I haven’t given up on Silver but I also feel like David needs some sort of ending.
I still have no idea what that ending looks like though.
In the meantime, here is a short story, bridging the gap between Three Boxes. By Poopieplace and Conversation with a abuser. Part 1 by Poopieplace
++++++
“Your spliff, Master David”, said Joe, doing his best impression of Stephen Fry’s character in Jeeves and Wooster.
It was an old running gag between the two of them.
David smiled fondly at his friend, in spite of having heard the joke a million times before.
He held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds, before letting it out again and leaning back with a satisfied smile.
The two of them were sat in the what Joe jokingly referred to as “the living room” of his studio flat.
David sat back on a tattered old armchair, whilst Joe lounged on a mattress he kept on the floor for the express purpose of lying down and getting high.
The detritus from various takeaway wrappers lay around the room.
It was 1am and the two of them were completely pissed.
The two of them sat in companionable silence for a few moments, as “The Dark Third” blared from Joe’s laptop speakers.
After a moment or so, Joe gave a snort of laughter.
David looked at his friend quizzically.
“Care to share the joke with the class?”, he asked in a faux serious tone.
“I was just thinkin’ about the fluffy again”, Joe explained.
“The one I told you about earlier. Y’know, 'aving a paddy cos I told him everyone could see 'is cock”.
This was enough to produce a fresh wave of stoned giggling from Joe.
David took another puff of the joint before handing it back to his friend.
“What do you think of them?”, asked David, after a moments pause.
“Eh?”, replied Joe.
“Fluffies, I mean”.
“Never given 'em much thought, mate. I’m not a hugboxer. Don’t have much against 'em though, I suppose.”
Joe glanced over at David, sensing the change of atmosphere in the room.
The good natured smile that usually adorned his chubby features turned serious as he saw thay David looked deep in thought.
David steeled himself and took a deep breath.
He had been desperate to talk to someone about this and realised that deep down, he had known he was going to confide in Joe as soon as the two of them had started their evenings drinking in earnest.
+++++++
David told Joe. About everything.
About the abuse. The forums.
How tormenting fluffies had started to consume his every waking thought.
He even told Joe about the taste.
Joe remained silent while David talked.
When he had finished, Joe took a moment to weigh up his words and after due consideration, said “Fuckin’ 'ell”.
David looked at Joe expectantly.
“Was hoping for a bit more than that”, he said, unsure how to read his friend’s expression.
Joe thought for a moment.
He wanted to say that he was suprised. Part of him was.
And yet…Joe thought about the man sitting across the room from him. The man hen had called his best friend since he was 18.
He’d never known David to be violent. In fact, in Joe’s experience, he’d always shied away from confrontation.
But every now and then, he’d see a look in David’s eyes.
A quiet, simmering anger.
It would flash across his eyes for just a couple of seconds,.
before disappearing, never reaching the rest of his face.
So, whilst Joe wouldn’t necessarily have predicted this, some how it just fit.
“Look”, he said, after another moment of hesitation.
“I wasn’t expecting that, that’s all. You play things close to your chest, mate. You always 'ave. But you’re like me brother. And you’ve never judged me. Not when I dropped out of Uni. Not when I went through all that shit with Caroline. And not now, even though we both know that all these years later, I still don’t really 'ave my shit together. So no, I don’t really know what to say but you’re my best mate and I’m here for you.”
David did his best to keep his composure, before replying.
“Thanks mate. Thanks for hearing me out. You’re like my brother too. I love you, man”.
There was another pause, before Joe broke the silence once more.
“Gaaaay!”, he exclaimed.
It wasn’t particularly funny but it was the tension breaker that they both needed and the two of them snorted with laughter.
Joe rolled another joint and the two of them passed it back and forth, substituting this simple action for the words that neither of them could find.
Eventually, Joe broke the silence once again.
“I was chatting to a bloke the other day. Student. Nice enough. Bit of an SJW type but we got chatting anyway. You know me, mate”
David smiled. He had often said that Joe could be dropped into Outer Mongolia and within the hour, would still have managed to strike up a conversation with one of the locals.
"Anyway’, Joe continued "he was telling me that he was writing his dissertation on fluffy abuse. He was looking for people to interview bit said he weren’t having much luck. Didn’t think nothing of it at the time. Still though, might be worth you chatting to him. Might help get some perspective. I dunno "
David wasn’t convinced but didn’t want to shut Joe’s idea down, least of all because he hadn’t freaked out, as David had feared he might.
He took the number from Joe and fired off a quick text.
One joint later, the two of them had passed into an inebriated slumber.
+++++++
24 hours later, David sat at his kitchen table, staring at the text on his phone.
“Hi David. Thanks for reaching out. If you’re happy to chat, we can grab a drink? You free tomorrow night? Eddie”
He was having second thoughts, now that he was sober and his hangover had abated.
He was glad he had confided in Joe and that they were still friends.
They had texted since then and David hadn’t gotten any sort of bad vibe.
Chatting to a stranger though? Especially one Joe had described as being an SJW type…
“Hewwo?”, came an urgent but muffled cry from across the kitchen. “Pwease wet fwuffy gu, mista!”
David stood up and walked across the room to his cooker, where a pot sat on the hob, its blue flame licking up at the pot’s side.
David walked across the room to the stove and pulled the lid off the pot, revealing a chubby, green earthie with a pink mane.
The pot was just about big enough for it to fit into but there wasn’t enough space for it to move its legs.
The pot was filled with enough water to cover the fluffy’s body, leaving just its head and neck sticking out.
The water was starting to form tiny bubbles at the very bottom.
David stared down into the pot, careful to keep his expression neutral, knowing that this seemed to increase his victim’s fear more than hostility did.
“Wawa bad fo’ fwuffies!”, his captive exclaimed desperately.
“An dis wawa am tu wawmsies!”
David continued to gaze down impassively at the fluffy.
He let the silence hang there for a few moments more.
“Fluffies are for huggies and love”, he said.
“Dat’s wite”, replied the fluffy, a note of hope creeping into its voice, just a David had anticipated.
“Not you though”, David continued. “You get to boil to death. And there’s nothing you can do about it”.
The fluffy gazed back at David in horror, as the weight of his words hit home.
David continued to stare at the fluffy as the water continued to boil.
After a few moments more, the fluffy began to scream.
David braced himself for the taste.
++++++++
David sat at his kitchen table, taking a few seconds to savour the aftermath of the fluffy’s suffering.
He stared at Eddie’s text, uncertain whether or not to reply.
His phone buzzed again.
A message from Helen.
“Hi babe. Sorry, I know you were coming round tomorrow but I’ve swapped a shift again. But then after that, I’m back to day shifts for a bit AND I have the whole of Saturday off, so can make it up to you. Plus, I have a suprise. Xxx”
That settles it then, thought David.
He opened up Eddie’s message and sent off a reply.
“Heya. Yeah, no worries. We could have a quick drink after work?”
And with that, David stood up and braced himself for the tedious business of cleaning a scalded fluffy corpse out of his kitchen utensils.