The Flucks — Chuq — Christmas Evening 2055

40 super-extra-cozy years before the events of The Flucks

Be sure to read Part Two — Chuq — Christmas Morning 2055 first.

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

Text copyright © 2025 Ed Herrington

Chuq

Using sledgehammers and power tools with Slacy was fun. Now it was time for dinner. I loved cooking, but I wasn’t too keen on first dates. Wait, this was not a date. Stop saying that.

I still look back on this day, nearly every day, especially after losing my dear Maddie a few years ago. At least I still have Slacy.

—Charlotte

Christmas Evening 2055

My watch buzzed and projected a video of a doofus on my doorstep. “Aw man, c’mon, I’m cookin’ here.” Hubble, sitting on a stool, mrowed.

I turned the stove to a simmer, then took off my apron and returned it to its hook on my way out of the kitchen.

buzz-buzz — A video of a doofus’s finger retracting.

At my approach, the bolt slid in and I pulled open the door. “Why, hello there stranger, how are you?” Oh gawd, what am I becoming?

“Hi,” Slacy replied.

The cold front hit right after I got home. This morning’s rain quickly turned to snowing and a couple of inches had already accumulated. Now though, it was just freezing and eerily silent outside. Fucking snow.

“Come in, come, in.” Both of my hands waved to usher him in. Stop it Charlotte.

“I brought wine.” He held up a twenty-liter bucket. Shit, does he expect me to drink all that? “I wasn’t sure what varietal you liked, so I brought old world, white and red—Italy—both zero alcohol.”

He reached into the bucket, pulled out a bottle—oh, thank god—and handed it to me. I held it appraisingly in two hands cooing “Oh, wonderful, wonderful”—I am a monster—then sat it on the side table.

He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. I looked down at my red Christmas dress and heels. Fuck me. I slipped my heels off and slid them under the side table like, sure, that’s what I always do—nothing out of the ordinary here. Slacy took the cue I didn’t give and set the bucket down, then kicked off his wet boots, too.

“Sooo, how was your day?” Don’t do it. “Get the wall taken down?” I mean it, Charlotte. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay around to clean up.” Stop your incessant babbling. “I had so much fun.” Don’t. You. Dare. I dared—I leaned down for a hug.

Why did I do this? I’m not a hugger. I don’t fucking know.

Slacy froze in place as I embraced. I think he was still digesting my verbal diarrhea. Then, he put his hands around my shoulders like a toddler being picked up. At least I wasn’t still wearing heels. He gently squeezed. It was nice. We both made sufficient mumbling noises, detangled, and I led him to the kitchen.

I put my apron back on and fired the stove back up. One of the reasons I got this place is the kitchen. A double stacked oven/flash cooker, six-burner inductive stove, and a island large enough to sleep on.

Slacy sat the bucket on a stool across from me and next to Hubble, who looked at it wondering what was in it for him. “Oh, hey there buddy,” Slacy said with a quick head pat. He pulled out the other bottle and a pecan pie and set them on the counter.

“Here, I brought a gift.” He had one more thing in his bucket of tricks.

“Oh, uh... I didn’t think we were doing presents.”

“It’s not for Christmas. I saw that you liked books and wanted to share some you might like.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.”

“It’s the tales of Agent Levitsky² —the complete first volume.”

“First? Volume?”

“Yeah, this covers the arc where he goes from aspiring detective to—”

“Alright, alright, take it easy fella. I appreciate it.” I gestured to my growing stacks of books on the breakfast-nook table. What? Did you think those not-rooms were meant for eating breakfast?

“I’ll read it next,” I said, surprising myself by actually meaning it.

“So, you excited about tonight?”

“Hey dude, I invited you, you’re the one that invited Maddie through proxy.”

“Uh huh, you see, I was talking about me. Are you excited about me? And there you go, talking about Maddie.” Do I even have to say it? Yes, he grinned. There.

“Fair. You jerk.” I threw raw greenbean at him, then tossed one to Hubble who I missed and gave me the are you kidding me? look.

Slacy helped when I asked, fetching items from the pantry, pulling dishes out of the oven, and setting the table. Once all the dinner was out, he put the oven on warm and slid in the pecan pie.

buzz-buzz — A video of a woman in a parka, retracting a finger.

“Hold on.” My hand held up a digit interrupting Slacy, and I ran to the door. My bare feet didn’t slide on the tile, thankfully. Check in the mirror. Fluff fluff. Looks good. Looks good. I yanked open the door. “You’re here!”

“Hey!” Maddie smiled up at me and my pulse quickened even more. Keep it together Charlotte—you got this.

My hands ushered her in, all cool and calm like. Shut up, yes they did. I took her parka and turned to hang it on a hook. When I turned back around, my heart stopped.

Her dark hair fanned out on to her shoulders, silver streaks like water trickling down a mountainside. Her green dress and matching heels made me no longer feel like an overdressed idiot.

A stupid grin broke out on my face. Admiring her gown, I realized I was staring, then looked down at mine, just now noticing that I still had on the apron. Fuck my life.

“Oh, I like your tattoos,” Maddie said, saving me from misery, gesturing at my partial sleeves. “I didn’t see them under your jacket yesterday.”

My right forearm was coming along nicely, mostly filled in. My left forearm only had one, still sealed under secondskin from a cover-up job. But, since she was also a tattooed individual, she would understand.

Now came the awkward part where someone with tattoos compliments you, and you’re obligated to return the compliment. Instead, I leaned down to hug her. I’ve known Slacy for like five whole minutes and hugged him so why not hug someone I’ve known two whole minutes. Sure. Why not. I guess. I’m a hugger now.

Pulling back, I looked at her tattoos—the intricate artwork, the swirls on her chest winding to her shoulders, then found myself swept up in the current, trapped in the eddies of her collar bone, and whispering “I like yours too.” My eyes crawled up her neck and met her twinkling gaze.

“Hiya Maddie!” Slacy had popped around the corner. “What’s shaking?” That asshole. Thank you!

“This way.” I turned and my hand tried to pitch a baseball a few times.

Hubble had long vacated the main spaces—too many people for him. Slacy had finished putting the dishes on the table. He fist-bumped Maddie, then we all sat down. The table was round so I didn’t have to decide who to sit next to.

“I didn’t know what you guys would want, so I looked up a few regional recipes.” The chef has to set the mood. My hand pointed at each dish. “Honey ham, greenbean casserole, sweetpotato casserole, macaroni casserole—a lot of casseroles, really, I guess.” Great job chef.

Slacy started scooping. Maddie and I scooped whatever was in front of us, then passed the bowl.

“Sooo, Maddie, how was your day?” No, not this again.

“Oh, it was nice. There were a few trees still left on the lot. I had to take them down to be chipped. Other than that, just tidying up and looking forward to dinner.” She was looking forward!

“Nice,” I replied, with a broad smile. Why am I so bad at this?

The Taylor Swift Holiday Collection was playing in the background. Yes. No, my music isn’t outdated.

After a few rounds of small talk, I noticed I didn’t have any sweetpotato casserole yet.

“Slacy, can you pass the sweetpotatoes?” I asked, at the same time Maddie asked “Slacy, can you pass the greenbeans?”

My hands pointed, as if he was incapable of finding one of five items on the table. He looked like he was in his own headspace, his blank stare mode, but not eating.

“Slacy, the sweetpotatoes?” My hands gestured again.

“Stop holding my attention hostage!” he yelled, arms waving frantically. The table went silent. He was staring directly ahead, blank.

“Slacy, are you alright?” I said tentatively.

He got up from the table, grabbing his phone, and stormed off to the bathroom. I looked at Maddie, seeing my confusion reflected. She mouthed “What the fuck?” I shrugged and my stupid hands showed her the size of the fish I caught.

“Should we?” Maddie started.

“Let’s give him a minute.”

We ate in awkward silence. Great first date Charlotte. My mind was on Slacy. My sister had Autism. I don’t know if he had it, but he was showing some of the signs I was familiar with.

buzz-buzz — Slacy, sending me a text. I projected my watch and a wall of text exploded onto the table in front of me. All mostly grammatically correct and punctuated.

Sorry. I am so sorry. I ruined your dinner. This happens sometimes, and I don't know why. Well, maybe I do know what my symptoms are. If I don't eat or sleep, I get overwhelmed.

Charlotte, I got overwhelmed. I am sorry. I didn't sleep last night. I was so excited to see you this morning and I didn't want to be asleep when you showed up.

I didn't eat anything after breakfast. I was saving room for dinner. You told me you could cook and it sounded like it would be amazing. So I didn't eat. I'm really sorry. I'll go home now.

I swiped my free hand in the air to quickly type back.

no you will not stay right there mister!

Uh, that was probably not very polite or helpful.

I mean, don't stay there. Stay here. With us.

His reply was slow in coming.

But I ruined dinner.

No you didn't. Get some food in you, you'll feel better. I —it sent before I could finish. Three dots bounced up and down indicating Slacy was typing a message. Up and down. Up and down. C’mon guy.

Maybe.

I finished my message. I want you here.

Okay.

“Slacy is coming back. He’s going to need time to eat and recover. He’s probably got low blood sugar and is over-stimulated.” I blurted to Maddie before he got back.

She nodded. My hand reached across the table and settled on top of hers, then I mouthed ‘Thank you.’ Sometimes these hands know what they’re doing.

Slacy sat back down, drank a whole glass of tea in one gulp, then began eating huge mouth-fulls. Maddie and I watched in amazement at first, then our eyes drifted towards each other. We all ate in silence and I tried my best not to grin at her with my mouth full.

When we were all done, Maddie got up and started clearing dishes while I went to get dessert ready. Slacy was sitting there with his blank stare.

Maddie sat back down in the dining room while I worked at the counter, and shouted “Who wants pee-can pie?” Slacy snickered.

Maddie called back with a smile in her words, “I’ll have some.”

“Slacy, pee-can pie?” I shouted again. Maddie giggled.

I walked back to the dining room, my hand still holding the pie knife and waving it around as I talked. “What’s going on? Slacy, you brought the pee-can pie, do you not want any?”

Maddie and Slacy made eye contact and burst out laughing, both saying “She said ‘pee-can’”. I just stood there. “What?” They kept laughing. I shook my head and walked back into the kitchen.

I made three bowls of pie with vanilla ice cream. My hands carried all three bowls in one trip, remembering the days I was a restaurant server. I dished them out and said “Here’s your pee-can pie.”

At once, Maddie and Slacy yelled “It’s puh-cahn!” and fell back into giggles. “Traitors,” I muttered.

After that session of poke fun at Charlotte, conversation came easy. Slacy poured us all some more red wine and every old person’s favorite game broke out.

“I remember when elevators had buttons,” said Maddie.

“I remember when phones had ports to plug things into,” said Slacy.

“I remember when people weren’t assholes about pronunciation,” said I. Maddie mid-sip snorted and Slacy guffawed. “Guys, remember there’s no alcohol in this wine.” Bunch of clowns.

Slacy jumped out of his seat and to the window. “It’s snowing!”

“Um. It’s been snowing all day pal.”

He ignored my observation and ran to the door, putting his boots back on. “Let’s go!”

“No way dude, I hate snow!”

“You’re just doing it wrong.” This fucking guy.

“I’m pretty sure you can’t do ‘snow’ wrong,” said the girl who’s never really seen snow in California.

Maddie walked up behind me and put her parka over my shoulders. Her lips brushed my ear, and she whispered “You kids go have fun.”

Now that I was warm all over and had a woman to woo, I said “Fuck it, let’s do this!” I put my rubber boots on and ran outside like a god-damned moron in a Hallmark movie.

Before I even got off the porch, a snowball hit me in the boob. “Oh no you didn’t!” I scooped up snow and threw it. It flew out in a cloud, hitting nothing but the ground. Shit!

“You’ve got to pack it tighter!” Slacy shouted and threw another one at my head while I was bent over gathering more snow.

I stood up, tight ball in my fist, and yelled “That’s what she said!” as I threw the ball, finally hitting him in the shoulder.

He threw another one square in my face. I screamed “No!” and ran after him. He took off in the other direction. I used my superior speed to go in for a tackle, and we hit the ground. You’re going to feel that one tomorrow Charlotte.

We lay on the ground and Slacy started flapping his arms and spreading his legs in the snow making snow angels. This guy is a fucking child. I started making my own snow angel.

Giggling, I looked up as a part in the clouds revealed a moonless sky. We both lay there, just staring.

“That’s Orion,” my hand pointed. “See the three bright stars in a row, that’s his belt.”

“Yeah?” he rolled over to look down my arm to spot it. “Oh, yeah. Cool.”

“Hey, Slace?”

“Yes, Chuck?”

“That’s just another Boomer name!”

“Ok, sure, we need to change a letter or two to make it a proper zoomer name.”

“You mean like your parents did?”

“I resent that hurtful accusation. What’s your favorite letter?”

“Q”

At the same time we both shouted “Chuq!” and giggled.

“Okay, let’s try again,” he said.

“Hey, Slace?”

“Yes, Chuq?”

“Are you neurodivergent?”

“Don’t you need a diagnosis for that?”

“You ass, be serious.” I punched him in the rib earning a satisfying oof.

“I dunno, maybe. I’ve always been different.”

“I see that. I like it, and you should talk to a therapist about it.”

“I will.”

I turned my head to look at him, his eyes were fixed on the sky. I could see the gears turning in his mind through the tiny portals to his soul. I knew he would.

“What do you think of Maddie?” I asked.

He turned his head to face me. “I think you like her, and that’s what matters. Right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Will you go for it?”

“Definitely.”

“Awesome.”

He raised his forearm, pivoting it on his elbow. I did the same and we bumped fists.

“Okay, I think that’s my cue,” he said, getting up then lending me a hand.

“Great, because my ankles are getting cold.”

“Show Maddie some bare ankle, that will really get her going.” he said, wagging two eyebrows.

I gave him a light shove.

“Goodnight, Chuq,” he said with his big stupid grin.

“Goodnight, Slace,” I said with mine.

When I went back inside and took off the parka, I ran into Maddie in the hallway. She gestured upward with her eyes. Oh yeah, the mistletoe, when did my cursed hands put it up there?

“This town is full of clichés,” I tell her.

She looked up to me. “You get used to it.”

Her lips part in invitation. I take it and lean down... but that’s another story.

---

Author’s Notes

Alright, this one was fun, but also tough to write. Did anyone have middle-aged AuADHD diagnosis on their Flucks bingo card? No? Me neither.

When I started dreaming up the Flucks Christmas, I had the simple idea of doing it through Chuq’s point of view and setting it in the past. Because, hey, Christmas alone in a warehouse is not very cozy.

Chuq started out as just someone for Slacy to care about and see die from the Flucks before his eyes. She was really just a plot device, but through writing this it allowed me to care more about Chuq and develop her as a character. I think it now shows why Slacy adores Chuq so much. Maybe you can feel why he is sort of lost without her.

I learned more about her through this writing process. Because who the hell am I to write from a woman and lesbian’s perspective. But I hope I hit all the right marks and created a character that seems like a whole person, not just a plot device.

I kind of thought when I was originally writing it, that Chuq’s voice was too young. Chuq seemed like a twenty-something year old person and not the right voice for someone who’s supposed to be in her late forties.

But, then I realized, hey, I’m in my middle forties, and I still feel like a young adult. My knees might creak a little more, but I still like running around and knocking down walls and doing all sorts of other silly things.

I presume that in 30 years we’ll have better healthcare for everyone, so that the older people can have more productive lives for longer. So, after all, it didn’t really seem like a stretch. And it allowed me to kind of relive some of my memories of what it was like doing shenanigans when I was younger. So, I think this is probably the exact right voice and tone.

I still feel like a young adult, just a young adult with bills and obligations. Even if we’re old of body, we’re always young of mind and young of heart.

Maybe that’s the message of The Flucks.

And with that note, I leave you with this.

Merry Flucking Christmas to all and to all a good night.

1. I can hear her calling — Hallowtide Files: The Gheeldyn

2. The Spectral Agent — Jan Herrington