Yes. But—” What the hell am I doing? “But, you’ll have to come to Christmas dinner at my place. To um... to pay you back.”
“You’re helping me tear down a wall, and you want to pay me?”
“Well, you said it would be fun—entertainment isn’t cheap. And my new apartment doesn’t quite feel like a home yet. It needs a house-warming.”
His eyes twinkled in a way that I would come to know as a bad idea brewing. “To really heat up the place, you’ll need more warm bodies. I’ll come over if you invite Maddie.”
“No way dude!” came out before my brain had a chance to catch it.
That stupid smirk came back. “You pushed me to talk to her, and now you’re the one scared?”
“I’m not scared.” That squeak was only in my head, right?
He bent down and handed some meat to Taylor who had been patiently waiting this whole time—honestly, I forgot she was there. “Do you need me to text her for you?”
“Alright, alright, guy. I’ll do it. I’m not letting someone else do my dirty work.”
“It’s settled then. Wine?”
“Sheesh, what kind of girl do you think I am? It’s too early for that.” I did my best offended look and took a righteous sip from my water. The oh shit look on his face was too much, I couldn’t hold it in—a laugh burst out along with the water in my throat. But not all of it, I began coughing.
I managed a “wrong pipe” wheeze. He raised his arms up in the air, like that would help somehow. Fuck it. I did the same, keeping eye contact the whole time, red-faced, coughing, lips flapping. But staring at him, looking like a walking orangutan, was helping.
Soon, I stopped coughing, both of us sitting there, arms up. Frank came from the back and muttered “What in the world?” We giggled.
Frank turned around, deciding the kitchen was more interesting. “Like a couple of damn children.”
That was it—we both started laughing and choking. Then, Taylor joined in on the howling.
Author’s Notes
Writing cozy is… weird. Fun, though. This was quite a stretch for me. Poetry, a woman’s POV, a lesbian—what did I get myself in to?
I enjoyed considering Slacy from a POV outside his chaotic mind. Also, what was Slacy like 40 years before The Flucks? How has technology changed only 30 years from now? Shitmobile will be born only 10 years from when Chuq met Slacy.
This was meant to be a single Christmas special chapter. 2,600 words later, a part two was needed. Expect that tomorrow (right after I actually write it).
P.S. Only I Chuq would put “mylar” in a poem.
Continue to Part 2.
I can hear her calling — Hallowtide Files: The Gheeldyn
I feel like Chuq and me would be great friends. Lol.
I laughed out loud at "my mom died" 😂 you're funny. You've got what it takes my friend.