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swahilimonkfish

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  1. Hot
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from Zappy in The Abyss   
    Part 12 - The Holy Trinity

    So, Tim was a monk.
    “A monk? Do they even exist any more? Apart from on mountains?” I raised what I believed to be very valid points.
    “Nay-Nay, of course monks exist. Who do you think works at a monastery?”
    Have you got any ideas? Seriously, chip in at any time. Cos I’m absolutely clueless on…
    “Monks, Nay-Nay. Monastery, monk. Like nuns in nunneries, abbots in abbeys, vicars in vicarages, you get monks in monasteries. Fuck, you can tell you weren’t raised religious”
    “You were raised religious?” I asked, curious. She didn’t strike me as the religious type. What with the heathenry, sin and resolute conviction that she, herself, was a deity.
    “Yeah. Maybe. Whatever, why are you talking about me? Focus on Tim”
    Tim. So, as I was saying, Tim was a monk. But, like all of God’s creatures, he was horny for Maria. And this interested Maria.
    She’d ‘run’ into him and spoke to him about salvation and other Jesus-y shit that I don’t really pay attention to. Religion is not my bag. I had a Jewish aunt and did you know Judaism is in a foreign language? And it’s not written with letters, you know? Well, sorta. They look like letters written by a ** person. Long story short, turns out I’m ignorant on all things religion. See, it’s not just you guys who are learning.
    Well, we were going around his place (or should that be His place? I dunno, I’m religiously illiterate, remember) on the grounds that I was a sinner and I needed moral guidance and clarity. Which, to be fair, is probably true.
    However, that’s not why we were going round. And, let’s be honest here, that’s not why he was inviting us round. He wanted to baptise Maria in his Holy Water, so to speak.
    “This her?” he asked, with really well-faked concern. Oh look at me, I have strayed from God’s flock. [Pulls cute sexy holy sheep face]
    “Yeah, Naomee. With two ‘e’s. The misspelling of her name is probably where it all started to go wrong for the poor child, in all honesty” she explained, and he did this thing with his face where he looked like he actually gave a fuck about my well-being. What a strange expression to pull.
    He invited us in.
    The fool.
    +

    It took 22 minutes. 22 minutes and Maria was doing him up the arse with a dildo, while I sat and watched, eating Chinese food that I had brought with me, because planning ahead is getting ahead, my friends. I watched, and ate, and manned the camera, while Maria did her Maria thing. And, I don’t know if it was the holy accommodation or what, but the only thing I could think of saying was “Jesus fucking Christ!”.
    32 minutes into this and he was feeding me while she was licking his arsehole. It was rather pleasant, truth be told. Like a nice shower after a stiff yoga session. Only fattier, sexier, weirder and more damnation-inducing. I mean, if this is what organised religion is like all the time, I might give it a go. Could you guys let me know. I don’t want to miss my calling as a nun, if it involves threeway stuffing sessions and anal.
    47 minutes later and I was giving him a blowjob while he was eating Maria out. I don’t think that’s how a 69 works. I don’t know what the name for that is. 666?

    +

    “Well, we have to run Tim… well, waddle… but this was great. I feel holy again” I smiled at him, as he recoiled into his bed with a different expression to the tender concern he’d shown earlier. This one was much more familiar. This was the ‘I’ve been Maria-d’ face. Everyone pulls it at some point in their lives. If you haven’t yet, well… it’s nice to have something to look forward to.
    Maria was packing up the camera and folding up the tripod.
    “Yeah, let’s go Mammon” Maria smiled to me, and pointing for me to leave.
    “Sure thing, Satan” I smiled back, and we walk back.
    You do have to wonder what was going through his mind at this point. But I don’t think even confession would be redeeming what he did with us. Sometimes, you just have to prey to your relevant deity that you yourself never find yourself in a position where you get co-badgered. Trust me, you might think you do, but you do not want to be co-badgered.

    +

    “That was glorious, Nay-Nay. Oh, that was so deliciously evil. I loved it” Maria said, dancing in the dark wet street with pent-up joy. She looked magnificent. Maybe it was the rain, Kirsten Dunsting down her top, maybe it was seeing the emotional ejaculation of joy that ruining a man’s life brought her. But whatever it was, it was working wonders for her, and I, for one, stanned hard.
    That said, and we all know the reason you filthy pups are here, she was looking ‘curvier’ than usual. Not ‘bad’ curvier by all means. In fact, the contrary, she looked remarkable. She was perfect-looking before, and now she was even perfect-er. The way she could swing her hips out on her tall frame now, was magnificent. Honestly, I think even the Pope would have been bummed by her, looking like she did right now.
    “So, what happens next? Do you stalk him or just relax in the knowledge that he’s a one-and-done”
    “Oh, I’ll probably check up in a month or so. Let him have time to go soul-searching or, better still, rock-bottom-searching” she said, swinging on lamp-posts like she was Gene Kelly.
    “So, it’s late now, we going back or…”
    “I have to go to the gym, it’s…”
    “At this hour. I mean, I know that body doesn’t keep itself, but still...” I risked a smirk. The fact that she had to exercise was still a sensitive subject. But the euphoria of her malevolence meant she was okay.
    “Yeah, an hour maybe”
    “So, you don’t want to go back and watch the footage? We could order pizza? I haven’t had pizza in hours and I miss cheesy crusts. But not that monk’s cheesy crust. Like, an actual cheesy crust” I explained, and she paused and looked at me, cock-headed.
    “What are you doing?” she eyed me with suspicion.
    Fuck.
    “Oh, come on Maria. We’ve just ruined a man’s life. I’ve never done anything like that before. Isn’t your blood pumping? Don’t you want to do something utterly depraved to celebrate? Oh my god, my heart is beating so fast. I might order three pizzas” I rushed, words falling out of my mouth.
    She stood still, and judged me silently. I couldn’t tell if I was sweating, or if all the rain was just hitting my forehead.
    “Naomee… did you really like it that much?”
    She said it tenderly, but with curiosity.
    “Are you fucking kidding me? Those were the best 71 minutes of my life. They might have been the best 71 minutes anyone has ever had in their life. Is this… what it always feels like?”
    She walked up to me slowly, rain kicking up as the flash-flood caused puddles along the pavement and the drains began to overflow. She reached me, pushed out a hand, and held my face.
    “I’ve never had anyone to share this with, before. I’ve…” she bit her lip to stifle tears. “Yes, I will stuff you with pizza all night long, Nay-Nay. Fuck, four pizzas, let’s really ravage you. And tomorrow, I will show you what a real high looks like. Tomorrow, we’ll do one of my regulars. Co-Badger”.
    And as much as I would spend the night eating out of her hand, I knew that, in the long run, I had her eating out of mine.

    +

    And then along came Sally.
    Sally was not a monk. That was a shame. But she was a mother of two children. And every time those kids went to their dads, Maria and her tripod would go round and push her a little closer to The Abyss. Today, Maria hoped, would be her tipping point.
    I was officially ‘her concubine’. Now, I wasn’t that keen on this undercover persona, truthfully. It seemed a little offensive and misogynistic. It also seemed a little too close to the truth. But that was the cover. I was an ‘offering’. We were going to feed every sexual impulse that she wanted, ones that only Maria was providing since the kids were born, and then Maria was going to tell her that she’d meet her there.
    Where?
    She’d told Sally that they would meet up in Wellington. Wellington, New Zealand. Sally would catch the first plane, with tickets that cleared out her bank balance, and Maria would catch a later one. Of course, Maria didn’t have any intention of catching a later one. Sally, ** on love, was going to travel to the other side of the world, with no money and no spare clothes, wait in a hotel for Maria to arrive, and then… wait some more.
    “At some point, she’ll get worried. Maybe I was apprehended, maybe I was held up. Maybe it’ll be the next one. Or the one after. She’ll go to text me… with this phone” Maria said, showing me the phone that she had stolen.
    “You stole her phone?” my eyes boggled.
    “Yeah, she’s gonna be fucked. Can’t afford to come back, can’t afford to stay. You don’t need a visa for up to 6 months. She’s gonna be so heart-broken” Maria grinned, and I smiled too.
    But this one was different. This was felt… different.
    Was it because there were kids involved? Maria didn’t mind. Kids would be better off without parents anyway, she said. Is it because of my own maternal abandonment issues? I don’t even know if Maria knows about those. Was it because she seemed innocent? This wasn’t sin that drove her to the other side of the country, it was love. Was it because she was female? It certainly was easier to hate a man than a woman. Men just have it coming, if I’m honest. Was it because her torment would be the painful slow burn of regret and heart-break, rather than the fiery self-loathing of guilt? Or was it just because she looked like I used to look like, before I got fat?
    “So, how was it?” Maria asked, her eyes dancing as she spoke. It was hypnotic.
    “I…”
    I paused. I tried to find the words she wanted to hear.
    “Well? Nay-Nay?”
    “It didn’t do it for me” I told her. Honestly.
    “Oh”
    “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I promise, I’ll enjoy the next one. But…”
    She smiled again, and held my cheek with her hand. I flinched as she did it.
    “Good. I just needed to check you weren’t bullshitting”
    I knew it! I knew it! I knew it was a test! I knew she didn’t expect me to enjoy it! I just knew it!
    “You were testing me?” I exclaimed, superficially shocked but truthfully relieved.
    “Yeah, I knew that wouldn’t be your cup of tea” she told me.
    “Was it yours?”
    “I… not really. I don’t know why. Just… something felt off about it. A bit… sad, more than anything. But, what’s done is done” she explained.
    And, I have to take a minute now. That was a bit much, and I just need to collect my thoughts. She took me to see Sally, ruined Sally’s life, ruined her husband’s life, her kids’ life, just to test me. So far, so evil. So Maria. But, she didn’t like it either? Does that mean Maria has a soul after all? Should I be happy about that? Or should I be worried for my own soul, given that we drew the same line in the same place? Fuck, am I faking this, or am I really like Maria?
    The rain started again, but this time, it didn’t feel so victorious. We weren’t singing in the rain. We were standing there with slumped shoulders.
    “Again? More rain?” I ask, to the sky.
    “Maybe, God is doing this to spite me” Maria mused. “That would be kinda hot, wouldn’t it? Provoking God. Maybe he’s turned on by me. I wonder what God’s fetish is. Everyone has one, I wonder what his is. I bet it’s like mine. I bet he gets off on the floods and the locusts and people suffering. Me and you and God, all have the same fetish. We’re the holy trinity. Masturbating furiously as people’s lives are ruined. God, oh yeah, he just loves it when people’s lives are ruined. Yeah, and anal. I bet God loves anal. Come on Nay-Nay, we should head to the gym”
    “The gym?”
    “Yeah, you don’t have to do anything. You can watch. But I’d like the company. Also, you could actually exercise. It would be kinda funny, kinda hot, to see you trying to work out in a gym. I don’t get to humiliate you much these days, given that you’re always inside”
    “You called me your piggy concubine?”
    “Oh yeah, I guess that counts. Come on, how do you fancy it? Tight lycra, heavy panting, utter shame? Sound good?”
    “Honestly, if it’s alright, I think I’ll just go home and stuff myself with pizza again. I don’t… feel like anything sexier” I admitted.
    “Oh. Sure. I mean, fuck it, I’ll keep you company” Maria said.
    And, on one hand, I’ve got her right where I want her. On the other hand, is Maria being nice to me? Am I betraying her one semi-functioning relationship? Are these slumped shoulders just for Sally, or are they for Maria too?
    But, what’s done is done. Let’s make Maria fat.
     
  2. Like
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from xandercroft in The Abyss   
    Part 12 - The Holy Trinity

    So, Tim was a monk.
    “A monk? Do they even exist any more? Apart from on mountains?” I raised what I believed to be very valid points.
    “Nay-Nay, of course monks exist. Who do you think works at a monastery?”
    Have you got any ideas? Seriously, chip in at any time. Cos I’m absolutely clueless on…
    “Monks, Nay-Nay. Monastery, monk. Like nuns in nunneries, abbots in abbeys, vicars in vicarages, you get monks in monasteries. Fuck, you can tell you weren’t raised religious”
    “You were raised religious?” I asked, curious. She didn’t strike me as the religious type. What with the heathenry, sin and resolute conviction that she, herself, was a deity.
    “Yeah. Maybe. Whatever, why are you talking about me? Focus on Tim”
    Tim. So, as I was saying, Tim was a monk. But, like all of God’s creatures, he was horny for Maria. And this interested Maria.
    She’d ‘run’ into him and spoke to him about salvation and other Jesus-y shit that I don’t really pay attention to. Religion is not my bag. I had a Jewish aunt and did you know Judaism is in a foreign language? And it’s not written with letters, you know? Well, sorta. They look like letters written by a ** person. Long story short, turns out I’m ignorant on all things religion. See, it’s not just you guys who are learning.
    Well, we were going around his place (or should that be His place? I dunno, I’m religiously illiterate, remember) on the grounds that I was a sinner and I needed moral guidance and clarity. Which, to be fair, is probably true.
    However, that’s not why we were going round. And, let’s be honest here, that’s not why he was inviting us round. He wanted to baptise Maria in his Holy Water, so to speak.
    “This her?” he asked, with really well-faked concern. Oh look at me, I have strayed from God’s flock. [Pulls cute sexy holy sheep face]
    “Yeah, Naomee. With two ‘e’s. The misspelling of her name is probably where it all started to go wrong for the poor child, in all honesty” she explained, and he did this thing with his face where he looked like he actually gave a fuck about my well-being. What a strange expression to pull.
    He invited us in.
    The fool.
    +

    It took 22 minutes. 22 minutes and Maria was doing him up the arse with a dildo, while I sat and watched, eating Chinese food that I had brought with me, because planning ahead is getting ahead, my friends. I watched, and ate, and manned the camera, while Maria did her Maria thing. And, I don’t know if it was the holy accommodation or what, but the only thing I could think of saying was “Jesus fucking Christ!”.
    32 minutes into this and he was feeding me while she was licking his arsehole. It was rather pleasant, truth be told. Like a nice shower after a stiff yoga session. Only fattier, sexier, weirder and more damnation-inducing. I mean, if this is what organised religion is like all the time, I might give it a go. Could you guys let me know. I don’t want to miss my calling as a nun, if it involves threeway stuffing sessions and anal.
    47 minutes later and I was giving him a blowjob while he was eating Maria out. I don’t think that’s how a 69 works. I don’t know what the name for that is. 666?

    +

    “Well, we have to run Tim… well, waddle… but this was great. I feel holy again” I smiled at him, as he recoiled into his bed with a different expression to the tender concern he’d shown earlier. This one was much more familiar. This was the ‘I’ve been Maria-d’ face. Everyone pulls it at some point in their lives. If you haven’t yet, well… it’s nice to have something to look forward to.
    Maria was packing up the camera and folding up the tripod.
    “Yeah, let’s go Mammon” Maria smiled to me, and pointing for me to leave.
    “Sure thing, Satan” I smiled back, and we walk back.
    You do have to wonder what was going through his mind at this point. But I don’t think even confession would be redeeming what he did with us. Sometimes, you just have to prey to your relevant deity that you yourself never find yourself in a position where you get co-badgered. Trust me, you might think you do, but you do not want to be co-badgered.

    +

    “That was glorious, Nay-Nay. Oh, that was so deliciously evil. I loved it” Maria said, dancing in the dark wet street with pent-up joy. She looked magnificent. Maybe it was the rain, Kirsten Dunsting down her top, maybe it was seeing the emotional ejaculation of joy that ruining a man’s life brought her. But whatever it was, it was working wonders for her, and I, for one, stanned hard.
    That said, and we all know the reason you filthy pups are here, she was looking ‘curvier’ than usual. Not ‘bad’ curvier by all means. In fact, the contrary, she looked remarkable. She was perfect-looking before, and now she was even perfect-er. The way she could swing her hips out on her tall frame now, was magnificent. Honestly, I think even the Pope would have been bummed by her, looking like she did right now.
    “So, what happens next? Do you stalk him or just relax in the knowledge that he’s a one-and-done”
    “Oh, I’ll probably check up in a month or so. Let him have time to go soul-searching or, better still, rock-bottom-searching” she said, swinging on lamp-posts like she was Gene Kelly.
    “So, it’s late now, we going back or…”
    “I have to go to the gym, it’s…”
    “At this hour. I mean, I know that body doesn’t keep itself, but still...” I risked a smirk. The fact that she had to exercise was still a sensitive subject. But the euphoria of her malevolence meant she was okay.
    “Yeah, an hour maybe”
    “So, you don’t want to go back and watch the footage? We could order pizza? I haven’t had pizza in hours and I miss cheesy crusts. But not that monk’s cheesy crust. Like, an actual cheesy crust” I explained, and she paused and looked at me, cock-headed.
    “What are you doing?” she eyed me with suspicion.
    Fuck.
    “Oh, come on Maria. We’ve just ruined a man’s life. I’ve never done anything like that before. Isn’t your blood pumping? Don’t you want to do something utterly depraved to celebrate? Oh my god, my heart is beating so fast. I might order three pizzas” I rushed, words falling out of my mouth.
    She stood still, and judged me silently. I couldn’t tell if I was sweating, or if all the rain was just hitting my forehead.
    “Naomee… did you really like it that much?”
    She said it tenderly, but with curiosity.
    “Are you fucking kidding me? Those were the best 71 minutes of my life. They might have been the best 71 minutes anyone has ever had in their life. Is this… what it always feels like?”
    She walked up to me slowly, rain kicking up as the flash-flood caused puddles along the pavement and the drains began to overflow. She reached me, pushed out a hand, and held my face.
    “I’ve never had anyone to share this with, before. I’ve…” she bit her lip to stifle tears. “Yes, I will stuff you with pizza all night long, Nay-Nay. Fuck, four pizzas, let’s really ravage you. And tomorrow, I will show you what a real high looks like. Tomorrow, we’ll do one of my regulars. Co-Badger”.
    And as much as I would spend the night eating out of her hand, I knew that, in the long run, I had her eating out of mine.

    +

    And then along came Sally.
    Sally was not a monk. That was a shame. But she was a mother of two children. And every time those kids went to their dads, Maria and her tripod would go round and push her a little closer to The Abyss. Today, Maria hoped, would be her tipping point.
    I was officially ‘her concubine’. Now, I wasn’t that keen on this undercover persona, truthfully. It seemed a little offensive and misogynistic. It also seemed a little too close to the truth. But that was the cover. I was an ‘offering’. We were going to feed every sexual impulse that she wanted, ones that only Maria was providing since the kids were born, and then Maria was going to tell her that she’d meet her there.
    Where?
    She’d told Sally that they would meet up in Wellington. Wellington, New Zealand. Sally would catch the first plane, with tickets that cleared out her bank balance, and Maria would catch a later one. Of course, Maria didn’t have any intention of catching a later one. Sally, ** on love, was going to travel to the other side of the world, with no money and no spare clothes, wait in a hotel for Maria to arrive, and then… wait some more.
    “At some point, she’ll get worried. Maybe I was apprehended, maybe I was held up. Maybe it’ll be the next one. Or the one after. She’ll go to text me… with this phone” Maria said, showing me the phone that she had stolen.
    “You stole her phone?” my eyes boggled.
    “Yeah, she’s gonna be fucked. Can’t afford to come back, can’t afford to stay. You don’t need a visa for up to 6 months. She’s gonna be so heart-broken” Maria grinned, and I smiled too.
    But this one was different. This was felt… different.
    Was it because there were kids involved? Maria didn’t mind. Kids would be better off without parents anyway, she said. Is it because of my own maternal abandonment issues? I don’t even know if Maria knows about those. Was it because she seemed innocent? This wasn’t sin that drove her to the other side of the country, it was love. Was it because she was female? It certainly was easier to hate a man than a woman. Men just have it coming, if I’m honest. Was it because her torment would be the painful slow burn of regret and heart-break, rather than the fiery self-loathing of guilt? Or was it just because she looked like I used to look like, before I got fat?
    “So, how was it?” Maria asked, her eyes dancing as she spoke. It was hypnotic.
    “I…”
    I paused. I tried to find the words she wanted to hear.
    “Well? Nay-Nay?”
    “It didn’t do it for me” I told her. Honestly.
    “Oh”
    “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I promise, I’ll enjoy the next one. But…”
    She smiled again, and held my cheek with her hand. I flinched as she did it.
    “Good. I just needed to check you weren’t bullshitting”
    I knew it! I knew it! I knew it was a test! I knew she didn’t expect me to enjoy it! I just knew it!
    “You were testing me?” I exclaimed, superficially shocked but truthfully relieved.
    “Yeah, I knew that wouldn’t be your cup of tea” she told me.
    “Was it yours?”
    “I… not really. I don’t know why. Just… something felt off about it. A bit… sad, more than anything. But, what’s done is done” she explained.
    And, I have to take a minute now. That was a bit much, and I just need to collect my thoughts. She took me to see Sally, ruined Sally’s life, ruined her husband’s life, her kids’ life, just to test me. So far, so evil. So Maria. But, she didn’t like it either? Does that mean Maria has a soul after all? Should I be happy about that? Or should I be worried for my own soul, given that we drew the same line in the same place? Fuck, am I faking this, or am I really like Maria?
    The rain started again, but this time, it didn’t feel so victorious. We weren’t singing in the rain. We were standing there with slumped shoulders.
    “Again? More rain?” I ask, to the sky.
    “Maybe, God is doing this to spite me” Maria mused. “That would be kinda hot, wouldn’t it? Provoking God. Maybe he’s turned on by me. I wonder what God’s fetish is. Everyone has one, I wonder what his is. I bet it’s like mine. I bet he gets off on the floods and the locusts and people suffering. Me and you and God, all have the same fetish. We’re the holy trinity. Masturbating furiously as people’s lives are ruined. God, oh yeah, he just loves it when people’s lives are ruined. Yeah, and anal. I bet God loves anal. Come on Nay-Nay, we should head to the gym”
    “The gym?”
    “Yeah, you don’t have to do anything. You can watch. But I’d like the company. Also, you could actually exercise. It would be kinda funny, kinda hot, to see you trying to work out in a gym. I don’t get to humiliate you much these days, given that you’re always inside”
    “You called me your piggy concubine?”
    “Oh yeah, I guess that counts. Come on, how do you fancy it? Tight lycra, heavy panting, utter shame? Sound good?”
    “Honestly, if it’s alright, I think I’ll just go home and stuff myself with pizza again. I don’t… feel like anything sexier” I admitted.
    “Oh. Sure. I mean, fuck it, I’ll keep you company” Maria said.
    And, on one hand, I’ve got her right where I want her. On the other hand, is Maria being nice to me? Am I betraying her one semi-functioning relationship? Are these slumped shoulders just for Sally, or are they for Maria too?
    But, what’s done is done. Let’s make Maria fat.
     
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    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from Binky in The Abyss   
    And I'm glad that you're glad
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    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from dania201 in The Abyss   
    And I'm glad that you're glad
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    swahilimonkfish reacted to Binky in The Abyss   
    So glad this made a return
  6. Hot
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from Binky in The Abyss   
    Part 12 - The Holy Trinity

    So, Tim was a monk.
    “A monk? Do they even exist any more? Apart from on mountains?” I raised what I believed to be very valid points.
    “Nay-Nay, of course monks exist. Who do you think works at a monastery?”
    Have you got any ideas? Seriously, chip in at any time. Cos I’m absolutely clueless on…
    “Monks, Nay-Nay. Monastery, monk. Like nuns in nunneries, abbots in abbeys, vicars in vicarages, you get monks in monasteries. Fuck, you can tell you weren’t raised religious”
    “You were raised religious?” I asked, curious. She didn’t strike me as the religious type. What with the heathenry, sin and resolute conviction that she, herself, was a deity.
    “Yeah. Maybe. Whatever, why are you talking about me? Focus on Tim”
    Tim. So, as I was saying, Tim was a monk. But, like all of God’s creatures, he was horny for Maria. And this interested Maria.
    She’d ‘run’ into him and spoke to him about salvation and other Jesus-y shit that I don’t really pay attention to. Religion is not my bag. I had a Jewish aunt and did you know Judaism is in a foreign language? And it’s not written with letters, you know? Well, sorta. They look like letters written by a ** person. Long story short, turns out I’m ignorant on all things religion. See, it’s not just you guys who are learning.
    Well, we were going around his place (or should that be His place? I dunno, I’m religiously illiterate, remember) on the grounds that I was a sinner and I needed moral guidance and clarity. Which, to be fair, is probably true.
    However, that’s not why we were going round. And, let’s be honest here, that’s not why he was inviting us round. He wanted to baptise Maria in his Holy Water, so to speak.
    “This her?” he asked, with really well-faked concern. Oh look at me, I have strayed from God’s flock. [Pulls cute sexy holy sheep face]
    “Yeah, Naomee. With two ‘e’s. The misspelling of her name is probably where it all started to go wrong for the poor child, in all honesty” she explained, and he did this thing with his face where he looked like he actually gave a fuck about my well-being. What a strange expression to pull.
    He invited us in.
    The fool.
    +

    It took 22 minutes. 22 minutes and Maria was doing him up the arse with a dildo, while I sat and watched, eating Chinese food that I had brought with me, because planning ahead is getting ahead, my friends. I watched, and ate, and manned the camera, while Maria did her Maria thing. And, I don’t know if it was the holy accommodation or what, but the only thing I could think of saying was “Jesus fucking Christ!”.
    32 minutes into this and he was feeding me while she was licking his arsehole. It was rather pleasant, truth be told. Like a nice shower after a stiff yoga session. Only fattier, sexier, weirder and more damnation-inducing. I mean, if this is what organised religion is like all the time, I might give it a go. Could you guys let me know. I don’t want to miss my calling as a nun, if it involves threeway stuffing sessions and anal.
    47 minutes later and I was giving him a blowjob while he was eating Maria out. I don’t think that’s how a 69 works. I don’t know what the name for that is. 666?

    +

    “Well, we have to run Tim… well, waddle… but this was great. I feel holy again” I smiled at him, as he recoiled into his bed with a different expression to the tender concern he’d shown earlier. This one was much more familiar. This was the ‘I’ve been Maria-d’ face. Everyone pulls it at some point in their lives. If you haven’t yet, well… it’s nice to have something to look forward to.
    Maria was packing up the camera and folding up the tripod.
    “Yeah, let’s go Mammon” Maria smiled to me, and pointing for me to leave.
    “Sure thing, Satan” I smiled back, and we walk back.
    You do have to wonder what was going through his mind at this point. But I don’t think even confession would be redeeming what he did with us. Sometimes, you just have to prey to your relevant deity that you yourself never find yourself in a position where you get co-badgered. Trust me, you might think you do, but you do not want to be co-badgered.

    +

    “That was glorious, Nay-Nay. Oh, that was so deliciously evil. I loved it” Maria said, dancing in the dark wet street with pent-up joy. She looked magnificent. Maybe it was the rain, Kirsten Dunsting down her top, maybe it was seeing the emotional ejaculation of joy that ruining a man’s life brought her. But whatever it was, it was working wonders for her, and I, for one, stanned hard.
    That said, and we all know the reason you filthy pups are here, she was looking ‘curvier’ than usual. Not ‘bad’ curvier by all means. In fact, the contrary, she looked remarkable. She was perfect-looking before, and now she was even perfect-er. The way she could swing her hips out on her tall frame now, was magnificent. Honestly, I think even the Pope would have been bummed by her, looking like she did right now.
    “So, what happens next? Do you stalk him or just relax in the knowledge that he’s a one-and-done”
    “Oh, I’ll probably check up in a month or so. Let him have time to go soul-searching or, better still, rock-bottom-searching” she said, swinging on lamp-posts like she was Gene Kelly.
    “So, it’s late now, we going back or…”
    “I have to go to the gym, it’s…”
    “At this hour. I mean, I know that body doesn’t keep itself, but still...” I risked a smirk. The fact that she had to exercise was still a sensitive subject. But the euphoria of her malevolence meant she was okay.
    “Yeah, an hour maybe”
    “So, you don’t want to go back and watch the footage? We could order pizza? I haven’t had pizza in hours and I miss cheesy crusts. But not that monk’s cheesy crust. Like, an actual cheesy crust” I explained, and she paused and looked at me, cock-headed.
    “What are you doing?” she eyed me with suspicion.
    Fuck.
    “Oh, come on Maria. We’ve just ruined a man’s life. I’ve never done anything like that before. Isn’t your blood pumping? Don’t you want to do something utterly depraved to celebrate? Oh my god, my heart is beating so fast. I might order three pizzas” I rushed, words falling out of my mouth.
    She stood still, and judged me silently. I couldn’t tell if I was sweating, or if all the rain was just hitting my forehead.
    “Naomee… did you really like it that much?”
    She said it tenderly, but with curiosity.
    “Are you fucking kidding me? Those were the best 71 minutes of my life. They might have been the best 71 minutes anyone has ever had in their life. Is this… what it always feels like?”
    She walked up to me slowly, rain kicking up as the flash-flood caused puddles along the pavement and the drains began to overflow. She reached me, pushed out a hand, and held my face.
    “I’ve never had anyone to share this with, before. I’ve…” she bit her lip to stifle tears. “Yes, I will stuff you with pizza all night long, Nay-Nay. Fuck, four pizzas, let’s really ravage you. And tomorrow, I will show you what a real high looks like. Tomorrow, we’ll do one of my regulars. Co-Badger”.
    And as much as I would spend the night eating out of her hand, I knew that, in the long run, I had her eating out of mine.

    +

    And then along came Sally.
    Sally was not a monk. That was a shame. But she was a mother of two children. And every time those kids went to their dads, Maria and her tripod would go round and push her a little closer to The Abyss. Today, Maria hoped, would be her tipping point.
    I was officially ‘her concubine’. Now, I wasn’t that keen on this undercover persona, truthfully. It seemed a little offensive and misogynistic. It also seemed a little too close to the truth. But that was the cover. I was an ‘offering’. We were going to feed every sexual impulse that she wanted, ones that only Maria was providing since the kids were born, and then Maria was going to tell her that she’d meet her there.
    Where?
    She’d told Sally that they would meet up in Wellington. Wellington, New Zealand. Sally would catch the first plane, with tickets that cleared out her bank balance, and Maria would catch a later one. Of course, Maria didn’t have any intention of catching a later one. Sally, ** on love, was going to travel to the other side of the world, with no money and no spare clothes, wait in a hotel for Maria to arrive, and then… wait some more.
    “At some point, she’ll get worried. Maybe I was apprehended, maybe I was held up. Maybe it’ll be the next one. Or the one after. She’ll go to text me… with this phone” Maria said, showing me the phone that she had stolen.
    “You stole her phone?” my eyes boggled.
    “Yeah, she’s gonna be fucked. Can’t afford to come back, can’t afford to stay. You don’t need a visa for up to 6 months. She’s gonna be so heart-broken” Maria grinned, and I smiled too.
    But this one was different. This was felt… different.
    Was it because there were kids involved? Maria didn’t mind. Kids would be better off without parents anyway, she said. Is it because of my own maternal abandonment issues? I don’t even know if Maria knows about those. Was it because she seemed innocent? This wasn’t sin that drove her to the other side of the country, it was love. Was it because she was female? It certainly was easier to hate a man than a woman. Men just have it coming, if I’m honest. Was it because her torment would be the painful slow burn of regret and heart-break, rather than the fiery self-loathing of guilt? Or was it just because she looked like I used to look like, before I got fat?
    “So, how was it?” Maria asked, her eyes dancing as she spoke. It was hypnotic.
    “I…”
    I paused. I tried to find the words she wanted to hear.
    “Well? Nay-Nay?”
    “It didn’t do it for me” I told her. Honestly.
    “Oh”
    “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I promise, I’ll enjoy the next one. But…”
    She smiled again, and held my cheek with her hand. I flinched as she did it.
    “Good. I just needed to check you weren’t bullshitting”
    I knew it! I knew it! I knew it was a test! I knew she didn’t expect me to enjoy it! I just knew it!
    “You were testing me?” I exclaimed, superficially shocked but truthfully relieved.
    “Yeah, I knew that wouldn’t be your cup of tea” she told me.
    “Was it yours?”
    “I… not really. I don’t know why. Just… something felt off about it. A bit… sad, more than anything. But, what’s done is done” she explained.
    And, I have to take a minute now. That was a bit much, and I just need to collect my thoughts. She took me to see Sally, ruined Sally’s life, ruined her husband’s life, her kids’ life, just to test me. So far, so evil. So Maria. But, she didn’t like it either? Does that mean Maria has a soul after all? Should I be happy about that? Or should I be worried for my own soul, given that we drew the same line in the same place? Fuck, am I faking this, or am I really like Maria?
    The rain started again, but this time, it didn’t feel so victorious. We weren’t singing in the rain. We were standing there with slumped shoulders.
    “Again? More rain?” I ask, to the sky.
    “Maybe, God is doing this to spite me” Maria mused. “That would be kinda hot, wouldn’t it? Provoking God. Maybe he’s turned on by me. I wonder what God’s fetish is. Everyone has one, I wonder what his is. I bet it’s like mine. I bet he gets off on the floods and the locusts and people suffering. Me and you and God, all have the same fetish. We’re the holy trinity. Masturbating furiously as people’s lives are ruined. God, oh yeah, he just loves it when people’s lives are ruined. Yeah, and anal. I bet God loves anal. Come on Nay-Nay, we should head to the gym”
    “The gym?”
    “Yeah, you don’t have to do anything. You can watch. But I’d like the company. Also, you could actually exercise. It would be kinda funny, kinda hot, to see you trying to work out in a gym. I don’t get to humiliate you much these days, given that you’re always inside”
    “You called me your piggy concubine?”
    “Oh yeah, I guess that counts. Come on, how do you fancy it? Tight lycra, heavy panting, utter shame? Sound good?”
    “Honestly, if it’s alright, I think I’ll just go home and stuff myself with pizza again. I don’t… feel like anything sexier” I admitted.
    “Oh. Sure. I mean, fuck it, I’ll keep you company” Maria said.
    And, on one hand, I’ve got her right where I want her. On the other hand, is Maria being nice to me? Am I betraying her one semi-functioning relationship? Are these slumped shoulders just for Sally, or are they for Maria too?
    But, what’s done is done. Let’s make Maria fat.
     
  7. Like
    swahilimonkfish reacted to AdiposeAdorer in In Place of Allie   
    When you and Allison first started seeing each other, I was only too thrilled. In all her years, I’d never known my daughter to look at anyone the way she looked at you–eyes bright, lips parted in the slightest yet most radiant of smiles. Sure, the two of you had moved in together a little too fast for my liking, but you always took such good care of her, tending to her every need and treating her like your precious, pampered princess.
    Once the two of you had gotten together, however, my beautiful Allie soon started piling on the pounds. At first, I tried my best to ignore the way her slim figure was starting to soften and swell. She was my daughter, after all and, though she was a few inches shorter than me and her hair was a few shades darker, the resemblance between us had always been plain to see. We shared the same lean physique, the same bright blue eyes, and the same driven, ambitious personality.
    Ever since her dad and I had gone our separate ways, many years ago, Allie had been the light of my life. I’d done everything in my power to raise her as a strong and self-sufficient young woman. In school, she was on the swim team, just like me. Unlike me, she never made captain or won many medals, but she always did her best. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s all that really matters in the end.
    Yes, like me, my daughter was a go-getter with a can-do spirit. Once she’d started to settle into your new life together, I was sure she’d soon pull herself together again.
        Over the next few months, however, Allie just kept getting bigger–her thin face growing fleshy and full, her podgy paunch peeking over the edge of her too-tight tops, her blubbery butt straining the tightly stretched fabric of her swiftly shrinking slim-fit jeans. After a while, it wasn’t hard to see that you were enabling her every step of the way–bringing her food, and keeping her off her feet, like some frail, fragile flower.
    Your efforts weren’t exactly subtle, but they worked like a charm. Even as I started to suspect what you were doing, I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. The very thought that you might, purposefully, be trying to fatten my precious Allie–to turn her into a huge, helpless whale of a woman–seemed too silly to contemplate. As you kept feeding her like a pig for slaughter, I kept telling myself that I was just being paranoid and letting my imagination run away with me.
        Once Allie had started to settle into her new life with you, I rarely saw much of her. The two of us would call from time to time, but whenever I’d ask about her weight, she’d quickly move the conversation along.
    So, imagine my surprise when the two of you came around for Christmas that year, and I could barely recognise my precious little girl. With her belly poking out past her chest and hanging down to cover her pelvis, she was no longer chubby, but outright fat—her trim thighs turned to rippling tree-trunks, her tight butt to a broad shelf of drooping blubber.
    Over the next few days, I got to see just how my Allie had eaten herself to such a sorry state. In all the time she was here, she hardly once got up off the couch. She’d just lie there, day in and day out, a lazy lump of a girl, stuffing a constant stream of fattening goodies in her fleshy, round moon of a face. Whenever I’d try to talk to her about her weight, she’d just roll her eyes and tell me to get off her case. No matter what I said, I couldn’t seem to get through. If I pushed too hard, she’d get mad and I’d be forced to apologize, while she kept on eating.
    Meanwhile, you took it on yourself to handle all the cooking and anything else that needed doing around the house, keeping my Allie parked on her burgeoning backside twenty-four-seven. As I watched the way you spoiled her, your fingers sinking a little too far into her soft flesh whenever the two of you would touch, all my old suspicions came bubbling right back up again.
        One day, towards the end of your stay, when the two of us were in the kitchen, cleaning up, I decided to give you a little prod about the whole thing.
    “Allie sure has been putting on weight, lately, don’t you think.” I said, putting away a couple of clean plates.
    “Yeah, I guess.” You shrugged.
    “Have you considered talking to her about it? I think it might be good for her to go on a bit of a diet.”
    “Oh, I don’t know about that,” your face spread in a slight smile. “I think the extra padding suits her. And anyway, I’d hate to deprive her of all that food she so dearly loves.”
        As soon as the two of you were out of the house, I grabbed my tablet and took to the internet. What I saw there shook me to my very core: entire websites dedicated to storing pictures of grotesquely obese women stuffing their fat faces and rubbing their bloated bellies. Not to mention, whole forums where strange men would boast of fattening their wives and girlfriends, often until they were so huge and helpless that they had to rely on these so-called ‘feeders’ to see to their every need.
    At first, I could barely stand to look at it all for more than a few seconds at a time. And yet, I found myself drifting back to those websites over and over again, browsing in horrified fascination for hours on end. The very thought that you might be trying to turn my precious Allie into one of those gluttonous monstrosities was enough to make my stomach turn.
    As I kept going over those ‘feederism’ sites, I stumbled on an advice blog run by a man who called himself The_Consulting_Feeder. He seemed to take a more relaxed attitude to this disturbing fetish of his. After hours of sifting through his archive and reading whatever bits of advice he had to offer, I decided to send him a message of my own.
        Dear ‘Consulting Feeder’,
    I think my daughter’s boyfriend might be fattening her up in secret. He’s always bringing her food and encouraging her to eat and stay off her feet.
    She’s already put on so much weight. If this goes on, I dare hardly imagine how huge she might get.
    I’ve tried to talk to her, but she won’t listen and gets angry whenever I try to so much as even touch on the subject. What can I do to stop this?
    Yours/
    A concerned Mother
      A day later, he sent the following answer:
      Dear ‘Concerned Mother’,
    Much as I hate to say it, I’m afraid there might not be much you can do. Your daughter is a grown woman, perfectly capable of making her own decisions in life. If you try to intervene, you might just alienate her further.
    Perhaps, once she realizes what, if anything, is going on, she’ll break things off on her own. If not, that’s still her decision to make.
    My advice to you is to stay out of it and let things run their course, whatever that might be.
    Yours,
    The_Consulting_Feeder
        This was far from the advice I wanted to hear, but I decided to go along all the same. After all, there was precious little else I could do.
        That year, I saw even less of Allie. We rarely called, and when we did, she never had much to say. She’d just grunt and mumble something now and then, showing barely the slightest hint of interest as I regaled her with all that was going on in my life. A lot of the time, she seemed to be munching on something as she talked.
    Though I tried not to worry about what you were doing to her, I couldn’t stop visiting those websites, gawping in horror at those heavy young women, so eager to ruin their figures with food. From time to time, I’d wonder what it might be like to live like that–to give up on your body, your freedom, your dignity, and spend your days trapped in a prison of your own flesh. The very idea sent chills down my spine, and yet I couldn’t get it out of my head. There was something strangely fascinating about it—something twisted and forbidden, something…
    You might’ve thought all this would’ve been enough to put me off eating altogether. But, as my worries kept gnawing at me, I turned to food to still them. Whenever thinking about it all got to be too much, I’d sneak down to the fridge and quiet my mind by gorging on sausages and sandwiches.
    Obviously, this newfound binging habit didn’t do my figure much good. But, busy as I was worrying about Allie, I barely noticed as the number on my scale kept climbing. Once my jeans started getting snug, I switched to stretch pants and continued to stuff myself. As soon as this whole thing was over, I was sure we’d both get ourselves together again in no time at all.
        By the time the holidays rolled around again, I’d piled on a good thirty pounds. My thin face had grown puffy and round, and a spare tire of soft flab had settled around my once tapered waist. This gain of mine, however, was nothing compared to what you’d done to my precious Allie.
    As my daughter waddled through the door, one late December evening, her belly hanging to her thighs and oozing over the edge of her jeans, I could barely suppress my horror. I’d been prepared for her to have put on a pound or two, sure, but this was worse by far than I could ever have feared. Her pretty face was swollen with soft flab, her lean, graceful legs turned to pillars of jiggling jelly that rubbed with each and every step she took, transforming her once elegant gait into an awkward, lumbering waddle.
    No matter how hard I looked at that bloated butterball, I couldn’t see the slightest hint of my beautiful girl. It wasn’t just that Allie had put on weight, mind you. Her whole aura had changed, as if all her old energy had simply drained away. Somehow, over the space of a single year, you’d turned my quick-witted girl into a sluggish, slovenly couch potato—an overgorged pig who spent her days flicking through her phone and staring at the TV, waiting for you to bring her whatever she might need. At those rare times when she would get up to do something for herself, a short walk was all it took to have her short of breath, her face red and shiny with sweat.
    Over the next few days, as you continued to ply my obese blob of a daughter with a seemingly never-ending stream of fatty foods, I did my best to remind myself that I’d sworn to stay out of all this. Try as I might, however, I could no longer hold my tongue. I found myself becoming increasingly critical of Allie, making constant digs at her in hope of waking her up to what you were doing to her body. My efforts, however, only drove her further into your arms. After all, unlike me, you were only too happy to tell her whatever she wanted to hear, all while pushing her to have another tub of ice cream to ‘cheer herself up’.
    No matter what I said, Allie just kept eating. And so did I. From time to time, as I’d sneak off to the kitchen to shove another bar of chocolate in my face, I’d notice you looking at me, a hint of interest in your eyes.
        Once the two of you had headed home again, leaving me alone with my worries and a fridge full of fatty foods, I grabbed my tablet and wrote another message to The_Consulting_Feeder, letting him know what his advice had wrought.
      Dear ‘Consulting Feeder’,
    I hope you’re happy. Because of you, my daughter’s put on a good eighty pounds, just this past year. She’s so out of shape she can hardly go up a flight of stairs without stopping to catch her breath, and she still shows no sign of breaking up with that boyfriend of hers. In fact, the bigger she gets, the more she depends on him. She never seems to do anything for herself anymore. She just eats and eats and lets him run her whole life for her.
    If this goes on, I doubt she’ll be able to get off that couch on her own in another few years.
    /A Disappointed Mother
      He answered a day later:
      Dear ‘Disappointed Mother’,
    Though I’m sorry to hear that, I stand by my original advice. If she won’t break it off, I’m afraid there’s not much you can do. If she won’t stop eating, there’s no way for you to make her, unless you’re willing to slap the food out of her hand whenever she goes to grab a bite.
    Much as you might not want to hear this, your best option is still to let this run its course. Perhaps, if he really is fattening her up, he’ll stop once she’s big enough for his taste. Or if, as you have indicated, he’s a less than scrupulous feeder, he might get bored and drop her for someone else.
    Either way, you have my sympathy, but I’m afraid there’s precious little you can do.
    The_Consulting_Feeder
        Much as I hated to admit it, I knew he was right. Allie was firmly in your clutches, yours to fatten as you pleased. I could think of no way to save her. And, to make matters worse, I was swiftly spiralling out of control as well–eating like a hog, and spending every moment of every day staring at those disgustingly obese women on the internet, with their flabby faces and bodies covered in repulsive rolls.
    With the way I was growing, I might soon end up one of them–my slight figure, that I’d worked so hard to maintain, swollen beyond all recognition, until it was barely even human anymore. Hell, perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, even? It might feel good to just give up already. To let go of my worries, my body, my life, and lose myself in a never-ending avalanche of food.
    As that thought kept flowing through my head, I recalled a line from The_Consulting_Feeder’s last message.
    Someone else, huh?
    Having turned the idea over in my head for a few days, I gave you a call. “We need to talk,” I said, before you’d gotten so much as a word out, “Come over as soon as you can, and leave Allie at home.”
        “I know what you’re doing to my daughter.” I said as soon as I had you in my kitchen.
    “Is that so,” The corner of your mouth rose in a subtle smile. “And what would that be, exactly?”
    “You’re trying to fatten her up, aren’t you? Like all those women on the internet. You’re one of those ‘feeders’, isn’t that so?”
    “So what if I am?”
    “Look,” my shoulders slumped and I drew a deep breath, “Leave her be, and you can have me instead.”
    You paused, looking me over with suspicion.
    “I’ll eat whatever you want and get as big as you like, just leave my daughter in peace.”
    Slowly, a gleam came into your eyes and your face spread in a smile. “Alright then, let’s see just how much you can eat.”
        From that day on, you started to fatten me like a prize pig, making me film myself as I ate whatever you told me to, until my stomach felt like it might burst at any second. At first, I struggled to keep up with your instructions. I hated having to stuff myself sick with all that rich food. I hated the weight with which it would sit in my stomach, how tired and sluggish it’d make me feel. Soon, however, all those starches, sugars, and carbs started to work their magic. Before I knew it, I was constantly craving more, until food was all I could think of.
    As my appetite grew, all my old inhibitions seemed to fade. I’d spend my days stroking myself and stuffing my fat face, running my hands along the plush rolls that you, my daughter’s beloved boyfriend, had put on my once slight frame.
    From time to time, when you could get away, you’d stop by to feed me yourself, and enjoy what you were doing to me. Much as I hated myself for it, I soon found myself eagerly anticipating your next visit. Over the last few years, as I’d worried myself sick about Allie, I’d let my own life slip away from me. Now, you were my only source of human contact, your feedings my only source of physical affection. Sure, you might be cruel sometimes, forcing me to eat until tears would roll down my ripening cheeks, but as long as I devoured every last crumb you put before me, you could be so very sweet.
        That Christmas, it was Allie’s turn to gawp at what the last twelve months had done to my once fine figure. By then, I’d put on a good eighty pounds—my tapered waist subsumed by a ring of soft flab, my firm behind turned to a shapeless, cellulite-riddled mass of billowing blubber. As the two of us leaned in to hug over our bulging bellies, I played my rapid expansion off, saying that: “perhaps the apple hadn’t fallen so far from the tree after all.” Neither of us ever touched on the subject up again. To be honest, I think Allie was secretly thrilled to see me blow up, after all the grief I’d given her about her weight.
    I, on the other hand, was far from pleased to see that she was still piling on the pounds, even if not at the same rate as before. When I took the matter up with you, however, you just smiled and shrugged.
    “I’ve done everything you asked. It’s not my fault your little girl’s a hopeless hog. What do you want me to do, exactly, slap the food out of her hand whenever she goes to grab a bite?”
    “Just remember our deal, okay?” I grumbled, knowing I’d no argument to offer against you.
    “Oh, don’t you worry,” you grinned, “Trust me, you don’t want to know what that girl would look like if I was still fattening her up.”
    I drew a sharp breath, but said nothing. Sure, Allie was still putting on weight, but at least she wouldn’t end up like the women on those websites, as I was sure you’d have been only too happy for her to.
        The next couple of weeks, Allie and I spent our days on the couch, stuffing ourselves with gluttonous abandon. For all that I hated to see my daughter eat like the hopeless hog you’d made of her, I felt closer to her than ever.
    After the two of you had headed back home, we even started talking on the phone again, from time to time. But our conversations soon petered out. You were like an invisible wall between us. I hated myself for what I was doing with you. But, since I knew I had no choice, my guilt only drove me further towards food.
        Weeks turned to months, and I gradually lost track of time. To me, one day was much like another. I never set foot outside anymore and hardly bothered to heave myself off the couch unless I absolutely had to. Every day, another couple of pounds settled on my flowering frame. My backside growing ever bulkier and broader, my dangling belly wobbling wildly and weighing heavily on me with my each and every awkward and exhausting step. As my old physique was buried under layer upon layer of sagging flesh, the lean muscles I’d once worked so hard to maintain continued to fade. Soon, just getting on my feet was enough to make my hips hurt and my knees ache.
    As my weight climbed, my mobility declined. A fact that you were only too eager to exploit. You started pushing me to eat more and more, making me stuff my swollen stomach until I could barely breathe. At those rare times when I refused, you’d shove a funnel down my throat and pour me full of milkshakes and melted ice cream. Then, when you’d filled me up to within an inch of my life, you’d rub my bloated belly while I sat groaning and gasping for breath.
        Throughout all this, I never saw much of Allie. The two of you didn’t come around for Christmas that year, or the next, leaving me to spend the holidays on my own–lying unmoving on my couch, a naked, food-smeared blob of a woman. From time to time, you’d show me pictures of my daughter, to prove you weren’t fattening her further. But, as I kept growing, you stopped bothering. By then, my appetite had all but taken me over. My belly was too vast for me to reach around, and so eating was all I could do to even try to sate all of my urges and desires.
        Alone in that house, with all that weight bearing down on me, I was an accident waiting to happen. One day, as I waddled downstairs in the morning, my ankle gave out, my rolls and folds quivering and quaking as I hit the floor. You came over as fast as you could and helped pull me up on my couch. As you propped my swollen leg on a soft pillow and bandaged my twisted ankle, I sat in a daze, absently munching my way through the platter of cookies you’d placed beside me. Much as I didn’t want to admit it, we both knew I would likely never walk again.
    Since I wasn’t safe on my own anymore, you decided that you and Allie would move in with me, to help you better care for the both of us. I can’t say I was exactly thrilled for my daughter to see me like this, but I knew I had no choice.
    When you arrived with Allie a few days later, I was in for a rude awakening. Watching you help my no longer ‘little’ girl out of your car and up on her feet, a manoeuvre she’d clearly have struggled to manage on her own, my stomach tightened and my chest turned cold. While I’d spent the last few years stuffing myself senseless, you’d clearly kept yourself busy at home.
    Since I last saw her, two years ago, Allie had more than doubled in size—her face, turned to a swollen sphere of soft flab, resting on a doughy display-cushion of a double chin; her vast frame, draped in a tent-like dress that hugged her every roll and fold, dominated by a dangling lard-apron of a belly that reached almost to her knees, shifting and slapping against her tremendous thighs as she walked.
    By the time you’d led her through the door and planted her on the couch beside me, her forehead was shiny with sweat and she was clearly struggling to catch her breath. From the way her eyes grew wide at the sight of me, I could tell she was as shocked as I was. Neither of us, however, said so much as a word about it.
        Once you’d helped me to my room and laid me on my bed, I exploded at you.
    “I thought we had a deal? You were supposed to leave Allie alone, not turn her into a goddamn whale!”
    You smiled and gave my vast belly a pat. “Feeling cranky, are we? Sounds like someone needs a little snack to cheer her up?”
    Before I could get another word out, you’d left the room, only to return moments later, with a gallon of ice cream in hand. Glancing from you to my cold treat, I slumped, sinking into a sea of my own flesh.
    “That’s my girl,” you grinned as I started to eat. “You just enjoy your food like the good little porker you are, and I’ll make sure you and your daughter are taken care of for as long as you live.”
    I said nothing. At this point, it was no use arguing with you. I was too heavy to take care of myself, and too hungry to ever stop eating. All that was left for me was to play your game and do whatever you wanted me to.
        Ever since, I’ve been stuck in this bed, my body a shifting, shapeless mass of spreading flesh. Though the two of us are under the same roof now, I never see much of Allie. You’ve got her squirreled away downstairs somewhere, trapped in a bed of her own, with more food than she could ever need.
    Sometimes I wonder if she ever figured out what you were doing to her. If so, she must already have been too far gone by the time she did, too much the helpless hog you always wanted her to be. Either way, she’s clearly happy to play along with your sick fantasy, to spend her days as a docile, dependent blob.
    While you make sure my daughter’s happy and full, I’m kept constantly stuffed, force-fed and fattened without mercy. Between feedings, I try to tell myself that I’m still doing all this for Allie’s sake. That I’m letting you take your dark urges out on me, so that she can live on in blissful ignorance. But deep down, I know it isn’t true.
    Perhaps, if I’d done something sooner, things would never have come to this. But now, it’s too late. I’m too far gone. All I want is to eat and grow, to lose myself in food and continue to ruin my body beyond repair.
  8. Wow
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from Tastic1 in Bluebell's 2019   
    A Blue Christmas Special
     
     
    December 2020***

    Twelve days until Christmas
     

    “Check it out now, I’m the funk soul brother. Right about now…” Bluebell sung to herself with her chunky pink headphones on, sprawled out on the sofa in her nightie. As she did, she brought her sausage roll to her mouth and took a huge chunk out of it. Flakes of pastry broke off and fell down, some on the carpet below but most left on her nightie top.
    “Blue…”
    “...I’m the funk soul brother…”
    “Blue… for fucks sake, you’re not even singing a Christmas song...”
    “...Check it out now, I’m the funk soul brother..”
    “BLUE!”
    “Oh… ummm… hey babe” Bluebell said, pulling her headphones off and looking at her girlfriend. “Was I singing too loud?”
    “No, I love your singing voice” Bosh smiled, leaning on the doorframe with her arms folded. She’d got her marigolds on from washing the breakfast pots.
    “I sound like a dying cat”
    “A cute dying cat though. Sort of like… mia-argh!” Bosh imitated a cat dying in a sing-song melody.
    “Fuck off” Bluebell laughed.
    “I just wanted to say you were in a good mood, that was all. And that I’m glad that you liked your early Christmas present” Bosh smiled as she backed slyly into the kitchen. Bluebell tilted her head in curiosity as she poured herself another glass of port. It was the season, after all.
    “They’re so good, Bosh. Thank you. The bass on these… like, really good”
    “Is that the technical term? Like, really good?” Bosh smiled.
    “I dunno. I’m not a music nerd. And anyway, why is me being in a good mood such a big deal? I’m always in a good mood” Bluebell smiled back, biting into her last sausage roll.
    “Well… you are these days. And… since you’ve been so cheery lately. I got you a treat…” Bosh said, slipping out of sight and into the kitchen.
    “Oh my god, is it another advent calendar?”
    “You’ve… how many of those do you need?” Bosh shouted from around the corner.
    “You can never have too many advent calendars. They’re what Christmas is about”
    “I’m pretty sure it’s more to do with that Jesus fella. And the chocolate would be so much cheaper if you just bought it separately” Bosh continued from out of Bluebell’s eyeline.
    “Yeah, but looking for and opening the little doors is half the fun” Bluebell giggled, pulling her glass of port to her lips.
    “You’re such a child”
    “No I’m not!” Bluebell huffed, folded her arms immaturely. Her face, a dorky grin, gave her away though. Bosh shook her head in mocking exasperation as she wended her way back into the room. “Anyway, why you acting so sus?”
    “I have no idea what ‘sus’ means but...  I got you this as a treat. But… this has to last you beyond just today” Bosh said, pulling the gift back like Bluebell was a puppy.
    “I will be a polygon of restraint”
    “Nice try… it’s paragon. Paragon of restr… oh fuck, whatever, here you go” Bosh handed Bluebell over her reward. And what a reward it was too. An eye-popping extravaganza wrapped up in wicker. It was a hamper large enough to carry a dog to the vets and, amongst the swamp of straw, was a spectacular array of chocolates and nibbles.
    “Oh shit, this looks epic” Bluebell smirked, fisting the last of sausage roll into her mouth clumsily as her eyes boggled before her. “Bring it here then, let me have a proper look at this bad boy”.
    “It was the raffle at work. This was the runner up prize, can you believe it? Jeff - with a J - he got a week in Cornwall. Lucky fucker” Bosh continued, but Bluebell wasn’t listening. She was pulling all the various treats out of the hamper and squealing with excitement at each one.
    “Fudge! I love fudge. And, oh my god, white chocolate’s my favourite!” she said, taking a bite and rolling her head back in ecstasy.
    “I thought dark chocolate was your favourite”
    “Yeah, that is too”

    “You… you can’t have two favourites”
    “Why not?”
    “Because there’s only three types of chocolate to begin with. Dark, white and milk…”
    “Oh my god, I love milk chocolate. Now, that one is my favourite!” she said, throwing some of the butterscotch fudge pieces in your mouth.
    “Try to make it last until Christmas” Bosh smiled, shaking her head in absolute despair.
    “But Christmas is twelve days away!” Bluebell said, using jest to veil the genuine grievance that she felt over the issue.
    “Just… please Blue. Show some actual restr… where’s the sherry gone?” Bosh sat herself down and picked up the empty bottle.
    “Oh relax, there’s some gin in the cupboard” Bluebell said, now putting some chocolate in her mouth with a guilty smile.
    “That’s not the point, Blue…”

    “It’s that lemon gin that you like”
    “Oh. I mean… it’s not really for midday drinking…”
    “Oh go on, it’s Christmas” Bluebell smiled at her, as she bit into her chocolate.
    “Fine. Fuck it, we can treat ourselves at Christmas, can’t we?” Bosh sighed, picking herself up off the sofa and walking to the cabinet where the booze was kept. “But you better not finish those chocolates before Christmas”
    The last line was delivered with a maternal point, but Bluebell just smiled as she put the last chocolate into her mouth.
     

    11 Days Until Christmas
     
    “Babe… when are you coming to bed?” Bosh said, walking back downstairs in a long nightie that went down to her knees. 
    “In a minute babe”
    “It’s 2:30 in the morning”
    “Yeah, I’ll be up in a minute. It’s just... I’m the imposter and I’m on a rampage”
    Bosh sighed heavily.
    “Blue, you know I don’t know what any of those words mean, right? Wait, what’s with all this mess?” Bosh sighed, seeing the table absolutely cluttered with rubbish.
    The table next to the sofa was overflowing with empty cans, empty wrappers and filled ashtrays. Stale smoke filled the air.
    “Oh don’t worry Bosh, I’ll clear it before I come up” Bluebell turned around and smiled at her girlfriend sincerely.
    “That’s not the problem, Blue. The problem is… have you ** all this?” she said grabbing a bin liner and began putting all the empty cans and bottles in there.
    “It’s not alcohol. It’s lying juice. It helps me lie… speaking of which, hang on a sec babe, I gotta…” and Bluebell switched the microphone on her headset back on. “Well, I saw red running South down the main corridor…”
    Bosh rolled her eyes again and picked the bag up and began walking to the door that lead to the back garden where they kept the recycling. Just as she got there, with the black binbag hooked over her shoulder like she was Santa Claus, she looked back over at her girlfriend, whose build was far closer to the jolly gift dispenser.
    Bosh sighed heavily, and rested her head on the doorframe. Maybe it was because she was grumpy, maybe it was because she was tired. But she suddenly felt the urge to cry. Head leaning on the doorframe, she could see her girlfriend. She looked huge, just massive, bulging out of her camisole and shorts. She was sitting at the desktop PC that she had bought herself as a housewarming gift out of Bosh’s wages. She didn’t have an accompanying deskchair, she had an armchair. She’d put a further layer of cushions to compensate for the comparative lack of height, and this also helped her with her width issue; namely that she was essentially wider than the arms of the armchair. Her elevated position meant that she could spill out over the sides rather than squish between them. Bosh never thought she’d see the day Blue outgrew a fucking armchair.
    But it was also how she sat there, ignorant of how Bosh felt, chatting away without a care in the world. Eating the food she’d promised she’d save until Christmas, drinking the booze they were supposed to share together, smoking the cigarettes she swore she was cutting down on. It didn’t seem malicious, just absent-minded indulging. But, on the other hand, it meant she never really stopped binge eating. Just a train of it, one carriage of bingeing connected to another, from morning until night. Bosh knew it was getting out of hand, but she simply didn’t have the words to tell her without pushing her away. So, instead, she watched her girlfriend eat herself away instead.
    With a heavy sigh, she opened the door to the back garden. It was throwing it down, rain heaving from the sky. Bosh was dressed in just a nightie and pink slippers. She picked up the bag, and swung it over her back and stepped out into the rain.
    With quick footsteps, she scurried across to the corner where they kept all the recycling. Normally, she would split the bottles from the plastics from the cardboards, but with the Heavens as open as they were, she elected just to just head straight to the bin for household waste. She got there, the skies dampening her fluffy slippers, and began to swing the back from over her shoulders when the bag ripped and everything fell onto the grass.
    Bosh kicked the trash in frustration, before just sitting on the wet, muddy grass, and began to cry.
    +
    It took Bluebell 20 minutes for her to realise that her girlfriend was still out there. First, she won on her PC game, avoiding suspicion from her crewmates and slicing her way to victory. Then she had a celebratory gin and tonic, and finished off her Ben & Jerry’s Gimme S’more pint tub. And then she went into the lobby for another game. And then she realised her girlfriend hadn’t come back in.
    Slowly, Bluebell pulled herself up, pushing the crumbs onto the floor, and waddled towards the back door. Out there, in the heart of the downpour, was her girlfriend, just sitting there and sobbing.
    Bluebell walked into the kitchen, took a deep swig of the opened London’s Dry Gin from the fridge, along with a handful of biscuits from the cupboard, for strength. Then she grabbed her umbrella, and wandered outside.
    Slowly, she walked up to her girlfriend and sat down next to her.
    “Hey” Blue said understatedly.
    “You came?”
    “I came. I’m wet. All of the innuendos” Bluebell smiled, putting the last biscuit in her mouth. Bosh didn’t laugh. “So, what’s up?”
    “The bag broke”
    “Ahh, shit. I mean, it’s not the end of the world though…”
    “This will be our first Christmas together, living together. And it’s going shit” Bosh added, and Bluebell’s shoulders deflated.
    “Don’t… don’t say that…” Bluebell said, a little more weakly.
    “You finished that hamper, didn’t you? The one I got for the twelve days of Christmas?” Bosh said. No accusation in her voice, just resignation.
    “I mean… I mean…”
    “Just say it” Bosh said, a little sharper.
    “Yeah. But, if it helps, it was really good. The dark chocolate was my…”
    “It doesn’t help”
    “Look, Bosh. Leave the rubbish. Come in. You’ll catch something, sitting out here in this weather…”
    “Yeah, and you wouldn’t want me to have to see a doctor, would you?” Bosh hissed, before turning away.
    “What does that mean?”
    “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta go up, I’ve got work in the morning…”
    Bosh slowly pulled herself up to her feet, wiping her tears as she did.
    “Hey, hold up… give me a hand up, would you? It’s a long way down and…”
    But Bosh was already walking off. From behind, Blue could see the garden stain where she’d been sitting in the soft muddy grass.bmi. The nightie itself was soaked through, and clinging onto her cold, pale skin. Blue knew that Bosh was gaining weight again, but from her heavier perspective, the numbers never seemed that big. 164lbs was a lot for Bosh, but it was a world away from Blue. However, seeing her so unceremoniously presented, Blue understood why Bosh considered those numbers to be big. The curves that her nightie hugged looked uncomfortable on her. Slip-slender Bosh looked clunky in her larger size and more ungainly, stodgier. Like comparing a butcher’s sausage to her formerly chipolata build. Blue couldn’t really judge. But she did. Silently.
    “Oii, you’re gonna need a shower before you go to bed. And probably a warm up by the radiator. So, if you give me a sec while I get up… unaided because I was ignored… then maybe you should stay up. Have some hot chocolate instead? Or the Glenmorangie?”
    Bosh stopped at the door again. The Glenmorangie was a special treat drink, reserved for when the girls were feeling low.
    “It’s 2:30 Blue, I have work tomorrow”
    “Exactly, it’s 2:30. By the time you’ve showered, dried, warmed up, it’ll be after 3. Once you’ve stopped silently sulking…”
    “I’m not silently sulking!” Bosh snapped.
    “Yeah… sounds like it. Anyway, by the time you’ve calmed down enough to sleep, it’ll be time to get up”
    Bosh stayed silent at this, and Blue continued talking.
    “So… instead… how about the two of us order some pizza, snuggle up a little with that Glemorangie, and I show you how to play Among Us”
    “Is that the stupid game you’ve been playing?”
    “It’s not stupid, as I’ll show you. It’s a game of deceit, and it’s great fun”
    “Lying is fun?” Bosh scowled, but Bluebell couldn’t really see her facial expression in the dark.
    “Yes, it is. Now come on Bosh. It’s Christmas after all! Now, come over here and help your girlfriend off her arse. I’m not as sober as I thought I was when I sat down and now I’m all muddy” Blue put her hands in the air to be grabbed, and her girlfriend glumly shuffled over to the deed.
    10 Days until Christmas

    Bluebell was doing what Bluebell did best. Grumbling about Bosh’s alarm going off. She’d buried her head under her pillow in response.
    Bosh was doing what Bosh did best. Pretending she wasn’t hungover. It had been 29 hours since she sat down in the garden and cried, and hadn’t spent much of the intervening time without the warm fuzzy comfort of alcohol to heat her throat and muddle her thinking. But, unlike Bluebell, Bosh could power through it.
    “Can’t you pull another sickie? When you were younger, you’d skive of uni all the time. Like that time when we went down to the bridge and threw sandwiches at the trains? Waste of good sandwiches… come to think of it”
    Bosh sighed and looked over at her girlfriend, still smothered in pillow, despite the alarm now off.
    “Blue, that was over two years ago now. We’re not kids any more. This is my job, that’s different to a lecture on Neo-Classicism from a Feminist Perspective”
    “Is that a real subject? That sounds more boring than death”
    “Yeah, it’s a real subject and yeah, it was more boring than death. Which is why I skived to throw sandwiches at trains with you”
    “But isn’t what you do now just as boring? Like, computers and words and shit?”
    “Oh my god, Bluebell! Do you really not know what I do for my job?”
    “Yeah. Course”
    Bosh just folded her arms and stared at her.
    “Umm… do you update the company’s Facebook status?”
    Bosh threw a pillow at her girlfriend, who had only just come out from under her own.
    “I’ll take that as a no?”
    “Come on, if you get up, I’ll order us breakfast”
     

    +
     

    Bluebell and Bosh were sitting on the sofa, leaning over while they ate their morning pizza.
    “So, what are your plans today?” Bosh said, with a mouthful of margherita. “And don’t say that fucking game again”
    “You liked that game yesterday? I mean, you were constantly sus, even when you weren’t the imposter, but you had fun” Bluebell argued with a smile.
    “Yeah, yeah, it was less dorky that I thought. I guess. But still… try not to spend the whole day and the whole evening and the whole night playing that game again” Bosh looked at her girlfriend wryly.
    “Fine. I’ll do something else”
    “Like, put away the rubbish that’s outside?”
    “I was thinking about maybe reading a book on Classicism and Feminism” Blue smirked.
    “Neo-classi… oh, whatever. Piss-taker, play your stupid game then. But only after you’ve sorted out the trash outside” Bosh conceded, and Blue smiled victoriously.
    Bosh shook her head, realising that Blue had got what she wanted, as she always did. Unfortunately, shaking her head caused some of the pizza to break off in her mouth and fall down her top, causing her to jump up in frustration.
    “Bollocks! Mothershitting bollocks!” Bosh exclaimed reactively.
    “Hey, relax! You’ve got plenty more blouses”
    “It’s a shirt, not a blouse Blue. And… you’re right. I guess. It’s just.. I like this top” Bosh grumbled. It was pin-stripe with blue lines racing down on a white background.
    “I must admit, I like it. Especially the red splodge on it…”
    “You are such an arsehole, Blue” Bosh grinned.
    “It’s very Classicism”
    “It’s… the word’s neo-clas… and it isn’t even… you are such a philistine, Blue”
    “It’s pronounced Palestine” 
    “No, it’s pronounced shut the fuck up, you cheeky bitch” Bosh said with exasperation but also amusement. “I’m gonna go up and grab another top. You? Don’t touch my pizza!”
    “I won’t” Blue said, already leaning over to grab a slice.
    “Seriously, Blue. No pizza, or I’ll throw you computer out the fucking window like it’s the fucking imposter” Bosh pointed her finger, but her face was still all smiles.
    “Fiiiine, I’ll leave your pizza alone. But I’ll have to have my other one then”
    “I thought you were saving that for lunch?”
    “I was. Until my mean girlfriend tempted me with her pizza and then said I couldn’t have any. So, in a way, it’s actually your fault” Bluebell said, but her girlfriend was already rushing upstairs. She grabbed a slice of her girlfriend’s pizza and then reached for her second box.
     
    +
     

    Bosh walked down the stairs with a stern look on her face, and Blue’s face burst into laughter.
    “It’s the only other shirt I have, and it doesn’t fucking fit” Bosh grumbled as she walked into the main room where Bluebell was sat, and walked in front so Bluebell could see clearly.
    “You’ve had a good Christmas” Bluebell shrugged, but it clearly amused her.
    The top was one that Bosh hadn’t worn since they moved up, and it was fitted accordingly. An orange and white striped top that rose up with every exhale of breath. It’s tightness meant the outward bulge of her stomach was a defining shape, and protruded as far as her chest.
    “I’m fat”
    “Healthy”
    “Unhealthy”
    “Oh relax Bosh, it’s Christmastime. If you’re insecure, why don’t you wear that jacket of yours? I mean, it is winter” Bluebell said, biting into another slice of her pizza.
    “Because that doesn’t fit either” Bosh grumbled, sitting on the sofa grumpily. As she did, her top rode up again and she felt the cold immediately, pulling it straight back down instinctively.
    “You could pull another sickie? You’ve established the precedent?”
    “I’ve played that card already” Bosh folded her arms again in a sulk, only for that also to cause her top to ride up, causing her face to redden in frustration.
    “Well, then fuck it. I mean, that’s the Bosh way, isn’t it? Fuck it and fuck them. Go in and not give a fuck. I mean, what are they gonna do, judge you? Oooo, scary! You’re motherfucking Bosh, you don’t care what the 2 Geoffs think” Bluebell asked, starting her final slice.
    “Yeah” Bosh nodded, coming around to the idea. “I am motherfucking Bosh. You’re right. I don’t care. It’s a bit tight? Well, it’s Christmas, if you haven’t over-indulged, have you really done Christmas right?”
    “That’s my kinda thinking”
    “Yeah, that’s not actually that reassuring” Bosh smiled.
    “Speaking of which, you decided you don’t fancy those last three slices? I mean, that top’s looking preeeetty tight”
    “Fuck off, I’ll eat them on the way. After all, like you said, it’s Christmastime” Bosh said, winking as she grabbed the slices.
    “Ouch, hoisted by my own… what’s the phrase?”
    “Petard”
    “You can’t people that any more, and I was only asking what the phrase was” Bluebell asked, and Bosh looked at her, trying to work out if she was joking or otherwise. Either way, she grabbed the box with the remaining three slices and walked out the door, tugging her shirt down as she did. Bluebell snickered to herself as she did.
    And as soon as the door closed, Bluebell reached over for her phone.
    “Coast is clear, you can come on over”
     

    +
     

    “So what appears to be the problem, Ms. Thomas?” the doctor said in a nurse’s uniform.
    “Wait… are you supposed to be a doctor or a nurse?”
    “Yes”
    Dr Callista Karagounis strode in through the door and into the house, with Bluebell walking backwards as she did. Bluebell let out a little gulp.
    “Soooo… where does it hurt?”
    “Everywhere, Dr Nurse” Bluebell said, her eyes widened as she backtracked further and further. “I think I might have to take my clothes off for you to inspect thoroughly”.
    “Very well, Ms. Thomas” the doctor said, a smirk on her lips. “And remember… no biting”
     

    +
     

    Bluebell and Callista were leaning against one another on the sofa, each with a cigarette burning.
    “So… that was fun” Callista smiled, running her hand through Bluebell’s hair.
    “Yeah, we definitely put the ‘ho’ into ‘ho ho ho, Merry Christmas’” Bluebell smiled, stubbing her cigarette out and reaching over for her vodka and coke.
    The two girls sat kinda awkwardly at this point, just leaning against one another. Eventually, Bluebell interrupted.
    “So… how was work?”
    “Do you care?”
    “Not really, but I feel it’s only polite to ask” and Callista could feel Bluebell smile against her shoulder.
    “Well, in that case, it was fine” Callista laughed. “How’s… your healthier habits going?”
    “On pause for the Christmas period”
    “And when did this pause for the Christmas period start?”
    “The day before the healthy eating did” and again, the tell-tale feeling of a smirk on Bluebell’s face, the muscles of her jaw felt against Callista’s shoulder.
    “Do you want me to nag or not?”
    “Umm… can we hold fire on the actual doctor/patient stuff? Until the New Year. I promise I’ll be good in the New Year” Bluebell said, putting her empty glass down and lighting another cigarette.
    “Which new year?” Callista joked and, though the doctor couldn’t feel it this time, Bluebell smiled.
    “The one in a couple of weeks. I can be good. I just need the right incentive” Bluebell said, nuzzling into her girlfriend.
    “But… let me guess… you fancy being bad in the meantime? What you thinking, an hour of doctor and patient role-playing and then lunch?”
    “Other way round, but yeah, sounds good” Bluebell kissed her girlfriend.
    “Other way… you can’t honestly be hungry? It’s 11am and you said you had half a pizza for breakfast?” Callista said.
    “No nagging until new year, remember? Look, the chip shop’s open, go grab us the usual and then we can worry about my health in the fun way. I just need an outlet for biting since you won’t let me sink my teeth into you” Bluebell said, sitting up and looking at her girlfriend.
    “I… I’m sorry about the no hickeys, no biting, no bruising rule. But I’m worried Wallace will find out. How are you doing hiding it from yours?” Callista asked, putting her top on.
    “I’m a master liar” Bluebell smiled smugly. “Although… the night before last, Bosh said something strange”.
    Callista looked sharply. “What did she say?”
    “I can’t remember. I was pretty well liquidated…”
    “That’s not what liquidated means”
    “...At that point. I just remember thinking she was suspicious. Or knew. But I don’t remember what she said that made me think that. Probably just ** paranoia, cos she’s acted totally normal since then”
    “Nicer than normal”
    “I mean, yeah, but it’s Christmas…”
    “Hmmm” Callista said knowingly.
    “No. No. Don’t ‘hmmmm’ that. Being nice doesn’t mean she suspects” Bluebell argued with slight concern.
    “Well, you’re the master liar. If you were being extra nice, what would it mean?” Callista said, sitting back down on the arm of the sofa.
    “Well… I’m the master liar, so I wouldn’t change my behaviour at all. But… when I’m feeling guilty about… us… one of the things I have to catch myself doing is being too nice. I don’t want to make her suspicious by being extra nice. Like the thing about the cheating husband who buys his wife gifts. If I dote on her, she’d know something was up. But I don’t do that, cos I’m a master liar” Bluebell explained.
    “Keep thinking… you’re about to reach an epiphany…”
    “So… if Bosh is being nicer than normal… you think she’s cheating on me?” Bluebell’s eyes raged.
    “Bingo” Callista said. “I’d know, I’ve been the cheating husband too. Only, I didn’t buy him things, I just stopped griping about him going out with the lads. Started encouraging it. It stopped me feeling guilty and it got him out of the house so I could… well, y’know the rest”.
    “Bosh is cheating?” Bluebell’s bottom lip suddenly started twitching.
    “Hey, don’t get upset. I mean, you are too” Callista sympathised.
    “Yeah, I know. It’s hypocritical. But… why does the thought really hurt then? I’m cheating on her and feel fine, so why am I insulted when she cheats on me?”
    “Because all people are hypocrites. Look, she might not be cheating…”
    “She spends a lot of time and puts a lot of effort into keeping on the good side of the two Geoffs”
    “She works with two people called Geoff?”
    “Different spellings. And she got very upset about not looking her best this morning” Bluebell’s eyes drifted off into the middle-distance, dancing on the far wall.
    “Maybe… maybe… you should leave her then. I mean, it’s my name on the house deeds, so I can probably kick Wallace out. You could live with me. And… I know that’s ridiculous and too fast but…”
    Bluebell’s head couldn’t keep up with the thoughts. Far from the stereotype that time slows down in times of shock and trauma, time actually speeds up. And it was running away from her faster than her brain could compute. Was that why Bosh was crying in the garden the night before last? Was Bosh no longer in love with her? And did Bluebell really have any right to begrudge that, given what she was up to?
    “Can I think… about it? I… I’m not sure. I’m not sure I want to find out” Bluebell said, her voice suddenly feeling very dry and croaky. She poured herself a strong vodka and coke and downed it.
    “Hey, look. I’ll go get that fish and chip dinner, you just… I’ll be back in 5” Callista said, and left Bluebell to cogitate.
     

    9 Days Until Christmas
     

    “To be fair, you deserve that headache” Bosh said, as Bluebell grumbled and fumbled for aspirin.
    “Nobody deserves this headache”
    “I… I haven’t seen you that ** in a long time, Blue. If ever. I tried to ask you what prompted it, but you weren’t really making much sense”
    Bluebell closed her eyes slowly. Every blink of them hurt.
    “I dunno, Bosh. I dunno” Bluebell said, barely audibly.
    “Well, you can have both of the pizzas for breakfast and I won’t judge” Bosh smiled, and Bluebell strained a grateful smile as she sat wrapped in her duvet downstairs on the sofa. Bosh leant in and bit into her pizza.
    “You’re being very nice” Bluebell noticed.
    “Of course. I’m always nice” Bosh smiled. “Oh, I heard about Keir Starmer on the radio. Letting that woman be racist. Of course, I don’t think it’s really his fault she was racist, and he did argue with her, but I know that’s the sort of thing you have opinions about”.
    “Yeah, he’s a prick. Wait, why did you follow a politics story?”
    “Oh, I didn’t. Jeff - with a J - is a Tory activist. So he was criticising the Labour man…”
    “Jeff…” Bluebell said suspiciously.
    “But then Geoff - with a G - considers himself a floating voter and said that was hypocritical given where Boris had steered the party, and that the Labour man did object and the only issue was that he maybe argued too politely”
    “Geoff…” Bluebell said suspiciously.
    “Fuck, the hangover’s left you monosyllabic, hasn’t it? Well, I’m gonna eat these last few slices in the car on the way to work. You take care of yourself. And have a cheat day. I know every day’s a cheat day for you, but you look like you need it today. You look rough” Bosh said, kissing her on the forehead.
    “Rough…”
    “Yeah, you’re still fucked. I’m gonna love ya and leave ya, and I’ll see you when I get back. And, when the hangover passes, sort out the fucking trash in the garden. You promised, don’t make yourself a liar…”
    “Liar…”
    And Bluebell just cuddled up on the sofa and fell back asleep.
     
    8 Days Until Christmas
     

    “The trash is still out there, in the garden” Bosh said, sharply, walking into the house with her excessively snug jacket from work still on.
    “Yeah, but… I’m all the way over here” Bluebell pleaded, sitting on her armchair at the computer as ever.
    “Come on Blue, yesterday was a write-off, because of the hang-over. But what’s your excuse today?”
    “I was still hungover today. It was my first ever two-day hangover” Bluebell moaned, finishing her JD and coke and then lighting a cigarette.
    “No, today’s hangover was due to last night’s drinking Blue. It’s a separate hangover” Bosh said sharply, walking over to the drinks cabinet and pouring herself a stiff drink.
    “Top us up, while you’re at it babe” Blue asked.
    “Babe? You never call me babe. And fine, but I do so under objection. You look like shit, Blue. Like, you look awful”
    “Yeah, neither of my parents were lookers”
    “No… I don’t mean you’re not an attractive person…”
    “Don’t you?” Bluebell glanced at her girlfriend.
    “No. I mean… you need to look after yourself. You look…”
    “Awful. I know. I heard you the first time” Bluebell said bitterly.
    “No, I…” Bosh put her hand on her head when she saw the boxes. “You had pizza for lunch? As well as breakfast?”
    “You didn’t mind yesterday when I did it”
    “You weren’t actually in the land of the living yesterday. You don’t have that excuse today”
    “I need an excuse to eat pizza?”
    “You… are being… challenging, Blue. I’m tired and I come home and find all this shit everywhere and you’re sat at that fucking computer playing that fucking game and you’re so pale they’d let you in an Evanescence concert. And here’s your cigarettes by the way. Try to make these 200 last more than three days”
    Bosh threw the back on the desk next to the armchair and walked into the kitchen. Blue just stared defiantly at the screen.
    “And Blue, when was the last time you fucking showered?”
    “Dunno… yesterday”
    “You weren’t physically capable of showering yesterday”
    “So the day before then. Which… I’ll admit, isn’t ideal. But I thought we agreed you’d stop nagging me until the new year”
    “We never agreed that” Bosh said, looking at her girlfriend in confusion.
    “No? Maybe it just felt like it. We should agree on that. An Armistice until the 1st” Bluebell said, finishing her drink.
    “Fine. No nagging until the New Year” Bosh agreed reluctantly. “If you sort out the trash outside”.
    “I’ll do it tomorrow” Bluebell said, not looking away from her screen. 
    “Fine then” Bosh grumped, sitting on the sofa and switching on the TV. “But I’m ordering pizza for tea cos I’m fucking exhausted, and if that doesn’t suit you, then maybe you shouldn’t have had those pizzas for lunch”.
    “No, I’m fine with pizzas. And I’ll have a garlic bread with my two” Bluebell said spitefully.
     
    7 Days Until Christmas
     
    “Help me, Jason. You’re my Jiminy Cricket, you know what I should do” Bluebell said, staring at her phone as she Facetimed her best friend.
    “Blue… if I’m your Jiminy Cricket, then you are French Connection UK-ed”
    “What?”
    “FCUKed, Blue. You are FCUKed. If I, harlot extraordinaire, I am your moral compass in the face of moral turpitude and sexual liaisons, then you are as fucked as the long list of lovers that I currently have on the go” Jason told her, while switching his smoothie maker on.
    “Firstly, you only pretend to be a whore for the street cred. And second, what are you making in that smoothie maker?”
    “Have a guess?”
    “Chocolate shake?”
    “Smoothie, Blue. I’m making a smoothie in the smoothie maker. Like, the etymology is a clue. And also, I am not a whore, I’m a slut. But if I wanted to get paid, I could. Cassius would pay through the nose. Or, indeed, any other orifice”
    “Isn’t Cassius the straight guy from my leaving do?”
    “Yeah, but I’ve cured him of his straightness. What people don’t realise is that Gay Conversion Therapy is therapy that makes you gay. And I, harlot extraordianire, am a one-man Gay Conversion Therapy centre” Jason puffed his chest out with pride, and Bluebell just laughed
    “So, what’s the dilemma then, Pinocchio? And I’ll give you my wisest counsel”
    “Well… Bosh makes no sense. One day she’s spoiling me with gifts and saying I’m allowed to binge, other times she’s being grumpy for me eating pizza and not doing housework”
    “So you think she’s cheating on you?”
    “What? Why does everybody say that?”
    “Who else said that?”
    “So, Doc… Callista, whatever you want to call her. She said… well, she gave me the space to reach the conclusion that she might be cheating” Bluebell pondered.
    “Suspicious…”
    “Right? And then she asked me to move in with her. Kick out her husband and everything”
    “Fuck. So both of your girlfriends are acting sus?”
    “And I’m the one acting normal, even though I’m the one doing the backstabbing” Bluebell said.
    “Just like you do in every game of Among Us” Jason noted.
    “So… what’s your advice?”
    “Well, why are you with Bosh?”
    “I dunno… habit? Plus… promise not to judge me?”
    “Nope”
    “Alright, then promise not to verbalise those judgements…”
    “Oh, okay. That I can do. I’ll just silently do it, and maybe raise a quizzical eyebrow” Jason giggled.
    “Fine. Eyebrows, I can cope with. So… I do enjoy sabotaging her diet” Bluebell said, her voice trailing off as the sentence progressed.
    “And you’re not letting me verbalise a response to THAT?!?!?!” Jason said, with pent up frustration.
    “No”
    “Oh, please!!! I have so many judgements and I didn’t realise I was agreeing to not judging as juicy as that”
    Bluebell paused, knocking back the last of her perry cider and then pushing in some more baklava into her mouth. Eventually, she relented, and let him vent.
    “Oh, thank God Blue. Cos I have views. Firstly - oh my god. That’s my first take. Second take - oh my god, again. It’s the same as the first take, I know, but I just can’t get over how Oh My God it is. Third take - you devious bitch, I love it. When did Bluebell become so Machiavellian?”
    “Ugghh, why does everyone I know use words that are impossible to understand? What, Jase, was that last word and where are people being taught these terms that I swear are not English? Like, that’s one of them German stupid long words that means something like ‘the feeling you get when a tooth falls out and it reminds you of a long-lost child’, isn’t it?” Bluebell complained, while chewing more baklava.
    “I mean, that is soooo manipulative and evil. Bluebell, lovely cutey-pie Bluebell, is a stone-cold sabotaging bitch. Oh, that breathes love and fire into my heart, I love it so much” Jason giddied himself.
    “Yeah, it’s pretty shitty of me, I admit. But… I’m just pissed off with her. Not for the cheating, I’ve been doing it longer than that. No, just… I dunno. Like, I hate it when she’s so grumpy about my weight. That’s one thing. Another thing, when she pretends it doesn’t bother her, that’s even worse”
    “Soooo, when she does or doesn’t acknowledge your weight?”
    “Don’t say it like that. You make me sound contrary. It’s different when you experience it first-hand”
    “So why are you even with her then?” Jason asked, and Bluebell went to answer when she realised she didn’t know the answer.
    “Not sure”
    “I mean, you have a pretty good Plan B. She’s hot… she’s a doctor… she’s also a hot doctor. I mean, they’re the big three things you look for in a partner”
    “True…”
    “So, what’s your problem?”
    “She’s… like, I think there’s something wrong with her. She’s been a bit weird about me moving in, a bit over-keen. And it’s weird how she took up smoking within one day of meeting me. Like, why is she trying so hard?”
    “Cos she likes you?”
    “Yeah, but why?”
    “Ah” Jason said, and raising his eyebrows in a quizzical manner.
    “I didn’t mean it like that…”
    “Oh, didn’t you? You are suspicious of her because she likes you, aren’t you?”
    “No”
    “Blue, babes, don’t lie to your BFF-forever. We pinky-promised, remember?”
    “Fine. Yes, Jason, I’m suspicious because a hot 40-something year old doctor with her own house and a husband that she’s been for ages would risk her career and her marriage for some twenty-something girl who has tripled in weight in less than two years. Why wouldn’t I be?”
    “Oh girl, that’s so sad! This is a self-loathing thing, isn’t it? You’re self-loathing again, aren’t you?”
    “No” Bluebell huffed, necking her next cider.
    “That’s why you’re sabotaging Bosh’s diet. Because you don’t feel worthy of either of them, do you? Is this a weight thing?”
    “No. Yes. Maybe. Look, I’m… they’re both really good-looking. Bosh maybe less so now she has a **-belly, but still a catch. And Callista is amazing. Like, what a woman. So why the fuck would they get with some chain-smoking, binge-drinking unemployed lard-arse with zero prospects and supports a party run by Keir fucking Starmer” she ranted.
    “I mean, I like him. Better than the anti-Semite before him”
    “Oh, don’t you fucking start!” Bluebell said, biting a doughnut angrily.
    “Maybe the issue isn’t Bosh and it isn’t Doc…”
    “It’s me? Ya think?”
    “No, I think… you love both of them. But you can’t love them properly until you love yourself” Jason said sympathetically.
    “Which cracker was that nugget of advice found in?” Bluebell snarked, and Jason laughed.
    “No, crackers contain jokes, Blue. You’re thinking of Chinese fortune cookies. Anyway, I’m just saying, how can you see them clearly, to know who you want to be with… if you can’t even see yourself clearly? Because, you are amazing Bluebell, and everyone who meets you always comes away thinking it. You are pretty and witty and bright…”
    “Are you quoting West Side Story at me?”
    “Yeah, but they had a point. Those Sharks. Or Jets. Or whichever one it was… was John Travolta in that movie? I feel like he was”
    “Either way, you’re a 300lb woman and everyone drops at your feet because you’re adorable. You’re kind and sharp and so bloody affection-inducing” Jason smiled sympathetically as Bluebell finished her doughnut.
    “You know, I’m well over 300 now”
    “I must admit, I thought your face was looking a bit…”
    “A bit what, Jason?”
    “Fluffy?”
    “I have a fluffy face?”
    “Like, I can’t see all of it on my phone. Which is new?”
    “My face is so fat, you can’t see all of it on your phone”
    “Well… it is in portrait. It’s fine when I turn it to landscape”
    “I fucking well hope so! Imagine having a face too wide for landscape!” Bluebell giggled, despite herself.
    “So… what’s the damage? How much Bluebell is there, these days?”
    “I don’t know”
    “Oh, come on, don’t be coy Blue. I know you don’t like admitting it to Callista or Bosh, but you can always tell Jason” he reassured.
    “No… I literally don’t know. They scales only go up to 400”
    “Oh”
    “Yeah, two weeks ago, I got a reading of 408 and it didn’t sound good then. But I’ve had nothing since but broken sounding clunking noises” Bluebell said, before pausing. Deeply. “Well? Come on, say something…”
    “I mean, it’s just a number, isn’t it? You’re only as heavy as you feel” Jason tried to downplay it.
    “I feel very fucking heavy. I’m fat, Jase. Like, embarrassingly fat” Bluebell said, sniffling a little.
    “400 isn’t… I mean, there’s no exact figure. And you’re quite tall…”
    “I’m a short-arse, Jase. Just a fat short-arse”
    “Fine. It’s a big number. You’re a big girl. Whoopdy-fuck”
    “It’s… affecting my health. Don’t… whatever you do, don’t tell anyone this. Not my parents, nobody. But, sometimes my skin feels… weird. Sensitive, I dunno what the word for it is. And I get out of breath, really easy. Like, I filled up the bin with the rubbish that had fallen out - broken bin bag, don’t ask - and I was sweating by the end of it. And panting. From just leaning over and picking stuff up. It’s… a bit scary. But don’t tell anyone. Please”
    Jason went quiet for a second, before answering.
    “Fine. But speak to Callista. She’s a bloody doctor”
    “Okay. I’ll… speak to her. In the new year. I’m… gonna have a nice Christmas, worry about it later”
    “Babes, I think you’re already worrying about it. And your solution to worrying - eating, drinking, smoking - is also the thing you’re worrying about. You see that, right?”
    “Stop being such a shrink, Jase. After Christmas. I’ll sort it in the New Year”
    “Fine. But… make sure you… y’know… don’t…”
    “Don’t what?”
    “Drink or eat yourself into the hospital before then” Jason said with concern.
    “Fuck you Jason!” Bluebell burst, switching gears in fury. Without a moment's hesitation, she switched the call off and threw her phone away. She could feel her hand shake with fury and shock at the suggestion. Between tears, she poured herself another drink.
     
    6 Days Until Christmas
     
    “I’m serious, Bosh. You’ve got no more work worries until after the new year now. It’s the weekend, and it’s holiday season. Let’s have some fun” Bluebell pleaded, dipping her spoon into her salted caramel ice cream. They were lying in bed.
    “When you say fun…?”
    “Just cut loose. Go all out. Leave nothing behind. Until the New Year” Blue was leaning back in the bed while Bosh was sitting up.
    “I still don’t understand…”
    “Eat, drink, be merry, that sort of thing…”
    “I do. I mean, I am. I…” Bosh said. “Is this your way of saying you want me to open the port?”
    “I was thinking tequila”
    “Mockingbird?”
    “What?”
    “Tequila Mockingbird? To Kill A Mockingbird? It’s… a book”
    “I know it’s a book Bosh. I just didn’t realise you did Dad jokes now” Bluebell smirked, her spoon scraping the bottom of the ice cream tub.
    “You’ve finished that already?”
    “This is what I mean. We should just cut loose. Go for it. Pedal to the metal”
    “Don’t say ‘pedal to the metal’, Blue?”
    “Why, do the kids not say that any more? Is… is it inappropriate in some way? Climate denialist or…” Bluebell seemed genuinely confused as she put the empty carton on the bedside stand.
    “No. It’s just… you… you remember what I was like when I was pedal to the metal. In the old days. We don’t… I don’t want that any more” Bosh explained, flinching at the thought.
    “But that’s my point. It’s Christmas. You don’t have to be Gizmo Bosh for 11 more days. The Bosh Gremlins can come out and play”
    “I’m… I don’t like my gremlins, Blue. I worry about my drinking recently as it is and…”
    “Please Bosh. For me. It would make me happy” Bluebell smiled.
    “It would make you happy?”
    “Yes. It would mean the world”
    “Okay. Fuck. Pedal to the metal, it is. But you’re gonna struggle to keep up, Blue. I’m warning you. I’ll just grab the tequila…”
    “Mockingbird?”
    “Y’know, Tequila Mockingbird sounds like a Bond girl” Bosh joked as she walked out the bedroom to go downstairs and grab the tequila, and Blue laughed.
    “And grab us another tub of ice cream Bosh!” Bluebell shouted from the bed. “Let’s go all out!”
    ???? Days Until Christmas
    The first thing Blue could feel was the cold of the rain hitting her face, droplets bouncing off her chubby cheeks, and rolling down her chin and onto the grass below. It was this chilled damp that caused Bluebell’s heavy eyelids to strain open.
    “Oh fuck”
    She couldn’t stand up. Of that much, she was certain. No, her body simply didn’t have the strength. Instead, she crawled to the back door, and used the door handle to pull herself up. On her feet, she leant against the wall and caught her breath. Her head felt pan-fried.
    Legs wobbly, she walked into the house, well aware of the squelching of mud underfoot. Continuing to lean against the wall for balance, she dragged mud through along the wall and carpet as the world continued to spin before her. Eventually, she stumbled onto the sofa and faceplanted herself in its cushions with relief. And then she fell back asleep again
     
    +
     

    Bluebell’s eyes opened again, and focused on the fuzzy outline of a woman, scrubbing the house clean.
    “Bosh?” she croaked.
    The woman carried on working, putting her marigolded hands back into the bucket of soapy water, and then scrubbing the walls until they were the original eggshell white.
    “Bosh? Is that you?”
    “Now, who do you think it is?”
    “I dunno. Where am I? Am I dead?” Blue slurred. Bosh chuckled a little at that, but then her face stiffened.
    “You’re on the sofa, and you’re not dead yet” Bosh smiled facilely.
    “Good. I don’t know if Pizza Hut deliver to Hell'' Bluebell mumbled, trying to prise her own eyes open, but they kept falling shut.
    “Come on, you mucky pup. Up you get, off your fat arse Blue. I need to put the cushion covers in the wash, since you decided to cake them in mud. Might wanna have a shower and put that dress in the wash too”
    The dress in question was a denim dress, not a million miles from what Bluebell used to where, back in the good old days when her head didn’t feel like it was about to erupt. It had pockets and thin straps and had looked good on her a week ago when she first tried it on. She looked less good now, but that was probably the mud.
    “...Kay” Bluebell muttered, sitting up and fiddling with her straps to take it off.
    “I like you in that dress. You look good” Bosh said, quietly.
    “Bit tight”
    “It wasn’t when I bought it” Bosh added, sharply.
    “Can you give me a hand?” Bluebell said, fairly pathetically. She wasn’t sitting particularly straight, gently wobbling on the spot.
    “Come here you pisshead. Now, put your arms up and I’ll pull it off”
    And Bosh pulled the top off, and Bluebell sat there in just her underwear.
    Bosh looked back at her girlfriend, her eyes squinting from the low winter light and hair with mud woven into it. She sat on the sofa, pooling out in all directions. Her hips were wide and softly cushioned, and her legs were folded with fat. Her stomach, still her most distinctive feature, drooped down like the bin bag that Bosh had carried to the bin that broke, seemingly overflowed and beyond capacity. Her breasts, carried in a bra just to maintain some sort of discipline, still folded downwards. Her jawline was jowly, her cheeks were puffy, and her eyes were listless. And she was covered in mud.
    “You really need to clean up, Blue. You look like The Thing from the film...  The Thing”
    “Which film’s that again?”
    “It’s the one with The Thing in it”
    “The wrestler?”
    “No, not The Rock… anyway, just clean the fuck up”
    “Yeah, in a sec. Need a smoke… where’s my cigarettes?” Bluebell said, looking for pockets and then realising she wasn’t wearing anything.
    “Here, box here. Look, you’re cold, wet and naked. Grab a shower and put some clothes on” Bosh pushed.
    “Wet and naked is the name of my sex tape” Bluebell smiled, mentally high-fiving herself. She then began rummaging for something to eat on the table in front of her, settling upon an uneaten pizza. She grabbed the first slice and put it in her mouth.
    “Oh, trust me Blue, you’re not hungry” Bosh said sternly.
    “Oh, trust me, I am” Blue smiled, mainly to herself, as she launched into another bite. Bosh didn’t say anything.
    “What day is it? I… my memory’s not as sharp as a fiddle at the minute”
    “The saying’s either sharp as a tack, or fit as a fiddle” Bosh corrected. “And Monday. Today is Monday”.
    “Fuck yeah. Blacked out the entire weekend. Sign of a good weekend” Bluebell chuckled, finishing the first slice.
    “What… was the last thing you remember?”
    “Asking you about pedal to the metal on the Friday night. My headache tells me that it’s so far, so good”
    “So far?”
    “Yeah, we said until New Year. If it’s still the Monday, then that’s the… what, 21st? So yeah, we’ve got a long way to go. Shall we order in?”
    “You’re literally eating pizza right now”
    “I know, but for after” Bluebell replied as if that answer was the most normal answer in the world.
    “Fuck, sure. I’ll order more pizza. How many do you want, three? Four?” Bosh said with a cynical eye-roll.
    “I can have four pizzas?”
    “No! I was taking the piss. You can have two” Bosh sighed, reaching for her phone.
    “And a garlic bread?”
    “Sure, whatever”
    “And what are you having?”
    “I’m… good. Thank you”
    “Bosh… pedal to the metal. You promised me”
    “Yeah, I’m thinking about breaking that promise to be honest, Blue” Bosh said, quietly.
    “You’re acting weird. Cut it out, order yourself a pizza, and let’s open the gin that Aunt Sally got us”
    “We drank it”
    “The bourbon from Mandy and Pete?”
    “Gone”
    “The whiskey from…”
    “All of it, Blue. We’re cleared out”
    “In two days?” Blue asked, confused.
    “No. In nine days. It’s not Monday the 21st. It’s Monday the 28th. For crying out loud Blue, we’ve been blackout ** for nine days straight, including Christmas. A proper Christmas, together, as a couple” Bosh snarled. Her nervous energy suddenly felt more like angry energy
    “What about the cider from…”
    “Didn’t you listen to a word I said? No booze left! And it’s the fucking 28th!” Bosh’s voice raised to a shout, causing a vulnerable feeling Bluebell to wince and let her hands drift to her ears.
    “So… just the one pizza for you then, is that what you’re saying?” Bluebell said, eating a slice from the old pizza.
     

    +
     

    “I nearly swallowed my tongue?” Bluebell asked with shock. Her headache and wobbliness felt a lot better with food in her stomach.
    “I dunno. I thought you had. You were passed out on this sofa and… I remember trying to call for an ambulance… and failing” Bosh told her between sips of water.
    “You failed?”
    “Yeah, I called 1-2-3 instead of 9-9-9. Fuck knows why”
    “What’s 1-2-3..?”
    “The talking clock. I ended up telling the talking clock that you had swallowed your tongue” Bosh admitted, and Bluebell smiled that contagious smile of hers.
    “And what did the clock say?”
    “...The time. It’s not sentient, Blue. The talking clock tells you the time” Bosh shook her head and sipped her water.
    “Fuck!” Bluebell laughed. “You must have really heavily put the pedal to the metal, Bosh. Thanks. I appreciate it”
    “Don’t thank me Blue, seriously” Bosh said bashfully.
    “No. Seriously. That was really nice of you. It means a lot”
    Bosh squirmed awkwardly. “Whatever”.
    “Hey, why you not eating your pizza?” Bluebell asked, ramming another slice of her own into her mouth.
    “Dunno, not hungry” Bosh said, taking another sip of water. She had pulled the armchair out away from the computer and into the main room, so she could sit down and allow Bluebell the sofa to herself.
    “Is… this your way of saying ‘pedal to the metal’ time is over?”
    “Yeah, yeah it is, I guess. It’s over” Bosh said, taking another sip and not making much eye contact. Blue looked at her girlfriend suspiciously, while taking a bite out of her pizza.
    “Well, if it’s going free…”
    “Yeah, sure Blue. Help yourself” Bosh pushed the box over to her girlfriend.
    “Really? You don’t mind?” Blue smiled, layering a slice of Bosh’s pizza onto her own and eating both at the same time.
    “Would it matter if I did?”
    “Don’t be like that Bosh”
    “Like what?”
    “Grumpy. Weird. You’ve been weird ever since I came to”
    “Came to? You mean woke up from being passed out in your own garden, on muddy grass while it rained, and then crawled, at one point literally, to the sofa, dragging mud through the house that I had to clean up, and then collapsed on the sofa, in just a dress, still covered in mud, and then refused to shower?” Bosh’s voice rose again. Her entire presence felt barely on its leash, straining to snap at every word.
    “Fuck off, I didn’t refuse to shower. I’m just having these first”
    “Sorry, I forgot every hour is pizza hour”
    “What is your problem, Bosh? Because, sometime it feels as though you’re enabling me, and other times it feels as though your taking the fact that you’re enabling me out on me”
    “I… just… don’t Blue. I’m not looking for an argument. Just eat your fucking pizzas. Or don’t. Like I give a fuck”
    “Yeah, you don’t sound like someone who doesn’t give a fuck” Bluebell replied, snarling slightly with every bite out of pettiness.
    Bluebell silently tucked in, while Bosh hugged herself to keep warm. Bluebell wasn’t the only one inappropriately dressed for the time of year. Bosh was just wearing one of Bluebell’s tops, letting it drape over her like a tablecloth.
    “Oh, you need to ring your parents” Bosh said, as Bluebell chewed absent-mindedly.
    “Do I bollocks”
    “You’ve got missed calls from them. Like, a lot” Bosh said, trying to regather her composure.
    “You have my phone?”
    “Yeah, you gonna ring them then? It could be serious. There is a pandemic going on” Bosh was terse as she spoke.
    “Did they leave a message?”
    “No…”
    “Well, it can’t be that important, can it?” Bluebell bit into another slice, scowling as she did so. “So, can I have my phone back?”
    “D’ya need it then or…”
    “It’s my phone Bosh. I just want my phone back, that’s all”
    “Why?”
    “Cos it’s mine”
    “Fine”
    And Bosh passed the phone over, and Blue snatched it petulantly.
    “Thanks”
    “Also, Jason called, but I know you and him aren’t talking either” Bosh added, her face rarely elevating above a sneer.
    “No. We’re not” Bluebell replied curtly, pushing the last of her pizza into her mouth, and exhaling in relief.
    “And your GP called”
    Bluebell looked up at Bosh suspiciously.
    “What? My GP?”
    “Yeah, a whole bunch of times”
    “Is… is it serious? Why are you only mentioning it now?”
    “Don’t worry, it wasn’t to do with your health”
    Bluebell’s eyes scanned Bosh’s face for further meaning.
    “So, what did they want?”
    “She left messages”
    “Oh.. kay”
    “Blooby”
    Bluebell’s spine straightened at that.
    She went through to her messages and played the first one from Callista.
    “Hey Blooby, it’s your favourite GP here. Just seeing if you fancy another… appointment. Wallace is… not here so I wanted to know if you fancied coming round and I could give you a… physical. Anyway, let me know when you get this message. Cheers babe, bye”
    Bosh’s eyes closed as she heard each word hit her like shellfire. Bluebell sat cold and still, every muscle on edge.
    “Bosh… I might go up for a shower now…”
    “Sit the fuck down!” Bosh snapped ferociously. Blue obliged, sitting still and frightened.
    “It’s not what it sounds like”
    “It sounds like your ‘male’ GP is a woman, which you conveniently forgot to mention. And that you’re fucking her, which you conveniently forgot to mention” Bosh ranted, standing up and pointing.
    “Oh, like your not fucking a Geoff?”
    “I’m not… I’m not fucking a Geoff”
    “Well, then who is it?”
    “Nobody. Hang on, don’t turn this around…”
    “Well, you’re clearly fucking someone behind my back. Constant treats and gifts, mood swinging from bitch to doting depending on the day at work. It’s obvious, Bosh. You always were a shit liar” Blue argued, folding her arms defensively as she accused.
    Bosh took a deep breath.
    “I… bought you those things because… I knew about the affair. I knew you were shagging her and I was afraid to fucking lose you” Bosh admitted, cringing as she heard those words.
    “What?”
    “I hung around. At the Medical Unit. On that first check-up. It was a big deal for you and I knew you were nervous, so I hung around to make sure you were okay. And I saw you smoking with her. And flirting with her. And then when you came home and told me - sorry, lied to me - that she was male, I knew you liked her. You see, you’re not the great liar you think you are. Because life isn’t a fucking shitty PC game”
    “Among Us is not a shitty game!” Bluebell argued.
    “That was the bit you had a problem with?” Bosh would have found that funny in another conversation. But here, that irreverence felt like acid on the skin. “So, because I knew you were lying to me, I decided to see what you were up to. And then I saw you go round hers the next day”
    “You were following me?” Bluebell’s eyebrows arched sharply.
    “Yes. Because I’m the one in the wrong here” Bosh rolled her eyes and sipped her water.
    “I…”
    “No excuses Blue. I don’t wanna hear them. I… thought it was a fling. A one-off. I mean, I’m not an idiot. I know I’m not… providing for you physically. Maybe it would lift your mood, I thought? Maybe a quickie with an attractive female GP might shift your gloom and fix your mojo. I might get my Bluebell back. The old Bluebell. But you couldn’t just shag her the once, could you? You kept going back”
    “I’m sorry” Bluebell said, her voice deep and solemn.
    “No you’re not. You’re just sorry you’ve been caught. So I fought for you. I gave you everything you wanted. You wanted to drink yourself stupid every night? Sure, if it made you happy. Eat like a fucking possessed animal? Anything for you Blue. I even put my - oh, how did you phrase it? - ‘pedal to the metal’. For you. I fought for you Blue. But it’s not enough. It was never enough” Bosh was standing now as she spoke, towering over the slouched Bluebell on her comfy sofa.
    “No, don’t talk about us in the past tense, Bosh”
    “If I nagged, you complained. If I let you cut loose, you complained. It wasn’t me you were angry with. It was yourself. You hated yourself for getting fat, and you ate to punish yourself for getting fat, and then you took it out on me. And I tried Blue. I tried so hard. But you’re a lost cause, Blue. You’re beyond redemption”
    “D… Don’t say that. Don’t say it like that” Bluebell said, tears in her eyes. The room started spinning.
    “And, as much as I love you, and for some fucking reason I do fucking love you, I have to love myself first. The past week was terrifying. If you could remember it, you’d wish you could forget it. You went berserk. And… I did too. I can’t do that to myself, Blue. You can to yourself, because you don’t care. And, I genuinely hope this Doctor Bitch is good for you and can rescue you. Because I can’t. You’re a lost cause to me” Bosh broke off eye contact and stared at the wall, her eyes getting wet.
    “I’m not… I can change…”
    “You have changed already Blue. Fucking look at you”
    Bluebell refused to, tilting her head to the side to refuse self-reflection. Her head felt loose on her neck, her brain throbbing and her concentration weak.
    “It was just one week, Bosh. It was fucking Christmas. You’re supposed to cut loose at Christmas!” Bluebell sobbed.
    “It’s not just fucking Christmas. Christmas has been terrifying, sure. But it’s just been the cumulation of a year of this type of behaviour. This is just one step up from November, which was one step from October. Do you even remember what you were like two years ago? Do you remember what you looked like? Acted like? Hoped like?”
    “Stop it… please” Bluebell continued to sob. She could feel her hand trembling, but couldn’t stop it.
    “So, that Doctor Bitch can have you. Because I’m done, Blue. I have nothing left to give. I gave you my all, and everything else too. Because I love you. And because, somewhere, underneath everything, is the most adorable, most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. The kindest, wittiest, most charming woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Underneath it all. But it’s buried under so much these days, that I barely recognise you. Not because you’re fat, though you are so fucking fat Blue, but because of how you are. You are unrecognisable from the girl that I met at that flat party with your blue hair, your skinny dress, hair in a bow. I don’t recognise you anymore. You’re just a burden. And I won’t let you drag me down with you. So please, just fuck off Bluebell. Just fuck off and never come back, please”
    “No. I don’t want to”
    “GO!” Bosh yelled, throwing her glass against the wall and screeching, stamping her feet until she collapsed on the floor. “Just go!”
    Silently, Bluebell heaved herself to her feet. Unsteadily, she put one foot marginally in front of the other, and slowly trudged away from Bosh and towards the front door. Her head was numb, her eyes drooping to the floor. And she waddled slowly to the door.
    Her feet felt unsteady as she walked, her breaths were shallow. And her heart was racing in her chest, like an imprisoned wild animal clawing at the bars of her ribcage. Another step towards the door and she could feel the room list, like a ship in a storm. Another step and she began to fall.
    At which point, she passed out.
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    Sally was stranded at Christmas?  Still better than jack skellington. 
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    Chapter 10 - Chicken Goujons

    Shhh…
    Don’t wake her now.
    Look, she’s asleep. She’s had quite the day and I think all that emotion, it’s just taken it out of her. It’s not every day that the girl that you fattened up out of sadistic morbid curiosity because you see yourself in the same lineage as a 16th Century political diplomat from Italy rumbles you as not really being from the Basque region of Spain because she wanted to show you her journal of numbers that was actually a cry for help. It’s not every day, at all.
    She’s still terrifying. Probably even moreso, if I’m honest. She was terrifying when I thought that she was always in control. Imagine how scared I am now that I know she’s not. She’s as fucked up as the rest of us. Nay, more so. It’s taken some of the weight off my shoulders, if I’m honest. But it’s not taken the weight off anywhere else.
    But just look at her. Sleeping so soundly. She looks so peaceful. It’s probably the first honest night of sleep that she’s had in a good decade.
    It’s been a couple of weeks since ‘the incident’. And it was fractious at the beginning, I have to admit. And it was also fractious at the middle. And, come to think of it, it’s been fairly fractious at the end. Let’s put it this way - hiding the knives was the best decision I’ve ever made. That said, it does make cutting food difficult.
    It’s a bit like that scene at the end of Men in Black II - if you want high culture, don’t read a story written by me - where Will Smith is like, and this isn’t a direct quote “Woah, we should tell them alien thangs that they are like ants to us” and the big reveal is that the humans are like ants to some other alien race. Anyway, this contrived analogy is basically to say that the Men in Black films are awesome and that Maria has to come to terms with the fact that she’s an ant too. Thinking about it, I should have gone with Shutter Island, but that might be a spoiler so…
    The first time she tried to kill me was the very next morning. I remember waking up and seeing her stare at me with her Sauron eyes. And then she said:
    “I’m gonna murder you in your sleep”
    Yeah. You know how she be.
    “You woke me up to tell me that?” I remember grumbling, letting my head sink back into my pillow.
    “I just wanted you to know”
    “Yeah, yeah. Sure thing. Now, I’m just gonna…”
    And then I fell asleep. I like sleeping. Sleeping’s good.
    I woke about thirty seconds later and there was a knife to my throat.
    “I said I was gonna kill you”
    She spat the words, like they left a bad taste in her mouth. Like the words had gone off. The cold serrated blade running against my neck.
    “Yeah… in my sleep. So why do you keep waking me?” I replied, turned back over and drifted off. Fuck, I really do love sleeping.
    Anyway, like I said earlier, we are now a knife-free household. Fortunately, pizzas and Chinese food - the two main food groups imo - don’t require knives. And cakes don’t require knives if you eat them like I do. In fact, what are hands if not nature’s knives? Speaking of which, it’s time I mentioned the second time Maria threatened to murder me.
    Okay, picture the scene. I’m still leaning fairly heavily - pun not intended but, you know what, I’ll take the credit for it if there’s any going - into this whole over-indulging thing. If you put a gun to my head - don’t give her ideas! - and asked me why, I don’t think I could tell you. To fuck with Maria? To fuck Maria? Who knows? And while there’s casserole in the oven, who cares?
    Anyway, stop distracting me. I was gorging most resplendently on those chicken goujon things that you sometimes get, you know the ones I mean? Yeah, them. Anyway, I was working through a poultry farm of them when I sensed her getting grumpy again. The air turned a little cold and there was this palpable restlessness emanating from her like radiation.
    “What’s up, Ms. Jones?”
    “Don’t call me that” she replied, more curt than Mr Russell.
    “Well, something’s up. Would a chicken goujon help?”
    “I’m not angry” she seethed. Angrily.
    “Sure” I said, before carrying on. “Oh god, these goujons are good. Are you sure I can’t tempt you?”
    “Just fuck off, will you?”
    “Or you’ll murder me?”
    “Yeah, I’ll… why are you saying it like that?”
    “Will Maria Jones threaten to murder me or something, for a change?”
    “You’re really asking for it, you know that?”
    “Is it the chicken goujons? Do they remind you of your childhood? Were you bullied by a chicken goujon when you were a kid? Did the chicken goujon call you names?”
    “Stop saying ‘chicken goujon’!” she said, and threw a dumbbell at me. It missed my head by about six inches.
    “Do you want a breaded chicken piece?” I asked, not even flinching. I can be such a bad-ass at times.
    “The morning times are mine. They belong to me. You… you sleep in the mornings. I work out. I… why are you up? Ruining my mornings?” her shoulders were so tense, you could cut cheese on the blades of them. And, actually, cheese sounds pretty good right now.
    “Peckish. Do you have any cheese? Cheese sounds pretty good right now”
    She just sighed in frustration.
    “I mean, have you ever thought about just… not exercising?”
    “You watch your mouth!” I spat out. See, I can do venom too. Although, I was mainly taking the piss.
    And that was death threat numero dos, or tres, or whatever. I can’t keep count when I’m hungry. Which is often.
    And so it would go on. Us cohabiting and her hating my guts. Literally. I have guts now. Every now and again, she’d threaten to send me packing to the morgue and I’d shrug my shoulders and reach for the bread bin. Bread makes you fat.
    It was kinda humdrum. Kinda staid. The tired, steady rolling of life. It was like somebody had spent the past six months dousing us in kerosene and threatening to burn us and now, six mad months later, we’ve only just been told that kerosene doesn’t actually catch fire with a match. Michael Bay has been lying to us all this time. Next, I’ll be finding out that the cars in the road aren’t robots in disguise or something. Like I said, don’t expect high-brow references from moi.
    That’s French. And that’s as sophisticated as I get.
    Anyway, it’s time for me to get up soon, so it’s probably best to wrap up. Maria will be livid. For a change. But I need to get up because I want to eat my body weight in Chinese noodles in szechuan sauce. And that’s a lot of body weight. So I need to get started.
    Stop it.
    Stop looking at me like that.
    Look, I know what you’re thinking. That my characterisations in this chapter haven’t been entirely consistent with what came before. I’m coooool, now. Well-adjusted. I’m not a deer gazing lustfully into car headlamps any more. She doesn’t have control over me. Plus, this is my story and I’ll write me however I see fit. If you have a problem with that, take it up with the writer, which is me, so go fuck yourself.
    No. Stop it.
    I said stop it.
    Look. Okay. Fine. You want the truth? You want the truth? You can’t handle the…
    A serious answer? Oh. I see.
    Fine. Okay, I’ll try again. From the beginning.
    The past three weeks have been awful. I think I have Stockholm Syndrome. At the very least, Gothenburg syndrome. And they’re the only two Swedish places that I know. I don’t know why I’m here. The leash has been cut, my anchor lifted, my roots uprooted. There is no reason for me to follow Maria around like a lost puppy. And yet here I am.
    The bit about the death threats? Yeah, that actually happened. But, I wasn’t some cool as a cucumber girl with one-liners and a tendency to say those one-liners while putting my sunglasses and staring off into the middle distance (just where is Horatio Caine looking when the CSI:Miami credits start to roll?). I was fucking terrified. Which, IMO, is a reasonable response. Honestly, not being fucking terrified is the insane reaction, mine is the well-adjusted one.
    I mean, how would you feel, waking up with a knife to your neck and Satan herself threatening to cut my neck like it’s halal meat? It’s no wonder I’m a wreck. It’s no wonder I shake. It’s no wonder I make sure I’m always the first one up in the morning, neck deep in cheesy puffs and mayonnaise. It’s not a great combo but she shopping delivery doesn’t arrive until the afternoon.
    She really did throw a dumbbell at me. She really did miss by six inches. But I didn’t offer her a chicken goujon. I sat down silently and ate my sorrows in pepperami sticks. They gave me acid reflux but they were the only friend I had at the time.
    I missed my mum’s birthday. I ignored the call from her. Didn’t call back. I don’t care now. I don’t care any more. You thought that me finding out Maria’s big secret was going to change the power dynamic between me and Maria? Then you really don’t understand Maria at all.
    Maybe… maybe that’s why I eat. You asked earlier why I was still eating. Maybe this is why. Because some things have changed. But other things haven’t. I’m still scared of her. I’m still attracted to her. The main difference is she sometimes drops the Spanish accent. For a treat. Aren’t I lucky?
    The thrill of her is gone though. This was unexpected, but I don’t fancy her any more. She’s lost her lustre but kept the crazy. I don’t fantasise about her, but I’m still at her mercy. Stockholm syndrome? More like Stuck-home syndrome.
    Anyway, I’m getting up now, microwaving those noodles and eating until it’s tomorrow. And, if there’s any consolation, it’s that at least I’m screwing up her keep-fit routine.
    Yeah, that’s a good point. I hadn’t thought of that before.
    Hmmm…

    +-+-+-+-+-+-

    One hour later, Maria pads her feet down across the hall carpet and walks into the main room. I’m there, eating my ever-increasing body weight.
    “You’re up?”
    “Down, actually”
    “Don’t be smart with me”
    “Okay. Sorry. And… umm… I’ve been meaning to ask… Maria?”
    “Yeah?”
     

    “Chicken goujon?” and I offered her a plate.
     
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    Chapter 11 - Badger, Badger

    Hey there, long time no speak. Remember where we were? Good, cos we’re jumping straight back in. Buckle up sunshine, this is gonna get bumpy.
    “Why are you offering me a chicken goujon?”
    I’m beginning to wonder if this chapter should have had a re-cap. Previously, on last week’s episode of Naomee’s weird and fetishistic obsession with her worst nightmare… sort of thing. But, and here’s a story telling trick… nobody will give a fuck, as long as your chapter contains titties. Honestly, no matter how bad your story-telling is, how clunky your dialogue, throw in some gratuitous titties and everyone’s happy. That’s why Treebeard is always topless in Lord Of The Rings.
    “Because if you like chicken, and you like… goujon, I guess, then you’ll love chicken goujons”
    She, Maria, The Abyss, Lucifer, whatever you want to call her, just shook her head at me like I’d disappointed her.
    “Honest to God, one minute, you’re like a little wall-flower, other times you think you’re on a comedy podcast. And nobody listens to comedy podcasts. You’re fucking schizo, Nay-Nay” she said with a venomous sigh, her nostrils flaring, like a pissed off badger.
    She didn’t mean anything by it. Or maybe she did. I mean, this is Maria we’re talking about. Maybe she said it to trigger me. But there is something I should clear up before we go any further. Another ‘Did you know?’, because learning is growing and every day is a school day.
    Did you know there are two types of schizophrenia? Sure, you’ve watched A Beautiful Mind and think you know your shit. You know your shit, but I know you’re shit. You see, A Beautiful Mind is bollocks, John Nash was done dirty. But, beyond that, schizophrenia is not what Hollywood tells you it is. Or, at least, it’s not all Hollywood tells you it is. Because there are two types of schizophrenia and they only ever show you one of them.
    “I just like chicken goujons. I thought you might like them too. If that’s crazy, then I guess I’m crazy” I told her, biting into another one. But I’m not crazy. You’ll vouch for me, right?
    The first type of schizophrenia is positive schizophrenia. Which sounds like a stupid name because all types of schizophrenia are negative. But it refers to the fact that it ‘adds’ symptoms, which I’ll explain later. But, the point is, this is the type of schizophrenia you might be familiar with. The cool type, where you hear voices (Hi guys, by the way!) or become paranoid. Rarely, but occasionally, you might even hallucinate. But Hollywood over-emphasises that, just so Russell Crowe can get an Oscar or something, I dunno.
    “You’re up to something” she stared suspiciously. Her eyes scanning me like a crime scene for clues.
    The second type of schizophrenia is negative schizophrenia. And this refers to ‘subtracting’ symptoms. Or, to put more simply, where the bits of you are watered down or lost ever so slightly. You speak less, you engage less, you think less. It’s like you’ve tried to reboot them, and their just hanging. They’re there, but not as there as they should be. And this was the type of schizophrenia my mum had.
    “I was just wondering what you were up to, today? If you had any plans?” I tell her, chomping on more chicken-y goujon-y (what the actual fuck is a goujon? And is it only chicken that can get goujon-ified? Does it count as a goujon, if it’s not from the Goujon region of France? Is it just a sparkling drumstick?) goodness.
    Schizophrenics do not make great parents. It’s not their fault, but try explaining that to 8 year old me. When she was on a new cocktail of medication, you’d see her again. Flashes of the woman that my dad would tell me about. Her eyes would gain focus, a smile would creep up on her lips. She’d call me Nay-Nay. But, there were also the other times. I was told that she still cared, but her body had forgotten how to express it. So I would talk to my ma, read stories with her, tell her jokes, play with toys. All while she failed to engage. It wasn’t her fault. She had other things on her mind, perhaps.
    “Yes, I always have plans. Why are you asking?” she walked up to me and stared me down. Like I was honey. And she was a badger. A honey badger.
    What’s with me calling Maria a badger all the time?
    As I grew up, she didn’t get better, my mum. Sometimes they do. My dad worked hard to explain that the reason she didn’t wasn’t because she loved me less. It’s just the disease. But he didn’t sound convincing. Maybe he was having doubts of his own. It must have been hard for my dad, looking back. Slowly, I spent less time with my mum. More time with my friends. With the living. When I was with her, I wasn’t really. I would be playing Snake on my phone. Just eating more and more apples. Maybe watching internet clips, including the Badger Badger Badger one.
    Wait, is that why I’m calling Maria a badger?
    “Who? Is it Rab? Nihal? Jonah? The woman with the big nose?” I ask, reeling off all the scant information I had picked up while she did her Maria thing and I stayed at home and did my Naomee thing. And my Naomee thing was just eat until it hurt, and then eat some more.
    More time would pass and I eventually pulled away entirely. I wasn’t engaging with her, because she wasn’t with me. Maybe it was unfair to expect a child to do all the heavy lifting. Maybe it was unfair for a child to expect a schizophrenic to do her fair share of heavy lifting. But I pulled away. And as soon as I was old enough, I moved out. Away from her, and with my friends instead. And I left her all alone. She’d been getting more and more alone, but I sealed the deal by moving out. It leaves a stain of guilt on you, the kind that not even Cillit Bang could get out. Sorry Tom Scott, but guilt is permanent, even if left to soak.
    “You’re too fat to come”
    “I cum all the time”
    “No… why are you acting needy? You know my views on needy”
    I never want to be alone. Not like my mum was. I never want to feel abandoned. Not like my mum was. By me. I need Maria. She’s the only life raft I have to hand. And it’s stupid and crazy and makes no fucking sense. I’m well aware. But maybe I am crazy and stupid and make no fucking sense. My mum was, so why can’t I be? I never loved my mum. Not really. I just carried her around on my shoulders until she became to much to bear. And then I left her. And I never want to be left like she was.
    “I want in”
    “No”
    “You need a crewmate”
    “I do not need a crewmate. I have never needed a crewmate. I’m a lone wolf”
    “No you’re not. You’re a badger!” I shout.
    “Uhhh… sorry. Run that one by me”
    “Badgers… they… okay, look. I don’t know if you know this about me but I like educating people. Facts, trivia, that kinda thing. And I have a badger fact”
    “I do not want to hear a fact about badgers”
    “Badgers… hunt in packs. You didn’t know that, did you? Badgers hunt in packs. They’re like velociraptors. Or Feds. Or garden gnomes. Badgers hunt in packs. And you are a badger. It’s about time you had a packmate”
    Maria eyed me with her badger eyes.
    “How would it work?”
    “I’ll explain. But first, these goujons are done, and I’m gonna waste away if you’re not careful. So, grab us some grub, feed me, fuck me, and then I’ll give you the plan”
    She shook her head, but walked to the fridge, ready to oblige.
    The only time I ever spoke to my mum was on her birthday. I would call her, and she wouldn’t talk, but my dad would put the receiver to her ear and I would sing her happy birthday. The one time she ever got to hear my voice. I missed her birthday this year. Maria-reasons. She took that from me. My mum died three weeks later. Schizophrenia has comorbidity with other physical ailments and she ended up having a heart attack. And I never sung her happy birthday. All because of fucking Maria.
    Maria walked back into the room, her smile set to delicious. She was carrying my favourite - too much cheesecake. She took off her top, took off her bra, took off her shorts, took off her uncomfortable looking thong and walked up to me with three cheesecakes, one fork and a desire to ruin me.
    Watching her walk up to me, I could see what a stunningly attractive woman she was. Tall, elegant and with curves in the right places. Breasts - breasts that I had promised you, so enjoy - that would bounce a little with every step, firm handfuls of titty goodness. Or something. There’s a reason why Tolkein never described Treebeard’s titties in Lord Of The Rings. It’s hard to do without it sounding weird and gratuitous. Her hips were pronounced and elegant. Her legs long and soft. And her stomach shapely and curvy. She’d gained weight.
    Good.
    She sat down next to me, with cheesecake #1, and gently sliced off a chunk from the pointy end, and pushed it towards my mouth. A mouth which opened as if activated by sensors. And my eyes rolled back as I chewed.
    “To my fellow co-badger” she smiled. Thinking she had an ally.
    “To my fellow co-badger” I smiled back. Thinking of vengeance.
     
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    Part 12 - The Holy Trinity

    So, Tim was a monk.
    “A monk? Do they even exist any more? Apart from on mountains?” I raised what I believed to be very valid points.
    “Nay-Nay, of course monks exist. Who do you think works at a monastery?”
    Have you got any ideas? Seriously, chip in at any time. Cos I’m absolutely clueless on…
    “Monks, Nay-Nay. Monastery, monk. Like nuns in nunneries, abbots in abbeys, vicars in vicarages, you get monks in monasteries. Fuck, you can tell you weren’t raised religious”
    “You were raised religious?” I asked, curious. She didn’t strike me as the religious type. What with the heathenry, sin and resolute conviction that she, herself, was a deity.
    “Yeah. Maybe. Whatever, why are you talking about me? Focus on Tim”
    Tim. So, as I was saying, Tim was a monk. But, like all of God’s creatures, he was horny for Maria. And this interested Maria.
    She’d ‘run’ into him and spoke to him about salvation and other Jesus-y shit that I don’t really pay attention to. Religion is not my bag. I had a Jewish aunt and did you know Judaism is in a foreign language? And it’s not written with letters, you know? Well, sorta. They look like letters written by a ** person. Long story short, turns out I’m ignorant on all things religion. See, it’s not just you guys who are learning.
    Well, we were going around his place (or should that be His place? I dunno, I’m religiously illiterate, remember) on the grounds that I was a sinner and I needed moral guidance and clarity. Which, to be fair, is probably true.
    However, that’s not why we were going round. And, let’s be honest here, that’s not why he was inviting us round. He wanted to baptise Maria in his Holy Water, so to speak.
    “This her?” he asked, with really well-faked concern. Oh look at me, I have strayed from God’s flock. [Pulls cute sexy holy sheep face]
    “Yeah, Naomee. With two ‘e’s. The misspelling of her name is probably where it all started to go wrong for the poor child, in all honesty” she explained, and he did this thing with his face where he looked like he actually gave a fuck about my well-being. What a strange expression to pull.
    He invited us in.
    The fool.
    +

    It took 22 minutes. 22 minutes and Maria was doing him up the arse with a dildo, while I sat and watched, eating Chinese food that I had brought with me, because planning ahead is getting ahead, my friends. I watched, and ate, and manned the camera, while Maria did her Maria thing. And, I don’t know if it was the holy accommodation or what, but the only thing I could think of saying was “Jesus fucking Christ!”.
    32 minutes into this and he was feeding me while she was licking his arsehole. It was rather pleasant, truth be told. Like a nice shower after a stiff yoga session. Only fattier, sexier, weirder and more damnation-inducing. I mean, if this is what organised religion is like all the time, I might give it a go. Could you guys let me know. I don’t want to miss my calling as a nun, if it involves threeway stuffing sessions and anal.
    47 minutes later and I was giving him a blowjob while he was eating Maria out. I don’t think that’s how a 69 works. I don’t know what the name for that is. 666?

    +

    “Well, we have to run Tim… well, waddle… but this was great. I feel holy again” I smiled at him, as he recoiled into his bed with a different expression to the tender concern he’d shown earlier. This one was much more familiar. This was the ‘I’ve been Maria-d’ face. Everyone pulls it at some point in their lives. If you haven’t yet, well… it’s nice to have something to look forward to.
    Maria was packing up the camera and folding up the tripod.
    “Yeah, let’s go Mammon” Maria smiled to me, and pointing for me to leave.
    “Sure thing, Satan” I smiled back, and we walk back.
    You do have to wonder what was going through his mind at this point. But I don’t think even confession would be redeeming what he did with us. Sometimes, you just have to prey to your relevant deity that you yourself never find yourself in a position where you get co-badgered. Trust me, you might think you do, but you do not want to be co-badgered.

    +

    “That was glorious, Nay-Nay. Oh, that was so deliciously evil. I loved it” Maria said, dancing in the dark wet street with pent-up joy. She looked magnificent. Maybe it was the rain, Kirsten Dunsting down her top, maybe it was seeing the emotional ejaculation of joy that ruining a man’s life brought her. But whatever it was, it was working wonders for her, and I, for one, stanned hard.
    That said, and we all know the reason you filthy pups are here, she was looking ‘curvier’ than usual. Not ‘bad’ curvier by all means. In fact, the contrary, she looked remarkable. She was perfect-looking before, and now she was even perfect-er. The way she could swing her hips out on her tall frame now, was magnificent. Honestly, I think even the Pope would have been bummed by her, looking like she did right now.
    “So, what happens next? Do you stalk him or just relax in the knowledge that he’s a one-and-done”
    “Oh, I’ll probably check up in a month or so. Let him have time to go soul-searching or, better still, rock-bottom-searching” she said, swinging on lamp-posts like she was Gene Kelly.
    “So, it’s late now, we going back or…”
    “I have to go to the gym, it’s…”
    “At this hour. I mean, I know that body doesn’t keep itself, but still...” I risked a smirk. The fact that she had to exercise was still a sensitive subject. But the euphoria of her malevolence meant she was okay.
    “Yeah, an hour maybe”
    “So, you don’t want to go back and watch the footage? We could order pizza? I haven’t had pizza in hours and I miss cheesy crusts. But not that monk’s cheesy crust. Like, an actual cheesy crust” I explained, and she paused and looked at me, cock-headed.
    “What are you doing?” she eyed me with suspicion.
    Fuck.
    “Oh, come on Maria. We’ve just ruined a man’s life. I’ve never done anything like that before. Isn’t your blood pumping? Don’t you want to do something utterly depraved to celebrate? Oh my god, my heart is beating so fast. I might order three pizzas” I rushed, words falling out of my mouth.
    She stood still, and judged me silently. I couldn’t tell if I was sweating, or if all the rain was just hitting my forehead.
    “Naomee… did you really like it that much?”
    She said it tenderly, but with curiosity.
    “Are you fucking kidding me? Those were the best 71 minutes of my life. They might have been the best 71 minutes anyone has ever had in their life. Is this… what it always feels like?”
    She walked up to me slowly, rain kicking up as the flash-flood caused puddles along the pavement and the drains began to overflow. She reached me, pushed out a hand, and held my face.
    “I’ve never had anyone to share this with, before. I’ve…” she bit her lip to stifle tears. “Yes, I will stuff you with pizza all night long, Nay-Nay. Fuck, four pizzas, let’s really ravage you. And tomorrow, I will show you what a real high looks like. Tomorrow, we’ll do one of my regulars. Co-Badger”.
    And as much as I would spend the night eating out of her hand, I knew that, in the long run, I had her eating out of mine.

    +

    And then along came Sally.
    Sally was not a monk. That was a shame. But she was a mother of two children. And every time those kids went to their dads, Maria and her tripod would go round and push her a little closer to The Abyss. Today, Maria hoped, would be her tipping point.
    I was officially ‘her concubine’. Now, I wasn’t that keen on this undercover persona, truthfully. It seemed a little offensive and misogynistic. It also seemed a little too close to the truth. But that was the cover. I was an ‘offering’. We were going to feed every sexual impulse that she wanted, ones that only Maria was providing since the kids were born, and then Maria was going to tell her that she’d meet her there.
    Where?
    She’d told Sally that they would meet up in Wellington. Wellington, New Zealand. Sally would catch the first plane, with tickets that cleared out her bank balance, and Maria would catch a later one. Of course, Maria didn’t have any intention of catching a later one. Sally, ** on love, was going to travel to the other side of the world, with no money and no spare clothes, wait in a hotel for Maria to arrive, and then… wait some more.
    “At some point, she’ll get worried. Maybe I was apprehended, maybe I was held up. Maybe it’ll be the next one. Or the one after. She’ll go to text me… with this phone” Maria said, showing me the phone that she had stolen.
    “You stole her phone?” my eyes boggled.
    “Yeah, she’s gonna be fucked. Can’t afford to come back, can’t afford to stay. You don’t need a visa for up to 6 months. She’s gonna be so heart-broken” Maria grinned, and I smiled too.
    But this one was different. This was felt… different.
    Was it because there were kids involved? Maria didn’t mind. Kids would be better off without parents anyway, she said. Is it because of my own maternal abandonment issues? I don’t even know if Maria knows about those. Was it because she seemed innocent? This wasn’t sin that drove her to the other side of the country, it was love. Was it because she was female? It certainly was easier to hate a man than a woman. Men just have it coming, if I’m honest. Was it because her torment would be the painful slow burn of regret and heart-break, rather than the fiery self-loathing of guilt? Or was it just because she looked like I used to look like, before I got fat?
    “So, how was it?” Maria asked, her eyes dancing as she spoke. It was hypnotic.
    “I…”
    I paused. I tried to find the words she wanted to hear.
    “Well? Nay-Nay?”
    “It didn’t do it for me” I told her. Honestly.
    “Oh”
    “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I promise, I’ll enjoy the next one. But…”
    She smiled again, and held my cheek with her hand. I flinched as she did it.
    “Good. I just needed to check you weren’t bullshitting”
    I knew it! I knew it! I knew it was a test! I knew she didn’t expect me to enjoy it! I just knew it!
    “You were testing me?” I exclaimed, superficially shocked but truthfully relieved.
    “Yeah, I knew that wouldn’t be your cup of tea” she told me.
    “Was it yours?”
    “I… not really. I don’t know why. Just… something felt off about it. A bit… sad, more than anything. But, what’s done is done” she explained.
    And, I have to take a minute now. That was a bit much, and I just need to collect my thoughts. She took me to see Sally, ruined Sally’s life, ruined her husband’s life, her kids’ life, just to test me. So far, so evil. So Maria. But, she didn’t like it either? Does that mean Maria has a soul after all? Should I be happy about that? Or should I be worried for my own soul, given that we drew the same line in the same place? Fuck, am I faking this, or am I really like Maria?
    The rain started again, but this time, it didn’t feel so victorious. We weren’t singing in the rain. We were standing there with slumped shoulders.
    “Again? More rain?” I ask, to the sky.
    “Maybe, God is doing this to spite me” Maria mused. “That would be kinda hot, wouldn’t it? Provoking God. Maybe he’s turned on by me. I wonder what God’s fetish is. Everyone has one, I wonder what his is. I bet it’s like mine. I bet he gets off on the floods and the locusts and people suffering. Me and you and God, all have the same fetish. We’re the holy trinity. Masturbating furiously as people’s lives are ruined. God, oh yeah, he just loves it when people’s lives are ruined. Yeah, and anal. I bet God loves anal. Come on Nay-Nay, we should head to the gym”
    “The gym?”
    “Yeah, you don’t have to do anything. You can watch. But I’d like the company. Also, you could actually exercise. It would be kinda funny, kinda hot, to see you trying to work out in a gym. I don’t get to humiliate you much these days, given that you’re always inside”
    “You called me your piggy concubine?”
    “Oh yeah, I guess that counts. Come on, how do you fancy it? Tight lycra, heavy panting, utter shame? Sound good?”
    “Honestly, if it’s alright, I think I’ll just go home and stuff myself with pizza again. I don’t… feel like anything sexier” I admitted.
    “Oh. Sure. I mean, fuck it, I’ll keep you company” Maria said.
    And, on one hand, I’ve got her right where I want her. On the other hand, is Maria being nice to me? Am I betraying her one semi-functioning relationship? Are these slumped shoulders just for Sally, or are they for Maria too?
    But, what’s done is done. Let’s make Maria fat.
     
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    Chapter 11 - Badger, Badger

    Hey there, long time no speak. Remember where we were? Good, cos we’re jumping straight back in. Buckle up sunshine, this is gonna get bumpy.
    “Why are you offering me a chicken goujon?”
    I’m beginning to wonder if this chapter should have had a re-cap. Previously, on last week’s episode of Naomee’s weird and fetishistic obsession with her worst nightmare… sort of thing. But, and here’s a story telling trick… nobody will give a fuck, as long as your chapter contains titties. Honestly, no matter how bad your story-telling is, how clunky your dialogue, throw in some gratuitous titties and everyone’s happy. That’s why Treebeard is always topless in Lord Of The Rings.
    “Because if you like chicken, and you like… goujon, I guess, then you’ll love chicken goujons”
    She, Maria, The Abyss, Lucifer, whatever you want to call her, just shook her head at me like I’d disappointed her.
    “Honest to God, one minute, you’re like a little wall-flower, other times you think you’re on a comedy podcast. And nobody listens to comedy podcasts. You’re fucking schizo, Nay-Nay” she said with a venomous sigh, her nostrils flaring, like a pissed off badger.
    She didn’t mean anything by it. Or maybe she did. I mean, this is Maria we’re talking about. Maybe she said it to trigger me. But there is something I should clear up before we go any further. Another ‘Did you know?’, because learning is growing and every day is a school day.
    Did you know there are two types of schizophrenia? Sure, you’ve watched A Beautiful Mind and think you know your shit. You know your shit, but I know you’re shit. You see, A Beautiful Mind is bollocks, John Nash was done dirty. But, beyond that, schizophrenia is not what Hollywood tells you it is. Or, at least, it’s not all Hollywood tells you it is. Because there are two types of schizophrenia and they only ever show you one of them.
    “I just like chicken goujons. I thought you might like them too. If that’s crazy, then I guess I’m crazy” I told her, biting into another one. But I’m not crazy. You’ll vouch for me, right?
    The first type of schizophrenia is positive schizophrenia. Which sounds like a stupid name because all types of schizophrenia are negative. But it refers to the fact that it ‘adds’ symptoms, which I’ll explain later. But, the point is, this is the type of schizophrenia you might be familiar with. The cool type, where you hear voices (Hi guys, by the way!) or become paranoid. Rarely, but occasionally, you might even hallucinate. But Hollywood over-emphasises that, just so Russell Crowe can get an Oscar or something, I dunno.
    “You’re up to something” she stared suspiciously. Her eyes scanning me like a crime scene for clues.
    The second type of schizophrenia is negative schizophrenia. And this refers to ‘subtracting’ symptoms. Or, to put more simply, where the bits of you are watered down or lost ever so slightly. You speak less, you engage less, you think less. It’s like you’ve tried to reboot them, and their just hanging. They’re there, but not as there as they should be. And this was the type of schizophrenia my mum had.
    “I was just wondering what you were up to, today? If you had any plans?” I tell her, chomping on more chicken-y goujon-y (what the actual fuck is a goujon? And is it only chicken that can get goujon-ified? Does it count as a goujon, if it’s not from the Goujon region of France? Is it just a sparkling drumstick?) goodness.
    Schizophrenics do not make great parents. It’s not their fault, but try explaining that to 8 year old me. When she was on a new cocktail of medication, you’d see her again. Flashes of the woman that my dad would tell me about. Her eyes would gain focus, a smile would creep up on her lips. She’d call me Nay-Nay. But, there were also the other times. I was told that she still cared, but her body had forgotten how to express it. So I would talk to my ma, read stories with her, tell her jokes, play with toys. All while she failed to engage. It wasn’t her fault. She had other things on her mind, perhaps.
    “Yes, I always have plans. Why are you asking?” she walked up to me and stared me down. Like I was honey. And she was a badger. A honey badger.
    What’s with me calling Maria a badger all the time?
    As I grew up, she didn’t get better, my mum. Sometimes they do. My dad worked hard to explain that the reason she didn’t wasn’t because she loved me less. It’s just the disease. But he didn’t sound convincing. Maybe he was having doubts of his own. It must have been hard for my dad, looking back. Slowly, I spent less time with my mum. More time with my friends. With the living. When I was with her, I wasn’t really. I would be playing Snake on my phone. Just eating more and more apples. Maybe watching internet clips, including the Badger Badger Badger one.
    Wait, is that why I’m calling Maria a badger?
    “Who? Is it Rab? Nihal? Jonah? The woman with the big nose?” I ask, reeling off all the scant information I had picked up while she did her Maria thing and I stayed at home and did my Naomee thing. And my Naomee thing was just eat until it hurt, and then eat some more.
    More time would pass and I eventually pulled away entirely. I wasn’t engaging with her, because she wasn’t with me. Maybe it was unfair to expect a child to do all the heavy lifting. Maybe it was unfair for a child to expect a schizophrenic to do her fair share of heavy lifting. But I pulled away. And as soon as I was old enough, I moved out. Away from her, and with my friends instead. And I left her all alone. She’d been getting more and more alone, but I sealed the deal by moving out. It leaves a stain of guilt on you, the kind that not even Cillit Bang could get out. Sorry Tom Scott, but guilt is permanent, even if left to soak.
    “You’re too fat to come”
    “I cum all the time”
    “No… why are you acting needy? You know my views on needy”
    I never want to be alone. Not like my mum was. I never want to feel abandoned. Not like my mum was. By me. I need Maria. She’s the only life raft I have to hand. And it’s stupid and crazy and makes no fucking sense. I’m well aware. But maybe I am crazy and stupid and make no fucking sense. My mum was, so why can’t I be? I never loved my mum. Not really. I just carried her around on my shoulders until she became to much to bear. And then I left her. And I never want to be left like she was.
    “I want in”
    “No”
    “You need a crewmate”
    “I do not need a crewmate. I have never needed a crewmate. I’m a lone wolf”
    “No you’re not. You’re a badger!” I shout.
    “Uhhh… sorry. Run that one by me”
    “Badgers… they… okay, look. I don’t know if you know this about me but I like educating people. Facts, trivia, that kinda thing. And I have a badger fact”
    “I do not want to hear a fact about badgers”
    “Badgers… hunt in packs. You didn’t know that, did you? Badgers hunt in packs. They’re like velociraptors. Or Feds. Or garden gnomes. Badgers hunt in packs. And you are a badger. It’s about time you had a packmate”
    Maria eyed me with her badger eyes.
    “How would it work?”
    “I’ll explain. But first, these goujons are done, and I’m gonna waste away if you’re not careful. So, grab us some grub, feed me, fuck me, and then I’ll give you the plan”
    She shook her head, but walked to the fridge, ready to oblige.
    The only time I ever spoke to my mum was on her birthday. I would call her, and she wouldn’t talk, but my dad would put the receiver to her ear and I would sing her happy birthday. The one time she ever got to hear my voice. I missed her birthday this year. Maria-reasons. She took that from me. My mum died three weeks later. Schizophrenia has comorbidity with other physical ailments and she ended up having a heart attack. And I never sung her happy birthday. All because of fucking Maria.
    Maria walked back into the room, her smile set to delicious. She was carrying my favourite - too much cheesecake. She took off her top, took off her bra, took off her shorts, took off her uncomfortable looking thong and walked up to me with three cheesecakes, one fork and a desire to ruin me.
    Watching her walk up to me, I could see what a stunningly attractive woman she was. Tall, elegant and with curves in the right places. Breasts - breasts that I had promised you, so enjoy - that would bounce a little with every step, firm handfuls of titty goodness. Or something. There’s a reason why Tolkein never described Treebeard’s titties in Lord Of The Rings. It’s hard to do without it sounding weird and gratuitous. Her hips were pronounced and elegant. Her legs long and soft. And her stomach shapely and curvy. She’d gained weight.
    Good.
    She sat down next to me, with cheesecake #1, and gently sliced off a chunk from the pointy end, and pushed it towards my mouth. A mouth which opened as if activated by sensors. And my eyes rolled back as I chewed.
    “To my fellow co-badger” she smiled. Thinking she had an ally.
    “To my fellow co-badger” I smiled back. Thinking of vengeance.
     
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    Part 12 - The Holy Trinity

    So, Tim was a monk.
    “A monk? Do they even exist any more? Apart from on mountains?” I raised what I believed to be very valid points.
    “Nay-Nay, of course monks exist. Who do you think works at a monastery?”
    Have you got any ideas? Seriously, chip in at any time. Cos I’m absolutely clueless on…
    “Monks, Nay-Nay. Monastery, monk. Like nuns in nunneries, abbots in abbeys, vicars in vicarages, you get monks in monasteries. Fuck, you can tell you weren’t raised religious”
    “You were raised religious?” I asked, curious. She didn’t strike me as the religious type. What with the heathenry, sin and resolute conviction that she, herself, was a deity.
    “Yeah. Maybe. Whatever, why are you talking about me? Focus on Tim”
    Tim. So, as I was saying, Tim was a monk. But, like all of God’s creatures, he was horny for Maria. And this interested Maria.
    She’d ‘run’ into him and spoke to him about salvation and other Jesus-y shit that I don’t really pay attention to. Religion is not my bag. I had a Jewish aunt and did you know Judaism is in a foreign language? And it’s not written with letters, you know? Well, sorta. They look like letters written by a ** person. Long story short, turns out I’m ignorant on all things religion. See, it’s not just you guys who are learning.
    Well, we were going around his place (or should that be His place? I dunno, I’m religiously illiterate, remember) on the grounds that I was a sinner and I needed moral guidance and clarity. Which, to be fair, is probably true.
    However, that’s not why we were going round. And, let’s be honest here, that’s not why he was inviting us round. He wanted to baptise Maria in his Holy Water, so to speak.
    “This her?” he asked, with really well-faked concern. Oh look at me, I have strayed from God’s flock. [Pulls cute sexy holy sheep face]
    “Yeah, Naomee. With two ‘e’s. The misspelling of her name is probably where it all started to go wrong for the poor child, in all honesty” she explained, and he did this thing with his face where he looked like he actually gave a fuck about my well-being. What a strange expression to pull.
    He invited us in.
    The fool.
    +

    It took 22 minutes. 22 minutes and Maria was doing him up the arse with a dildo, while I sat and watched, eating Chinese food that I had brought with me, because planning ahead is getting ahead, my friends. I watched, and ate, and manned the camera, while Maria did her Maria thing. And, I don’t know if it was the holy accommodation or what, but the only thing I could think of saying was “Jesus fucking Christ!”.
    32 minutes into this and he was feeding me while she was licking his arsehole. It was rather pleasant, truth be told. Like a nice shower after a stiff yoga session. Only fattier, sexier, weirder and more damnation-inducing. I mean, if this is what organised religion is like all the time, I might give it a go. Could you guys let me know. I don’t want to miss my calling as a nun, if it involves threeway stuffing sessions and anal.
    47 minutes later and I was giving him a blowjob while he was eating Maria out. I don’t think that’s how a 69 works. I don’t know what the name for that is. 666?

    +

    “Well, we have to run Tim… well, waddle… but this was great. I feel holy again” I smiled at him, as he recoiled into his bed with a different expression to the tender concern he’d shown earlier. This one was much more familiar. This was the ‘I’ve been Maria-d’ face. Everyone pulls it at some point in their lives. If you haven’t yet, well… it’s nice to have something to look forward to.
    Maria was packing up the camera and folding up the tripod.
    “Yeah, let’s go Mammon” Maria smiled to me, and pointing for me to leave.
    “Sure thing, Satan” I smiled back, and we walk back.
    You do have to wonder what was going through his mind at this point. But I don’t think even confession would be redeeming what he did with us. Sometimes, you just have to prey to your relevant deity that you yourself never find yourself in a position where you get co-badgered. Trust me, you might think you do, but you do not want to be co-badgered.

    +

    “That was glorious, Nay-Nay. Oh, that was so deliciously evil. I loved it” Maria said, dancing in the dark wet street with pent-up joy. She looked magnificent. Maybe it was the rain, Kirsten Dunsting down her top, maybe it was seeing the emotional ejaculation of joy that ruining a man’s life brought her. But whatever it was, it was working wonders for her, and I, for one, stanned hard.
    That said, and we all know the reason you filthy pups are here, she was looking ‘curvier’ than usual. Not ‘bad’ curvier by all means. In fact, the contrary, she looked remarkable. She was perfect-looking before, and now she was even perfect-er. The way she could swing her hips out on her tall frame now, was magnificent. Honestly, I think even the Pope would have been bummed by her, looking like she did right now.
    “So, what happens next? Do you stalk him or just relax in the knowledge that he’s a one-and-done”
    “Oh, I’ll probably check up in a month or so. Let him have time to go soul-searching or, better still, rock-bottom-searching” she said, swinging on lamp-posts like she was Gene Kelly.
    “So, it’s late now, we going back or…”
    “I have to go to the gym, it’s…”
    “At this hour. I mean, I know that body doesn’t keep itself, but still...” I risked a smirk. The fact that she had to exercise was still a sensitive subject. But the euphoria of her malevolence meant she was okay.
    “Yeah, an hour maybe”
    “So, you don’t want to go back and watch the footage? We could order pizza? I haven’t had pizza in hours and I miss cheesy crusts. But not that monk’s cheesy crust. Like, an actual cheesy crust” I explained, and she paused and looked at me, cock-headed.
    “What are you doing?” she eyed me with suspicion.
    Fuck.
    “Oh, come on Maria. We’ve just ruined a man’s life. I’ve never done anything like that before. Isn’t your blood pumping? Don’t you want to do something utterly depraved to celebrate? Oh my god, my heart is beating so fast. I might order three pizzas” I rushed, words falling out of my mouth.
    She stood still, and judged me silently. I couldn’t tell if I was sweating, or if all the rain was just hitting my forehead.
    “Naomee… did you really like it that much?”
    She said it tenderly, but with curiosity.
    “Are you fucking kidding me? Those were the best 71 minutes of my life. They might have been the best 71 minutes anyone has ever had in their life. Is this… what it always feels like?”
    She walked up to me slowly, rain kicking up as the flash-flood caused puddles along the pavement and the drains began to overflow. She reached me, pushed out a hand, and held my face.
    “I’ve never had anyone to share this with, before. I’ve…” she bit her lip to stifle tears. “Yes, I will stuff you with pizza all night long, Nay-Nay. Fuck, four pizzas, let’s really ravage you. And tomorrow, I will show you what a real high looks like. Tomorrow, we’ll do one of my regulars. Co-Badger”.
    And as much as I would spend the night eating out of her hand, I knew that, in the long run, I had her eating out of mine.

    +

    And then along came Sally.
    Sally was not a monk. That was a shame. But she was a mother of two children. And every time those kids went to their dads, Maria and her tripod would go round and push her a little closer to The Abyss. Today, Maria hoped, would be her tipping point.
    I was officially ‘her concubine’. Now, I wasn’t that keen on this undercover persona, truthfully. It seemed a little offensive and misogynistic. It also seemed a little too close to the truth. But that was the cover. I was an ‘offering’. We were going to feed every sexual impulse that she wanted, ones that only Maria was providing since the kids were born, and then Maria was going to tell her that she’d meet her there.
    Where?
    She’d told Sally that they would meet up in Wellington. Wellington, New Zealand. Sally would catch the first plane, with tickets that cleared out her bank balance, and Maria would catch a later one. Of course, Maria didn’t have any intention of catching a later one. Sally, ** on love, was going to travel to the other side of the world, with no money and no spare clothes, wait in a hotel for Maria to arrive, and then… wait some more.
    “At some point, she’ll get worried. Maybe I was apprehended, maybe I was held up. Maybe it’ll be the next one. Or the one after. She’ll go to text me… with this phone” Maria said, showing me the phone that she had stolen.
    “You stole her phone?” my eyes boggled.
    “Yeah, she’s gonna be fucked. Can’t afford to come back, can’t afford to stay. You don’t need a visa for up to 6 months. She’s gonna be so heart-broken” Maria grinned, and I smiled too.
    But this one was different. This was felt… different.
    Was it because there were kids involved? Maria didn’t mind. Kids would be better off without parents anyway, she said. Is it because of my own maternal abandonment issues? I don’t even know if Maria knows about those. Was it because she seemed innocent? This wasn’t sin that drove her to the other side of the country, it was love. Was it because she was female? It certainly was easier to hate a man than a woman. Men just have it coming, if I’m honest. Was it because her torment would be the painful slow burn of regret and heart-break, rather than the fiery self-loathing of guilt? Or was it just because she looked like I used to look like, before I got fat?
    “So, how was it?” Maria asked, her eyes dancing as she spoke. It was hypnotic.
    “I…”
    I paused. I tried to find the words she wanted to hear.
    “Well? Nay-Nay?”
    “It didn’t do it for me” I told her. Honestly.
    “Oh”
    “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I promise, I’ll enjoy the next one. But…”
    She smiled again, and held my cheek with her hand. I flinched as she did it.
    “Good. I just needed to check you weren’t bullshitting”
    I knew it! I knew it! I knew it was a test! I knew she didn’t expect me to enjoy it! I just knew it!
    “You were testing me?” I exclaimed, superficially shocked but truthfully relieved.
    “Yeah, I knew that wouldn’t be your cup of tea” she told me.
    “Was it yours?”
    “I… not really. I don’t know why. Just… something felt off about it. A bit… sad, more than anything. But, what’s done is done” she explained.
    And, I have to take a minute now. That was a bit much, and I just need to collect my thoughts. She took me to see Sally, ruined Sally’s life, ruined her husband’s life, her kids’ life, just to test me. So far, so evil. So Maria. But, she didn’t like it either? Does that mean Maria has a soul after all? Should I be happy about that? Or should I be worried for my own soul, given that we drew the same line in the same place? Fuck, am I faking this, or am I really like Maria?
    The rain started again, but this time, it didn’t feel so victorious. We weren’t singing in the rain. We were standing there with slumped shoulders.
    “Again? More rain?” I ask, to the sky.
    “Maybe, God is doing this to spite me” Maria mused. “That would be kinda hot, wouldn’t it? Provoking God. Maybe he’s turned on by me. I wonder what God’s fetish is. Everyone has one, I wonder what his is. I bet it’s like mine. I bet he gets off on the floods and the locusts and people suffering. Me and you and God, all have the same fetish. We’re the holy trinity. Masturbating furiously as people’s lives are ruined. God, oh yeah, he just loves it when people’s lives are ruined. Yeah, and anal. I bet God loves anal. Come on Nay-Nay, we should head to the gym”
    “The gym?”
    “Yeah, you don’t have to do anything. You can watch. But I’d like the company. Also, you could actually exercise. It would be kinda funny, kinda hot, to see you trying to work out in a gym. I don’t get to humiliate you much these days, given that you’re always inside”
    “You called me your piggy concubine?”
    “Oh yeah, I guess that counts. Come on, how do you fancy it? Tight lycra, heavy panting, utter shame? Sound good?”
    “Honestly, if it’s alright, I think I’ll just go home and stuff myself with pizza again. I don’t… feel like anything sexier” I admitted.
    “Oh. Sure. I mean, fuck it, I’ll keep you company” Maria said.
    And, on one hand, I’ve got her right where I want her. On the other hand, is Maria being nice to me? Am I betraying her one semi-functioning relationship? Are these slumped shoulders just for Sally, or are they for Maria too?
    But, what’s done is done. Let’s make Maria fat.
     
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    Part 12 - The Holy Trinity

    So, Tim was a monk.
    “A monk? Do they even exist any more? Apart from on mountains?” I raised what I believed to be very valid points.
    “Nay-Nay, of course monks exist. Who do you think works at a monastery?”
    Have you got any ideas? Seriously, chip in at any time. Cos I’m absolutely clueless on…
    “Monks, Nay-Nay. Monastery, monk. Like nuns in nunneries, abbots in abbeys, vicars in vicarages, you get monks in monasteries. Fuck, you can tell you weren’t raised religious”
    “You were raised religious?” I asked, curious. She didn’t strike me as the religious type. What with the heathenry, sin and resolute conviction that she, herself, was a deity.
    “Yeah. Maybe. Whatever, why are you talking about me? Focus on Tim”
    Tim. So, as I was saying, Tim was a monk. But, like all of God’s creatures, he was horny for Maria. And this interested Maria.
    She’d ‘run’ into him and spoke to him about salvation and other Jesus-y shit that I don’t really pay attention to. Religion is not my bag. I had a Jewish aunt and did you know Judaism is in a foreign language? And it’s not written with letters, you know? Well, sorta. They look like letters written by a ** person. Long story short, turns out I’m ignorant on all things religion. See, it’s not just you guys who are learning.
    Well, we were going around his place (or should that be His place? I dunno, I’m religiously illiterate, remember) on the grounds that I was a sinner and I needed moral guidance and clarity. Which, to be fair, is probably true.
    However, that’s not why we were going round. And, let’s be honest here, that’s not why he was inviting us round. He wanted to baptise Maria in his Holy Water, so to speak.
    “This her?” he asked, with really well-faked concern. Oh look at me, I have strayed from God’s flock. [Pulls cute sexy holy sheep face]
    “Yeah, Naomee. With two ‘e’s. The misspelling of her name is probably where it all started to go wrong for the poor child, in all honesty” she explained, and he did this thing with his face where he looked like he actually gave a fuck about my well-being. What a strange expression to pull.
    He invited us in.
    The fool.
    +

    It took 22 minutes. 22 minutes and Maria was doing him up the arse with a dildo, while I sat and watched, eating Chinese food that I had brought with me, because planning ahead is getting ahead, my friends. I watched, and ate, and manned the camera, while Maria did her Maria thing. And, I don’t know if it was the holy accommodation or what, but the only thing I could think of saying was “Jesus fucking Christ!”.
    32 minutes into this and he was feeding me while she was licking his arsehole. It was rather pleasant, truth be told. Like a nice shower after a stiff yoga session. Only fattier, sexier, weirder and more damnation-inducing. I mean, if this is what organised religion is like all the time, I might give it a go. Could you guys let me know. I don’t want to miss my calling as a nun, if it involves threeway stuffing sessions and anal.
    47 minutes later and I was giving him a blowjob while he was eating Maria out. I don’t think that’s how a 69 works. I don’t know what the name for that is. 666?

    +

    “Well, we have to run Tim… well, waddle… but this was great. I feel holy again” I smiled at him, as he recoiled into his bed with a different expression to the tender concern he’d shown earlier. This one was much more familiar. This was the ‘I’ve been Maria-d’ face. Everyone pulls it at some point in their lives. If you haven’t yet, well… it’s nice to have something to look forward to.
    Maria was packing up the camera and folding up the tripod.
    “Yeah, let’s go Mammon” Maria smiled to me, and pointing for me to leave.
    “Sure thing, Satan” I smiled back, and we walk back.
    You do have to wonder what was going through his mind at this point. But I don’t think even confession would be redeeming what he did with us. Sometimes, you just have to prey to your relevant deity that you yourself never find yourself in a position where you get co-badgered. Trust me, you might think you do, but you do not want to be co-badgered.

    +

    “That was glorious, Nay-Nay. Oh, that was so deliciously evil. I loved it” Maria said, dancing in the dark wet street with pent-up joy. She looked magnificent. Maybe it was the rain, Kirsten Dunsting down her top, maybe it was seeing the emotional ejaculation of joy that ruining a man’s life brought her. But whatever it was, it was working wonders for her, and I, for one, stanned hard.
    That said, and we all know the reason you filthy pups are here, she was looking ‘curvier’ than usual. Not ‘bad’ curvier by all means. In fact, the contrary, she looked remarkable. She was perfect-looking before, and now she was even perfect-er. The way she could swing her hips out on her tall frame now, was magnificent. Honestly, I think even the Pope would have been bummed by her, looking like she did right now.
    “So, what happens next? Do you stalk him or just relax in the knowledge that he’s a one-and-done”
    “Oh, I’ll probably check up in a month or so. Let him have time to go soul-searching or, better still, rock-bottom-searching” she said, swinging on lamp-posts like she was Gene Kelly.
    “So, it’s late now, we going back or…”
    “I have to go to the gym, it’s…”
    “At this hour. I mean, I know that body doesn’t keep itself, but still...” I risked a smirk. The fact that she had to exercise was still a sensitive subject. But the euphoria of her malevolence meant she was okay.
    “Yeah, an hour maybe”
    “So, you don’t want to go back and watch the footage? We could order pizza? I haven’t had pizza in hours and I miss cheesy crusts. But not that monk’s cheesy crust. Like, an actual cheesy crust” I explained, and she paused and looked at me, cock-headed.
    “What are you doing?” she eyed me with suspicion.
    Fuck.
    “Oh, come on Maria. We’ve just ruined a man’s life. I’ve never done anything like that before. Isn’t your blood pumping? Don’t you want to do something utterly depraved to celebrate? Oh my god, my heart is beating so fast. I might order three pizzas” I rushed, words falling out of my mouth.
    She stood still, and judged me silently. I couldn’t tell if I was sweating, or if all the rain was just hitting my forehead.
    “Naomee… did you really like it that much?”
    She said it tenderly, but with curiosity.
    “Are you fucking kidding me? Those were the best 71 minutes of my life. They might have been the best 71 minutes anyone has ever had in their life. Is this… what it always feels like?”
    She walked up to me slowly, rain kicking up as the flash-flood caused puddles along the pavement and the drains began to overflow. She reached me, pushed out a hand, and held my face.
    “I’ve never had anyone to share this with, before. I’ve…” she bit her lip to stifle tears. “Yes, I will stuff you with pizza all night long, Nay-Nay. Fuck, four pizzas, let’s really ravage you. And tomorrow, I will show you what a real high looks like. Tomorrow, we’ll do one of my regulars. Co-Badger”.
    And as much as I would spend the night eating out of her hand, I knew that, in the long run, I had her eating out of mine.

    +

    And then along came Sally.
    Sally was not a monk. That was a shame. But she was a mother of two children. And every time those kids went to their dads, Maria and her tripod would go round and push her a little closer to The Abyss. Today, Maria hoped, would be her tipping point.
    I was officially ‘her concubine’. Now, I wasn’t that keen on this undercover persona, truthfully. It seemed a little offensive and misogynistic. It also seemed a little too close to the truth. But that was the cover. I was an ‘offering’. We were going to feed every sexual impulse that she wanted, ones that only Maria was providing since the kids were born, and then Maria was going to tell her that she’d meet her there.
    Where?
    She’d told Sally that they would meet up in Wellington. Wellington, New Zealand. Sally would catch the first plane, with tickets that cleared out her bank balance, and Maria would catch a later one. Of course, Maria didn’t have any intention of catching a later one. Sally, ** on love, was going to travel to the other side of the world, with no money and no spare clothes, wait in a hotel for Maria to arrive, and then… wait some more.
    “At some point, she’ll get worried. Maybe I was apprehended, maybe I was held up. Maybe it’ll be the next one. Or the one after. She’ll go to text me… with this phone” Maria said, showing me the phone that she had stolen.
    “You stole her phone?” my eyes boggled.
    “Yeah, she’s gonna be fucked. Can’t afford to come back, can’t afford to stay. You don’t need a visa for up to 6 months. She’s gonna be so heart-broken” Maria grinned, and I smiled too.
    But this one was different. This was felt… different.
    Was it because there were kids involved? Maria didn’t mind. Kids would be better off without parents anyway, she said. Is it because of my own maternal abandonment issues? I don’t even know if Maria knows about those. Was it because she seemed innocent? This wasn’t sin that drove her to the other side of the country, it was love. Was it because she was female? It certainly was easier to hate a man than a woman. Men just have it coming, if I’m honest. Was it because her torment would be the painful slow burn of regret and heart-break, rather than the fiery self-loathing of guilt? Or was it just because she looked like I used to look like, before I got fat?
    “So, how was it?” Maria asked, her eyes dancing as she spoke. It was hypnotic.
    “I…”
    I paused. I tried to find the words she wanted to hear.
    “Well? Nay-Nay?”
    “It didn’t do it for me” I told her. Honestly.
    “Oh”
    “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I promise, I’ll enjoy the next one. But…”
    She smiled again, and held my cheek with her hand. I flinched as she did it.
    “Good. I just needed to check you weren’t bullshitting”
    I knew it! I knew it! I knew it was a test! I knew she didn’t expect me to enjoy it! I just knew it!
    “You were testing me?” I exclaimed, superficially shocked but truthfully relieved.
    “Yeah, I knew that wouldn’t be your cup of tea” she told me.
    “Was it yours?”
    “I… not really. I don’t know why. Just… something felt off about it. A bit… sad, more than anything. But, what’s done is done” she explained.
    And, I have to take a minute now. That was a bit much, and I just need to collect my thoughts. She took me to see Sally, ruined Sally’s life, ruined her husband’s life, her kids’ life, just to test me. So far, so evil. So Maria. But, she didn’t like it either? Does that mean Maria has a soul after all? Should I be happy about that? Or should I be worried for my own soul, given that we drew the same line in the same place? Fuck, am I faking this, or am I really like Maria?
    The rain started again, but this time, it didn’t feel so victorious. We weren’t singing in the rain. We were standing there with slumped shoulders.
    “Again? More rain?” I ask, to the sky.
    “Maybe, God is doing this to spite me” Maria mused. “That would be kinda hot, wouldn’t it? Provoking God. Maybe he’s turned on by me. I wonder what God’s fetish is. Everyone has one, I wonder what his is. I bet it’s like mine. I bet he gets off on the floods and the locusts and people suffering. Me and you and God, all have the same fetish. We’re the holy trinity. Masturbating furiously as people’s lives are ruined. God, oh yeah, he just loves it when people’s lives are ruined. Yeah, and anal. I bet God loves anal. Come on Nay-Nay, we should head to the gym”
    “The gym?”
    “Yeah, you don’t have to do anything. You can watch. But I’d like the company. Also, you could actually exercise. It would be kinda funny, kinda hot, to see you trying to work out in a gym. I don’t get to humiliate you much these days, given that you’re always inside”
    “You called me your piggy concubine?”
    “Oh yeah, I guess that counts. Come on, how do you fancy it? Tight lycra, heavy panting, utter shame? Sound good?”
    “Honestly, if it’s alright, I think I’ll just go home and stuff myself with pizza again. I don’t… feel like anything sexier” I admitted.
    “Oh. Sure. I mean, fuck it, I’ll keep you company” Maria said.
    And, on one hand, I’ve got her right where I want her. On the other hand, is Maria being nice to me? Am I betraying her one semi-functioning relationship? Are these slumped shoulders just for Sally, or are they for Maria too?
    But, what’s done is done. Let’s make Maria fat.
     
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    Chapter 11 - Badger, Badger

    Hey there, long time no speak. Remember where we were? Good, cos we’re jumping straight back in. Buckle up sunshine, this is gonna get bumpy.
    “Why are you offering me a chicken goujon?”
    I’m beginning to wonder if this chapter should have had a re-cap. Previously, on last week’s episode of Naomee’s weird and fetishistic obsession with her worst nightmare… sort of thing. But, and here’s a story telling trick… nobody will give a fuck, as long as your chapter contains titties. Honestly, no matter how bad your story-telling is, how clunky your dialogue, throw in some gratuitous titties and everyone’s happy. That’s why Treebeard is always topless in Lord Of The Rings.
    “Because if you like chicken, and you like… goujon, I guess, then you’ll love chicken goujons”
    She, Maria, The Abyss, Lucifer, whatever you want to call her, just shook her head at me like I’d disappointed her.
    “Honest to God, one minute, you’re like a little wall-flower, other times you think you’re on a comedy podcast. And nobody listens to comedy podcasts. You’re fucking schizo, Nay-Nay” she said with a venomous sigh, her nostrils flaring, like a pissed off badger.
    She didn’t mean anything by it. Or maybe she did. I mean, this is Maria we’re talking about. Maybe she said it to trigger me. But there is something I should clear up before we go any further. Another ‘Did you know?’, because learning is growing and every day is a school day.
    Did you know there are two types of schizophrenia? Sure, you’ve watched A Beautiful Mind and think you know your shit. You know your shit, but I know you’re shit. You see, A Beautiful Mind is bollocks, John Nash was done dirty. But, beyond that, schizophrenia is not what Hollywood tells you it is. Or, at least, it’s not all Hollywood tells you it is. Because there are two types of schizophrenia and they only ever show you one of them.
    “I just like chicken goujons. I thought you might like them too. If that’s crazy, then I guess I’m crazy” I told her, biting into another one. But I’m not crazy. You’ll vouch for me, right?
    The first type of schizophrenia is positive schizophrenia. Which sounds like a stupid name because all types of schizophrenia are negative. But it refers to the fact that it ‘adds’ symptoms, which I’ll explain later. But, the point is, this is the type of schizophrenia you might be familiar with. The cool type, where you hear voices (Hi guys, by the way!) or become paranoid. Rarely, but occasionally, you might even hallucinate. But Hollywood over-emphasises that, just so Russell Crowe can get an Oscar or something, I dunno.
    “You’re up to something” she stared suspiciously. Her eyes scanning me like a crime scene for clues.
    The second type of schizophrenia is negative schizophrenia. And this refers to ‘subtracting’ symptoms. Or, to put more simply, where the bits of you are watered down or lost ever so slightly. You speak less, you engage less, you think less. It’s like you’ve tried to reboot them, and their just hanging. They’re there, but not as there as they should be. And this was the type of schizophrenia my mum had.
    “I was just wondering what you were up to, today? If you had any plans?” I tell her, chomping on more chicken-y goujon-y (what the actual fuck is a goujon? And is it only chicken that can get goujon-ified? Does it count as a goujon, if it’s not from the Goujon region of France? Is it just a sparkling drumstick?) goodness.
    Schizophrenics do not make great parents. It’s not their fault, but try explaining that to 8 year old me. When she was on a new cocktail of medication, you’d see her again. Flashes of the woman that my dad would tell me about. Her eyes would gain focus, a smile would creep up on her lips. She’d call me Nay-Nay. But, there were also the other times. I was told that she still cared, but her body had forgotten how to express it. So I would talk to my ma, read stories with her, tell her jokes, play with toys. All while she failed to engage. It wasn’t her fault. She had other things on her mind, perhaps.
    “Yes, I always have plans. Why are you asking?” she walked up to me and stared me down. Like I was honey. And she was a badger. A honey badger.
    What’s with me calling Maria a badger all the time?
    As I grew up, she didn’t get better, my mum. Sometimes they do. My dad worked hard to explain that the reason she didn’t wasn’t because she loved me less. It’s just the disease. But he didn’t sound convincing. Maybe he was having doubts of his own. It must have been hard for my dad, looking back. Slowly, I spent less time with my mum. More time with my friends. With the living. When I was with her, I wasn’t really. I would be playing Snake on my phone. Just eating more and more apples. Maybe watching internet clips, including the Badger Badger Badger one.
    Wait, is that why I’m calling Maria a badger?
    “Who? Is it Rab? Nihal? Jonah? The woman with the big nose?” I ask, reeling off all the scant information I had picked up while she did her Maria thing and I stayed at home and did my Naomee thing. And my Naomee thing was just eat until it hurt, and then eat some more.
    More time would pass and I eventually pulled away entirely. I wasn’t engaging with her, because she wasn’t with me. Maybe it was unfair to expect a child to do all the heavy lifting. Maybe it was unfair for a child to expect a schizophrenic to do her fair share of heavy lifting. But I pulled away. And as soon as I was old enough, I moved out. Away from her, and with my friends instead. And I left her all alone. She’d been getting more and more alone, but I sealed the deal by moving out. It leaves a stain of guilt on you, the kind that not even Cillit Bang could get out. Sorry Tom Scott, but guilt is permanent, even if left to soak.
    “You’re too fat to come”
    “I cum all the time”
    “No… why are you acting needy? You know my views on needy”
    I never want to be alone. Not like my mum was. I never want to feel abandoned. Not like my mum was. By me. I need Maria. She’s the only life raft I have to hand. And it’s stupid and crazy and makes no fucking sense. I’m well aware. But maybe I am crazy and stupid and make no fucking sense. My mum was, so why can’t I be? I never loved my mum. Not really. I just carried her around on my shoulders until she became to much to bear. And then I left her. And I never want to be left like she was.
    “I want in”
    “No”
    “You need a crewmate”
    “I do not need a crewmate. I have never needed a crewmate. I’m a lone wolf”
    “No you’re not. You’re a badger!” I shout.
    “Uhhh… sorry. Run that one by me”
    “Badgers… they… okay, look. I don’t know if you know this about me but I like educating people. Facts, trivia, that kinda thing. And I have a badger fact”
    “I do not want to hear a fact about badgers”
    “Badgers… hunt in packs. You didn’t know that, did you? Badgers hunt in packs. They’re like velociraptors. Or Feds. Or garden gnomes. Badgers hunt in packs. And you are a badger. It’s about time you had a packmate”
    Maria eyed me with her badger eyes.
    “How would it work?”
    “I’ll explain. But first, these goujons are done, and I’m gonna waste away if you’re not careful. So, grab us some grub, feed me, fuck me, and then I’ll give you the plan”
    She shook her head, but walked to the fridge, ready to oblige.
    The only time I ever spoke to my mum was on her birthday. I would call her, and she wouldn’t talk, but my dad would put the receiver to her ear and I would sing her happy birthday. The one time she ever got to hear my voice. I missed her birthday this year. Maria-reasons. She took that from me. My mum died three weeks later. Schizophrenia has comorbidity with other physical ailments and she ended up having a heart attack. And I never sung her happy birthday. All because of fucking Maria.
    Maria walked back into the room, her smile set to delicious. She was carrying my favourite - too much cheesecake. She took off her top, took off her bra, took off her shorts, took off her uncomfortable looking thong and walked up to me with three cheesecakes, one fork and a desire to ruin me.
    Watching her walk up to me, I could see what a stunningly attractive woman she was. Tall, elegant and with curves in the right places. Breasts - breasts that I had promised you, so enjoy - that would bounce a little with every step, firm handfuls of titty goodness. Or something. There’s a reason why Tolkein never described Treebeard’s titties in Lord Of The Rings. It’s hard to do without it sounding weird and gratuitous. Her hips were pronounced and elegant. Her legs long and soft. And her stomach shapely and curvy. She’d gained weight.
    Good.
    She sat down next to me, with cheesecake #1, and gently sliced off a chunk from the pointy end, and pushed it towards my mouth. A mouth which opened as if activated by sensors. And my eyes rolled back as I chewed.
    “To my fellow co-badger” she smiled. Thinking she had an ally.
    “To my fellow co-badger” I smiled back. Thinking of vengeance.
     
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    Chapter 10 - Chicken Goujons

    Shhh…
    Don’t wake her now.
    Look, she’s asleep. She’s had quite the day and I think all that emotion, it’s just taken it out of her. It’s not every day that the girl that you fattened up out of sadistic morbid curiosity because you see yourself in the same lineage as a 16th Century political diplomat from Italy rumbles you as not really being from the Basque region of Spain because she wanted to show you her journal of numbers that was actually a cry for help. It’s not every day, at all.
    She’s still terrifying. Probably even moreso, if I’m honest. She was terrifying when I thought that she was always in control. Imagine how scared I am now that I know she’s not. She’s as fucked up as the rest of us. Nay, more so. It’s taken some of the weight off my shoulders, if I’m honest. But it’s not taken the weight off anywhere else.
    But just look at her. Sleeping so soundly. She looks so peaceful. It’s probably the first honest night of sleep that she’s had in a good decade.
    It’s been a couple of weeks since ‘the incident’. And it was fractious at the beginning, I have to admit. And it was also fractious at the middle. And, come to think of it, it’s been fairly fractious at the end. Let’s put it this way - hiding the knives was the best decision I’ve ever made. That said, it does make cutting food difficult.
    It’s a bit like that scene at the end of Men in Black II - if you want high culture, don’t read a story written by me - where Will Smith is like, and this isn’t a direct quote “Woah, we should tell them alien thangs that they are like ants to us” and the big reveal is that the humans are like ants to some other alien race. Anyway, this contrived analogy is basically to say that the Men in Black films are awesome and that Maria has to come to terms with the fact that she’s an ant too. Thinking about it, I should have gone with Shutter Island, but that might be a spoiler so…
    The first time she tried to kill me was the very next morning. I remember waking up and seeing her stare at me with her Sauron eyes. And then she said:
    “I’m gonna murder you in your sleep”
    Yeah. You know how she be.
    “You woke me up to tell me that?” I remember grumbling, letting my head sink back into my pillow.
    “I just wanted you to know”
    “Yeah, yeah. Sure thing. Now, I’m just gonna…”
    And then I fell asleep. I like sleeping. Sleeping’s good.
    I woke about thirty seconds later and there was a knife to my throat.
    “I said I was gonna kill you”
    She spat the words, like they left a bad taste in her mouth. Like the words had gone off. The cold serrated blade running against my neck.
    “Yeah… in my sleep. So why do you keep waking me?” I replied, turned back over and drifted off. Fuck, I really do love sleeping.
    Anyway, like I said earlier, we are now a knife-free household. Fortunately, pizzas and Chinese food - the two main food groups imo - don’t require knives. And cakes don’t require knives if you eat them like I do. In fact, what are hands if not nature’s knives? Speaking of which, it’s time I mentioned the second time Maria threatened to murder me.
    Okay, picture the scene. I’m still leaning fairly heavily - pun not intended but, you know what, I’ll take the credit for it if there’s any going - into this whole over-indulging thing. If you put a gun to my head - don’t give her ideas! - and asked me why, I don’t think I could tell you. To fuck with Maria? To fuck Maria? Who knows? And while there’s casserole in the oven, who cares?
    Anyway, stop distracting me. I was gorging most resplendently on those chicken goujon things that you sometimes get, you know the ones I mean? Yeah, them. Anyway, I was working through a poultry farm of them when I sensed her getting grumpy again. The air turned a little cold and there was this palpable restlessness emanating from her like radiation.
    “What’s up, Ms. Jones?”
    “Don’t call me that” she replied, more curt than Mr Russell.
    “Well, something’s up. Would a chicken goujon help?”
    “I’m not angry” she seethed. Angrily.
    “Sure” I said, before carrying on. “Oh god, these goujons are good. Are you sure I can’t tempt you?”
    “Just fuck off, will you?”
    “Or you’ll murder me?”
    “Yeah, I’ll… why are you saying it like that?”
    “Will Maria Jones threaten to murder me or something, for a change?”
    “You’re really asking for it, you know that?”
    “Is it the chicken goujons? Do they remind you of your childhood? Were you bullied by a chicken goujon when you were a kid? Did the chicken goujon call you names?”
    “Stop saying ‘chicken goujon’!” she said, and threw a dumbbell at me. It missed my head by about six inches.
    “Do you want a breaded chicken piece?” I asked, not even flinching. I can be such a bad-ass at times.
    “The morning times are mine. They belong to me. You… you sleep in the mornings. I work out. I… why are you up? Ruining my mornings?” her shoulders were so tense, you could cut cheese on the blades of them. And, actually, cheese sounds pretty good right now.
    “Peckish. Do you have any cheese? Cheese sounds pretty good right now”
    She just sighed in frustration.
    “I mean, have you ever thought about just… not exercising?”
    “You watch your mouth!” I spat out. See, I can do venom too. Although, I was mainly taking the piss.
    And that was death threat numero dos, or tres, or whatever. I can’t keep count when I’m hungry. Which is often.
    And so it would go on. Us cohabiting and her hating my guts. Literally. I have guts now. Every now and again, she’d threaten to send me packing to the morgue and I’d shrug my shoulders and reach for the bread bin. Bread makes you fat.
    It was kinda humdrum. Kinda staid. The tired, steady rolling of life. It was like somebody had spent the past six months dousing us in kerosene and threatening to burn us and now, six mad months later, we’ve only just been told that kerosene doesn’t actually catch fire with a match. Michael Bay has been lying to us all this time. Next, I’ll be finding out that the cars in the road aren’t robots in disguise or something. Like I said, don’t expect high-brow references from moi.
    That’s French. And that’s as sophisticated as I get.
    Anyway, it’s time for me to get up soon, so it’s probably best to wrap up. Maria will be livid. For a change. But I need to get up because I want to eat my body weight in Chinese noodles in szechuan sauce. And that’s a lot of body weight. So I need to get started.
    Stop it.
    Stop looking at me like that.
    Look, I know what you’re thinking. That my characterisations in this chapter haven’t been entirely consistent with what came before. I’m coooool, now. Well-adjusted. I’m not a deer gazing lustfully into car headlamps any more. She doesn’t have control over me. Plus, this is my story and I’ll write me however I see fit. If you have a problem with that, take it up with the writer, which is me, so go fuck yourself.
    No. Stop it.
    I said stop it.
    Look. Okay. Fine. You want the truth? You want the truth? You can’t handle the…
    A serious answer? Oh. I see.
    Fine. Okay, I’ll try again. From the beginning.
    The past three weeks have been awful. I think I have Stockholm Syndrome. At the very least, Gothenburg syndrome. And they’re the only two Swedish places that I know. I don’t know why I’m here. The leash has been cut, my anchor lifted, my roots uprooted. There is no reason for me to follow Maria around like a lost puppy. And yet here I am.
    The bit about the death threats? Yeah, that actually happened. But, I wasn’t some cool as a cucumber girl with one-liners and a tendency to say those one-liners while putting my sunglasses and staring off into the middle distance (just where is Horatio Caine looking when the CSI:Miami credits start to roll?). I was fucking terrified. Which, IMO, is a reasonable response. Honestly, not being fucking terrified is the insane reaction, mine is the well-adjusted one.
    I mean, how would you feel, waking up with a knife to your neck and Satan herself threatening to cut my neck like it’s halal meat? It’s no wonder I’m a wreck. It’s no wonder I shake. It’s no wonder I make sure I’m always the first one up in the morning, neck deep in cheesy puffs and mayonnaise. It’s not a great combo but she shopping delivery doesn’t arrive until the afternoon.
    She really did throw a dumbbell at me. She really did miss by six inches. But I didn’t offer her a chicken goujon. I sat down silently and ate my sorrows in pepperami sticks. They gave me acid reflux but they were the only friend I had at the time.
    I missed my mum’s birthday. I ignored the call from her. Didn’t call back. I don’t care now. I don’t care any more. You thought that me finding out Maria’s big secret was going to change the power dynamic between me and Maria? Then you really don’t understand Maria at all.
    Maybe… maybe that’s why I eat. You asked earlier why I was still eating. Maybe this is why. Because some things have changed. But other things haven’t. I’m still scared of her. I’m still attracted to her. The main difference is she sometimes drops the Spanish accent. For a treat. Aren’t I lucky?
    The thrill of her is gone though. This was unexpected, but I don’t fancy her any more. She’s lost her lustre but kept the crazy. I don’t fantasise about her, but I’m still at her mercy. Stockholm syndrome? More like Stuck-home syndrome.
    Anyway, I’m getting up now, microwaving those noodles and eating until it’s tomorrow. And, if there’s any consolation, it’s that at least I’m screwing up her keep-fit routine.
    Yeah, that’s a good point. I hadn’t thought of that before.
    Hmmm…

    +-+-+-+-+-+-

    One hour later, Maria pads her feet down across the hall carpet and walks into the main room. I’m there, eating my ever-increasing body weight.
    “You’re up?”
    “Down, actually”
    “Don’t be smart with me”
    “Okay. Sorry. And… umm… I’ve been meaning to ask… Maria?”
    “Yeah?”
     

    “Chicken goujon?” and I offered her a plate.
     
  18. Like
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from dania201 in Bluebell's 2019   
    Thank you. I was a bit worried because nobody seemed to like this chapter. Something to do with it being the bleakest, most miserable thing ever written maybe? Anyway, thank you for your support
  19. Thanks
    swahilimonkfish reacted to dania201 in Bluebell's 2019   
    I’m looking forward to the finale—but I’m going to grieve such an epic story coming to an end!
    Great chapter, Fish!
  20. Wow
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from dania201 in Bluebell's 2019   
    A Blue Christmas Special
     
     
    December 2020***

    Twelve days until Christmas
     

    “Check it out now, I’m the funk soul brother. Right about now…” Bluebell sung to herself with her chunky pink headphones on, sprawled out on the sofa in her nightie. As she did, she brought her sausage roll to her mouth and took a huge chunk out of it. Flakes of pastry broke off and fell down, some on the carpet below but most left on her nightie top.
    “Blue…”
    “...I’m the funk soul brother…”
    “Blue… for fucks sake, you’re not even singing a Christmas song...”
    “...Check it out now, I’m the funk soul brother..”
    “BLUE!”
    “Oh… ummm… hey babe” Bluebell said, pulling her headphones off and looking at her girlfriend. “Was I singing too loud?”
    “No, I love your singing voice” Bosh smiled, leaning on the doorframe with her arms folded. She’d got her marigolds on from washing the breakfast pots.
    “I sound like a dying cat”
    “A cute dying cat though. Sort of like… mia-argh!” Bosh imitated a cat dying in a sing-song melody.
    “Fuck off” Bluebell laughed.
    “I just wanted to say you were in a good mood, that was all. And that I’m glad that you liked your early Christmas present” Bosh smiled as she backed slyly into the kitchen. Bluebell tilted her head in curiosity as she poured herself another glass of port. It was the season, after all.
    “They’re so good, Bosh. Thank you. The bass on these… like, really good”
    “Is that the technical term? Like, really good?” Bosh smiled.
    “I dunno. I’m not a music nerd. And anyway, why is me being in a good mood such a big deal? I’m always in a good mood” Bluebell smiled back, biting into her last sausage roll.
    “Well… you are these days. And… since you’ve been so cheery lately. I got you a treat…” Bosh said, slipping out of sight and into the kitchen.
    “Oh my god, is it another advent calendar?”
    “You’ve… how many of those do you need?” Bosh shouted from around the corner.
    “You can never have too many advent calendars. They’re what Christmas is about”
    “I’m pretty sure it’s more to do with that Jesus fella. And the chocolate would be so much cheaper if you just bought it separately” Bosh continued from out of Bluebell’s eyeline.
    “Yeah, but looking for and opening the little doors is half the fun” Bluebell giggled, pulling her glass of port to her lips.
    “You’re such a child”
    “No I’m not!” Bluebell huffed, folded her arms immaturely. Her face, a dorky grin, gave her away though. Bosh shook her head in mocking exasperation as she wended her way back into the room. “Anyway, why you acting so sus?”
    “I have no idea what ‘sus’ means but...  I got you this as a treat. But… this has to last you beyond just today” Bosh said, pulling the gift back like Bluebell was a puppy.
    “I will be a polygon of restraint”
    “Nice try… it’s paragon. Paragon of restr… oh fuck, whatever, here you go” Bosh handed Bluebell over her reward. And what a reward it was too. An eye-popping extravaganza wrapped up in wicker. It was a hamper large enough to carry a dog to the vets and, amongst the swamp of straw, was a spectacular array of chocolates and nibbles.
    “Oh shit, this looks epic” Bluebell smirked, fisting the last of sausage roll into her mouth clumsily as her eyes boggled before her. “Bring it here then, let me have a proper look at this bad boy”.
    “It was the raffle at work. This was the runner up prize, can you believe it? Jeff - with a J - he got a week in Cornwall. Lucky fucker” Bosh continued, but Bluebell wasn’t listening. She was pulling all the various treats out of the hamper and squealing with excitement at each one.
    “Fudge! I love fudge. And, oh my god, white chocolate’s my favourite!” she said, taking a bite and rolling her head back in ecstasy.
    “I thought dark chocolate was your favourite”
    “Yeah, that is too”

    “You… you can’t have two favourites”
    “Why not?”
    “Because there’s only three types of chocolate to begin with. Dark, white and milk…”
    “Oh my god, I love milk chocolate. Now, that one is my favourite!” she said, throwing some of the butterscotch fudge pieces in your mouth.
    “Try to make it last until Christmas” Bosh smiled, shaking her head in absolute despair.
    “But Christmas is twelve days away!” Bluebell said, using jest to veil the genuine grievance that she felt over the issue.
    “Just… please Blue. Show some actual restr… where’s the sherry gone?” Bosh sat herself down and picked up the empty bottle.
    “Oh relax, there’s some gin in the cupboard” Bluebell said, now putting some chocolate in her mouth with a guilty smile.
    “That’s not the point, Blue…”

    “It’s that lemon gin that you like”
    “Oh. I mean… it’s not really for midday drinking…”
    “Oh go on, it’s Christmas” Bluebell smiled at her, as she bit into her chocolate.
    “Fine. Fuck it, we can treat ourselves at Christmas, can’t we?” Bosh sighed, picking herself up off the sofa and walking to the cabinet where the booze was kept. “But you better not finish those chocolates before Christmas”
    The last line was delivered with a maternal point, but Bluebell just smiled as she put the last chocolate into her mouth.
     

    11 Days Until Christmas
     
    “Babe… when are you coming to bed?” Bosh said, walking back downstairs in a long nightie that went down to her knees. 
    “In a minute babe”
    “It’s 2:30 in the morning”
    “Yeah, I’ll be up in a minute. It’s just... I’m the imposter and I’m on a rampage”
    Bosh sighed heavily.
    “Blue, you know I don’t know what any of those words mean, right? Wait, what’s with all this mess?” Bosh sighed, seeing the table absolutely cluttered with rubbish.
    The table next to the sofa was overflowing with empty cans, empty wrappers and filled ashtrays. Stale smoke filled the air.
    “Oh don’t worry Bosh, I’ll clear it before I come up” Bluebell turned around and smiled at her girlfriend sincerely.
    “That’s not the problem, Blue. The problem is… have you ** all this?” she said grabbing a bin liner and began putting all the empty cans and bottles in there.
    “It’s not alcohol. It’s lying juice. It helps me lie… speaking of which, hang on a sec babe, I gotta…” and Bluebell switched the microphone on her headset back on. “Well, I saw red running South down the main corridor…”
    Bosh rolled her eyes again and picked the bag up and began walking to the door that lead to the back garden where they kept the recycling. Just as she got there, with the black binbag hooked over her shoulder like she was Santa Claus, she looked back over at her girlfriend, whose build was far closer to the jolly gift dispenser.
    Bosh sighed heavily, and rested her head on the doorframe. Maybe it was because she was grumpy, maybe it was because she was tired. But she suddenly felt the urge to cry. Head leaning on the doorframe, she could see her girlfriend. She looked huge, just massive, bulging out of her camisole and shorts. She was sitting at the desktop PC that she had bought herself as a housewarming gift out of Bosh’s wages. She didn’t have an accompanying deskchair, she had an armchair. She’d put a further layer of cushions to compensate for the comparative lack of height, and this also helped her with her width issue; namely that she was essentially wider than the arms of the armchair. Her elevated position meant that she could spill out over the sides rather than squish between them. Bosh never thought she’d see the day Blue outgrew a fucking armchair.
    But it was also how she sat there, ignorant of how Bosh felt, chatting away without a care in the world. Eating the food she’d promised she’d save until Christmas, drinking the booze they were supposed to share together, smoking the cigarettes she swore she was cutting down on. It didn’t seem malicious, just absent-minded indulging. But, on the other hand, it meant she never really stopped binge eating. Just a train of it, one carriage of bingeing connected to another, from morning until night. Bosh knew it was getting out of hand, but she simply didn’t have the words to tell her without pushing her away. So, instead, she watched her girlfriend eat herself away instead.
    With a heavy sigh, she opened the door to the back garden. It was throwing it down, rain heaving from the sky. Bosh was dressed in just a nightie and pink slippers. She picked up the bag, and swung it over her back and stepped out into the rain.
    With quick footsteps, she scurried across to the corner where they kept all the recycling. Normally, she would split the bottles from the plastics from the cardboards, but with the Heavens as open as they were, she elected just to just head straight to the bin for household waste. She got there, the skies dampening her fluffy slippers, and began to swing the back from over her shoulders when the bag ripped and everything fell onto the grass.
    Bosh kicked the trash in frustration, before just sitting on the wet, muddy grass, and began to cry.
    +
    It took Bluebell 20 minutes for her to realise that her girlfriend was still out there. First, she won on her PC game, avoiding suspicion from her crewmates and slicing her way to victory. Then she had a celebratory gin and tonic, and finished off her Ben & Jerry’s Gimme S’more pint tub. And then she went into the lobby for another game. And then she realised her girlfriend hadn’t come back in.
    Slowly, Bluebell pulled herself up, pushing the crumbs onto the floor, and waddled towards the back door. Out there, in the heart of the downpour, was her girlfriend, just sitting there and sobbing.
    Bluebell walked into the kitchen, took a deep swig of the opened London’s Dry Gin from the fridge, along with a handful of biscuits from the cupboard, for strength. Then she grabbed her umbrella, and wandered outside.
    Slowly, she walked up to her girlfriend and sat down next to her.
    “Hey” Blue said understatedly.
    “You came?”
    “I came. I’m wet. All of the innuendos” Bluebell smiled, putting the last biscuit in her mouth. Bosh didn’t laugh. “So, what’s up?”
    “The bag broke”
    “Ahh, shit. I mean, it’s not the end of the world though…”
    “This will be our first Christmas together, living together. And it’s going shit” Bosh added, and Bluebell’s shoulders deflated.
    “Don’t… don’t say that…” Bluebell said, a little more weakly.
    “You finished that hamper, didn’t you? The one I got for the twelve days of Christmas?” Bosh said. No accusation in her voice, just resignation.
    “I mean… I mean…”
    “Just say it” Bosh said, a little sharper.
    “Yeah. But, if it helps, it was really good. The dark chocolate was my…”
    “It doesn’t help”
    “Look, Bosh. Leave the rubbish. Come in. You’ll catch something, sitting out here in this weather…”
    “Yeah, and you wouldn’t want me to have to see a doctor, would you?” Bosh hissed, before turning away.
    “What does that mean?”
    “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta go up, I’ve got work in the morning…”
    Bosh slowly pulled herself up to her feet, wiping her tears as she did.
    “Hey, hold up… give me a hand up, would you? It’s a long way down and…”
    But Bosh was already walking off. From behind, Blue could see the garden stain where she’d been sitting in the soft muddy grass.bmi. The nightie itself was soaked through, and clinging onto her cold, pale skin. Blue knew that Bosh was gaining weight again, but from her heavier perspective, the numbers never seemed that big. 164lbs was a lot for Bosh, but it was a world away from Blue. However, seeing her so unceremoniously presented, Blue understood why Bosh considered those numbers to be big. The curves that her nightie hugged looked uncomfortable on her. Slip-slender Bosh looked clunky in her larger size and more ungainly, stodgier. Like comparing a butcher’s sausage to her formerly chipolata build. Blue couldn’t really judge. But she did. Silently.
    “Oii, you’re gonna need a shower before you go to bed. And probably a warm up by the radiator. So, if you give me a sec while I get up… unaided because I was ignored… then maybe you should stay up. Have some hot chocolate instead? Or the Glenmorangie?”
    Bosh stopped at the door again. The Glenmorangie was a special treat drink, reserved for when the girls were feeling low.
    “It’s 2:30 Blue, I have work tomorrow”
    “Exactly, it’s 2:30. By the time you’ve showered, dried, warmed up, it’ll be after 3. Once you’ve stopped silently sulking…”
    “I’m not silently sulking!” Bosh snapped.
    “Yeah… sounds like it. Anyway, by the time you’ve calmed down enough to sleep, it’ll be time to get up”
    Bosh stayed silent at this, and Blue continued talking.
    “So… instead… how about the two of us order some pizza, snuggle up a little with that Glemorangie, and I show you how to play Among Us”
    “Is that the stupid game you’ve been playing?”
    “It’s not stupid, as I’ll show you. It’s a game of deceit, and it’s great fun”
    “Lying is fun?” Bosh scowled, but Bluebell couldn’t really see her facial expression in the dark.
    “Yes, it is. Now come on Bosh. It’s Christmas after all! Now, come over here and help your girlfriend off her arse. I’m not as sober as I thought I was when I sat down and now I’m all muddy” Blue put her hands in the air to be grabbed, and her girlfriend glumly shuffled over to the deed.
    10 Days until Christmas

    Bluebell was doing what Bluebell did best. Grumbling about Bosh’s alarm going off. She’d buried her head under her pillow in response.
    Bosh was doing what Bosh did best. Pretending she wasn’t hungover. It had been 29 hours since she sat down in the garden and cried, and hadn’t spent much of the intervening time without the warm fuzzy comfort of alcohol to heat her throat and muddle her thinking. But, unlike Bluebell, Bosh could power through it.
    “Can’t you pull another sickie? When you were younger, you’d skive of uni all the time. Like that time when we went down to the bridge and threw sandwiches at the trains? Waste of good sandwiches… come to think of it”
    Bosh sighed and looked over at her girlfriend, still smothered in pillow, despite the alarm now off.
    “Blue, that was over two years ago now. We’re not kids any more. This is my job, that’s different to a lecture on Neo-Classicism from a Feminist Perspective”
    “Is that a real subject? That sounds more boring than death”
    “Yeah, it’s a real subject and yeah, it was more boring than death. Which is why I skived to throw sandwiches at trains with you”
    “But isn’t what you do now just as boring? Like, computers and words and shit?”
    “Oh my god, Bluebell! Do you really not know what I do for my job?”
    “Yeah. Course”
    Bosh just folded her arms and stared at her.
    “Umm… do you update the company’s Facebook status?”
    Bosh threw a pillow at her girlfriend, who had only just come out from under her own.
    “I’ll take that as a no?”
    “Come on, if you get up, I’ll order us breakfast”
     

    +
     

    Bluebell and Bosh were sitting on the sofa, leaning over while they ate their morning pizza.
    “So, what are your plans today?” Bosh said, with a mouthful of margherita. “And don’t say that fucking game again”
    “You liked that game yesterday? I mean, you were constantly sus, even when you weren’t the imposter, but you had fun” Bluebell argued with a smile.
    “Yeah, yeah, it was less dorky that I thought. I guess. But still… try not to spend the whole day and the whole evening and the whole night playing that game again” Bosh looked at her girlfriend wryly.
    “Fine. I’ll do something else”
    “Like, put away the rubbish that’s outside?”
    “I was thinking about maybe reading a book on Classicism and Feminism” Blue smirked.
    “Neo-classi… oh, whatever. Piss-taker, play your stupid game then. But only after you’ve sorted out the trash outside” Bosh conceded, and Blue smiled victoriously.
    Bosh shook her head, realising that Blue had got what she wanted, as she always did. Unfortunately, shaking her head caused some of the pizza to break off in her mouth and fall down her top, causing her to jump up in frustration.
    “Bollocks! Mothershitting bollocks!” Bosh exclaimed reactively.
    “Hey, relax! You’ve got plenty more blouses”
    “It’s a shirt, not a blouse Blue. And… you’re right. I guess. It’s just.. I like this top” Bosh grumbled. It was pin-stripe with blue lines racing down on a white background.
    “I must admit, I like it. Especially the red splodge on it…”
    “You are such an arsehole, Blue” Bosh grinned.
    “It’s very Classicism”
    “It’s… the word’s neo-clas… and it isn’t even… you are such a philistine, Blue”
    “It’s pronounced Palestine” 
    “No, it’s pronounced shut the fuck up, you cheeky bitch” Bosh said with exasperation but also amusement. “I’m gonna go up and grab another top. You? Don’t touch my pizza!”
    “I won’t” Blue said, already leaning over to grab a slice.
    “Seriously, Blue. No pizza, or I’ll throw you computer out the fucking window like it’s the fucking imposter” Bosh pointed her finger, but her face was still all smiles.
    “Fiiiine, I’ll leave your pizza alone. But I’ll have to have my other one then”
    “I thought you were saving that for lunch?”
    “I was. Until my mean girlfriend tempted me with her pizza and then said I couldn’t have any. So, in a way, it’s actually your fault” Bluebell said, but her girlfriend was already rushing upstairs. She grabbed a slice of her girlfriend’s pizza and then reached for her second box.
     
    +
     

    Bosh walked down the stairs with a stern look on her face, and Blue’s face burst into laughter.
    “It’s the only other shirt I have, and it doesn’t fucking fit” Bosh grumbled as she walked into the main room where Bluebell was sat, and walked in front so Bluebell could see clearly.
    “You’ve had a good Christmas” Bluebell shrugged, but it clearly amused her.
    The top was one that Bosh hadn’t worn since they moved up, and it was fitted accordingly. An orange and white striped top that rose up with every exhale of breath. It’s tightness meant the outward bulge of her stomach was a defining shape, and protruded as far as her chest.
    “I’m fat”
    “Healthy”
    “Unhealthy”
    “Oh relax Bosh, it’s Christmastime. If you’re insecure, why don’t you wear that jacket of yours? I mean, it is winter” Bluebell said, biting into another slice of her pizza.
    “Because that doesn’t fit either” Bosh grumbled, sitting on the sofa grumpily. As she did, her top rode up again and she felt the cold immediately, pulling it straight back down instinctively.
    “You could pull another sickie? You’ve established the precedent?”
    “I’ve played that card already” Bosh folded her arms again in a sulk, only for that also to cause her top to ride up, causing her face to redden in frustration.
    “Well, then fuck it. I mean, that’s the Bosh way, isn’t it? Fuck it and fuck them. Go in and not give a fuck. I mean, what are they gonna do, judge you? Oooo, scary! You’re motherfucking Bosh, you don’t care what the 2 Geoffs think” Bluebell asked, starting her final slice.
    “Yeah” Bosh nodded, coming around to the idea. “I am motherfucking Bosh. You’re right. I don’t care. It’s a bit tight? Well, it’s Christmas, if you haven’t over-indulged, have you really done Christmas right?”
    “That’s my kinda thinking”
    “Yeah, that’s not actually that reassuring” Bosh smiled.
    “Speaking of which, you decided you don’t fancy those last three slices? I mean, that top’s looking preeeetty tight”
    “Fuck off, I’ll eat them on the way. After all, like you said, it’s Christmastime” Bosh said, winking as she grabbed the slices.
    “Ouch, hoisted by my own… what’s the phrase?”
    “Petard”
    “You can’t people that any more, and I was only asking what the phrase was” Bluebell asked, and Bosh looked at her, trying to work out if she was joking or otherwise. Either way, she grabbed the box with the remaining three slices and walked out the door, tugging her shirt down as she did. Bluebell snickered to herself as she did.
    And as soon as the door closed, Bluebell reached over for her phone.
    “Coast is clear, you can come on over”
     

    +
     

    “So what appears to be the problem, Ms. Thomas?” the doctor said in a nurse’s uniform.
    “Wait… are you supposed to be a doctor or a nurse?”
    “Yes”
    Dr Callista Karagounis strode in through the door and into the house, with Bluebell walking backwards as she did. Bluebell let out a little gulp.
    “Soooo… where does it hurt?”
    “Everywhere, Dr Nurse” Bluebell said, her eyes widened as she backtracked further and further. “I think I might have to take my clothes off for you to inspect thoroughly”.
    “Very well, Ms. Thomas” the doctor said, a smirk on her lips. “And remember… no biting”
     

    +
     

    Bluebell and Callista were leaning against one another on the sofa, each with a cigarette burning.
    “So… that was fun” Callista smiled, running her hand through Bluebell’s hair.
    “Yeah, we definitely put the ‘ho’ into ‘ho ho ho, Merry Christmas’” Bluebell smiled, stubbing her cigarette out and reaching over for her vodka and coke.
    The two girls sat kinda awkwardly at this point, just leaning against one another. Eventually, Bluebell interrupted.
    “So… how was work?”
    “Do you care?”
    “Not really, but I feel it’s only polite to ask” and Callista could feel Bluebell smile against her shoulder.
    “Well, in that case, it was fine” Callista laughed. “How’s… your healthier habits going?”
    “On pause for the Christmas period”
    “And when did this pause for the Christmas period start?”
    “The day before the healthy eating did” and again, the tell-tale feeling of a smirk on Bluebell’s face, the muscles of her jaw felt against Callista’s shoulder.
    “Do you want me to nag or not?”
    “Umm… can we hold fire on the actual doctor/patient stuff? Until the New Year. I promise I’ll be good in the New Year” Bluebell said, putting her empty glass down and lighting another cigarette.
    “Which new year?” Callista joked and, though the doctor couldn’t feel it this time, Bluebell smiled.
    “The one in a couple of weeks. I can be good. I just need the right incentive” Bluebell said, nuzzling into her girlfriend.
    “But… let me guess… you fancy being bad in the meantime? What you thinking, an hour of doctor and patient role-playing and then lunch?”
    “Other way round, but yeah, sounds good” Bluebell kissed her girlfriend.
    “Other way… you can’t honestly be hungry? It’s 11am and you said you had half a pizza for breakfast?” Callista said.
    “No nagging until new year, remember? Look, the chip shop’s open, go grab us the usual and then we can worry about my health in the fun way. I just need an outlet for biting since you won’t let me sink my teeth into you” Bluebell said, sitting up and looking at her girlfriend.
    “I… I’m sorry about the no hickeys, no biting, no bruising rule. But I’m worried Wallace will find out. How are you doing hiding it from yours?” Callista asked, putting her top on.
    “I’m a master liar” Bluebell smiled smugly. “Although… the night before last, Bosh said something strange”.
    Callista looked sharply. “What did she say?”
    “I can’t remember. I was pretty well liquidated…”
    “That’s not what liquidated means”
    “...At that point. I just remember thinking she was suspicious. Or knew. But I don’t remember what she said that made me think that. Probably just ** paranoia, cos she’s acted totally normal since then”
    “Nicer than normal”
    “I mean, yeah, but it’s Christmas…”
    “Hmmm” Callista said knowingly.
    “No. No. Don’t ‘hmmmm’ that. Being nice doesn’t mean she suspects” Bluebell argued with slight concern.
    “Well, you’re the master liar. If you were being extra nice, what would it mean?” Callista said, sitting back down on the arm of the sofa.
    “Well… I’m the master liar, so I wouldn’t change my behaviour at all. But… when I’m feeling guilty about… us… one of the things I have to catch myself doing is being too nice. I don’t want to make her suspicious by being extra nice. Like the thing about the cheating husband who buys his wife gifts. If I dote on her, she’d know something was up. But I don’t do that, cos I’m a master liar” Bluebell explained.
    “Keep thinking… you’re about to reach an epiphany…”
    “So… if Bosh is being nicer than normal… you think she’s cheating on me?” Bluebell’s eyes raged.
    “Bingo” Callista said. “I’d know, I’ve been the cheating husband too. Only, I didn’t buy him things, I just stopped griping about him going out with the lads. Started encouraging it. It stopped me feeling guilty and it got him out of the house so I could… well, y’know the rest”.
    “Bosh is cheating?” Bluebell’s bottom lip suddenly started twitching.
    “Hey, don’t get upset. I mean, you are too” Callista sympathised.
    “Yeah, I know. It’s hypocritical. But… why does the thought really hurt then? I’m cheating on her and feel fine, so why am I insulted when she cheats on me?”
    “Because all people are hypocrites. Look, she might not be cheating…”
    “She spends a lot of time and puts a lot of effort into keeping on the good side of the two Geoffs”
    “She works with two people called Geoff?”
    “Different spellings. And she got very upset about not looking her best this morning” Bluebell’s eyes drifted off into the middle-distance, dancing on the far wall.
    “Maybe… maybe… you should leave her then. I mean, it’s my name on the house deeds, so I can probably kick Wallace out. You could live with me. And… I know that’s ridiculous and too fast but…”
    Bluebell’s head couldn’t keep up with the thoughts. Far from the stereotype that time slows down in times of shock and trauma, time actually speeds up. And it was running away from her faster than her brain could compute. Was that why Bosh was crying in the garden the night before last? Was Bosh no longer in love with her? And did Bluebell really have any right to begrudge that, given what she was up to?
    “Can I think… about it? I… I’m not sure. I’m not sure I want to find out” Bluebell said, her voice suddenly feeling very dry and croaky. She poured herself a strong vodka and coke and downed it.
    “Hey, look. I’ll go get that fish and chip dinner, you just… I’ll be back in 5” Callista said, and left Bluebell to cogitate.
     

    9 Days Until Christmas
     

    “To be fair, you deserve that headache” Bosh said, as Bluebell grumbled and fumbled for aspirin.
    “Nobody deserves this headache”
    “I… I haven’t seen you that ** in a long time, Blue. If ever. I tried to ask you what prompted it, but you weren’t really making much sense”
    Bluebell closed her eyes slowly. Every blink of them hurt.
    “I dunno, Bosh. I dunno” Bluebell said, barely audibly.
    “Well, you can have both of the pizzas for breakfast and I won’t judge” Bosh smiled, and Bluebell strained a grateful smile as she sat wrapped in her duvet downstairs on the sofa. Bosh leant in and bit into her pizza.
    “You’re being very nice” Bluebell noticed.
    “Of course. I’m always nice” Bosh smiled. “Oh, I heard about Keir Starmer on the radio. Letting that woman be racist. Of course, I don’t think it’s really his fault she was racist, and he did argue with her, but I know that’s the sort of thing you have opinions about”.
    “Yeah, he’s a prick. Wait, why did you follow a politics story?”
    “Oh, I didn’t. Jeff - with a J - is a Tory activist. So he was criticising the Labour man…”
    “Jeff…” Bluebell said suspiciously.
    “But then Geoff - with a G - considers himself a floating voter and said that was hypocritical given where Boris had steered the party, and that the Labour man did object and the only issue was that he maybe argued too politely”
    “Geoff…” Bluebell said suspiciously.
    “Fuck, the hangover’s left you monosyllabic, hasn’t it? Well, I’m gonna eat these last few slices in the car on the way to work. You take care of yourself. And have a cheat day. I know every day’s a cheat day for you, but you look like you need it today. You look rough” Bosh said, kissing her on the forehead.
    “Rough…”
    “Yeah, you’re still fucked. I’m gonna love ya and leave ya, and I’ll see you when I get back. And, when the hangover passes, sort out the fucking trash in the garden. You promised, don’t make yourself a liar…”
    “Liar…”
    And Bluebell just cuddled up on the sofa and fell back asleep.
     
    8 Days Until Christmas
     

    “The trash is still out there, in the garden” Bosh said, sharply, walking into the house with her excessively snug jacket from work still on.
    “Yeah, but… I’m all the way over here” Bluebell pleaded, sitting on her armchair at the computer as ever.
    “Come on Blue, yesterday was a write-off, because of the hang-over. But what’s your excuse today?”
    “I was still hungover today. It was my first ever two-day hangover” Bluebell moaned, finishing her JD and coke and then lighting a cigarette.
    “No, today’s hangover was due to last night’s drinking Blue. It’s a separate hangover” Bosh said sharply, walking over to the drinks cabinet and pouring herself a stiff drink.
    “Top us up, while you’re at it babe” Blue asked.
    “Babe? You never call me babe. And fine, but I do so under objection. You look like shit, Blue. Like, you look awful”
    “Yeah, neither of my parents were lookers”
    “No… I don’t mean you’re not an attractive person…”
    “Don’t you?” Bluebell glanced at her girlfriend.
    “No. I mean… you need to look after yourself. You look…”
    “Awful. I know. I heard you the first time” Bluebell said bitterly.
    “No, I…” Bosh put her hand on her head when she saw the boxes. “You had pizza for lunch? As well as breakfast?”
    “You didn’t mind yesterday when I did it”
    “You weren’t actually in the land of the living yesterday. You don’t have that excuse today”
    “I need an excuse to eat pizza?”
    “You… are being… challenging, Blue. I’m tired and I come home and find all this shit everywhere and you’re sat at that fucking computer playing that fucking game and you’re so pale they’d let you in an Evanescence concert. And here’s your cigarettes by the way. Try to make these 200 last more than three days”
    Bosh threw the back on the desk next to the armchair and walked into the kitchen. Blue just stared defiantly at the screen.
    “And Blue, when was the last time you fucking showered?”
    “Dunno… yesterday”
    “You weren’t physically capable of showering yesterday”
    “So the day before then. Which… I’ll admit, isn’t ideal. But I thought we agreed you’d stop nagging me until the new year”
    “We never agreed that” Bosh said, looking at her girlfriend in confusion.
    “No? Maybe it just felt like it. We should agree on that. An Armistice until the 1st” Bluebell said, finishing her drink.
    “Fine. No nagging until the New Year” Bosh agreed reluctantly. “If you sort out the trash outside”.
    “I’ll do it tomorrow” Bluebell said, not looking away from her screen. 
    “Fine then” Bosh grumped, sitting on the sofa and switching on the TV. “But I’m ordering pizza for tea cos I’m fucking exhausted, and if that doesn’t suit you, then maybe you shouldn’t have had those pizzas for lunch”.
    “No, I’m fine with pizzas. And I’ll have a garlic bread with my two” Bluebell said spitefully.
     
    7 Days Until Christmas
     
    “Help me, Jason. You’re my Jiminy Cricket, you know what I should do” Bluebell said, staring at her phone as she Facetimed her best friend.
    “Blue… if I’m your Jiminy Cricket, then you are French Connection UK-ed”
    “What?”
    “FCUKed, Blue. You are FCUKed. If I, harlot extraordinaire, I am your moral compass in the face of moral turpitude and sexual liaisons, then you are as fucked as the long list of lovers that I currently have on the go” Jason told her, while switching his smoothie maker on.
    “Firstly, you only pretend to be a whore for the street cred. And second, what are you making in that smoothie maker?”
    “Have a guess?”
    “Chocolate shake?”
    “Smoothie, Blue. I’m making a smoothie in the smoothie maker. Like, the etymology is a clue. And also, I am not a whore, I’m a slut. But if I wanted to get paid, I could. Cassius would pay through the nose. Or, indeed, any other orifice”
    “Isn’t Cassius the straight guy from my leaving do?”
    “Yeah, but I’ve cured him of his straightness. What people don’t realise is that Gay Conversion Therapy is therapy that makes you gay. And I, harlot extraordianire, am a one-man Gay Conversion Therapy centre” Jason puffed his chest out with pride, and Bluebell just laughed
    “So, what’s the dilemma then, Pinocchio? And I’ll give you my wisest counsel”
    “Well… Bosh makes no sense. One day she’s spoiling me with gifts and saying I’m allowed to binge, other times she’s being grumpy for me eating pizza and not doing housework”
    “So you think she’s cheating on you?”
    “What? Why does everybody say that?”
    “Who else said that?”
    “So, Doc… Callista, whatever you want to call her. She said… well, she gave me the space to reach the conclusion that she might be cheating” Bluebell pondered.
    “Suspicious…”
    “Right? And then she asked me to move in with her. Kick out her husband and everything”
    “Fuck. So both of your girlfriends are acting sus?”
    “And I’m the one acting normal, even though I’m the one doing the backstabbing” Bluebell said.
    “Just like you do in every game of Among Us” Jason noted.
    “So… what’s your advice?”
    “Well, why are you with Bosh?”
    “I dunno… habit? Plus… promise not to judge me?”
    “Nope”
    “Alright, then promise not to verbalise those judgements…”
    “Oh, okay. That I can do. I’ll just silently do it, and maybe raise a quizzical eyebrow” Jason giggled.
    “Fine. Eyebrows, I can cope with. So… I do enjoy sabotaging her diet” Bluebell said, her voice trailing off as the sentence progressed.
    “And you’re not letting me verbalise a response to THAT?!?!?!” Jason said, with pent up frustration.
    “No”
    “Oh, please!!! I have so many judgements and I didn’t realise I was agreeing to not judging as juicy as that”
    Bluebell paused, knocking back the last of her perry cider and then pushing in some more baklava into her mouth. Eventually, she relented, and let him vent.
    “Oh, thank God Blue. Cos I have views. Firstly - oh my god. That’s my first take. Second take - oh my god, again. It’s the same as the first take, I know, but I just can’t get over how Oh My God it is. Third take - you devious bitch, I love it. When did Bluebell become so Machiavellian?”
    “Ugghh, why does everyone I know use words that are impossible to understand? What, Jase, was that last word and where are people being taught these terms that I swear are not English? Like, that’s one of them German stupid long words that means something like ‘the feeling you get when a tooth falls out and it reminds you of a long-lost child’, isn’t it?” Bluebell complained, while chewing more baklava.
    “I mean, that is soooo manipulative and evil. Bluebell, lovely cutey-pie Bluebell, is a stone-cold sabotaging bitch. Oh, that breathes love and fire into my heart, I love it so much” Jason giddied himself.
    “Yeah, it’s pretty shitty of me, I admit. But… I’m just pissed off with her. Not for the cheating, I’ve been doing it longer than that. No, just… I dunno. Like, I hate it when she’s so grumpy about my weight. That’s one thing. Another thing, when she pretends it doesn’t bother her, that’s even worse”
    “Soooo, when she does or doesn’t acknowledge your weight?”
    “Don’t say it like that. You make me sound contrary. It’s different when you experience it first-hand”
    “So why are you even with her then?” Jason asked, and Bluebell went to answer when she realised she didn’t know the answer.
    “Not sure”
    “I mean, you have a pretty good Plan B. She’s hot… she’s a doctor… she’s also a hot doctor. I mean, they’re the big three things you look for in a partner”
    “True…”
    “So, what’s your problem?”
    “She’s… like, I think there’s something wrong with her. She’s been a bit weird about me moving in, a bit over-keen. And it’s weird how she took up smoking within one day of meeting me. Like, why is she trying so hard?”
    “Cos she likes you?”
    “Yeah, but why?”
    “Ah” Jason said, and raising his eyebrows in a quizzical manner.
    “I didn’t mean it like that…”
    “Oh, didn’t you? You are suspicious of her because she likes you, aren’t you?”
    “No”
    “Blue, babes, don’t lie to your BFF-forever. We pinky-promised, remember?”
    “Fine. Yes, Jason, I’m suspicious because a hot 40-something year old doctor with her own house and a husband that she’s been for ages would risk her career and her marriage for some twenty-something girl who has tripled in weight in less than two years. Why wouldn’t I be?”
    “Oh girl, that’s so sad! This is a self-loathing thing, isn’t it? You’re self-loathing again, aren’t you?”
    “No” Bluebell huffed, necking her next cider.
    “That’s why you’re sabotaging Bosh’s diet. Because you don’t feel worthy of either of them, do you? Is this a weight thing?”
    “No. Yes. Maybe. Look, I’m… they’re both really good-looking. Bosh maybe less so now she has a **-belly, but still a catch. And Callista is amazing. Like, what a woman. So why the fuck would they get with some chain-smoking, binge-drinking unemployed lard-arse with zero prospects and supports a party run by Keir fucking Starmer” she ranted.
    “I mean, I like him. Better than the anti-Semite before him”
    “Oh, don’t you fucking start!” Bluebell said, biting a doughnut angrily.
    “Maybe the issue isn’t Bosh and it isn’t Doc…”
    “It’s me? Ya think?”
    “No, I think… you love both of them. But you can’t love them properly until you love yourself” Jason said sympathetically.
    “Which cracker was that nugget of advice found in?” Bluebell snarked, and Jason laughed.
    “No, crackers contain jokes, Blue. You’re thinking of Chinese fortune cookies. Anyway, I’m just saying, how can you see them clearly, to know who you want to be with… if you can’t even see yourself clearly? Because, you are amazing Bluebell, and everyone who meets you always comes away thinking it. You are pretty and witty and bright…”
    “Are you quoting West Side Story at me?”
    “Yeah, but they had a point. Those Sharks. Or Jets. Or whichever one it was… was John Travolta in that movie? I feel like he was”
    “Either way, you’re a 300lb woman and everyone drops at your feet because you’re adorable. You’re kind and sharp and so bloody affection-inducing” Jason smiled sympathetically as Bluebell finished her doughnut.
    “You know, I’m well over 300 now”
    “I must admit, I thought your face was looking a bit…”
    “A bit what, Jason?”
    “Fluffy?”
    “I have a fluffy face?”
    “Like, I can’t see all of it on my phone. Which is new?”
    “My face is so fat, you can’t see all of it on your phone”
    “Well… it is in portrait. It’s fine when I turn it to landscape”
    “I fucking well hope so! Imagine having a face too wide for landscape!” Bluebell giggled, despite herself.
    “So… what’s the damage? How much Bluebell is there, these days?”
    “I don’t know”
    “Oh, come on, don’t be coy Blue. I know you don’t like admitting it to Callista or Bosh, but you can always tell Jason” he reassured.
    “No… I literally don’t know. They scales only go up to 400”
    “Oh”
    “Yeah, two weeks ago, I got a reading of 408 and it didn’t sound good then. But I’ve had nothing since but broken sounding clunking noises” Bluebell said, before pausing. Deeply. “Well? Come on, say something…”
    “I mean, it’s just a number, isn’t it? You’re only as heavy as you feel” Jason tried to downplay it.
    “I feel very fucking heavy. I’m fat, Jase. Like, embarrassingly fat” Bluebell said, sniffling a little.
    “400 isn’t… I mean, there’s no exact figure. And you’re quite tall…”
    “I’m a short-arse, Jase. Just a fat short-arse”
    “Fine. It’s a big number. You’re a big girl. Whoopdy-fuck”
    “It’s… affecting my health. Don’t… whatever you do, don’t tell anyone this. Not my parents, nobody. But, sometimes my skin feels… weird. Sensitive, I dunno what the word for it is. And I get out of breath, really easy. Like, I filled up the bin with the rubbish that had fallen out - broken bin bag, don’t ask - and I was sweating by the end of it. And panting. From just leaning over and picking stuff up. It’s… a bit scary. But don’t tell anyone. Please”
    Jason went quiet for a second, before answering.
    “Fine. But speak to Callista. She’s a bloody doctor”
    “Okay. I’ll… speak to her. In the new year. I’m… gonna have a nice Christmas, worry about it later”
    “Babes, I think you’re already worrying about it. And your solution to worrying - eating, drinking, smoking - is also the thing you’re worrying about. You see that, right?”
    “Stop being such a shrink, Jase. After Christmas. I’ll sort it in the New Year”
    “Fine. But… make sure you… y’know… don’t…”
    “Don’t what?”
    “Drink or eat yourself into the hospital before then” Jason said with concern.
    “Fuck you Jason!” Bluebell burst, switching gears in fury. Without a moment's hesitation, she switched the call off and threw her phone away. She could feel her hand shake with fury and shock at the suggestion. Between tears, she poured herself another drink.
     
    6 Days Until Christmas
     
    “I’m serious, Bosh. You’ve got no more work worries until after the new year now. It’s the weekend, and it’s holiday season. Let’s have some fun” Bluebell pleaded, dipping her spoon into her salted caramel ice cream. They were lying in bed.
    “When you say fun…?”
    “Just cut loose. Go all out. Leave nothing behind. Until the New Year” Blue was leaning back in the bed while Bosh was sitting up.
    “I still don’t understand…”
    “Eat, drink, be merry, that sort of thing…”
    “I do. I mean, I am. I…” Bosh said. “Is this your way of saying you want me to open the port?”
    “I was thinking tequila”
    “Mockingbird?”
    “What?”
    “Tequila Mockingbird? To Kill A Mockingbird? It’s… a book”
    “I know it’s a book Bosh. I just didn’t realise you did Dad jokes now” Bluebell smirked, her spoon scraping the bottom of the ice cream tub.
    “You’ve finished that already?”
    “This is what I mean. We should just cut loose. Go for it. Pedal to the metal”
    “Don’t say ‘pedal to the metal’, Blue?”
    “Why, do the kids not say that any more? Is… is it inappropriate in some way? Climate denialist or…” Bluebell seemed genuinely confused as she put the empty carton on the bedside stand.
    “No. It’s just… you… you remember what I was like when I was pedal to the metal. In the old days. We don’t… I don’t want that any more” Bosh explained, flinching at the thought.
    “But that’s my point. It’s Christmas. You don’t have to be Gizmo Bosh for 11 more days. The Bosh Gremlins can come out and play”
    “I’m… I don’t like my gremlins, Blue. I worry about my drinking recently as it is and…”
    “Please Bosh. For me. It would make me happy” Bluebell smiled.
    “It would make you happy?”
    “Yes. It would mean the world”
    “Okay. Fuck. Pedal to the metal, it is. But you’re gonna struggle to keep up, Blue. I’m warning you. I’ll just grab the tequila…”
    “Mockingbird?”
    “Y’know, Tequila Mockingbird sounds like a Bond girl” Bosh joked as she walked out the bedroom to go downstairs and grab the tequila, and Blue laughed.
    “And grab us another tub of ice cream Bosh!” Bluebell shouted from the bed. “Let’s go all out!”
    ???? Days Until Christmas
    The first thing Blue could feel was the cold of the rain hitting her face, droplets bouncing off her chubby cheeks, and rolling down her chin and onto the grass below. It was this chilled damp that caused Bluebell’s heavy eyelids to strain open.
    “Oh fuck”
    She couldn’t stand up. Of that much, she was certain. No, her body simply didn’t have the strength. Instead, she crawled to the back door, and used the door handle to pull herself up. On her feet, she leant against the wall and caught her breath. Her head felt pan-fried.
    Legs wobbly, she walked into the house, well aware of the squelching of mud underfoot. Continuing to lean against the wall for balance, she dragged mud through along the wall and carpet as the world continued to spin before her. Eventually, she stumbled onto the sofa and faceplanted herself in its cushions with relief. And then she fell back asleep again
     
    +
     

    Bluebell’s eyes opened again, and focused on the fuzzy outline of a woman, scrubbing the house clean.
    “Bosh?” she croaked.
    The woman carried on working, putting her marigolded hands back into the bucket of soapy water, and then scrubbing the walls until they were the original eggshell white.
    “Bosh? Is that you?”
    “Now, who do you think it is?”
    “I dunno. Where am I? Am I dead?” Blue slurred. Bosh chuckled a little at that, but then her face stiffened.
    “You’re on the sofa, and you’re not dead yet” Bosh smiled facilely.
    “Good. I don’t know if Pizza Hut deliver to Hell'' Bluebell mumbled, trying to prise her own eyes open, but they kept falling shut.
    “Come on, you mucky pup. Up you get, off your fat arse Blue. I need to put the cushion covers in the wash, since you decided to cake them in mud. Might wanna have a shower and put that dress in the wash too”
    The dress in question was a denim dress, not a million miles from what Bluebell used to where, back in the good old days when her head didn’t feel like it was about to erupt. It had pockets and thin straps and had looked good on her a week ago when she first tried it on. She looked less good now, but that was probably the mud.
    “...Kay” Bluebell muttered, sitting up and fiddling with her straps to take it off.
    “I like you in that dress. You look good” Bosh said, quietly.
    “Bit tight”
    “It wasn’t when I bought it” Bosh added, sharply.
    “Can you give me a hand?” Bluebell said, fairly pathetically. She wasn’t sitting particularly straight, gently wobbling on the spot.
    “Come here you pisshead. Now, put your arms up and I’ll pull it off”
    And Bosh pulled the top off, and Bluebell sat there in just her underwear.
    Bosh looked back at her girlfriend, her eyes squinting from the low winter light and hair with mud woven into it. She sat on the sofa, pooling out in all directions. Her hips were wide and softly cushioned, and her legs were folded with fat. Her stomach, still her most distinctive feature, drooped down like the bin bag that Bosh had carried to the bin that broke, seemingly overflowed and beyond capacity. Her breasts, carried in a bra just to maintain some sort of discipline, still folded downwards. Her jawline was jowly, her cheeks were puffy, and her eyes were listless. And she was covered in mud.
    “You really need to clean up, Blue. You look like The Thing from the film...  The Thing”
    “Which film’s that again?”
    “It’s the one with The Thing in it”
    “The wrestler?”
    “No, not The Rock… anyway, just clean the fuck up”
    “Yeah, in a sec. Need a smoke… where’s my cigarettes?” Bluebell said, looking for pockets and then realising she wasn’t wearing anything.
    “Here, box here. Look, you’re cold, wet and naked. Grab a shower and put some clothes on” Bosh pushed.
    “Wet and naked is the name of my sex tape” Bluebell smiled, mentally high-fiving herself. She then began rummaging for something to eat on the table in front of her, settling upon an uneaten pizza. She grabbed the first slice and put it in her mouth.
    “Oh, trust me Blue, you’re not hungry” Bosh said sternly.
    “Oh, trust me, I am” Blue smiled, mainly to herself, as she launched into another bite. Bosh didn’t say anything.
    “What day is it? I… my memory’s not as sharp as a fiddle at the minute”
    “The saying’s either sharp as a tack, or fit as a fiddle” Bosh corrected. “And Monday. Today is Monday”.
    “Fuck yeah. Blacked out the entire weekend. Sign of a good weekend” Bluebell chuckled, finishing the first slice.
    “What… was the last thing you remember?”
    “Asking you about pedal to the metal on the Friday night. My headache tells me that it’s so far, so good”
    “So far?”
    “Yeah, we said until New Year. If it’s still the Monday, then that’s the… what, 21st? So yeah, we’ve got a long way to go. Shall we order in?”
    “You’re literally eating pizza right now”
    “I know, but for after” Bluebell replied as if that answer was the most normal answer in the world.
    “Fuck, sure. I’ll order more pizza. How many do you want, three? Four?” Bosh said with a cynical eye-roll.
    “I can have four pizzas?”
    “No! I was taking the piss. You can have two” Bosh sighed, reaching for her phone.
    “And a garlic bread?”
    “Sure, whatever”
    “And what are you having?”
    “I’m… good. Thank you”
    “Bosh… pedal to the metal. You promised me”
    “Yeah, I’m thinking about breaking that promise to be honest, Blue” Bosh said, quietly.
    “You’re acting weird. Cut it out, order yourself a pizza, and let’s open the gin that Aunt Sally got us”
    “We drank it”
    “The bourbon from Mandy and Pete?”
    “Gone”
    “The whiskey from…”
    “All of it, Blue. We’re cleared out”
    “In two days?” Blue asked, confused.
    “No. In nine days. It’s not Monday the 21st. It’s Monday the 28th. For crying out loud Blue, we’ve been blackout ** for nine days straight, including Christmas. A proper Christmas, together, as a couple” Bosh snarled. Her nervous energy suddenly felt more like angry energy
    “What about the cider from…”
    “Didn’t you listen to a word I said? No booze left! And it’s the fucking 28th!” Bosh’s voice raised to a shout, causing a vulnerable feeling Bluebell to wince and let her hands drift to her ears.
    “So… just the one pizza for you then, is that what you’re saying?” Bluebell said, eating a slice from the old pizza.
     

    +
     

    “I nearly swallowed my tongue?” Bluebell asked with shock. Her headache and wobbliness felt a lot better with food in her stomach.
    “I dunno. I thought you had. You were passed out on this sofa and… I remember trying to call for an ambulance… and failing” Bosh told her between sips of water.
    “You failed?”
    “Yeah, I called 1-2-3 instead of 9-9-9. Fuck knows why”
    “What’s 1-2-3..?”
    “The talking clock. I ended up telling the talking clock that you had swallowed your tongue” Bosh admitted, and Bluebell smiled that contagious smile of hers.
    “And what did the clock say?”
    “...The time. It’s not sentient, Blue. The talking clock tells you the time” Bosh shook her head and sipped her water.
    “Fuck!” Bluebell laughed. “You must have really heavily put the pedal to the metal, Bosh. Thanks. I appreciate it”
    “Don’t thank me Blue, seriously” Bosh said bashfully.
    “No. Seriously. That was really nice of you. It means a lot”
    Bosh squirmed awkwardly. “Whatever”.
    “Hey, why you not eating your pizza?” Bluebell asked, ramming another slice of her own into her mouth.
    “Dunno, not hungry” Bosh said, taking another sip of water. She had pulled the armchair out away from the computer and into the main room, so she could sit down and allow Bluebell the sofa to herself.
    “Is… this your way of saying ‘pedal to the metal’ time is over?”
    “Yeah, yeah it is, I guess. It’s over” Bosh said, taking another sip and not making much eye contact. Blue looked at her girlfriend suspiciously, while taking a bite out of her pizza.
    “Well, if it’s going free…”
    “Yeah, sure Blue. Help yourself” Bosh pushed the box over to her girlfriend.
    “Really? You don’t mind?” Blue smiled, layering a slice of Bosh’s pizza onto her own and eating both at the same time.
    “Would it matter if I did?”
    “Don’t be like that Bosh”
    “Like what?”
    “Grumpy. Weird. You’ve been weird ever since I came to”
    “Came to? You mean woke up from being passed out in your own garden, on muddy grass while it rained, and then crawled, at one point literally, to the sofa, dragging mud through the house that I had to clean up, and then collapsed on the sofa, in just a dress, still covered in mud, and then refused to shower?” Bosh’s voice rose again. Her entire presence felt barely on its leash, straining to snap at every word.
    “Fuck off, I didn’t refuse to shower. I’m just having these first”
    “Sorry, I forgot every hour is pizza hour”
    “What is your problem, Bosh? Because, sometime it feels as though you’re enabling me, and other times it feels as though your taking the fact that you’re enabling me out on me”
    “I… just… don’t Blue. I’m not looking for an argument. Just eat your fucking pizzas. Or don’t. Like I give a fuck”
    “Yeah, you don’t sound like someone who doesn’t give a fuck” Bluebell replied, snarling slightly with every bite out of pettiness.
    Bluebell silently tucked in, while Bosh hugged herself to keep warm. Bluebell wasn’t the only one inappropriately dressed for the time of year. Bosh was just wearing one of Bluebell’s tops, letting it drape over her like a tablecloth.
    “Oh, you need to ring your parents” Bosh said, as Bluebell chewed absent-mindedly.
    “Do I bollocks”
    “You’ve got missed calls from them. Like, a lot” Bosh said, trying to regather her composure.
    “You have my phone?”
    “Yeah, you gonna ring them then? It could be serious. There is a pandemic going on” Bosh was terse as she spoke.
    “Did they leave a message?”
    “No…”
    “Well, it can’t be that important, can it?” Bluebell bit into another slice, scowling as she did so. “So, can I have my phone back?”
    “D’ya need it then or…”
    “It’s my phone Bosh. I just want my phone back, that’s all”
    “Why?”
    “Cos it’s mine”
    “Fine”
    And Bosh passed the phone over, and Blue snatched it petulantly.
    “Thanks”
    “Also, Jason called, but I know you and him aren’t talking either” Bosh added, her face rarely elevating above a sneer.
    “No. We’re not” Bluebell replied curtly, pushing the last of her pizza into her mouth, and exhaling in relief.
    “And your GP called”
    Bluebell looked up at Bosh suspiciously.
    “What? My GP?”
    “Yeah, a whole bunch of times”
    “Is… is it serious? Why are you only mentioning it now?”
    “Don’t worry, it wasn’t to do with your health”
    Bluebell’s eyes scanned Bosh’s face for further meaning.
    “So, what did they want?”
    “She left messages”
    “Oh.. kay”
    “Blooby”
    Bluebell’s spine straightened at that.
    She went through to her messages and played the first one from Callista.
    “Hey Blooby, it’s your favourite GP here. Just seeing if you fancy another… appointment. Wallace is… not here so I wanted to know if you fancied coming round and I could give you a… physical. Anyway, let me know when you get this message. Cheers babe, bye”
    Bosh’s eyes closed as she heard each word hit her like shellfire. Bluebell sat cold and still, every muscle on edge.
    “Bosh… I might go up for a shower now…”
    “Sit the fuck down!” Bosh snapped ferociously. Blue obliged, sitting still and frightened.
    “It’s not what it sounds like”
    “It sounds like your ‘male’ GP is a woman, which you conveniently forgot to mention. And that you’re fucking her, which you conveniently forgot to mention” Bosh ranted, standing up and pointing.
    “Oh, like your not fucking a Geoff?”
    “I’m not… I’m not fucking a Geoff”
    “Well, then who is it?”
    “Nobody. Hang on, don’t turn this around…”
    “Well, you’re clearly fucking someone behind my back. Constant treats and gifts, mood swinging from bitch to doting depending on the day at work. It’s obvious, Bosh. You always were a shit liar” Blue argued, folding her arms defensively as she accused.
    Bosh took a deep breath.
    “I… bought you those things because… I knew about the affair. I knew you were shagging her and I was afraid to fucking lose you” Bosh admitted, cringing as she heard those words.
    “What?”
    “I hung around. At the Medical Unit. On that first check-up. It was a big deal for you and I knew you were nervous, so I hung around to make sure you were okay. And I saw you smoking with her. And flirting with her. And then when you came home and told me - sorry, lied to me - that she was male, I knew you liked her. You see, you’re not the great liar you think you are. Because life isn’t a fucking shitty PC game”
    “Among Us is not a shitty game!” Bluebell argued.
    “That was the bit you had a problem with?” Bosh would have found that funny in another conversation. But here, that irreverence felt like acid on the skin. “So, because I knew you were lying to me, I decided to see what you were up to. And then I saw you go round hers the next day”
    “You were following me?” Bluebell’s eyebrows arched sharply.
    “Yes. Because I’m the one in the wrong here” Bosh rolled her eyes and sipped her water.
    “I…”
    “No excuses Blue. I don’t wanna hear them. I… thought it was a fling. A one-off. I mean, I’m not an idiot. I know I’m not… providing for you physically. Maybe it would lift your mood, I thought? Maybe a quickie with an attractive female GP might shift your gloom and fix your mojo. I might get my Bluebell back. The old Bluebell. But you couldn’t just shag her the once, could you? You kept going back”
    “I’m sorry” Bluebell said, her voice deep and solemn.
    “No you’re not. You’re just sorry you’ve been caught. So I fought for you. I gave you everything you wanted. You wanted to drink yourself stupid every night? Sure, if it made you happy. Eat like a fucking possessed animal? Anything for you Blue. I even put my - oh, how did you phrase it? - ‘pedal to the metal’. For you. I fought for you Blue. But it’s not enough. It was never enough” Bosh was standing now as she spoke, towering over the slouched Bluebell on her comfy sofa.
    “No, don’t talk about us in the past tense, Bosh”
    “If I nagged, you complained. If I let you cut loose, you complained. It wasn’t me you were angry with. It was yourself. You hated yourself for getting fat, and you ate to punish yourself for getting fat, and then you took it out on me. And I tried Blue. I tried so hard. But you’re a lost cause, Blue. You’re beyond redemption”
    “D… Don’t say that. Don’t say it like that” Bluebell said, tears in her eyes. The room started spinning.
    “And, as much as I love you, and for some fucking reason I do fucking love you, I have to love myself first. The past week was terrifying. If you could remember it, you’d wish you could forget it. You went berserk. And… I did too. I can’t do that to myself, Blue. You can to yourself, because you don’t care. And, I genuinely hope this Doctor Bitch is good for you and can rescue you. Because I can’t. You’re a lost cause to me” Bosh broke off eye contact and stared at the wall, her eyes getting wet.
    “I’m not… I can change…”
    “You have changed already Blue. Fucking look at you”
    Bluebell refused to, tilting her head to the side to refuse self-reflection. Her head felt loose on her neck, her brain throbbing and her concentration weak.
    “It was just one week, Bosh. It was fucking Christmas. You’re supposed to cut loose at Christmas!” Bluebell sobbed.
    “It’s not just fucking Christmas. Christmas has been terrifying, sure. But it’s just been the cumulation of a year of this type of behaviour. This is just one step up from November, which was one step from October. Do you even remember what you were like two years ago? Do you remember what you looked like? Acted like? Hoped like?”
    “Stop it… please” Bluebell continued to sob. She could feel her hand trembling, but couldn’t stop it.
    “So, that Doctor Bitch can have you. Because I’m done, Blue. I have nothing left to give. I gave you my all, and everything else too. Because I love you. And because, somewhere, underneath everything, is the most adorable, most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. The kindest, wittiest, most charming woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Underneath it all. But it’s buried under so much these days, that I barely recognise you. Not because you’re fat, though you are so fucking fat Blue, but because of how you are. You are unrecognisable from the girl that I met at that flat party with your blue hair, your skinny dress, hair in a bow. I don’t recognise you anymore. You’re just a burden. And I won’t let you drag me down with you. So please, just fuck off Bluebell. Just fuck off and never come back, please”
    “No. I don’t want to”
    “GO!” Bosh yelled, throwing her glass against the wall and screeching, stamping her feet until she collapsed on the floor. “Just go!”
    Silently, Bluebell heaved herself to her feet. Unsteadily, she put one foot marginally in front of the other, and slowly trudged away from Bosh and towards the front door. Her head was numb, her eyes drooping to the floor. And she waddled slowly to the door.
    Her feet felt unsteady as she walked, her breaths were shallow. And her heart was racing in her chest, like an imprisoned wild animal clawing at the bars of her ribcage. Another step towards the door and she could feel the room list, like a ship in a storm. Another step and she began to fall.
    At which point, she passed out.
  21. Wow
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from dania201 in Bluebell's 2019   
    That chapter was way too long, way too bleak for the season, and also the penultimate episode. January 2021 will be the last Bluebell chapter. Sorry!
  22. Thanks
    swahilimonkfish reacted to ShrubberyLogistic in Bluebell's 2019   
    I see this more as the bumper edition the season befits - what's Christmas without a shedload of drama? 😁 This brought the characters to life for me more than ever - Bluebell snowballing to over 400lbs was bound to break the guise the bottle could bring, and toward the end the tension hit like a tidal wave. The twist has really got me gunning to see who'll sink or swim in 2021 - I look forward to the finale!
  23. Love
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from Woodsmont in Bluebell's 2019   
    A Blue Christmas Special
     
     
    December 2020***

    Twelve days until Christmas
     

    “Check it out now, I’m the funk soul brother. Right about now…” Bluebell sung to herself with her chunky pink headphones on, sprawled out on the sofa in her nightie. As she did, she brought her sausage roll to her mouth and took a huge chunk out of it. Flakes of pastry broke off and fell down, some on the carpet below but most left on her nightie top.
    “Blue…”
    “...I’m the funk soul brother…”
    “Blue… for fucks sake, you’re not even singing a Christmas song...”
    “...Check it out now, I’m the funk soul brother..”
    “BLUE!”
    “Oh… ummm… hey babe” Bluebell said, pulling her headphones off and looking at her girlfriend. “Was I singing too loud?”
    “No, I love your singing voice” Bosh smiled, leaning on the doorframe with her arms folded. She’d got her marigolds on from washing the breakfast pots.
    “I sound like a dying cat”
    “A cute dying cat though. Sort of like… mia-argh!” Bosh imitated a cat dying in a sing-song melody.
    “Fuck off” Bluebell laughed.
    “I just wanted to say you were in a good mood, that was all. And that I’m glad that you liked your early Christmas present” Bosh smiled as she backed slyly into the kitchen. Bluebell tilted her head in curiosity as she poured herself another glass of port. It was the season, after all.
    “They’re so good, Bosh. Thank you. The bass on these… like, really good”
    “Is that the technical term? Like, really good?” Bosh smiled.
    “I dunno. I’m not a music nerd. And anyway, why is me being in a good mood such a big deal? I’m always in a good mood” Bluebell smiled back, biting into her last sausage roll.
    “Well… you are these days. And… since you’ve been so cheery lately. I got you a treat…” Bosh said, slipping out of sight and into the kitchen.
    “Oh my god, is it another advent calendar?”
    “You’ve… how many of those do you need?” Bosh shouted from around the corner.
    “You can never have too many advent calendars. They’re what Christmas is about”
    “I’m pretty sure it’s more to do with that Jesus fella. And the chocolate would be so much cheaper if you just bought it separately” Bosh continued from out of Bluebell’s eyeline.
    “Yeah, but looking for and opening the little doors is half the fun” Bluebell giggled, pulling her glass of port to her lips.
    “You’re such a child”
    “No I’m not!” Bluebell huffed, folded her arms immaturely. Her face, a dorky grin, gave her away though. Bosh shook her head in mocking exasperation as she wended her way back into the room. “Anyway, why you acting so sus?”
    “I have no idea what ‘sus’ means but...  I got you this as a treat. But… this has to last you beyond just today” Bosh said, pulling the gift back like Bluebell was a puppy.
    “I will be a polygon of restraint”
    “Nice try… it’s paragon. Paragon of restr… oh fuck, whatever, here you go” Bosh handed Bluebell over her reward. And what a reward it was too. An eye-popping extravaganza wrapped up in wicker. It was a hamper large enough to carry a dog to the vets and, amongst the swamp of straw, was a spectacular array of chocolates and nibbles.
    “Oh shit, this looks epic” Bluebell smirked, fisting the last of sausage roll into her mouth clumsily as her eyes boggled before her. “Bring it here then, let me have a proper look at this bad boy”.
    “It was the raffle at work. This was the runner up prize, can you believe it? Jeff - with a J - he got a week in Cornwall. Lucky fucker” Bosh continued, but Bluebell wasn’t listening. She was pulling all the various treats out of the hamper and squealing with excitement at each one.
    “Fudge! I love fudge. And, oh my god, white chocolate’s my favourite!” she said, taking a bite and rolling her head back in ecstasy.
    “I thought dark chocolate was your favourite”
    “Yeah, that is too”

    “You… you can’t have two favourites”
    “Why not?”
    “Because there’s only three types of chocolate to begin with. Dark, white and milk…”
    “Oh my god, I love milk chocolate. Now, that one is my favourite!” she said, throwing some of the butterscotch fudge pieces in your mouth.
    “Try to make it last until Christmas” Bosh smiled, shaking her head in absolute despair.
    “But Christmas is twelve days away!” Bluebell said, using jest to veil the genuine grievance that she felt over the issue.
    “Just… please Blue. Show some actual restr… where’s the sherry gone?” Bosh sat herself down and picked up the empty bottle.
    “Oh relax, there’s some gin in the cupboard” Bluebell said, now putting some chocolate in her mouth with a guilty smile.
    “That’s not the point, Blue…”

    “It’s that lemon gin that you like”
    “Oh. I mean… it’s not really for midday drinking…”
    “Oh go on, it’s Christmas” Bluebell smiled at her, as she bit into her chocolate.
    “Fine. Fuck it, we can treat ourselves at Christmas, can’t we?” Bosh sighed, picking herself up off the sofa and walking to the cabinet where the booze was kept. “But you better not finish those chocolates before Christmas”
    The last line was delivered with a maternal point, but Bluebell just smiled as she put the last chocolate into her mouth.
     

    11 Days Until Christmas
     
    “Babe… when are you coming to bed?” Bosh said, walking back downstairs in a long nightie that went down to her knees. 
    “In a minute babe”
    “It’s 2:30 in the morning”
    “Yeah, I’ll be up in a minute. It’s just... I’m the imposter and I’m on a rampage”
    Bosh sighed heavily.
    “Blue, you know I don’t know what any of those words mean, right? Wait, what’s with all this mess?” Bosh sighed, seeing the table absolutely cluttered with rubbish.
    The table next to the sofa was overflowing with empty cans, empty wrappers and filled ashtrays. Stale smoke filled the air.
    “Oh don’t worry Bosh, I’ll clear it before I come up” Bluebell turned around and smiled at her girlfriend sincerely.
    “That’s not the problem, Blue. The problem is… have you ** all this?” she said grabbing a bin liner and began putting all the empty cans and bottles in there.
    “It’s not alcohol. It’s lying juice. It helps me lie… speaking of which, hang on a sec babe, I gotta…” and Bluebell switched the microphone on her headset back on. “Well, I saw red running South down the main corridor…”
    Bosh rolled her eyes again and picked the bag up and began walking to the door that lead to the back garden where they kept the recycling. Just as she got there, with the black binbag hooked over her shoulder like she was Santa Claus, she looked back over at her girlfriend, whose build was far closer to the jolly gift dispenser.
    Bosh sighed heavily, and rested her head on the doorframe. Maybe it was because she was grumpy, maybe it was because she was tired. But she suddenly felt the urge to cry. Head leaning on the doorframe, she could see her girlfriend. She looked huge, just massive, bulging out of her camisole and shorts. She was sitting at the desktop PC that she had bought herself as a housewarming gift out of Bosh’s wages. She didn’t have an accompanying deskchair, she had an armchair. She’d put a further layer of cushions to compensate for the comparative lack of height, and this also helped her with her width issue; namely that she was essentially wider than the arms of the armchair. Her elevated position meant that she could spill out over the sides rather than squish between them. Bosh never thought she’d see the day Blue outgrew a fucking armchair.
    But it was also how she sat there, ignorant of how Bosh felt, chatting away without a care in the world. Eating the food she’d promised she’d save until Christmas, drinking the booze they were supposed to share together, smoking the cigarettes she swore she was cutting down on. It didn’t seem malicious, just absent-minded indulging. But, on the other hand, it meant she never really stopped binge eating. Just a train of it, one carriage of bingeing connected to another, from morning until night. Bosh knew it was getting out of hand, but she simply didn’t have the words to tell her without pushing her away. So, instead, she watched her girlfriend eat herself away instead.
    With a heavy sigh, she opened the door to the back garden. It was throwing it down, rain heaving from the sky. Bosh was dressed in just a nightie and pink slippers. She picked up the bag, and swung it over her back and stepped out into the rain.
    With quick footsteps, she scurried across to the corner where they kept all the recycling. Normally, she would split the bottles from the plastics from the cardboards, but with the Heavens as open as they were, she elected just to just head straight to the bin for household waste. She got there, the skies dampening her fluffy slippers, and began to swing the back from over her shoulders when the bag ripped and everything fell onto the grass.
    Bosh kicked the trash in frustration, before just sitting on the wet, muddy grass, and began to cry.
    +
    It took Bluebell 20 minutes for her to realise that her girlfriend was still out there. First, she won on her PC game, avoiding suspicion from her crewmates and slicing her way to victory. Then she had a celebratory gin and tonic, and finished off her Ben & Jerry’s Gimme S’more pint tub. And then she went into the lobby for another game. And then she realised her girlfriend hadn’t come back in.
    Slowly, Bluebell pulled herself up, pushing the crumbs onto the floor, and waddled towards the back door. Out there, in the heart of the downpour, was her girlfriend, just sitting there and sobbing.
    Bluebell walked into the kitchen, took a deep swig of the opened London’s Dry Gin from the fridge, along with a handful of biscuits from the cupboard, for strength. Then she grabbed her umbrella, and wandered outside.
    Slowly, she walked up to her girlfriend and sat down next to her.
    “Hey” Blue said understatedly.
    “You came?”
    “I came. I’m wet. All of the innuendos” Bluebell smiled, putting the last biscuit in her mouth. Bosh didn’t laugh. “So, what’s up?”
    “The bag broke”
    “Ahh, shit. I mean, it’s not the end of the world though…”
    “This will be our first Christmas together, living together. And it’s going shit” Bosh added, and Bluebell’s shoulders deflated.
    “Don’t… don’t say that…” Bluebell said, a little more weakly.
    “You finished that hamper, didn’t you? The one I got for the twelve days of Christmas?” Bosh said. No accusation in her voice, just resignation.
    “I mean… I mean…”
    “Just say it” Bosh said, a little sharper.
    “Yeah. But, if it helps, it was really good. The dark chocolate was my…”
    “It doesn’t help”
    “Look, Bosh. Leave the rubbish. Come in. You’ll catch something, sitting out here in this weather…”
    “Yeah, and you wouldn’t want me to have to see a doctor, would you?” Bosh hissed, before turning away.
    “What does that mean?”
    “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta go up, I’ve got work in the morning…”
    Bosh slowly pulled herself up to her feet, wiping her tears as she did.
    “Hey, hold up… give me a hand up, would you? It’s a long way down and…”
    But Bosh was already walking off. From behind, Blue could see the garden stain where she’d been sitting in the soft muddy grass.bmi. The nightie itself was soaked through, and clinging onto her cold, pale skin. Blue knew that Bosh was gaining weight again, but from her heavier perspective, the numbers never seemed that big. 164lbs was a lot for Bosh, but it was a world away from Blue. However, seeing her so unceremoniously presented, Blue understood why Bosh considered those numbers to be big. The curves that her nightie hugged looked uncomfortable on her. Slip-slender Bosh looked clunky in her larger size and more ungainly, stodgier. Like comparing a butcher’s sausage to her formerly chipolata build. Blue couldn’t really judge. But she did. Silently.
    “Oii, you’re gonna need a shower before you go to bed. And probably a warm up by the radiator. So, if you give me a sec while I get up… unaided because I was ignored… then maybe you should stay up. Have some hot chocolate instead? Or the Glenmorangie?”
    Bosh stopped at the door again. The Glenmorangie was a special treat drink, reserved for when the girls were feeling low.
    “It’s 2:30 Blue, I have work tomorrow”
    “Exactly, it’s 2:30. By the time you’ve showered, dried, warmed up, it’ll be after 3. Once you’ve stopped silently sulking…”
    “I’m not silently sulking!” Bosh snapped.
    “Yeah… sounds like it. Anyway, by the time you’ve calmed down enough to sleep, it’ll be time to get up”
    Bosh stayed silent at this, and Blue continued talking.
    “So… instead… how about the two of us order some pizza, snuggle up a little with that Glemorangie, and I show you how to play Among Us”
    “Is that the stupid game you’ve been playing?”
    “It’s not stupid, as I’ll show you. It’s a game of deceit, and it’s great fun”
    “Lying is fun?” Bosh scowled, but Bluebell couldn’t really see her facial expression in the dark.
    “Yes, it is. Now come on Bosh. It’s Christmas after all! Now, come over here and help your girlfriend off her arse. I’m not as sober as I thought I was when I sat down and now I’m all muddy” Blue put her hands in the air to be grabbed, and her girlfriend glumly shuffled over to the deed.
    10 Days until Christmas

    Bluebell was doing what Bluebell did best. Grumbling about Bosh’s alarm going off. She’d buried her head under her pillow in response.
    Bosh was doing what Bosh did best. Pretending she wasn’t hungover. It had been 29 hours since she sat down in the garden and cried, and hadn’t spent much of the intervening time without the warm fuzzy comfort of alcohol to heat her throat and muddle her thinking. But, unlike Bluebell, Bosh could power through it.
    “Can’t you pull another sickie? When you were younger, you’d skive of uni all the time. Like that time when we went down to the bridge and threw sandwiches at the trains? Waste of good sandwiches… come to think of it”
    Bosh sighed and looked over at her girlfriend, still smothered in pillow, despite the alarm now off.
    “Blue, that was over two years ago now. We’re not kids any more. This is my job, that’s different to a lecture on Neo-Classicism from a Feminist Perspective”
    “Is that a real subject? That sounds more boring than death”
    “Yeah, it’s a real subject and yeah, it was more boring than death. Which is why I skived to throw sandwiches at trains with you”
    “But isn’t what you do now just as boring? Like, computers and words and shit?”
    “Oh my god, Bluebell! Do you really not know what I do for my job?”
    “Yeah. Course”
    Bosh just folded her arms and stared at her.
    “Umm… do you update the company’s Facebook status?”
    Bosh threw a pillow at her girlfriend, who had only just come out from under her own.
    “I’ll take that as a no?”
    “Come on, if you get up, I’ll order us breakfast”
     

    +
     

    Bluebell and Bosh were sitting on the sofa, leaning over while they ate their morning pizza.
    “So, what are your plans today?” Bosh said, with a mouthful of margherita. “And don’t say that fucking game again”
    “You liked that game yesterday? I mean, you were constantly sus, even when you weren’t the imposter, but you had fun” Bluebell argued with a smile.
    “Yeah, yeah, it was less dorky that I thought. I guess. But still… try not to spend the whole day and the whole evening and the whole night playing that game again” Bosh looked at her girlfriend wryly.
    “Fine. I’ll do something else”
    “Like, put away the rubbish that’s outside?”
    “I was thinking about maybe reading a book on Classicism and Feminism” Blue smirked.
    “Neo-classi… oh, whatever. Piss-taker, play your stupid game then. But only after you’ve sorted out the trash outside” Bosh conceded, and Blue smiled victoriously.
    Bosh shook her head, realising that Blue had got what she wanted, as she always did. Unfortunately, shaking her head caused some of the pizza to break off in her mouth and fall down her top, causing her to jump up in frustration.
    “Bollocks! Mothershitting bollocks!” Bosh exclaimed reactively.
    “Hey, relax! You’ve got plenty more blouses”
    “It’s a shirt, not a blouse Blue. And… you’re right. I guess. It’s just.. I like this top” Bosh grumbled. It was pin-stripe with blue lines racing down on a white background.
    “I must admit, I like it. Especially the red splodge on it…”
    “You are such an arsehole, Blue” Bosh grinned.
    “It’s very Classicism”
    “It’s… the word’s neo-clas… and it isn’t even… you are such a philistine, Blue”
    “It’s pronounced Palestine” 
    “No, it’s pronounced shut the fuck up, you cheeky bitch” Bosh said with exasperation but also amusement. “I’m gonna go up and grab another top. You? Don’t touch my pizza!”
    “I won’t” Blue said, already leaning over to grab a slice.
    “Seriously, Blue. No pizza, or I’ll throw you computer out the fucking window like it’s the fucking imposter” Bosh pointed her finger, but her face was still all smiles.
    “Fiiiine, I’ll leave your pizza alone. But I’ll have to have my other one then”
    “I thought you were saving that for lunch?”
    “I was. Until my mean girlfriend tempted me with her pizza and then said I couldn’t have any. So, in a way, it’s actually your fault” Bluebell said, but her girlfriend was already rushing upstairs. She grabbed a slice of her girlfriend’s pizza and then reached for her second box.
     
    +
     

    Bosh walked down the stairs with a stern look on her face, and Blue’s face burst into laughter.
    “It’s the only other shirt I have, and it doesn’t fucking fit” Bosh grumbled as she walked into the main room where Bluebell was sat, and walked in front so Bluebell could see clearly.
    “You’ve had a good Christmas” Bluebell shrugged, but it clearly amused her.
    The top was one that Bosh hadn’t worn since they moved up, and it was fitted accordingly. An orange and white striped top that rose up with every exhale of breath. It’s tightness meant the outward bulge of her stomach was a defining shape, and protruded as far as her chest.
    “I’m fat”
    “Healthy”
    “Unhealthy”
    “Oh relax Bosh, it’s Christmastime. If you’re insecure, why don’t you wear that jacket of yours? I mean, it is winter” Bluebell said, biting into another slice of her pizza.
    “Because that doesn’t fit either” Bosh grumbled, sitting on the sofa grumpily. As she did, her top rode up again and she felt the cold immediately, pulling it straight back down instinctively.
    “You could pull another sickie? You’ve established the precedent?”
    “I’ve played that card already” Bosh folded her arms again in a sulk, only for that also to cause her top to ride up, causing her face to redden in frustration.
    “Well, then fuck it. I mean, that’s the Bosh way, isn’t it? Fuck it and fuck them. Go in and not give a fuck. I mean, what are they gonna do, judge you? Oooo, scary! You’re motherfucking Bosh, you don’t care what the 2 Geoffs think” Bluebell asked, starting her final slice.
    “Yeah” Bosh nodded, coming around to the idea. “I am motherfucking Bosh. You’re right. I don’t care. It’s a bit tight? Well, it’s Christmas, if you haven’t over-indulged, have you really done Christmas right?”
    “That’s my kinda thinking”
    “Yeah, that’s not actually that reassuring” Bosh smiled.
    “Speaking of which, you decided you don’t fancy those last three slices? I mean, that top’s looking preeeetty tight”
    “Fuck off, I’ll eat them on the way. After all, like you said, it’s Christmastime” Bosh said, winking as she grabbed the slices.
    “Ouch, hoisted by my own… what’s the phrase?”
    “Petard”
    “You can’t people that any more, and I was only asking what the phrase was” Bluebell asked, and Bosh looked at her, trying to work out if she was joking or otherwise. Either way, she grabbed the box with the remaining three slices and walked out the door, tugging her shirt down as she did. Bluebell snickered to herself as she did.
    And as soon as the door closed, Bluebell reached over for her phone.
    “Coast is clear, you can come on over”
     

    +
     

    “So what appears to be the problem, Ms. Thomas?” the doctor said in a nurse’s uniform.
    “Wait… are you supposed to be a doctor or a nurse?”
    “Yes”
    Dr Callista Karagounis strode in through the door and into the house, with Bluebell walking backwards as she did. Bluebell let out a little gulp.
    “Soooo… where does it hurt?”
    “Everywhere, Dr Nurse” Bluebell said, her eyes widened as she backtracked further and further. “I think I might have to take my clothes off for you to inspect thoroughly”.
    “Very well, Ms. Thomas” the doctor said, a smirk on her lips. “And remember… no biting”
     

    +
     

    Bluebell and Callista were leaning against one another on the sofa, each with a cigarette burning.
    “So… that was fun” Callista smiled, running her hand through Bluebell’s hair.
    “Yeah, we definitely put the ‘ho’ into ‘ho ho ho, Merry Christmas’” Bluebell smiled, stubbing her cigarette out and reaching over for her vodka and coke.
    The two girls sat kinda awkwardly at this point, just leaning against one another. Eventually, Bluebell interrupted.
    “So… how was work?”
    “Do you care?”
    “Not really, but I feel it’s only polite to ask” and Callista could feel Bluebell smile against her shoulder.
    “Well, in that case, it was fine” Callista laughed. “How’s… your healthier habits going?”
    “On pause for the Christmas period”
    “And when did this pause for the Christmas period start?”
    “The day before the healthy eating did” and again, the tell-tale feeling of a smirk on Bluebell’s face, the muscles of her jaw felt against Callista’s shoulder.
    “Do you want me to nag or not?”
    “Umm… can we hold fire on the actual doctor/patient stuff? Until the New Year. I promise I’ll be good in the New Year” Bluebell said, putting her empty glass down and lighting another cigarette.
    “Which new year?” Callista joked and, though the doctor couldn’t feel it this time, Bluebell smiled.
    “The one in a couple of weeks. I can be good. I just need the right incentive” Bluebell said, nuzzling into her girlfriend.
    “But… let me guess… you fancy being bad in the meantime? What you thinking, an hour of doctor and patient role-playing and then lunch?”
    “Other way round, but yeah, sounds good” Bluebell kissed her girlfriend.
    “Other way… you can’t honestly be hungry? It’s 11am and you said you had half a pizza for breakfast?” Callista said.
    “No nagging until new year, remember? Look, the chip shop’s open, go grab us the usual and then we can worry about my health in the fun way. I just need an outlet for biting since you won’t let me sink my teeth into you” Bluebell said, sitting up and looking at her girlfriend.
    “I… I’m sorry about the no hickeys, no biting, no bruising rule. But I’m worried Wallace will find out. How are you doing hiding it from yours?” Callista asked, putting her top on.
    “I’m a master liar” Bluebell smiled smugly. “Although… the night before last, Bosh said something strange”.
    Callista looked sharply. “What did she say?”
    “I can’t remember. I was pretty well liquidated…”
    “That’s not what liquidated means”
    “...At that point. I just remember thinking she was suspicious. Or knew. But I don’t remember what she said that made me think that. Probably just ** paranoia, cos she’s acted totally normal since then”
    “Nicer than normal”
    “I mean, yeah, but it’s Christmas…”
    “Hmmm” Callista said knowingly.
    “No. No. Don’t ‘hmmmm’ that. Being nice doesn’t mean she suspects” Bluebell argued with slight concern.
    “Well, you’re the master liar. If you were being extra nice, what would it mean?” Callista said, sitting back down on the arm of the sofa.
    “Well… I’m the master liar, so I wouldn’t change my behaviour at all. But… when I’m feeling guilty about… us… one of the things I have to catch myself doing is being too nice. I don’t want to make her suspicious by being extra nice. Like the thing about the cheating husband who buys his wife gifts. If I dote on her, she’d know something was up. But I don’t do that, cos I’m a master liar” Bluebell explained.
    “Keep thinking… you’re about to reach an epiphany…”
    “So… if Bosh is being nicer than normal… you think she’s cheating on me?” Bluebell’s eyes raged.
    “Bingo” Callista said. “I’d know, I’ve been the cheating husband too. Only, I didn’t buy him things, I just stopped griping about him going out with the lads. Started encouraging it. It stopped me feeling guilty and it got him out of the house so I could… well, y’know the rest”.
    “Bosh is cheating?” Bluebell’s bottom lip suddenly started twitching.
    “Hey, don’t get upset. I mean, you are too” Callista sympathised.
    “Yeah, I know. It’s hypocritical. But… why does the thought really hurt then? I’m cheating on her and feel fine, so why am I insulted when she cheats on me?”
    “Because all people are hypocrites. Look, she might not be cheating…”
    “She spends a lot of time and puts a lot of effort into keeping on the good side of the two Geoffs”
    “She works with two people called Geoff?”
    “Different spellings. And she got very upset about not looking her best this morning” Bluebell’s eyes drifted off into the middle-distance, dancing on the far wall.
    “Maybe… maybe… you should leave her then. I mean, it’s my name on the house deeds, so I can probably kick Wallace out. You could live with me. And… I know that’s ridiculous and too fast but…”
    Bluebell’s head couldn’t keep up with the thoughts. Far from the stereotype that time slows down in times of shock and trauma, time actually speeds up. And it was running away from her faster than her brain could compute. Was that why Bosh was crying in the garden the night before last? Was Bosh no longer in love with her? And did Bluebell really have any right to begrudge that, given what she was up to?
    “Can I think… about it? I… I’m not sure. I’m not sure I want to find out” Bluebell said, her voice suddenly feeling very dry and croaky. She poured herself a strong vodka and coke and downed it.
    “Hey, look. I’ll go get that fish and chip dinner, you just… I’ll be back in 5” Callista said, and left Bluebell to cogitate.
     

    9 Days Until Christmas
     

    “To be fair, you deserve that headache” Bosh said, as Bluebell grumbled and fumbled for aspirin.
    “Nobody deserves this headache”
    “I… I haven’t seen you that ** in a long time, Blue. If ever. I tried to ask you what prompted it, but you weren’t really making much sense”
    Bluebell closed her eyes slowly. Every blink of them hurt.
    “I dunno, Bosh. I dunno” Bluebell said, barely audibly.
    “Well, you can have both of the pizzas for breakfast and I won’t judge” Bosh smiled, and Bluebell strained a grateful smile as she sat wrapped in her duvet downstairs on the sofa. Bosh leant in and bit into her pizza.
    “You’re being very nice” Bluebell noticed.
    “Of course. I’m always nice” Bosh smiled. “Oh, I heard about Keir Starmer on the radio. Letting that woman be racist. Of course, I don’t think it’s really his fault she was racist, and he did argue with her, but I know that’s the sort of thing you have opinions about”.
    “Yeah, he’s a prick. Wait, why did you follow a politics story?”
    “Oh, I didn’t. Jeff - with a J - is a Tory activist. So he was criticising the Labour man…”
    “Jeff…” Bluebell said suspiciously.
    “But then Geoff - with a G - considers himself a floating voter and said that was hypocritical given where Boris had steered the party, and that the Labour man did object and the only issue was that he maybe argued too politely”
    “Geoff…” Bluebell said suspiciously.
    “Fuck, the hangover’s left you monosyllabic, hasn’t it? Well, I’m gonna eat these last few slices in the car on the way to work. You take care of yourself. And have a cheat day. I know every day’s a cheat day for you, but you look like you need it today. You look rough” Bosh said, kissing her on the forehead.
    “Rough…”
    “Yeah, you’re still fucked. I’m gonna love ya and leave ya, and I’ll see you when I get back. And, when the hangover passes, sort out the fucking trash in the garden. You promised, don’t make yourself a liar…”
    “Liar…”
    And Bluebell just cuddled up on the sofa and fell back asleep.
     
    8 Days Until Christmas
     

    “The trash is still out there, in the garden” Bosh said, sharply, walking into the house with her excessively snug jacket from work still on.
    “Yeah, but… I’m all the way over here” Bluebell pleaded, sitting on her armchair at the computer as ever.
    “Come on Blue, yesterday was a write-off, because of the hang-over. But what’s your excuse today?”
    “I was still hungover today. It was my first ever two-day hangover” Bluebell moaned, finishing her JD and coke and then lighting a cigarette.
    “No, today’s hangover was due to last night’s drinking Blue. It’s a separate hangover” Bosh said sharply, walking over to the drinks cabinet and pouring herself a stiff drink.
    “Top us up, while you’re at it babe” Blue asked.
    “Babe? You never call me babe. And fine, but I do so under objection. You look like shit, Blue. Like, you look awful”
    “Yeah, neither of my parents were lookers”
    “No… I don’t mean you’re not an attractive person…”
    “Don’t you?” Bluebell glanced at her girlfriend.
    “No. I mean… you need to look after yourself. You look…”
    “Awful. I know. I heard you the first time” Bluebell said bitterly.
    “No, I…” Bosh put her hand on her head when she saw the boxes. “You had pizza for lunch? As well as breakfast?”
    “You didn’t mind yesterday when I did it”
    “You weren’t actually in the land of the living yesterday. You don’t have that excuse today”
    “I need an excuse to eat pizza?”
    “You… are being… challenging, Blue. I’m tired and I come home and find all this shit everywhere and you’re sat at that fucking computer playing that fucking game and you’re so pale they’d let you in an Evanescence concert. And here’s your cigarettes by the way. Try to make these 200 last more than three days”
    Bosh threw the back on the desk next to the armchair and walked into the kitchen. Blue just stared defiantly at the screen.
    “And Blue, when was the last time you fucking showered?”
    “Dunno… yesterday”
    “You weren’t physically capable of showering yesterday”
    “So the day before then. Which… I’ll admit, isn’t ideal. But I thought we agreed you’d stop nagging me until the new year”
    “We never agreed that” Bosh said, looking at her girlfriend in confusion.
    “No? Maybe it just felt like it. We should agree on that. An Armistice until the 1st” Bluebell said, finishing her drink.
    “Fine. No nagging until the New Year” Bosh agreed reluctantly. “If you sort out the trash outside”.
    “I’ll do it tomorrow” Bluebell said, not looking away from her screen. 
    “Fine then” Bosh grumped, sitting on the sofa and switching on the TV. “But I’m ordering pizza for tea cos I’m fucking exhausted, and if that doesn’t suit you, then maybe you shouldn’t have had those pizzas for lunch”.
    “No, I’m fine with pizzas. And I’ll have a garlic bread with my two” Bluebell said spitefully.
     
    7 Days Until Christmas
     
    “Help me, Jason. You’re my Jiminy Cricket, you know what I should do” Bluebell said, staring at her phone as she Facetimed her best friend.
    “Blue… if I’m your Jiminy Cricket, then you are French Connection UK-ed”
    “What?”
    “FCUKed, Blue. You are FCUKed. If I, harlot extraordinaire, I am your moral compass in the face of moral turpitude and sexual liaisons, then you are as fucked as the long list of lovers that I currently have on the go” Jason told her, while switching his smoothie maker on.
    “Firstly, you only pretend to be a whore for the street cred. And second, what are you making in that smoothie maker?”
    “Have a guess?”
    “Chocolate shake?”
    “Smoothie, Blue. I’m making a smoothie in the smoothie maker. Like, the etymology is a clue. And also, I am not a whore, I’m a slut. But if I wanted to get paid, I could. Cassius would pay through the nose. Or, indeed, any other orifice”
    “Isn’t Cassius the straight guy from my leaving do?”
    “Yeah, but I’ve cured him of his straightness. What people don’t realise is that Gay Conversion Therapy is therapy that makes you gay. And I, harlot extraordianire, am a one-man Gay Conversion Therapy centre” Jason puffed his chest out with pride, and Bluebell just laughed
    “So, what’s the dilemma then, Pinocchio? And I’ll give you my wisest counsel”
    “Well… Bosh makes no sense. One day she’s spoiling me with gifts and saying I’m allowed to binge, other times she’s being grumpy for me eating pizza and not doing housework”
    “So you think she’s cheating on you?”
    “What? Why does everybody say that?”
    “Who else said that?”
    “So, Doc… Callista, whatever you want to call her. She said… well, she gave me the space to reach the conclusion that she might be cheating” Bluebell pondered.
    “Suspicious…”
    “Right? And then she asked me to move in with her. Kick out her husband and everything”
    “Fuck. So both of your girlfriends are acting sus?”
    “And I’m the one acting normal, even though I’m the one doing the backstabbing” Bluebell said.
    “Just like you do in every game of Among Us” Jason noted.
    “So… what’s your advice?”
    “Well, why are you with Bosh?”
    “I dunno… habit? Plus… promise not to judge me?”
    “Nope”
    “Alright, then promise not to verbalise those judgements…”
    “Oh, okay. That I can do. I’ll just silently do it, and maybe raise a quizzical eyebrow” Jason giggled.
    “Fine. Eyebrows, I can cope with. So… I do enjoy sabotaging her diet” Bluebell said, her voice trailing off as the sentence progressed.
    “And you’re not letting me verbalise a response to THAT?!?!?!” Jason said, with pent up frustration.
    “No”
    “Oh, please!!! I have so many judgements and I didn’t realise I was agreeing to not judging as juicy as that”
    Bluebell paused, knocking back the last of her perry cider and then pushing in some more baklava into her mouth. Eventually, she relented, and let him vent.
    “Oh, thank God Blue. Cos I have views. Firstly - oh my god. That’s my first take. Second take - oh my god, again. It’s the same as the first take, I know, but I just can’t get over how Oh My God it is. Third take - you devious bitch, I love it. When did Bluebell become so Machiavellian?”
    “Ugghh, why does everyone I know use words that are impossible to understand? What, Jase, was that last word and where are people being taught these terms that I swear are not English? Like, that’s one of them German stupid long words that means something like ‘the feeling you get when a tooth falls out and it reminds you of a long-lost child’, isn’t it?” Bluebell complained, while chewing more baklava.
    “I mean, that is soooo manipulative and evil. Bluebell, lovely cutey-pie Bluebell, is a stone-cold sabotaging bitch. Oh, that breathes love and fire into my heart, I love it so much” Jason giddied himself.
    “Yeah, it’s pretty shitty of me, I admit. But… I’m just pissed off with her. Not for the cheating, I’ve been doing it longer than that. No, just… I dunno. Like, I hate it when she’s so grumpy about my weight. That’s one thing. Another thing, when she pretends it doesn’t bother her, that’s even worse”
    “Soooo, when she does or doesn’t acknowledge your weight?”
    “Don’t say it like that. You make me sound contrary. It’s different when you experience it first-hand”
    “So why are you even with her then?” Jason asked, and Bluebell went to answer when she realised she didn’t know the answer.
    “Not sure”
    “I mean, you have a pretty good Plan B. She’s hot… she’s a doctor… she’s also a hot doctor. I mean, they’re the big three things you look for in a partner”
    “True…”
    “So, what’s your problem?”
    “She’s… like, I think there’s something wrong with her. She’s been a bit weird about me moving in, a bit over-keen. And it’s weird how she took up smoking within one day of meeting me. Like, why is she trying so hard?”
    “Cos she likes you?”
    “Yeah, but why?”
    “Ah” Jason said, and raising his eyebrows in a quizzical manner.
    “I didn’t mean it like that…”
    “Oh, didn’t you? You are suspicious of her because she likes you, aren’t you?”
    “No”
    “Blue, babes, don’t lie to your BFF-forever. We pinky-promised, remember?”
    “Fine. Yes, Jason, I’m suspicious because a hot 40-something year old doctor with her own house and a husband that she’s been for ages would risk her career and her marriage for some twenty-something girl who has tripled in weight in less than two years. Why wouldn’t I be?”
    “Oh girl, that’s so sad! This is a self-loathing thing, isn’t it? You’re self-loathing again, aren’t you?”
    “No” Bluebell huffed, necking her next cider.
    “That’s why you’re sabotaging Bosh’s diet. Because you don’t feel worthy of either of them, do you? Is this a weight thing?”
    “No. Yes. Maybe. Look, I’m… they’re both really good-looking. Bosh maybe less so now she has a **-belly, but still a catch. And Callista is amazing. Like, what a woman. So why the fuck would they get with some chain-smoking, binge-drinking unemployed lard-arse with zero prospects and supports a party run by Keir fucking Starmer” she ranted.
    “I mean, I like him. Better than the anti-Semite before him”
    “Oh, don’t you fucking start!” Bluebell said, biting a doughnut angrily.
    “Maybe the issue isn’t Bosh and it isn’t Doc…”
    “It’s me? Ya think?”
    “No, I think… you love both of them. But you can’t love them properly until you love yourself” Jason said sympathetically.
    “Which cracker was that nugget of advice found in?” Bluebell snarked, and Jason laughed.
    “No, crackers contain jokes, Blue. You’re thinking of Chinese fortune cookies. Anyway, I’m just saying, how can you see them clearly, to know who you want to be with… if you can’t even see yourself clearly? Because, you are amazing Bluebell, and everyone who meets you always comes away thinking it. You are pretty and witty and bright…”
    “Are you quoting West Side Story at me?”
    “Yeah, but they had a point. Those Sharks. Or Jets. Or whichever one it was… was John Travolta in that movie? I feel like he was”
    “Either way, you’re a 300lb woman and everyone drops at your feet because you’re adorable. You’re kind and sharp and so bloody affection-inducing” Jason smiled sympathetically as Bluebell finished her doughnut.
    “You know, I’m well over 300 now”
    “I must admit, I thought your face was looking a bit…”
    “A bit what, Jason?”
    “Fluffy?”
    “I have a fluffy face?”
    “Like, I can’t see all of it on my phone. Which is new?”
    “My face is so fat, you can’t see all of it on your phone”
    “Well… it is in portrait. It’s fine when I turn it to landscape”
    “I fucking well hope so! Imagine having a face too wide for landscape!” Bluebell giggled, despite herself.
    “So… what’s the damage? How much Bluebell is there, these days?”
    “I don’t know”
    “Oh, come on, don’t be coy Blue. I know you don’t like admitting it to Callista or Bosh, but you can always tell Jason” he reassured.
    “No… I literally don’t know. They scales only go up to 400”
    “Oh”
    “Yeah, two weeks ago, I got a reading of 408 and it didn’t sound good then. But I’ve had nothing since but broken sounding clunking noises” Bluebell said, before pausing. Deeply. “Well? Come on, say something…”
    “I mean, it’s just a number, isn’t it? You’re only as heavy as you feel” Jason tried to downplay it.
    “I feel very fucking heavy. I’m fat, Jase. Like, embarrassingly fat” Bluebell said, sniffling a little.
    “400 isn’t… I mean, there’s no exact figure. And you’re quite tall…”
    “I’m a short-arse, Jase. Just a fat short-arse”
    “Fine. It’s a big number. You’re a big girl. Whoopdy-fuck”
    “It’s… affecting my health. Don’t… whatever you do, don’t tell anyone this. Not my parents, nobody. But, sometimes my skin feels… weird. Sensitive, I dunno what the word for it is. And I get out of breath, really easy. Like, I filled up the bin with the rubbish that had fallen out - broken bin bag, don’t ask - and I was sweating by the end of it. And panting. From just leaning over and picking stuff up. It’s… a bit scary. But don’t tell anyone. Please”
    Jason went quiet for a second, before answering.
    “Fine. But speak to Callista. She’s a bloody doctor”
    “Okay. I’ll… speak to her. In the new year. I’m… gonna have a nice Christmas, worry about it later”
    “Babes, I think you’re already worrying about it. And your solution to worrying - eating, drinking, smoking - is also the thing you’re worrying about. You see that, right?”
    “Stop being such a shrink, Jase. After Christmas. I’ll sort it in the New Year”
    “Fine. But… make sure you… y’know… don’t…”
    “Don’t what?”
    “Drink or eat yourself into the hospital before then” Jason said with concern.
    “Fuck you Jason!” Bluebell burst, switching gears in fury. Without a moment's hesitation, she switched the call off and threw her phone away. She could feel her hand shake with fury and shock at the suggestion. Between tears, she poured herself another drink.
     
    6 Days Until Christmas
     
    “I’m serious, Bosh. You’ve got no more work worries until after the new year now. It’s the weekend, and it’s holiday season. Let’s have some fun” Bluebell pleaded, dipping her spoon into her salted caramel ice cream. They were lying in bed.
    “When you say fun…?”
    “Just cut loose. Go all out. Leave nothing behind. Until the New Year” Blue was leaning back in the bed while Bosh was sitting up.
    “I still don’t understand…”
    “Eat, drink, be merry, that sort of thing…”
    “I do. I mean, I am. I…” Bosh said. “Is this your way of saying you want me to open the port?”
    “I was thinking tequila”
    “Mockingbird?”
    “What?”
    “Tequila Mockingbird? To Kill A Mockingbird? It’s… a book”
    “I know it’s a book Bosh. I just didn’t realise you did Dad jokes now” Bluebell smirked, her spoon scraping the bottom of the ice cream tub.
    “You’ve finished that already?”
    “This is what I mean. We should just cut loose. Go for it. Pedal to the metal”
    “Don’t say ‘pedal to the metal’, Blue?”
    “Why, do the kids not say that any more? Is… is it inappropriate in some way? Climate denialist or…” Bluebell seemed genuinely confused as she put the empty carton on the bedside stand.
    “No. It’s just… you… you remember what I was like when I was pedal to the metal. In the old days. We don’t… I don’t want that any more” Bosh explained, flinching at the thought.
    “But that’s my point. It’s Christmas. You don’t have to be Gizmo Bosh for 11 more days. The Bosh Gremlins can come out and play”
    “I’m… I don’t like my gremlins, Blue. I worry about my drinking recently as it is and…”
    “Please Bosh. For me. It would make me happy” Bluebell smiled.
    “It would make you happy?”
    “Yes. It would mean the world”
    “Okay. Fuck. Pedal to the metal, it is. But you’re gonna struggle to keep up, Blue. I’m warning you. I’ll just grab the tequila…”
    “Mockingbird?”
    “Y’know, Tequila Mockingbird sounds like a Bond girl” Bosh joked as she walked out the bedroom to go downstairs and grab the tequila, and Blue laughed.
    “And grab us another tub of ice cream Bosh!” Bluebell shouted from the bed. “Let’s go all out!”
    ???? Days Until Christmas
    The first thing Blue could feel was the cold of the rain hitting her face, droplets bouncing off her chubby cheeks, and rolling down her chin and onto the grass below. It was this chilled damp that caused Bluebell’s heavy eyelids to strain open.
    “Oh fuck”
    She couldn’t stand up. Of that much, she was certain. No, her body simply didn’t have the strength. Instead, she crawled to the back door, and used the door handle to pull herself up. On her feet, she leant against the wall and caught her breath. Her head felt pan-fried.
    Legs wobbly, she walked into the house, well aware of the squelching of mud underfoot. Continuing to lean against the wall for balance, she dragged mud through along the wall and carpet as the world continued to spin before her. Eventually, she stumbled onto the sofa and faceplanted herself in its cushions with relief. And then she fell back asleep again
     
    +
     

    Bluebell’s eyes opened again, and focused on the fuzzy outline of a woman, scrubbing the house clean.
    “Bosh?” she croaked.
    The woman carried on working, putting her marigolded hands back into the bucket of soapy water, and then scrubbing the walls until they were the original eggshell white.
    “Bosh? Is that you?”
    “Now, who do you think it is?”
    “I dunno. Where am I? Am I dead?” Blue slurred. Bosh chuckled a little at that, but then her face stiffened.
    “You’re on the sofa, and you’re not dead yet” Bosh smiled facilely.
    “Good. I don’t know if Pizza Hut deliver to Hell'' Bluebell mumbled, trying to prise her own eyes open, but they kept falling shut.
    “Come on, you mucky pup. Up you get, off your fat arse Blue. I need to put the cushion covers in the wash, since you decided to cake them in mud. Might wanna have a shower and put that dress in the wash too”
    The dress in question was a denim dress, not a million miles from what Bluebell used to where, back in the good old days when her head didn’t feel like it was about to erupt. It had pockets and thin straps and had looked good on her a week ago when she first tried it on. She looked less good now, but that was probably the mud.
    “...Kay” Bluebell muttered, sitting up and fiddling with her straps to take it off.
    “I like you in that dress. You look good” Bosh said, quietly.
    “Bit tight”
    “It wasn’t when I bought it” Bosh added, sharply.
    “Can you give me a hand?” Bluebell said, fairly pathetically. She wasn’t sitting particularly straight, gently wobbling on the spot.
    “Come here you pisshead. Now, put your arms up and I’ll pull it off”
    And Bosh pulled the top off, and Bluebell sat there in just her underwear.
    Bosh looked back at her girlfriend, her eyes squinting from the low winter light and hair with mud woven into it. She sat on the sofa, pooling out in all directions. Her hips were wide and softly cushioned, and her legs were folded with fat. Her stomach, still her most distinctive feature, drooped down like the bin bag that Bosh had carried to the bin that broke, seemingly overflowed and beyond capacity. Her breasts, carried in a bra just to maintain some sort of discipline, still folded downwards. Her jawline was jowly, her cheeks were puffy, and her eyes were listless. And she was covered in mud.
    “You really need to clean up, Blue. You look like The Thing from the film...  The Thing”
    “Which film’s that again?”
    “It’s the one with The Thing in it”
    “The wrestler?”
    “No, not The Rock… anyway, just clean the fuck up”
    “Yeah, in a sec. Need a smoke… where’s my cigarettes?” Bluebell said, looking for pockets and then realising she wasn’t wearing anything.
    “Here, box here. Look, you’re cold, wet and naked. Grab a shower and put some clothes on” Bosh pushed.
    “Wet and naked is the name of my sex tape” Bluebell smiled, mentally high-fiving herself. She then began rummaging for something to eat on the table in front of her, settling upon an uneaten pizza. She grabbed the first slice and put it in her mouth.
    “Oh, trust me Blue, you’re not hungry” Bosh said sternly.
    “Oh, trust me, I am” Blue smiled, mainly to herself, as she launched into another bite. Bosh didn’t say anything.
    “What day is it? I… my memory’s not as sharp as a fiddle at the minute”
    “The saying’s either sharp as a tack, or fit as a fiddle” Bosh corrected. “And Monday. Today is Monday”.
    “Fuck yeah. Blacked out the entire weekend. Sign of a good weekend” Bluebell chuckled, finishing the first slice.
    “What… was the last thing you remember?”
    “Asking you about pedal to the metal on the Friday night. My headache tells me that it’s so far, so good”
    “So far?”
    “Yeah, we said until New Year. If it’s still the Monday, then that’s the… what, 21st? So yeah, we’ve got a long way to go. Shall we order in?”
    “You’re literally eating pizza right now”
    “I know, but for after” Bluebell replied as if that answer was the most normal answer in the world.
    “Fuck, sure. I’ll order more pizza. How many do you want, three? Four?” Bosh said with a cynical eye-roll.
    “I can have four pizzas?”
    “No! I was taking the piss. You can have two” Bosh sighed, reaching for her phone.
    “And a garlic bread?”
    “Sure, whatever”
    “And what are you having?”
    “I’m… good. Thank you”
    “Bosh… pedal to the metal. You promised me”
    “Yeah, I’m thinking about breaking that promise to be honest, Blue” Bosh said, quietly.
    “You’re acting weird. Cut it out, order yourself a pizza, and let’s open the gin that Aunt Sally got us”
    “We drank it”
    “The bourbon from Mandy and Pete?”
    “Gone”
    “The whiskey from…”
    “All of it, Blue. We’re cleared out”
    “In two days?” Blue asked, confused.
    “No. In nine days. It’s not Monday the 21st. It’s Monday the 28th. For crying out loud Blue, we’ve been blackout ** for nine days straight, including Christmas. A proper Christmas, together, as a couple” Bosh snarled. Her nervous energy suddenly felt more like angry energy
    “What about the cider from…”
    “Didn’t you listen to a word I said? No booze left! And it’s the fucking 28th!” Bosh’s voice raised to a shout, causing a vulnerable feeling Bluebell to wince and let her hands drift to her ears.
    “So… just the one pizza for you then, is that what you’re saying?” Bluebell said, eating a slice from the old pizza.
     

    +
     

    “I nearly swallowed my tongue?” Bluebell asked with shock. Her headache and wobbliness felt a lot better with food in her stomach.
    “I dunno. I thought you had. You were passed out on this sofa and… I remember trying to call for an ambulance… and failing” Bosh told her between sips of water.
    “You failed?”
    “Yeah, I called 1-2-3 instead of 9-9-9. Fuck knows why”
    “What’s 1-2-3..?”
    “The talking clock. I ended up telling the talking clock that you had swallowed your tongue” Bosh admitted, and Bluebell smiled that contagious smile of hers.
    “And what did the clock say?”
    “...The time. It’s not sentient, Blue. The talking clock tells you the time” Bosh shook her head and sipped her water.
    “Fuck!” Bluebell laughed. “You must have really heavily put the pedal to the metal, Bosh. Thanks. I appreciate it”
    “Don’t thank me Blue, seriously” Bosh said bashfully.
    “No. Seriously. That was really nice of you. It means a lot”
    Bosh squirmed awkwardly. “Whatever”.
    “Hey, why you not eating your pizza?” Bluebell asked, ramming another slice of her own into her mouth.
    “Dunno, not hungry” Bosh said, taking another sip of water. She had pulled the armchair out away from the computer and into the main room, so she could sit down and allow Bluebell the sofa to herself.
    “Is… this your way of saying ‘pedal to the metal’ time is over?”
    “Yeah, yeah it is, I guess. It’s over” Bosh said, taking another sip and not making much eye contact. Blue looked at her girlfriend suspiciously, while taking a bite out of her pizza.
    “Well, if it’s going free…”
    “Yeah, sure Blue. Help yourself” Bosh pushed the box over to her girlfriend.
    “Really? You don’t mind?” Blue smiled, layering a slice of Bosh’s pizza onto her own and eating both at the same time.
    “Would it matter if I did?”
    “Don’t be like that Bosh”
    “Like what?”
    “Grumpy. Weird. You’ve been weird ever since I came to”
    “Came to? You mean woke up from being passed out in your own garden, on muddy grass while it rained, and then crawled, at one point literally, to the sofa, dragging mud through the house that I had to clean up, and then collapsed on the sofa, in just a dress, still covered in mud, and then refused to shower?” Bosh’s voice rose again. Her entire presence felt barely on its leash, straining to snap at every word.
    “Fuck off, I didn’t refuse to shower. I’m just having these first”
    “Sorry, I forgot every hour is pizza hour”
    “What is your problem, Bosh? Because, sometime it feels as though you’re enabling me, and other times it feels as though your taking the fact that you’re enabling me out on me”
    “I… just… don’t Blue. I’m not looking for an argument. Just eat your fucking pizzas. Or don’t. Like I give a fuck”
    “Yeah, you don’t sound like someone who doesn’t give a fuck” Bluebell replied, snarling slightly with every bite out of pettiness.
    Bluebell silently tucked in, while Bosh hugged herself to keep warm. Bluebell wasn’t the only one inappropriately dressed for the time of year. Bosh was just wearing one of Bluebell’s tops, letting it drape over her like a tablecloth.
    “Oh, you need to ring your parents” Bosh said, as Bluebell chewed absent-mindedly.
    “Do I bollocks”
    “You’ve got missed calls from them. Like, a lot” Bosh said, trying to regather her composure.
    “You have my phone?”
    “Yeah, you gonna ring them then? It could be serious. There is a pandemic going on” Bosh was terse as she spoke.
    “Did they leave a message?”
    “No…”
    “Well, it can’t be that important, can it?” Bluebell bit into another slice, scowling as she did so. “So, can I have my phone back?”
    “D’ya need it then or…”
    “It’s my phone Bosh. I just want my phone back, that’s all”
    “Why?”
    “Cos it’s mine”
    “Fine”
    And Bosh passed the phone over, and Blue snatched it petulantly.
    “Thanks”
    “Also, Jason called, but I know you and him aren’t talking either” Bosh added, her face rarely elevating above a sneer.
    “No. We’re not” Bluebell replied curtly, pushing the last of her pizza into her mouth, and exhaling in relief.
    “And your GP called”
    Bluebell looked up at Bosh suspiciously.
    “What? My GP?”
    “Yeah, a whole bunch of times”
    “Is… is it serious? Why are you only mentioning it now?”
    “Don’t worry, it wasn’t to do with your health”
    Bluebell’s eyes scanned Bosh’s face for further meaning.
    “So, what did they want?”
    “She left messages”
    “Oh.. kay”
    “Blooby”
    Bluebell’s spine straightened at that.
    She went through to her messages and played the first one from Callista.
    “Hey Blooby, it’s your favourite GP here. Just seeing if you fancy another… appointment. Wallace is… not here so I wanted to know if you fancied coming round and I could give you a… physical. Anyway, let me know when you get this message. Cheers babe, bye”
    Bosh’s eyes closed as she heard each word hit her like shellfire. Bluebell sat cold and still, every muscle on edge.
    “Bosh… I might go up for a shower now…”
    “Sit the fuck down!” Bosh snapped ferociously. Blue obliged, sitting still and frightened.
    “It’s not what it sounds like”
    “It sounds like your ‘male’ GP is a woman, which you conveniently forgot to mention. And that you’re fucking her, which you conveniently forgot to mention” Bosh ranted, standing up and pointing.
    “Oh, like your not fucking a Geoff?”
    “I’m not… I’m not fucking a Geoff”
    “Well, then who is it?”
    “Nobody. Hang on, don’t turn this around…”
    “Well, you’re clearly fucking someone behind my back. Constant treats and gifts, mood swinging from bitch to doting depending on the day at work. It’s obvious, Bosh. You always were a shit liar” Blue argued, folding her arms defensively as she accused.
    Bosh took a deep breath.
    “I… bought you those things because… I knew about the affair. I knew you were shagging her and I was afraid to fucking lose you” Bosh admitted, cringing as she heard those words.
    “What?”
    “I hung around. At the Medical Unit. On that first check-up. It was a big deal for you and I knew you were nervous, so I hung around to make sure you were okay. And I saw you smoking with her. And flirting with her. And then when you came home and told me - sorry, lied to me - that she was male, I knew you liked her. You see, you’re not the great liar you think you are. Because life isn’t a fucking shitty PC game”
    “Among Us is not a shitty game!” Bluebell argued.
    “That was the bit you had a problem with?” Bosh would have found that funny in another conversation. But here, that irreverence felt like acid on the skin. “So, because I knew you were lying to me, I decided to see what you were up to. And then I saw you go round hers the next day”
    “You were following me?” Bluebell’s eyebrows arched sharply.
    “Yes. Because I’m the one in the wrong here” Bosh rolled her eyes and sipped her water.
    “I…”
    “No excuses Blue. I don’t wanna hear them. I… thought it was a fling. A one-off. I mean, I’m not an idiot. I know I’m not… providing for you physically. Maybe it would lift your mood, I thought? Maybe a quickie with an attractive female GP might shift your gloom and fix your mojo. I might get my Bluebell back. The old Bluebell. But you couldn’t just shag her the once, could you? You kept going back”
    “I’m sorry” Bluebell said, her voice deep and solemn.
    “No you’re not. You’re just sorry you’ve been caught. So I fought for you. I gave you everything you wanted. You wanted to drink yourself stupid every night? Sure, if it made you happy. Eat like a fucking possessed animal? Anything for you Blue. I even put my - oh, how did you phrase it? - ‘pedal to the metal’. For you. I fought for you Blue. But it’s not enough. It was never enough” Bosh was standing now as she spoke, towering over the slouched Bluebell on her comfy sofa.
    “No, don’t talk about us in the past tense, Bosh”
    “If I nagged, you complained. If I let you cut loose, you complained. It wasn’t me you were angry with. It was yourself. You hated yourself for getting fat, and you ate to punish yourself for getting fat, and then you took it out on me. And I tried Blue. I tried so hard. But you’re a lost cause, Blue. You’re beyond redemption”
    “D… Don’t say that. Don’t say it like that” Bluebell said, tears in her eyes. The room started spinning.
    “And, as much as I love you, and for some fucking reason I do fucking love you, I have to love myself first. The past week was terrifying. If you could remember it, you’d wish you could forget it. You went berserk. And… I did too. I can’t do that to myself, Blue. You can to yourself, because you don’t care. And, I genuinely hope this Doctor Bitch is good for you and can rescue you. Because I can’t. You’re a lost cause to me” Bosh broke off eye contact and stared at the wall, her eyes getting wet.
    “I’m not… I can change…”
    “You have changed already Blue. Fucking look at you”
    Bluebell refused to, tilting her head to the side to refuse self-reflection. Her head felt loose on her neck, her brain throbbing and her concentration weak.
    “It was just one week, Bosh. It was fucking Christmas. You’re supposed to cut loose at Christmas!” Bluebell sobbed.
    “It’s not just fucking Christmas. Christmas has been terrifying, sure. But it’s just been the cumulation of a year of this type of behaviour. This is just one step up from November, which was one step from October. Do you even remember what you were like two years ago? Do you remember what you looked like? Acted like? Hoped like?”
    “Stop it… please” Bluebell continued to sob. She could feel her hand trembling, but couldn’t stop it.
    “So, that Doctor Bitch can have you. Because I’m done, Blue. I have nothing left to give. I gave you my all, and everything else too. Because I love you. And because, somewhere, underneath everything, is the most adorable, most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. The kindest, wittiest, most charming woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Underneath it all. But it’s buried under so much these days, that I barely recognise you. Not because you’re fat, though you are so fucking fat Blue, but because of how you are. You are unrecognisable from the girl that I met at that flat party with your blue hair, your skinny dress, hair in a bow. I don’t recognise you anymore. You’re just a burden. And I won’t let you drag me down with you. So please, just fuck off Bluebell. Just fuck off and never come back, please”
    “No. I don’t want to”
    “GO!” Bosh yelled, throwing her glass against the wall and screeching, stamping her feet until she collapsed on the floor. “Just go!”
    Silently, Bluebell heaved herself to her feet. Unsteadily, she put one foot marginally in front of the other, and slowly trudged away from Bosh and towards the front door. Her head was numb, her eyes drooping to the floor. And she waddled slowly to the door.
    Her feet felt unsteady as she walked, her breaths were shallow. And her heart was racing in her chest, like an imprisoned wild animal clawing at the bars of her ribcage. Another step towards the door and she could feel the room list, like a ship in a storm. Another step and she began to fall.
    At which point, she passed out.
  24. Love
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from ShrubberyLogistic in Bluebell's 2019   
    A Blue Christmas Special
     
     
    December 2020***

    Twelve days until Christmas
     

    “Check it out now, I’m the funk soul brother. Right about now…” Bluebell sung to herself with her chunky pink headphones on, sprawled out on the sofa in her nightie. As she did, she brought her sausage roll to her mouth and took a huge chunk out of it. Flakes of pastry broke off and fell down, some on the carpet below but most left on her nightie top.
    “Blue…”
    “...I’m the funk soul brother…”
    “Blue… for fucks sake, you’re not even singing a Christmas song...”
    “...Check it out now, I’m the funk soul brother..”
    “BLUE!”
    “Oh… ummm… hey babe” Bluebell said, pulling her headphones off and looking at her girlfriend. “Was I singing too loud?”
    “No, I love your singing voice” Bosh smiled, leaning on the doorframe with her arms folded. She’d got her marigolds on from washing the breakfast pots.
    “I sound like a dying cat”
    “A cute dying cat though. Sort of like… mia-argh!” Bosh imitated a cat dying in a sing-song melody.
    “Fuck off” Bluebell laughed.
    “I just wanted to say you were in a good mood, that was all. And that I’m glad that you liked your early Christmas present” Bosh smiled as she backed slyly into the kitchen. Bluebell tilted her head in curiosity as she poured herself another glass of port. It was the season, after all.
    “They’re so good, Bosh. Thank you. The bass on these… like, really good”
    “Is that the technical term? Like, really good?” Bosh smiled.
    “I dunno. I’m not a music nerd. And anyway, why is me being in a good mood such a big deal? I’m always in a good mood” Bluebell smiled back, biting into her last sausage roll.
    “Well… you are these days. And… since you’ve been so cheery lately. I got you a treat…” Bosh said, slipping out of sight and into the kitchen.
    “Oh my god, is it another advent calendar?”
    “You’ve… how many of those do you need?” Bosh shouted from around the corner.
    “You can never have too many advent calendars. They’re what Christmas is about”
    “I’m pretty sure it’s more to do with that Jesus fella. And the chocolate would be so much cheaper if you just bought it separately” Bosh continued from out of Bluebell’s eyeline.
    “Yeah, but looking for and opening the little doors is half the fun” Bluebell giggled, pulling her glass of port to her lips.
    “You’re such a child”
    “No I’m not!” Bluebell huffed, folded her arms immaturely. Her face, a dorky grin, gave her away though. Bosh shook her head in mocking exasperation as she wended her way back into the room. “Anyway, why you acting so sus?”
    “I have no idea what ‘sus’ means but...  I got you this as a treat. But… this has to last you beyond just today” Bosh said, pulling the gift back like Bluebell was a puppy.
    “I will be a polygon of restraint”
    “Nice try… it’s paragon. Paragon of restr… oh fuck, whatever, here you go” Bosh handed Bluebell over her reward. And what a reward it was too. An eye-popping extravaganza wrapped up in wicker. It was a hamper large enough to carry a dog to the vets and, amongst the swamp of straw, was a spectacular array of chocolates and nibbles.
    “Oh shit, this looks epic” Bluebell smirked, fisting the last of sausage roll into her mouth clumsily as her eyes boggled before her. “Bring it here then, let me have a proper look at this bad boy”.
    “It was the raffle at work. This was the runner up prize, can you believe it? Jeff - with a J - he got a week in Cornwall. Lucky fucker” Bosh continued, but Bluebell wasn’t listening. She was pulling all the various treats out of the hamper and squealing with excitement at each one.
    “Fudge! I love fudge. And, oh my god, white chocolate’s my favourite!” she said, taking a bite and rolling her head back in ecstasy.
    “I thought dark chocolate was your favourite”
    “Yeah, that is too”

    “You… you can’t have two favourites”
    “Why not?”
    “Because there’s only three types of chocolate to begin with. Dark, white and milk…”
    “Oh my god, I love milk chocolate. Now, that one is my favourite!” she said, throwing some of the butterscotch fudge pieces in your mouth.
    “Try to make it last until Christmas” Bosh smiled, shaking her head in absolute despair.
    “But Christmas is twelve days away!” Bluebell said, using jest to veil the genuine grievance that she felt over the issue.
    “Just… please Blue. Show some actual restr… where’s the sherry gone?” Bosh sat herself down and picked up the empty bottle.
    “Oh relax, there’s some gin in the cupboard” Bluebell said, now putting some chocolate in her mouth with a guilty smile.
    “That’s not the point, Blue…”

    “It’s that lemon gin that you like”
    “Oh. I mean… it’s not really for midday drinking…”
    “Oh go on, it’s Christmas” Bluebell smiled at her, as she bit into her chocolate.
    “Fine. Fuck it, we can treat ourselves at Christmas, can’t we?” Bosh sighed, picking herself up off the sofa and walking to the cabinet where the booze was kept. “But you better not finish those chocolates before Christmas”
    The last line was delivered with a maternal point, but Bluebell just smiled as she put the last chocolate into her mouth.
     

    11 Days Until Christmas
     
    “Babe… when are you coming to bed?” Bosh said, walking back downstairs in a long nightie that went down to her knees. 
    “In a minute babe”
    “It’s 2:30 in the morning”
    “Yeah, I’ll be up in a minute. It’s just... I’m the imposter and I’m on a rampage”
    Bosh sighed heavily.
    “Blue, you know I don’t know what any of those words mean, right? Wait, what’s with all this mess?” Bosh sighed, seeing the table absolutely cluttered with rubbish.
    The table next to the sofa was overflowing with empty cans, empty wrappers and filled ashtrays. Stale smoke filled the air.
    “Oh don’t worry Bosh, I’ll clear it before I come up” Bluebell turned around and smiled at her girlfriend sincerely.
    “That’s not the problem, Blue. The problem is… have you ** all this?” she said grabbing a bin liner and began putting all the empty cans and bottles in there.
    “It’s not alcohol. It’s lying juice. It helps me lie… speaking of which, hang on a sec babe, I gotta…” and Bluebell switched the microphone on her headset back on. “Well, I saw red running South down the main corridor…”
    Bosh rolled her eyes again and picked the bag up and began walking to the door that lead to the back garden where they kept the recycling. Just as she got there, with the black binbag hooked over her shoulder like she was Santa Claus, she looked back over at her girlfriend, whose build was far closer to the jolly gift dispenser.
    Bosh sighed heavily, and rested her head on the doorframe. Maybe it was because she was grumpy, maybe it was because she was tired. But she suddenly felt the urge to cry. Head leaning on the doorframe, she could see her girlfriend. She looked huge, just massive, bulging out of her camisole and shorts. She was sitting at the desktop PC that she had bought herself as a housewarming gift out of Bosh’s wages. She didn’t have an accompanying deskchair, she had an armchair. She’d put a further layer of cushions to compensate for the comparative lack of height, and this also helped her with her width issue; namely that she was essentially wider than the arms of the armchair. Her elevated position meant that she could spill out over the sides rather than squish between them. Bosh never thought she’d see the day Blue outgrew a fucking armchair.
    But it was also how she sat there, ignorant of how Bosh felt, chatting away without a care in the world. Eating the food she’d promised she’d save until Christmas, drinking the booze they were supposed to share together, smoking the cigarettes she swore she was cutting down on. It didn’t seem malicious, just absent-minded indulging. But, on the other hand, it meant she never really stopped binge eating. Just a train of it, one carriage of bingeing connected to another, from morning until night. Bosh knew it was getting out of hand, but she simply didn’t have the words to tell her without pushing her away. So, instead, she watched her girlfriend eat herself away instead.
    With a heavy sigh, she opened the door to the back garden. It was throwing it down, rain heaving from the sky. Bosh was dressed in just a nightie and pink slippers. She picked up the bag, and swung it over her back and stepped out into the rain.
    With quick footsteps, she scurried across to the corner where they kept all the recycling. Normally, she would split the bottles from the plastics from the cardboards, but with the Heavens as open as they were, she elected just to just head straight to the bin for household waste. She got there, the skies dampening her fluffy slippers, and began to swing the back from over her shoulders when the bag ripped and everything fell onto the grass.
    Bosh kicked the trash in frustration, before just sitting on the wet, muddy grass, and began to cry.
    +
    It took Bluebell 20 minutes for her to realise that her girlfriend was still out there. First, she won on her PC game, avoiding suspicion from her crewmates and slicing her way to victory. Then she had a celebratory gin and tonic, and finished off her Ben & Jerry’s Gimme S’more pint tub. And then she went into the lobby for another game. And then she realised her girlfriend hadn’t come back in.
    Slowly, Bluebell pulled herself up, pushing the crumbs onto the floor, and waddled towards the back door. Out there, in the heart of the downpour, was her girlfriend, just sitting there and sobbing.
    Bluebell walked into the kitchen, took a deep swig of the opened London’s Dry Gin from the fridge, along with a handful of biscuits from the cupboard, for strength. Then she grabbed her umbrella, and wandered outside.
    Slowly, she walked up to her girlfriend and sat down next to her.
    “Hey” Blue said understatedly.
    “You came?”
    “I came. I’m wet. All of the innuendos” Bluebell smiled, putting the last biscuit in her mouth. Bosh didn’t laugh. “So, what’s up?”
    “The bag broke”
    “Ahh, shit. I mean, it’s not the end of the world though…”
    “This will be our first Christmas together, living together. And it’s going shit” Bosh added, and Bluebell’s shoulders deflated.
    “Don’t… don’t say that…” Bluebell said, a little more weakly.
    “You finished that hamper, didn’t you? The one I got for the twelve days of Christmas?” Bosh said. No accusation in her voice, just resignation.
    “I mean… I mean…”
    “Just say it” Bosh said, a little sharper.
    “Yeah. But, if it helps, it was really good. The dark chocolate was my…”
    “It doesn’t help”
    “Look, Bosh. Leave the rubbish. Come in. You’ll catch something, sitting out here in this weather…”
    “Yeah, and you wouldn’t want me to have to see a doctor, would you?” Bosh hissed, before turning away.
    “What does that mean?”
    “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta go up, I’ve got work in the morning…”
    Bosh slowly pulled herself up to her feet, wiping her tears as she did.
    “Hey, hold up… give me a hand up, would you? It’s a long way down and…”
    But Bosh was already walking off. From behind, Blue could see the garden stain where she’d been sitting in the soft muddy grass.bmi. The nightie itself was soaked through, and clinging onto her cold, pale skin. Blue knew that Bosh was gaining weight again, but from her heavier perspective, the numbers never seemed that big. 164lbs was a lot for Bosh, but it was a world away from Blue. However, seeing her so unceremoniously presented, Blue understood why Bosh considered those numbers to be big. The curves that her nightie hugged looked uncomfortable on her. Slip-slender Bosh looked clunky in her larger size and more ungainly, stodgier. Like comparing a butcher’s sausage to her formerly chipolata build. Blue couldn’t really judge. But she did. Silently.
    “Oii, you’re gonna need a shower before you go to bed. And probably a warm up by the radiator. So, if you give me a sec while I get up… unaided because I was ignored… then maybe you should stay up. Have some hot chocolate instead? Or the Glenmorangie?”
    Bosh stopped at the door again. The Glenmorangie was a special treat drink, reserved for when the girls were feeling low.
    “It’s 2:30 Blue, I have work tomorrow”
    “Exactly, it’s 2:30. By the time you’ve showered, dried, warmed up, it’ll be after 3. Once you’ve stopped silently sulking…”
    “I’m not silently sulking!” Bosh snapped.
    “Yeah… sounds like it. Anyway, by the time you’ve calmed down enough to sleep, it’ll be time to get up”
    Bosh stayed silent at this, and Blue continued talking.
    “So… instead… how about the two of us order some pizza, snuggle up a little with that Glemorangie, and I show you how to play Among Us”
    “Is that the stupid game you’ve been playing?”
    “It’s not stupid, as I’ll show you. It’s a game of deceit, and it’s great fun”
    “Lying is fun?” Bosh scowled, but Bluebell couldn’t really see her facial expression in the dark.
    “Yes, it is. Now come on Bosh. It’s Christmas after all! Now, come over here and help your girlfriend off her arse. I’m not as sober as I thought I was when I sat down and now I’m all muddy” Blue put her hands in the air to be grabbed, and her girlfriend glumly shuffled over to the deed.
    10 Days until Christmas

    Bluebell was doing what Bluebell did best. Grumbling about Bosh’s alarm going off. She’d buried her head under her pillow in response.
    Bosh was doing what Bosh did best. Pretending she wasn’t hungover. It had been 29 hours since she sat down in the garden and cried, and hadn’t spent much of the intervening time without the warm fuzzy comfort of alcohol to heat her throat and muddle her thinking. But, unlike Bluebell, Bosh could power through it.
    “Can’t you pull another sickie? When you were younger, you’d skive of uni all the time. Like that time when we went down to the bridge and threw sandwiches at the trains? Waste of good sandwiches… come to think of it”
    Bosh sighed and looked over at her girlfriend, still smothered in pillow, despite the alarm now off.
    “Blue, that was over two years ago now. We’re not kids any more. This is my job, that’s different to a lecture on Neo-Classicism from a Feminist Perspective”
    “Is that a real subject? That sounds more boring than death”
    “Yeah, it’s a real subject and yeah, it was more boring than death. Which is why I skived to throw sandwiches at trains with you”
    “But isn’t what you do now just as boring? Like, computers and words and shit?”
    “Oh my god, Bluebell! Do you really not know what I do for my job?”
    “Yeah. Course”
    Bosh just folded her arms and stared at her.
    “Umm… do you update the company’s Facebook status?”
    Bosh threw a pillow at her girlfriend, who had only just come out from under her own.
    “I’ll take that as a no?”
    “Come on, if you get up, I’ll order us breakfast”
     

    +
     

    Bluebell and Bosh were sitting on the sofa, leaning over while they ate their morning pizza.
    “So, what are your plans today?” Bosh said, with a mouthful of margherita. “And don’t say that fucking game again”
    “You liked that game yesterday? I mean, you were constantly sus, even when you weren’t the imposter, but you had fun” Bluebell argued with a smile.
    “Yeah, yeah, it was less dorky that I thought. I guess. But still… try not to spend the whole day and the whole evening and the whole night playing that game again” Bosh looked at her girlfriend wryly.
    “Fine. I’ll do something else”
    “Like, put away the rubbish that’s outside?”
    “I was thinking about maybe reading a book on Classicism and Feminism” Blue smirked.
    “Neo-classi… oh, whatever. Piss-taker, play your stupid game then. But only after you’ve sorted out the trash outside” Bosh conceded, and Blue smiled victoriously.
    Bosh shook her head, realising that Blue had got what she wanted, as she always did. Unfortunately, shaking her head caused some of the pizza to break off in her mouth and fall down her top, causing her to jump up in frustration.
    “Bollocks! Mothershitting bollocks!” Bosh exclaimed reactively.
    “Hey, relax! You’ve got plenty more blouses”
    “It’s a shirt, not a blouse Blue. And… you’re right. I guess. It’s just.. I like this top” Bosh grumbled. It was pin-stripe with blue lines racing down on a white background.
    “I must admit, I like it. Especially the red splodge on it…”
    “You are such an arsehole, Blue” Bosh grinned.
    “It’s very Classicism”
    “It’s… the word’s neo-clas… and it isn’t even… you are such a philistine, Blue”
    “It’s pronounced Palestine” 
    “No, it’s pronounced shut the fuck up, you cheeky bitch” Bosh said with exasperation but also amusement. “I’m gonna go up and grab another top. You? Don’t touch my pizza!”
    “I won’t” Blue said, already leaning over to grab a slice.
    “Seriously, Blue. No pizza, or I’ll throw you computer out the fucking window like it’s the fucking imposter” Bosh pointed her finger, but her face was still all smiles.
    “Fiiiine, I’ll leave your pizza alone. But I’ll have to have my other one then”
    “I thought you were saving that for lunch?”
    “I was. Until my mean girlfriend tempted me with her pizza and then said I couldn’t have any. So, in a way, it’s actually your fault” Bluebell said, but her girlfriend was already rushing upstairs. She grabbed a slice of her girlfriend’s pizza and then reached for her second box.
     
    +
     

    Bosh walked down the stairs with a stern look on her face, and Blue’s face burst into laughter.
    “It’s the only other shirt I have, and it doesn’t fucking fit” Bosh grumbled as she walked into the main room where Bluebell was sat, and walked in front so Bluebell could see clearly.
    “You’ve had a good Christmas” Bluebell shrugged, but it clearly amused her.
    The top was one that Bosh hadn’t worn since they moved up, and it was fitted accordingly. An orange and white striped top that rose up with every exhale of breath. It’s tightness meant the outward bulge of her stomach was a defining shape, and protruded as far as her chest.
    “I’m fat”
    “Healthy”
    “Unhealthy”
    “Oh relax Bosh, it’s Christmastime. If you’re insecure, why don’t you wear that jacket of yours? I mean, it is winter” Bluebell said, biting into another slice of her pizza.
    “Because that doesn’t fit either” Bosh grumbled, sitting on the sofa grumpily. As she did, her top rode up again and she felt the cold immediately, pulling it straight back down instinctively.
    “You could pull another sickie? You’ve established the precedent?”
    “I’ve played that card already” Bosh folded her arms again in a sulk, only for that also to cause her top to ride up, causing her face to redden in frustration.
    “Well, then fuck it. I mean, that’s the Bosh way, isn’t it? Fuck it and fuck them. Go in and not give a fuck. I mean, what are they gonna do, judge you? Oooo, scary! You’re motherfucking Bosh, you don’t care what the 2 Geoffs think” Bluebell asked, starting her final slice.
    “Yeah” Bosh nodded, coming around to the idea. “I am motherfucking Bosh. You’re right. I don’t care. It’s a bit tight? Well, it’s Christmas, if you haven’t over-indulged, have you really done Christmas right?”
    “That’s my kinda thinking”
    “Yeah, that’s not actually that reassuring” Bosh smiled.
    “Speaking of which, you decided you don’t fancy those last three slices? I mean, that top’s looking preeeetty tight”
    “Fuck off, I’ll eat them on the way. After all, like you said, it’s Christmastime” Bosh said, winking as she grabbed the slices.
    “Ouch, hoisted by my own… what’s the phrase?”
    “Petard”
    “You can’t people that any more, and I was only asking what the phrase was” Bluebell asked, and Bosh looked at her, trying to work out if she was joking or otherwise. Either way, she grabbed the box with the remaining three slices and walked out the door, tugging her shirt down as she did. Bluebell snickered to herself as she did.
    And as soon as the door closed, Bluebell reached over for her phone.
    “Coast is clear, you can come on over”
     

    +
     

    “So what appears to be the problem, Ms. Thomas?” the doctor said in a nurse’s uniform.
    “Wait… are you supposed to be a doctor or a nurse?”
    “Yes”
    Dr Callista Karagounis strode in through the door and into the house, with Bluebell walking backwards as she did. Bluebell let out a little gulp.
    “Soooo… where does it hurt?”
    “Everywhere, Dr Nurse” Bluebell said, her eyes widened as she backtracked further and further. “I think I might have to take my clothes off for you to inspect thoroughly”.
    “Very well, Ms. Thomas” the doctor said, a smirk on her lips. “And remember… no biting”
     

    +
     

    Bluebell and Callista were leaning against one another on the sofa, each with a cigarette burning.
    “So… that was fun” Callista smiled, running her hand through Bluebell’s hair.
    “Yeah, we definitely put the ‘ho’ into ‘ho ho ho, Merry Christmas’” Bluebell smiled, stubbing her cigarette out and reaching over for her vodka and coke.
    The two girls sat kinda awkwardly at this point, just leaning against one another. Eventually, Bluebell interrupted.
    “So… how was work?”
    “Do you care?”
    “Not really, but I feel it’s only polite to ask” and Callista could feel Bluebell smile against her shoulder.
    “Well, in that case, it was fine” Callista laughed. “How’s… your healthier habits going?”
    “On pause for the Christmas period”
    “And when did this pause for the Christmas period start?”
    “The day before the healthy eating did” and again, the tell-tale feeling of a smirk on Bluebell’s face, the muscles of her jaw felt against Callista’s shoulder.
    “Do you want me to nag or not?”
    “Umm… can we hold fire on the actual doctor/patient stuff? Until the New Year. I promise I’ll be good in the New Year” Bluebell said, putting her empty glass down and lighting another cigarette.
    “Which new year?” Callista joked and, though the doctor couldn’t feel it this time, Bluebell smiled.
    “The one in a couple of weeks. I can be good. I just need the right incentive” Bluebell said, nuzzling into her girlfriend.
    “But… let me guess… you fancy being bad in the meantime? What you thinking, an hour of doctor and patient role-playing and then lunch?”
    “Other way round, but yeah, sounds good” Bluebell kissed her girlfriend.
    “Other way… you can’t honestly be hungry? It’s 11am and you said you had half a pizza for breakfast?” Callista said.
    “No nagging until new year, remember? Look, the chip shop’s open, go grab us the usual and then we can worry about my health in the fun way. I just need an outlet for biting since you won’t let me sink my teeth into you” Bluebell said, sitting up and looking at her girlfriend.
    “I… I’m sorry about the no hickeys, no biting, no bruising rule. But I’m worried Wallace will find out. How are you doing hiding it from yours?” Callista asked, putting her top on.
    “I’m a master liar” Bluebell smiled smugly. “Although… the night before last, Bosh said something strange”.
    Callista looked sharply. “What did she say?”
    “I can’t remember. I was pretty well liquidated…”
    “That’s not what liquidated means”
    “...At that point. I just remember thinking she was suspicious. Or knew. But I don’t remember what she said that made me think that. Probably just ** paranoia, cos she’s acted totally normal since then”
    “Nicer than normal”
    “I mean, yeah, but it’s Christmas…”
    “Hmmm” Callista said knowingly.
    “No. No. Don’t ‘hmmmm’ that. Being nice doesn’t mean she suspects” Bluebell argued with slight concern.
    “Well, you’re the master liar. If you were being extra nice, what would it mean?” Callista said, sitting back down on the arm of the sofa.
    “Well… I’m the master liar, so I wouldn’t change my behaviour at all. But… when I’m feeling guilty about… us… one of the things I have to catch myself doing is being too nice. I don’t want to make her suspicious by being extra nice. Like the thing about the cheating husband who buys his wife gifts. If I dote on her, she’d know something was up. But I don’t do that, cos I’m a master liar” Bluebell explained.
    “Keep thinking… you’re about to reach an epiphany…”
    “So… if Bosh is being nicer than normal… you think she’s cheating on me?” Bluebell’s eyes raged.
    “Bingo” Callista said. “I’d know, I’ve been the cheating husband too. Only, I didn’t buy him things, I just stopped griping about him going out with the lads. Started encouraging it. It stopped me feeling guilty and it got him out of the house so I could… well, y’know the rest”.
    “Bosh is cheating?” Bluebell’s bottom lip suddenly started twitching.
    “Hey, don’t get upset. I mean, you are too” Callista sympathised.
    “Yeah, I know. It’s hypocritical. But… why does the thought really hurt then? I’m cheating on her and feel fine, so why am I insulted when she cheats on me?”
    “Because all people are hypocrites. Look, she might not be cheating…”
    “She spends a lot of time and puts a lot of effort into keeping on the good side of the two Geoffs”
    “She works with two people called Geoff?”
    “Different spellings. And she got very upset about not looking her best this morning” Bluebell’s eyes drifted off into the middle-distance, dancing on the far wall.
    “Maybe… maybe… you should leave her then. I mean, it’s my name on the house deeds, so I can probably kick Wallace out. You could live with me. And… I know that’s ridiculous and too fast but…”
    Bluebell’s head couldn’t keep up with the thoughts. Far from the stereotype that time slows down in times of shock and trauma, time actually speeds up. And it was running away from her faster than her brain could compute. Was that why Bosh was crying in the garden the night before last? Was Bosh no longer in love with her? And did Bluebell really have any right to begrudge that, given what she was up to?
    “Can I think… about it? I… I’m not sure. I’m not sure I want to find out” Bluebell said, her voice suddenly feeling very dry and croaky. She poured herself a strong vodka and coke and downed it.
    “Hey, look. I’ll go get that fish and chip dinner, you just… I’ll be back in 5” Callista said, and left Bluebell to cogitate.
     

    9 Days Until Christmas
     

    “To be fair, you deserve that headache” Bosh said, as Bluebell grumbled and fumbled for aspirin.
    “Nobody deserves this headache”
    “I… I haven’t seen you that ** in a long time, Blue. If ever. I tried to ask you what prompted it, but you weren’t really making much sense”
    Bluebell closed her eyes slowly. Every blink of them hurt.
    “I dunno, Bosh. I dunno” Bluebell said, barely audibly.
    “Well, you can have both of the pizzas for breakfast and I won’t judge” Bosh smiled, and Bluebell strained a grateful smile as she sat wrapped in her duvet downstairs on the sofa. Bosh leant in and bit into her pizza.
    “You’re being very nice” Bluebell noticed.
    “Of course. I’m always nice” Bosh smiled. “Oh, I heard about Keir Starmer on the radio. Letting that woman be racist. Of course, I don’t think it’s really his fault she was racist, and he did argue with her, but I know that’s the sort of thing you have opinions about”.
    “Yeah, he’s a prick. Wait, why did you follow a politics story?”
    “Oh, I didn’t. Jeff - with a J - is a Tory activist. So he was criticising the Labour man…”
    “Jeff…” Bluebell said suspiciously.
    “But then Geoff - with a G - considers himself a floating voter and said that was hypocritical given where Boris had steered the party, and that the Labour man did object and the only issue was that he maybe argued too politely”
    “Geoff…” Bluebell said suspiciously.
    “Fuck, the hangover’s left you monosyllabic, hasn’t it? Well, I’m gonna eat these last few slices in the car on the way to work. You take care of yourself. And have a cheat day. I know every day’s a cheat day for you, but you look like you need it today. You look rough” Bosh said, kissing her on the forehead.
    “Rough…”
    “Yeah, you’re still fucked. I’m gonna love ya and leave ya, and I’ll see you when I get back. And, when the hangover passes, sort out the fucking trash in the garden. You promised, don’t make yourself a liar…”
    “Liar…”
    And Bluebell just cuddled up on the sofa and fell back asleep.
     
    8 Days Until Christmas
     

    “The trash is still out there, in the garden” Bosh said, sharply, walking into the house with her excessively snug jacket from work still on.
    “Yeah, but… I’m all the way over here” Bluebell pleaded, sitting on her armchair at the computer as ever.
    “Come on Blue, yesterday was a write-off, because of the hang-over. But what’s your excuse today?”
    “I was still hungover today. It was my first ever two-day hangover” Bluebell moaned, finishing her JD and coke and then lighting a cigarette.
    “No, today’s hangover was due to last night’s drinking Blue. It’s a separate hangover” Bosh said sharply, walking over to the drinks cabinet and pouring herself a stiff drink.
    “Top us up, while you’re at it babe” Blue asked.
    “Babe? You never call me babe. And fine, but I do so under objection. You look like shit, Blue. Like, you look awful”
    “Yeah, neither of my parents were lookers”
    “No… I don’t mean you’re not an attractive person…”
    “Don’t you?” Bluebell glanced at her girlfriend.
    “No. I mean… you need to look after yourself. You look…”
    “Awful. I know. I heard you the first time” Bluebell said bitterly.
    “No, I…” Bosh put her hand on her head when she saw the boxes. “You had pizza for lunch? As well as breakfast?”
    “You didn’t mind yesterday when I did it”
    “You weren’t actually in the land of the living yesterday. You don’t have that excuse today”
    “I need an excuse to eat pizza?”
    “You… are being… challenging, Blue. I’m tired and I come home and find all this shit everywhere and you’re sat at that fucking computer playing that fucking game and you’re so pale they’d let you in an Evanescence concert. And here’s your cigarettes by the way. Try to make these 200 last more than three days”
    Bosh threw the back on the desk next to the armchair and walked into the kitchen. Blue just stared defiantly at the screen.
    “And Blue, when was the last time you fucking showered?”
    “Dunno… yesterday”
    “You weren’t physically capable of showering yesterday”
    “So the day before then. Which… I’ll admit, isn’t ideal. But I thought we agreed you’d stop nagging me until the new year”
    “We never agreed that” Bosh said, looking at her girlfriend in confusion.
    “No? Maybe it just felt like it. We should agree on that. An Armistice until the 1st” Bluebell said, finishing her drink.
    “Fine. No nagging until the New Year” Bosh agreed reluctantly. “If you sort out the trash outside”.
    “I’ll do it tomorrow” Bluebell said, not looking away from her screen. 
    “Fine then” Bosh grumped, sitting on the sofa and switching on the TV. “But I’m ordering pizza for tea cos I’m fucking exhausted, and if that doesn’t suit you, then maybe you shouldn’t have had those pizzas for lunch”.
    “No, I’m fine with pizzas. And I’ll have a garlic bread with my two” Bluebell said spitefully.
     
    7 Days Until Christmas
     
    “Help me, Jason. You’re my Jiminy Cricket, you know what I should do” Bluebell said, staring at her phone as she Facetimed her best friend.
    “Blue… if I’m your Jiminy Cricket, then you are French Connection UK-ed”
    “What?”
    “FCUKed, Blue. You are FCUKed. If I, harlot extraordinaire, I am your moral compass in the face of moral turpitude and sexual liaisons, then you are as fucked as the long list of lovers that I currently have on the go” Jason told her, while switching his smoothie maker on.
    “Firstly, you only pretend to be a whore for the street cred. And second, what are you making in that smoothie maker?”
    “Have a guess?”
    “Chocolate shake?”
    “Smoothie, Blue. I’m making a smoothie in the smoothie maker. Like, the etymology is a clue. And also, I am not a whore, I’m a slut. But if I wanted to get paid, I could. Cassius would pay through the nose. Or, indeed, any other orifice”
    “Isn’t Cassius the straight guy from my leaving do?”
    “Yeah, but I’ve cured him of his straightness. What people don’t realise is that Gay Conversion Therapy is therapy that makes you gay. And I, harlot extraordianire, am a one-man Gay Conversion Therapy centre” Jason puffed his chest out with pride, and Bluebell just laughed
    “So, what’s the dilemma then, Pinocchio? And I’ll give you my wisest counsel”
    “Well… Bosh makes no sense. One day she’s spoiling me with gifts and saying I’m allowed to binge, other times she’s being grumpy for me eating pizza and not doing housework”
    “So you think she’s cheating on you?”
    “What? Why does everybody say that?”
    “Who else said that?”
    “So, Doc… Callista, whatever you want to call her. She said… well, she gave me the space to reach the conclusion that she might be cheating” Bluebell pondered.
    “Suspicious…”
    “Right? And then she asked me to move in with her. Kick out her husband and everything”
    “Fuck. So both of your girlfriends are acting sus?”
    “And I’m the one acting normal, even though I’m the one doing the backstabbing” Bluebell said.
    “Just like you do in every game of Among Us” Jason noted.
    “So… what’s your advice?”
    “Well, why are you with Bosh?”
    “I dunno… habit? Plus… promise not to judge me?”
    “Nope”
    “Alright, then promise not to verbalise those judgements…”
    “Oh, okay. That I can do. I’ll just silently do it, and maybe raise a quizzical eyebrow” Jason giggled.
    “Fine. Eyebrows, I can cope with. So… I do enjoy sabotaging her diet” Bluebell said, her voice trailing off as the sentence progressed.
    “And you’re not letting me verbalise a response to THAT?!?!?!” Jason said, with pent up frustration.
    “No”
    “Oh, please!!! I have so many judgements and I didn’t realise I was agreeing to not judging as juicy as that”
    Bluebell paused, knocking back the last of her perry cider and then pushing in some more baklava into her mouth. Eventually, she relented, and let him vent.
    “Oh, thank God Blue. Cos I have views. Firstly - oh my god. That’s my first take. Second take - oh my god, again. It’s the same as the first take, I know, but I just can’t get over how Oh My God it is. Third take - you devious bitch, I love it. When did Bluebell become so Machiavellian?”
    “Ugghh, why does everyone I know use words that are impossible to understand? What, Jase, was that last word and where are people being taught these terms that I swear are not English? Like, that’s one of them German stupid long words that means something like ‘the feeling you get when a tooth falls out and it reminds you of a long-lost child’, isn’t it?” Bluebell complained, while chewing more baklava.
    “I mean, that is soooo manipulative and evil. Bluebell, lovely cutey-pie Bluebell, is a stone-cold sabotaging bitch. Oh, that breathes love and fire into my heart, I love it so much” Jason giddied himself.
    “Yeah, it’s pretty shitty of me, I admit. But… I’m just pissed off with her. Not for the cheating, I’ve been doing it longer than that. No, just… I dunno. Like, I hate it when she’s so grumpy about my weight. That’s one thing. Another thing, when she pretends it doesn’t bother her, that’s even worse”
    “Soooo, when she does or doesn’t acknowledge your weight?”
    “Don’t say it like that. You make me sound contrary. It’s different when you experience it first-hand”
    “So why are you even with her then?” Jason asked, and Bluebell went to answer when she realised she didn’t know the answer.
    “Not sure”
    “I mean, you have a pretty good Plan B. She’s hot… she’s a doctor… she’s also a hot doctor. I mean, they’re the big three things you look for in a partner”
    “True…”
    “So, what’s your problem?”
    “She’s… like, I think there’s something wrong with her. She’s been a bit weird about me moving in, a bit over-keen. And it’s weird how she took up smoking within one day of meeting me. Like, why is she trying so hard?”
    “Cos she likes you?”
    “Yeah, but why?”
    “Ah” Jason said, and raising his eyebrows in a quizzical manner.
    “I didn’t mean it like that…”
    “Oh, didn’t you? You are suspicious of her because she likes you, aren’t you?”
    “No”
    “Blue, babes, don’t lie to your BFF-forever. We pinky-promised, remember?”
    “Fine. Yes, Jason, I’m suspicious because a hot 40-something year old doctor with her own house and a husband that she’s been for ages would risk her career and her marriage for some twenty-something girl who has tripled in weight in less than two years. Why wouldn’t I be?”
    “Oh girl, that’s so sad! This is a self-loathing thing, isn’t it? You’re self-loathing again, aren’t you?”
    “No” Bluebell huffed, necking her next cider.
    “That’s why you’re sabotaging Bosh’s diet. Because you don’t feel worthy of either of them, do you? Is this a weight thing?”
    “No. Yes. Maybe. Look, I’m… they’re both really good-looking. Bosh maybe less so now she has a **-belly, but still a catch. And Callista is amazing. Like, what a woman. So why the fuck would they get with some chain-smoking, binge-drinking unemployed lard-arse with zero prospects and supports a party run by Keir fucking Starmer” she ranted.
    “I mean, I like him. Better than the anti-Semite before him”
    “Oh, don’t you fucking start!” Bluebell said, biting a doughnut angrily.
    “Maybe the issue isn’t Bosh and it isn’t Doc…”
    “It’s me? Ya think?”
    “No, I think… you love both of them. But you can’t love them properly until you love yourself” Jason said sympathetically.
    “Which cracker was that nugget of advice found in?” Bluebell snarked, and Jason laughed.
    “No, crackers contain jokes, Blue. You’re thinking of Chinese fortune cookies. Anyway, I’m just saying, how can you see them clearly, to know who you want to be with… if you can’t even see yourself clearly? Because, you are amazing Bluebell, and everyone who meets you always comes away thinking it. You are pretty and witty and bright…”
    “Are you quoting West Side Story at me?”
    “Yeah, but they had a point. Those Sharks. Or Jets. Or whichever one it was… was John Travolta in that movie? I feel like he was”
    “Either way, you’re a 300lb woman and everyone drops at your feet because you’re adorable. You’re kind and sharp and so bloody affection-inducing” Jason smiled sympathetically as Bluebell finished her doughnut.
    “You know, I’m well over 300 now”
    “I must admit, I thought your face was looking a bit…”
    “A bit what, Jason?”
    “Fluffy?”
    “I have a fluffy face?”
    “Like, I can’t see all of it on my phone. Which is new?”
    “My face is so fat, you can’t see all of it on your phone”
    “Well… it is in portrait. It’s fine when I turn it to landscape”
    “I fucking well hope so! Imagine having a face too wide for landscape!” Bluebell giggled, despite herself.
    “So… what’s the damage? How much Bluebell is there, these days?”
    “I don’t know”
    “Oh, come on, don’t be coy Blue. I know you don’t like admitting it to Callista or Bosh, but you can always tell Jason” he reassured.
    “No… I literally don’t know. They scales only go up to 400”
    “Oh”
    “Yeah, two weeks ago, I got a reading of 408 and it didn’t sound good then. But I’ve had nothing since but broken sounding clunking noises” Bluebell said, before pausing. Deeply. “Well? Come on, say something…”
    “I mean, it’s just a number, isn’t it? You’re only as heavy as you feel” Jason tried to downplay it.
    “I feel very fucking heavy. I’m fat, Jase. Like, embarrassingly fat” Bluebell said, sniffling a little.
    “400 isn’t… I mean, there’s no exact figure. And you’re quite tall…”
    “I’m a short-arse, Jase. Just a fat short-arse”
    “Fine. It’s a big number. You’re a big girl. Whoopdy-fuck”
    “It’s… affecting my health. Don’t… whatever you do, don’t tell anyone this. Not my parents, nobody. But, sometimes my skin feels… weird. Sensitive, I dunno what the word for it is. And I get out of breath, really easy. Like, I filled up the bin with the rubbish that had fallen out - broken bin bag, don’t ask - and I was sweating by the end of it. And panting. From just leaning over and picking stuff up. It’s… a bit scary. But don’t tell anyone. Please”
    Jason went quiet for a second, before answering.
    “Fine. But speak to Callista. She’s a bloody doctor”
    “Okay. I’ll… speak to her. In the new year. I’m… gonna have a nice Christmas, worry about it later”
    “Babes, I think you’re already worrying about it. And your solution to worrying - eating, drinking, smoking - is also the thing you’re worrying about. You see that, right?”
    “Stop being such a shrink, Jase. After Christmas. I’ll sort it in the New Year”
    “Fine. But… make sure you… y’know… don’t…”
    “Don’t what?”
    “Drink or eat yourself into the hospital before then” Jason said with concern.
    “Fuck you Jason!” Bluebell burst, switching gears in fury. Without a moment's hesitation, she switched the call off and threw her phone away. She could feel her hand shake with fury and shock at the suggestion. Between tears, she poured herself another drink.
     
    6 Days Until Christmas
     
    “I’m serious, Bosh. You’ve got no more work worries until after the new year now. It’s the weekend, and it’s holiday season. Let’s have some fun” Bluebell pleaded, dipping her spoon into her salted caramel ice cream. They were lying in bed.
    “When you say fun…?”
    “Just cut loose. Go all out. Leave nothing behind. Until the New Year” Blue was leaning back in the bed while Bosh was sitting up.
    “I still don’t understand…”
    “Eat, drink, be merry, that sort of thing…”
    “I do. I mean, I am. I…” Bosh said. “Is this your way of saying you want me to open the port?”
    “I was thinking tequila”
    “Mockingbird?”
    “What?”
    “Tequila Mockingbird? To Kill A Mockingbird? It’s… a book”
    “I know it’s a book Bosh. I just didn’t realise you did Dad jokes now” Bluebell smirked, her spoon scraping the bottom of the ice cream tub.
    “You’ve finished that already?”
    “This is what I mean. We should just cut loose. Go for it. Pedal to the metal”
    “Don’t say ‘pedal to the metal’, Blue?”
    “Why, do the kids not say that any more? Is… is it inappropriate in some way? Climate denialist or…” Bluebell seemed genuinely confused as she put the empty carton on the bedside stand.
    “No. It’s just… you… you remember what I was like when I was pedal to the metal. In the old days. We don’t… I don’t want that any more” Bosh explained, flinching at the thought.
    “But that’s my point. It’s Christmas. You don’t have to be Gizmo Bosh for 11 more days. The Bosh Gremlins can come out and play”
    “I’m… I don’t like my gremlins, Blue. I worry about my drinking recently as it is and…”
    “Please Bosh. For me. It would make me happy” Bluebell smiled.
    “It would make you happy?”
    “Yes. It would mean the world”
    “Okay. Fuck. Pedal to the metal, it is. But you’re gonna struggle to keep up, Blue. I’m warning you. I’ll just grab the tequila…”
    “Mockingbird?”
    “Y’know, Tequila Mockingbird sounds like a Bond girl” Bosh joked as she walked out the bedroom to go downstairs and grab the tequila, and Blue laughed.
    “And grab us another tub of ice cream Bosh!” Bluebell shouted from the bed. “Let’s go all out!”
    ???? Days Until Christmas
    The first thing Blue could feel was the cold of the rain hitting her face, droplets bouncing off her chubby cheeks, and rolling down her chin and onto the grass below. It was this chilled damp that caused Bluebell’s heavy eyelids to strain open.
    “Oh fuck”
    She couldn’t stand up. Of that much, she was certain. No, her body simply didn’t have the strength. Instead, she crawled to the back door, and used the door handle to pull herself up. On her feet, she leant against the wall and caught her breath. Her head felt pan-fried.
    Legs wobbly, she walked into the house, well aware of the squelching of mud underfoot. Continuing to lean against the wall for balance, she dragged mud through along the wall and carpet as the world continued to spin before her. Eventually, she stumbled onto the sofa and faceplanted herself in its cushions with relief. And then she fell back asleep again
     
    +
     

    Bluebell’s eyes opened again, and focused on the fuzzy outline of a woman, scrubbing the house clean.
    “Bosh?” she croaked.
    The woman carried on working, putting her marigolded hands back into the bucket of soapy water, and then scrubbing the walls until they were the original eggshell white.
    “Bosh? Is that you?”
    “Now, who do you think it is?”
    “I dunno. Where am I? Am I dead?” Blue slurred. Bosh chuckled a little at that, but then her face stiffened.
    “You’re on the sofa, and you’re not dead yet” Bosh smiled facilely.
    “Good. I don’t know if Pizza Hut deliver to Hell'' Bluebell mumbled, trying to prise her own eyes open, but they kept falling shut.
    “Come on, you mucky pup. Up you get, off your fat arse Blue. I need to put the cushion covers in the wash, since you decided to cake them in mud. Might wanna have a shower and put that dress in the wash too”
    The dress in question was a denim dress, not a million miles from what Bluebell used to where, back in the good old days when her head didn’t feel like it was about to erupt. It had pockets and thin straps and had looked good on her a week ago when she first tried it on. She looked less good now, but that was probably the mud.
    “...Kay” Bluebell muttered, sitting up and fiddling with her straps to take it off.
    “I like you in that dress. You look good” Bosh said, quietly.
    “Bit tight”
    “It wasn’t when I bought it” Bosh added, sharply.
    “Can you give me a hand?” Bluebell said, fairly pathetically. She wasn’t sitting particularly straight, gently wobbling on the spot.
    “Come here you pisshead. Now, put your arms up and I’ll pull it off”
    And Bosh pulled the top off, and Bluebell sat there in just her underwear.
    Bosh looked back at her girlfriend, her eyes squinting from the low winter light and hair with mud woven into it. She sat on the sofa, pooling out in all directions. Her hips were wide and softly cushioned, and her legs were folded with fat. Her stomach, still her most distinctive feature, drooped down like the bin bag that Bosh had carried to the bin that broke, seemingly overflowed and beyond capacity. Her breasts, carried in a bra just to maintain some sort of discipline, still folded downwards. Her jawline was jowly, her cheeks were puffy, and her eyes were listless. And she was covered in mud.
    “You really need to clean up, Blue. You look like The Thing from the film...  The Thing”
    “Which film’s that again?”
    “It’s the one with The Thing in it”
    “The wrestler?”
    “No, not The Rock… anyway, just clean the fuck up”
    “Yeah, in a sec. Need a smoke… where’s my cigarettes?” Bluebell said, looking for pockets and then realising she wasn’t wearing anything.
    “Here, box here. Look, you’re cold, wet and naked. Grab a shower and put some clothes on” Bosh pushed.
    “Wet and naked is the name of my sex tape” Bluebell smiled, mentally high-fiving herself. She then began rummaging for something to eat on the table in front of her, settling upon an uneaten pizza. She grabbed the first slice and put it in her mouth.
    “Oh, trust me Blue, you’re not hungry” Bosh said sternly.
    “Oh, trust me, I am” Blue smiled, mainly to herself, as she launched into another bite. Bosh didn’t say anything.
    “What day is it? I… my memory’s not as sharp as a fiddle at the minute”
    “The saying’s either sharp as a tack, or fit as a fiddle” Bosh corrected. “And Monday. Today is Monday”.
    “Fuck yeah. Blacked out the entire weekend. Sign of a good weekend” Bluebell chuckled, finishing the first slice.
    “What… was the last thing you remember?”
    “Asking you about pedal to the metal on the Friday night. My headache tells me that it’s so far, so good”
    “So far?”
    “Yeah, we said until New Year. If it’s still the Monday, then that’s the… what, 21st? So yeah, we’ve got a long way to go. Shall we order in?”
    “You’re literally eating pizza right now”
    “I know, but for after” Bluebell replied as if that answer was the most normal answer in the world.
    “Fuck, sure. I’ll order more pizza. How many do you want, three? Four?” Bosh said with a cynical eye-roll.
    “I can have four pizzas?”
    “No! I was taking the piss. You can have two” Bosh sighed, reaching for her phone.
    “And a garlic bread?”
    “Sure, whatever”
    “And what are you having?”
    “I’m… good. Thank you”
    “Bosh… pedal to the metal. You promised me”
    “Yeah, I’m thinking about breaking that promise to be honest, Blue” Bosh said, quietly.
    “You’re acting weird. Cut it out, order yourself a pizza, and let’s open the gin that Aunt Sally got us”
    “We drank it”
    “The bourbon from Mandy and Pete?”
    “Gone”
    “The whiskey from…”
    “All of it, Blue. We’re cleared out”
    “In two days?” Blue asked, confused.
    “No. In nine days. It’s not Monday the 21st. It’s Monday the 28th. For crying out loud Blue, we’ve been blackout ** for nine days straight, including Christmas. A proper Christmas, together, as a couple” Bosh snarled. Her nervous energy suddenly felt more like angry energy
    “What about the cider from…”
    “Didn’t you listen to a word I said? No booze left! And it’s the fucking 28th!” Bosh’s voice raised to a shout, causing a vulnerable feeling Bluebell to wince and let her hands drift to her ears.
    “So… just the one pizza for you then, is that what you’re saying?” Bluebell said, eating a slice from the old pizza.
     

    +
     

    “I nearly swallowed my tongue?” Bluebell asked with shock. Her headache and wobbliness felt a lot better with food in her stomach.
    “I dunno. I thought you had. You were passed out on this sofa and… I remember trying to call for an ambulance… and failing” Bosh told her between sips of water.
    “You failed?”
    “Yeah, I called 1-2-3 instead of 9-9-9. Fuck knows why”
    “What’s 1-2-3..?”
    “The talking clock. I ended up telling the talking clock that you had swallowed your tongue” Bosh admitted, and Bluebell smiled that contagious smile of hers.
    “And what did the clock say?”
    “...The time. It’s not sentient, Blue. The talking clock tells you the time” Bosh shook her head and sipped her water.
    “Fuck!” Bluebell laughed. “You must have really heavily put the pedal to the metal, Bosh. Thanks. I appreciate it”
    “Don’t thank me Blue, seriously” Bosh said bashfully.
    “No. Seriously. That was really nice of you. It means a lot”
    Bosh squirmed awkwardly. “Whatever”.
    “Hey, why you not eating your pizza?” Bluebell asked, ramming another slice of her own into her mouth.
    “Dunno, not hungry” Bosh said, taking another sip of water. She had pulled the armchair out away from the computer and into the main room, so she could sit down and allow Bluebell the sofa to herself.
    “Is… this your way of saying ‘pedal to the metal’ time is over?”
    “Yeah, yeah it is, I guess. It’s over” Bosh said, taking another sip and not making much eye contact. Blue looked at her girlfriend suspiciously, while taking a bite out of her pizza.
    “Well, if it’s going free…”
    “Yeah, sure Blue. Help yourself” Bosh pushed the box over to her girlfriend.
    “Really? You don’t mind?” Blue smiled, layering a slice of Bosh’s pizza onto her own and eating both at the same time.
    “Would it matter if I did?”
    “Don’t be like that Bosh”
    “Like what?”
    “Grumpy. Weird. You’ve been weird ever since I came to”
    “Came to? You mean woke up from being passed out in your own garden, on muddy grass while it rained, and then crawled, at one point literally, to the sofa, dragging mud through the house that I had to clean up, and then collapsed on the sofa, in just a dress, still covered in mud, and then refused to shower?” Bosh’s voice rose again. Her entire presence felt barely on its leash, straining to snap at every word.
    “Fuck off, I didn’t refuse to shower. I’m just having these first”
    “Sorry, I forgot every hour is pizza hour”
    “What is your problem, Bosh? Because, sometime it feels as though you’re enabling me, and other times it feels as though your taking the fact that you’re enabling me out on me”
    “I… just… don’t Blue. I’m not looking for an argument. Just eat your fucking pizzas. Or don’t. Like I give a fuck”
    “Yeah, you don’t sound like someone who doesn’t give a fuck” Bluebell replied, snarling slightly with every bite out of pettiness.
    Bluebell silently tucked in, while Bosh hugged herself to keep warm. Bluebell wasn’t the only one inappropriately dressed for the time of year. Bosh was just wearing one of Bluebell’s tops, letting it drape over her like a tablecloth.
    “Oh, you need to ring your parents” Bosh said, as Bluebell chewed absent-mindedly.
    “Do I bollocks”
    “You’ve got missed calls from them. Like, a lot” Bosh said, trying to regather her composure.
    “You have my phone?”
    “Yeah, you gonna ring them then? It could be serious. There is a pandemic going on” Bosh was terse as she spoke.
    “Did they leave a message?”
    “No…”
    “Well, it can’t be that important, can it?” Bluebell bit into another slice, scowling as she did so. “So, can I have my phone back?”
    “D’ya need it then or…”
    “It’s my phone Bosh. I just want my phone back, that’s all”
    “Why?”
    “Cos it’s mine”
    “Fine”
    And Bosh passed the phone over, and Blue snatched it petulantly.
    “Thanks”
    “Also, Jason called, but I know you and him aren’t talking either” Bosh added, her face rarely elevating above a sneer.
    “No. We’re not” Bluebell replied curtly, pushing the last of her pizza into her mouth, and exhaling in relief.
    “And your GP called”
    Bluebell looked up at Bosh suspiciously.
    “What? My GP?”
    “Yeah, a whole bunch of times”
    “Is… is it serious? Why are you only mentioning it now?”
    “Don’t worry, it wasn’t to do with your health”
    Bluebell’s eyes scanned Bosh’s face for further meaning.
    “So, what did they want?”
    “She left messages”
    “Oh.. kay”
    “Blooby”
    Bluebell’s spine straightened at that.
    She went through to her messages and played the first one from Callista.
    “Hey Blooby, it’s your favourite GP here. Just seeing if you fancy another… appointment. Wallace is… not here so I wanted to know if you fancied coming round and I could give you a… physical. Anyway, let me know when you get this message. Cheers babe, bye”
    Bosh’s eyes closed as she heard each word hit her like shellfire. Bluebell sat cold and still, every muscle on edge.
    “Bosh… I might go up for a shower now…”
    “Sit the fuck down!” Bosh snapped ferociously. Blue obliged, sitting still and frightened.
    “It’s not what it sounds like”
    “It sounds like your ‘male’ GP is a woman, which you conveniently forgot to mention. And that you’re fucking her, which you conveniently forgot to mention” Bosh ranted, standing up and pointing.
    “Oh, like your not fucking a Geoff?”
    “I’m not… I’m not fucking a Geoff”
    “Well, then who is it?”
    “Nobody. Hang on, don’t turn this around…”
    “Well, you’re clearly fucking someone behind my back. Constant treats and gifts, mood swinging from bitch to doting depending on the day at work. It’s obvious, Bosh. You always were a shit liar” Blue argued, folding her arms defensively as she accused.
    Bosh took a deep breath.
    “I… bought you those things because… I knew about the affair. I knew you were shagging her and I was afraid to fucking lose you” Bosh admitted, cringing as she heard those words.
    “What?”
    “I hung around. At the Medical Unit. On that first check-up. It was a big deal for you and I knew you were nervous, so I hung around to make sure you were okay. And I saw you smoking with her. And flirting with her. And then when you came home and told me - sorry, lied to me - that she was male, I knew you liked her. You see, you’re not the great liar you think you are. Because life isn’t a fucking shitty PC game”
    “Among Us is not a shitty game!” Bluebell argued.
    “That was the bit you had a problem with?” Bosh would have found that funny in another conversation. But here, that irreverence felt like acid on the skin. “So, because I knew you were lying to me, I decided to see what you were up to. And then I saw you go round hers the next day”
    “You were following me?” Bluebell’s eyebrows arched sharply.
    “Yes. Because I’m the one in the wrong here” Bosh rolled her eyes and sipped her water.
    “I…”
    “No excuses Blue. I don’t wanna hear them. I… thought it was a fling. A one-off. I mean, I’m not an idiot. I know I’m not… providing for you physically. Maybe it would lift your mood, I thought? Maybe a quickie with an attractive female GP might shift your gloom and fix your mojo. I might get my Bluebell back. The old Bluebell. But you couldn’t just shag her the once, could you? You kept going back”
    “I’m sorry” Bluebell said, her voice deep and solemn.
    “No you’re not. You’re just sorry you’ve been caught. So I fought for you. I gave you everything you wanted. You wanted to drink yourself stupid every night? Sure, if it made you happy. Eat like a fucking possessed animal? Anything for you Blue. I even put my - oh, how did you phrase it? - ‘pedal to the metal’. For you. I fought for you Blue. But it’s not enough. It was never enough” Bosh was standing now as she spoke, towering over the slouched Bluebell on her comfy sofa.
    “No, don’t talk about us in the past tense, Bosh”
    “If I nagged, you complained. If I let you cut loose, you complained. It wasn’t me you were angry with. It was yourself. You hated yourself for getting fat, and you ate to punish yourself for getting fat, and then you took it out on me. And I tried Blue. I tried so hard. But you’re a lost cause, Blue. You’re beyond redemption”
    “D… Don’t say that. Don’t say it like that” Bluebell said, tears in her eyes. The room started spinning.
    “And, as much as I love you, and for some fucking reason I do fucking love you, I have to love myself first. The past week was terrifying. If you could remember it, you’d wish you could forget it. You went berserk. And… I did too. I can’t do that to myself, Blue. You can to yourself, because you don’t care. And, I genuinely hope this Doctor Bitch is good for you and can rescue you. Because I can’t. You’re a lost cause to me” Bosh broke off eye contact and stared at the wall, her eyes getting wet.
    “I’m not… I can change…”
    “You have changed already Blue. Fucking look at you”
    Bluebell refused to, tilting her head to the side to refuse self-reflection. Her head felt loose on her neck, her brain throbbing and her concentration weak.
    “It was just one week, Bosh. It was fucking Christmas. You’re supposed to cut loose at Christmas!” Bluebell sobbed.
    “It’s not just fucking Christmas. Christmas has been terrifying, sure. But it’s just been the cumulation of a year of this type of behaviour. This is just one step up from November, which was one step from October. Do you even remember what you were like two years ago? Do you remember what you looked like? Acted like? Hoped like?”
    “Stop it… please” Bluebell continued to sob. She could feel her hand trembling, but couldn’t stop it.
    “So, that Doctor Bitch can have you. Because I’m done, Blue. I have nothing left to give. I gave you my all, and everything else too. Because I love you. And because, somewhere, underneath everything, is the most adorable, most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. The kindest, wittiest, most charming woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Underneath it all. But it’s buried under so much these days, that I barely recognise you. Not because you’re fat, though you are so fucking fat Blue, but because of how you are. You are unrecognisable from the girl that I met at that flat party with your blue hair, your skinny dress, hair in a bow. I don’t recognise you anymore. You’re just a burden. And I won’t let you drag me down with you. So please, just fuck off Bluebell. Just fuck off and never come back, please”
    “No. I don’t want to”
    “GO!” Bosh yelled, throwing her glass against the wall and screeching, stamping her feet until she collapsed on the floor. “Just go!”
    Silently, Bluebell heaved herself to her feet. Unsteadily, she put one foot marginally in front of the other, and slowly trudged away from Bosh and towards the front door. Her head was numb, her eyes drooping to the floor. And she waddled slowly to the door.
    Her feet felt unsteady as she walked, her breaths were shallow. And her heart was racing in her chest, like an imprisoned wild animal clawing at the bars of her ribcage. Another step towards the door and she could feel the room list, like a ship in a storm. Another step and she began to fall.
    At which point, she passed out.
  25. Hot
    swahilimonkfish got a reaction from ulvrik in Bluebell's 2019   
    A Blue Christmas Special
     
     
    December 2020***

    Twelve days until Christmas
     

    “Check it out now, I’m the funk soul brother. Right about now…” Bluebell sung to herself with her chunky pink headphones on, sprawled out on the sofa in her nightie. As she did, she brought her sausage roll to her mouth and took a huge chunk out of it. Flakes of pastry broke off and fell down, some on the carpet below but most left on her nightie top.
    “Blue…”
    “...I’m the funk soul brother…”
    “Blue… for fucks sake, you’re not even singing a Christmas song...”
    “...Check it out now, I’m the funk soul brother..”
    “BLUE!”
    “Oh… ummm… hey babe” Bluebell said, pulling her headphones off and looking at her girlfriend. “Was I singing too loud?”
    “No, I love your singing voice” Bosh smiled, leaning on the doorframe with her arms folded. She’d got her marigolds on from washing the breakfast pots.
    “I sound like a dying cat”
    “A cute dying cat though. Sort of like… mia-argh!” Bosh imitated a cat dying in a sing-song melody.
    “Fuck off” Bluebell laughed.
    “I just wanted to say you were in a good mood, that was all. And that I’m glad that you liked your early Christmas present” Bosh smiled as she backed slyly into the kitchen. Bluebell tilted her head in curiosity as she poured herself another glass of port. It was the season, after all.
    “They’re so good, Bosh. Thank you. The bass on these… like, really good”
    “Is that the technical term? Like, really good?” Bosh smiled.
    “I dunno. I’m not a music nerd. And anyway, why is me being in a good mood such a big deal? I’m always in a good mood” Bluebell smiled back, biting into her last sausage roll.
    “Well… you are these days. And… since you’ve been so cheery lately. I got you a treat…” Bosh said, slipping out of sight and into the kitchen.
    “Oh my god, is it another advent calendar?”
    “You’ve… how many of those do you need?” Bosh shouted from around the corner.
    “You can never have too many advent calendars. They’re what Christmas is about”
    “I’m pretty sure it’s more to do with that Jesus fella. And the chocolate would be so much cheaper if you just bought it separately” Bosh continued from out of Bluebell’s eyeline.
    “Yeah, but looking for and opening the little doors is half the fun” Bluebell giggled, pulling her glass of port to her lips.
    “You’re such a child”
    “No I’m not!” Bluebell huffed, folded her arms immaturely. Her face, a dorky grin, gave her away though. Bosh shook her head in mocking exasperation as she wended her way back into the room. “Anyway, why you acting so sus?”
    “I have no idea what ‘sus’ means but...  I got you this as a treat. But… this has to last you beyond just today” Bosh said, pulling the gift back like Bluebell was a puppy.
    “I will be a polygon of restraint”
    “Nice try… it’s paragon. Paragon of restr… oh fuck, whatever, here you go” Bosh handed Bluebell over her reward. And what a reward it was too. An eye-popping extravaganza wrapped up in wicker. It was a hamper large enough to carry a dog to the vets and, amongst the swamp of straw, was a spectacular array of chocolates and nibbles.
    “Oh shit, this looks epic” Bluebell smirked, fisting the last of sausage roll into her mouth clumsily as her eyes boggled before her. “Bring it here then, let me have a proper look at this bad boy”.
    “It was the raffle at work. This was the runner up prize, can you believe it? Jeff - with a J - he got a week in Cornwall. Lucky fucker” Bosh continued, but Bluebell wasn’t listening. She was pulling all the various treats out of the hamper and squealing with excitement at each one.
    “Fudge! I love fudge. And, oh my god, white chocolate’s my favourite!” she said, taking a bite and rolling her head back in ecstasy.
    “I thought dark chocolate was your favourite”
    “Yeah, that is too”

    “You… you can’t have two favourites”
    “Why not?”
    “Because there’s only three types of chocolate to begin with. Dark, white and milk…”
    “Oh my god, I love milk chocolate. Now, that one is my favourite!” she said, throwing some of the butterscotch fudge pieces in your mouth.
    “Try to make it last until Christmas” Bosh smiled, shaking her head in absolute despair.
    “But Christmas is twelve days away!” Bluebell said, using jest to veil the genuine grievance that she felt over the issue.
    “Just… please Blue. Show some actual restr… where’s the sherry gone?” Bosh sat herself down and picked up the empty bottle.
    “Oh relax, there’s some gin in the cupboard” Bluebell said, now putting some chocolate in her mouth with a guilty smile.
    “That’s not the point, Blue…”

    “It’s that lemon gin that you like”
    “Oh. I mean… it’s not really for midday drinking…”
    “Oh go on, it’s Christmas” Bluebell smiled at her, as she bit into her chocolate.
    “Fine. Fuck it, we can treat ourselves at Christmas, can’t we?” Bosh sighed, picking herself up off the sofa and walking to the cabinet where the booze was kept. “But you better not finish those chocolates before Christmas”
    The last line was delivered with a maternal point, but Bluebell just smiled as she put the last chocolate into her mouth.
     

    11 Days Until Christmas
     
    “Babe… when are you coming to bed?” Bosh said, walking back downstairs in a long nightie that went down to her knees. 
    “In a minute babe”
    “It’s 2:30 in the morning”
    “Yeah, I’ll be up in a minute. It’s just... I’m the imposter and I’m on a rampage”
    Bosh sighed heavily.
    “Blue, you know I don’t know what any of those words mean, right? Wait, what’s with all this mess?” Bosh sighed, seeing the table absolutely cluttered with rubbish.
    The table next to the sofa was overflowing with empty cans, empty wrappers and filled ashtrays. Stale smoke filled the air.
    “Oh don’t worry Bosh, I’ll clear it before I come up” Bluebell turned around and smiled at her girlfriend sincerely.
    “That’s not the problem, Blue. The problem is… have you ** all this?” she said grabbing a bin liner and began putting all the empty cans and bottles in there.
    “It’s not alcohol. It’s lying juice. It helps me lie… speaking of which, hang on a sec babe, I gotta…” and Bluebell switched the microphone on her headset back on. “Well, I saw red running South down the main corridor…”
    Bosh rolled her eyes again and picked the bag up and began walking to the door that lead to the back garden where they kept the recycling. Just as she got there, with the black binbag hooked over her shoulder like she was Santa Claus, she looked back over at her girlfriend, whose build was far closer to the jolly gift dispenser.
    Bosh sighed heavily, and rested her head on the doorframe. Maybe it was because she was grumpy, maybe it was because she was tired. But she suddenly felt the urge to cry. Head leaning on the doorframe, she could see her girlfriend. She looked huge, just massive, bulging out of her camisole and shorts. She was sitting at the desktop PC that she had bought herself as a housewarming gift out of Bosh’s wages. She didn’t have an accompanying deskchair, she had an armchair. She’d put a further layer of cushions to compensate for the comparative lack of height, and this also helped her with her width issue; namely that she was essentially wider than the arms of the armchair. Her elevated position meant that she could spill out over the sides rather than squish between them. Bosh never thought she’d see the day Blue outgrew a fucking armchair.
    But it was also how she sat there, ignorant of how Bosh felt, chatting away without a care in the world. Eating the food she’d promised she’d save until Christmas, drinking the booze they were supposed to share together, smoking the cigarettes she swore she was cutting down on. It didn’t seem malicious, just absent-minded indulging. But, on the other hand, it meant she never really stopped binge eating. Just a train of it, one carriage of bingeing connected to another, from morning until night. Bosh knew it was getting out of hand, but she simply didn’t have the words to tell her without pushing her away. So, instead, she watched her girlfriend eat herself away instead.
    With a heavy sigh, she opened the door to the back garden. It was throwing it down, rain heaving from the sky. Bosh was dressed in just a nightie and pink slippers. She picked up the bag, and swung it over her back and stepped out into the rain.
    With quick footsteps, she scurried across to the corner where they kept all the recycling. Normally, she would split the bottles from the plastics from the cardboards, but with the Heavens as open as they were, she elected just to just head straight to the bin for household waste. She got there, the skies dampening her fluffy slippers, and began to swing the back from over her shoulders when the bag ripped and everything fell onto the grass.
    Bosh kicked the trash in frustration, before just sitting on the wet, muddy grass, and began to cry.
    +
    It took Bluebell 20 minutes for her to realise that her girlfriend was still out there. First, she won on her PC game, avoiding suspicion from her crewmates and slicing her way to victory. Then she had a celebratory gin and tonic, and finished off her Ben & Jerry’s Gimme S’more pint tub. And then she went into the lobby for another game. And then she realised her girlfriend hadn’t come back in.
    Slowly, Bluebell pulled herself up, pushing the crumbs onto the floor, and waddled towards the back door. Out there, in the heart of the downpour, was her girlfriend, just sitting there and sobbing.
    Bluebell walked into the kitchen, took a deep swig of the opened London’s Dry Gin from the fridge, along with a handful of biscuits from the cupboard, for strength. Then she grabbed her umbrella, and wandered outside.
    Slowly, she walked up to her girlfriend and sat down next to her.
    “Hey” Blue said understatedly.
    “You came?”
    “I came. I’m wet. All of the innuendos” Bluebell smiled, putting the last biscuit in her mouth. Bosh didn’t laugh. “So, what’s up?”
    “The bag broke”
    “Ahh, shit. I mean, it’s not the end of the world though…”
    “This will be our first Christmas together, living together. And it’s going shit” Bosh added, and Bluebell’s shoulders deflated.
    “Don’t… don’t say that…” Bluebell said, a little more weakly.
    “You finished that hamper, didn’t you? The one I got for the twelve days of Christmas?” Bosh said. No accusation in her voice, just resignation.
    “I mean… I mean…”
    “Just say it” Bosh said, a little sharper.
    “Yeah. But, if it helps, it was really good. The dark chocolate was my…”
    “It doesn’t help”
    “Look, Bosh. Leave the rubbish. Come in. You’ll catch something, sitting out here in this weather…”
    “Yeah, and you wouldn’t want me to have to see a doctor, would you?” Bosh hissed, before turning away.
    “What does that mean?”
    “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta go up, I’ve got work in the morning…”
    Bosh slowly pulled herself up to her feet, wiping her tears as she did.
    “Hey, hold up… give me a hand up, would you? It’s a long way down and…”
    But Bosh was already walking off. From behind, Blue could see the garden stain where she’d been sitting in the soft muddy grass.bmi. The nightie itself was soaked through, and clinging onto her cold, pale skin. Blue knew that Bosh was gaining weight again, but from her heavier perspective, the numbers never seemed that big. 164lbs was a lot for Bosh, but it was a world away from Blue. However, seeing her so unceremoniously presented, Blue understood why Bosh considered those numbers to be big. The curves that her nightie hugged looked uncomfortable on her. Slip-slender Bosh looked clunky in her larger size and more ungainly, stodgier. Like comparing a butcher’s sausage to her formerly chipolata build. Blue couldn’t really judge. But she did. Silently.
    “Oii, you’re gonna need a shower before you go to bed. And probably a warm up by the radiator. So, if you give me a sec while I get up… unaided because I was ignored… then maybe you should stay up. Have some hot chocolate instead? Or the Glenmorangie?”
    Bosh stopped at the door again. The Glenmorangie was a special treat drink, reserved for when the girls were feeling low.
    “It’s 2:30 Blue, I have work tomorrow”
    “Exactly, it’s 2:30. By the time you’ve showered, dried, warmed up, it’ll be after 3. Once you’ve stopped silently sulking…”
    “I’m not silently sulking!” Bosh snapped.
    “Yeah… sounds like it. Anyway, by the time you’ve calmed down enough to sleep, it’ll be time to get up”
    Bosh stayed silent at this, and Blue continued talking.
    “So… instead… how about the two of us order some pizza, snuggle up a little with that Glemorangie, and I show you how to play Among Us”
    “Is that the stupid game you’ve been playing?”
    “It’s not stupid, as I’ll show you. It’s a game of deceit, and it’s great fun”
    “Lying is fun?” Bosh scowled, but Bluebell couldn’t really see her facial expression in the dark.
    “Yes, it is. Now come on Bosh. It’s Christmas after all! Now, come over here and help your girlfriend off her arse. I’m not as sober as I thought I was when I sat down and now I’m all muddy” Blue put her hands in the air to be grabbed, and her girlfriend glumly shuffled over to the deed.
    10 Days until Christmas

    Bluebell was doing what Bluebell did best. Grumbling about Bosh’s alarm going off. She’d buried her head under her pillow in response.
    Bosh was doing what Bosh did best. Pretending she wasn’t hungover. It had been 29 hours since she sat down in the garden and cried, and hadn’t spent much of the intervening time without the warm fuzzy comfort of alcohol to heat her throat and muddle her thinking. But, unlike Bluebell, Bosh could power through it.
    “Can’t you pull another sickie? When you were younger, you’d skive of uni all the time. Like that time when we went down to the bridge and threw sandwiches at the trains? Waste of good sandwiches… come to think of it”
    Bosh sighed and looked over at her girlfriend, still smothered in pillow, despite the alarm now off.
    “Blue, that was over two years ago now. We’re not kids any more. This is my job, that’s different to a lecture on Neo-Classicism from a Feminist Perspective”
    “Is that a real subject? That sounds more boring than death”
    “Yeah, it’s a real subject and yeah, it was more boring than death. Which is why I skived to throw sandwiches at trains with you”
    “But isn’t what you do now just as boring? Like, computers and words and shit?”
    “Oh my god, Bluebell! Do you really not know what I do for my job?”
    “Yeah. Course”
    Bosh just folded her arms and stared at her.
    “Umm… do you update the company’s Facebook status?”
    Bosh threw a pillow at her girlfriend, who had only just come out from under her own.
    “I’ll take that as a no?”
    “Come on, if you get up, I’ll order us breakfast”
     

    +
     

    Bluebell and Bosh were sitting on the sofa, leaning over while they ate their morning pizza.
    “So, what are your plans today?” Bosh said, with a mouthful of margherita. “And don’t say that fucking game again”
    “You liked that game yesterday? I mean, you were constantly sus, even when you weren’t the imposter, but you had fun” Bluebell argued with a smile.
    “Yeah, yeah, it was less dorky that I thought. I guess. But still… try not to spend the whole day and the whole evening and the whole night playing that game again” Bosh looked at her girlfriend wryly.
    “Fine. I’ll do something else”
    “Like, put away the rubbish that’s outside?”
    “I was thinking about maybe reading a book on Classicism and Feminism” Blue smirked.
    “Neo-classi… oh, whatever. Piss-taker, play your stupid game then. But only after you’ve sorted out the trash outside” Bosh conceded, and Blue smiled victoriously.
    Bosh shook her head, realising that Blue had got what she wanted, as she always did. Unfortunately, shaking her head caused some of the pizza to break off in her mouth and fall down her top, causing her to jump up in frustration.
    “Bollocks! Mothershitting bollocks!” Bosh exclaimed reactively.
    “Hey, relax! You’ve got plenty more blouses”
    “It’s a shirt, not a blouse Blue. And… you’re right. I guess. It’s just.. I like this top” Bosh grumbled. It was pin-stripe with blue lines racing down on a white background.
    “I must admit, I like it. Especially the red splodge on it…”
    “You are such an arsehole, Blue” Bosh grinned.
    “It’s very Classicism”
    “It’s… the word’s neo-clas… and it isn’t even… you are such a philistine, Blue”
    “It’s pronounced Palestine” 
    “No, it’s pronounced shut the fuck up, you cheeky bitch” Bosh said with exasperation but also amusement. “I’m gonna go up and grab another top. You? Don’t touch my pizza!”
    “I won’t” Blue said, already leaning over to grab a slice.
    “Seriously, Blue. No pizza, or I’ll throw you computer out the fucking window like it’s the fucking imposter” Bosh pointed her finger, but her face was still all smiles.
    “Fiiiine, I’ll leave your pizza alone. But I’ll have to have my other one then”
    “I thought you were saving that for lunch?”
    “I was. Until my mean girlfriend tempted me with her pizza and then said I couldn’t have any. So, in a way, it’s actually your fault” Bluebell said, but her girlfriend was already rushing upstairs. She grabbed a slice of her girlfriend’s pizza and then reached for her second box.
     
    +
     

    Bosh walked down the stairs with a stern look on her face, and Blue’s face burst into laughter.
    “It’s the only other shirt I have, and it doesn’t fucking fit” Bosh grumbled as she walked into the main room where Bluebell was sat, and walked in front so Bluebell could see clearly.
    “You’ve had a good Christmas” Bluebell shrugged, but it clearly amused her.
    The top was one that Bosh hadn’t worn since they moved up, and it was fitted accordingly. An orange and white striped top that rose up with every exhale of breath. It’s tightness meant the outward bulge of her stomach was a defining shape, and protruded as far as her chest.
    “I’m fat”
    “Healthy”
    “Unhealthy”
    “Oh relax Bosh, it’s Christmastime. If you’re insecure, why don’t you wear that jacket of yours? I mean, it is winter” Bluebell said, biting into another slice of her pizza.
    “Because that doesn’t fit either” Bosh grumbled, sitting on the sofa grumpily. As she did, her top rode up again and she felt the cold immediately, pulling it straight back down instinctively.
    “You could pull another sickie? You’ve established the precedent?”
    “I’ve played that card already” Bosh folded her arms again in a sulk, only for that also to cause her top to ride up, causing her face to redden in frustration.
    “Well, then fuck it. I mean, that’s the Bosh way, isn’t it? Fuck it and fuck them. Go in and not give a fuck. I mean, what are they gonna do, judge you? Oooo, scary! You’re motherfucking Bosh, you don’t care what the 2 Geoffs think” Bluebell asked, starting her final slice.
    “Yeah” Bosh nodded, coming around to the idea. “I am motherfucking Bosh. You’re right. I don’t care. It’s a bit tight? Well, it’s Christmas, if you haven’t over-indulged, have you really done Christmas right?”
    “That’s my kinda thinking”
    “Yeah, that’s not actually that reassuring” Bosh smiled.
    “Speaking of which, you decided you don’t fancy those last three slices? I mean, that top’s looking preeeetty tight”
    “Fuck off, I’ll eat them on the way. After all, like you said, it’s Christmastime” Bosh said, winking as she grabbed the slices.
    “Ouch, hoisted by my own… what’s the phrase?”
    “Petard”
    “You can’t people that any more, and I was only asking what the phrase was” Bluebell asked, and Bosh looked at her, trying to work out if she was joking or otherwise. Either way, she grabbed the box with the remaining three slices and walked out the door, tugging her shirt down as she did. Bluebell snickered to herself as she did.
    And as soon as the door closed, Bluebell reached over for her phone.
    “Coast is clear, you can come on over”
     

    +
     

    “So what appears to be the problem, Ms. Thomas?” the doctor said in a nurse’s uniform.
    “Wait… are you supposed to be a doctor or a nurse?”
    “Yes”
    Dr Callista Karagounis strode in through the door and into the house, with Bluebell walking backwards as she did. Bluebell let out a little gulp.
    “Soooo… where does it hurt?”
    “Everywhere, Dr Nurse” Bluebell said, her eyes widened as she backtracked further and further. “I think I might have to take my clothes off for you to inspect thoroughly”.
    “Very well, Ms. Thomas” the doctor said, a smirk on her lips. “And remember… no biting”
     

    +
     

    Bluebell and Callista were leaning against one another on the sofa, each with a cigarette burning.
    “So… that was fun” Callista smiled, running her hand through Bluebell’s hair.
    “Yeah, we definitely put the ‘ho’ into ‘ho ho ho, Merry Christmas’” Bluebell smiled, stubbing her cigarette out and reaching over for her vodka and coke.
    The two girls sat kinda awkwardly at this point, just leaning against one another. Eventually, Bluebell interrupted.
    “So… how was work?”
    “Do you care?”
    “Not really, but I feel it’s only polite to ask” and Callista could feel Bluebell smile against her shoulder.
    “Well, in that case, it was fine” Callista laughed. “How’s… your healthier habits going?”
    “On pause for the Christmas period”
    “And when did this pause for the Christmas period start?”
    “The day before the healthy eating did” and again, the tell-tale feeling of a smirk on Bluebell’s face, the muscles of her jaw felt against Callista’s shoulder.
    “Do you want me to nag or not?”
    “Umm… can we hold fire on the actual doctor/patient stuff? Until the New Year. I promise I’ll be good in the New Year” Bluebell said, putting her empty glass down and lighting another cigarette.
    “Which new year?” Callista joked and, though the doctor couldn’t feel it this time, Bluebell smiled.
    “The one in a couple of weeks. I can be good. I just need the right incentive” Bluebell said, nuzzling into her girlfriend.
    “But… let me guess… you fancy being bad in the meantime? What you thinking, an hour of doctor and patient role-playing and then lunch?”
    “Other way round, but yeah, sounds good” Bluebell kissed her girlfriend.
    “Other way… you can’t honestly be hungry? It’s 11am and you said you had half a pizza for breakfast?” Callista said.
    “No nagging until new year, remember? Look, the chip shop’s open, go grab us the usual and then we can worry about my health in the fun way. I just need an outlet for biting since you won’t let me sink my teeth into you” Bluebell said, sitting up and looking at her girlfriend.
    “I… I’m sorry about the no hickeys, no biting, no bruising rule. But I’m worried Wallace will find out. How are you doing hiding it from yours?” Callista asked, putting her top on.
    “I’m a master liar” Bluebell smiled smugly. “Although… the night before last, Bosh said something strange”.
    Callista looked sharply. “What did she say?”
    “I can’t remember. I was pretty well liquidated…”
    “That’s not what liquidated means”
    “...At that point. I just remember thinking she was suspicious. Or knew. But I don’t remember what she said that made me think that. Probably just ** paranoia, cos she’s acted totally normal since then”
    “Nicer than normal”
    “I mean, yeah, but it’s Christmas…”
    “Hmmm” Callista said knowingly.
    “No. No. Don’t ‘hmmmm’ that. Being nice doesn’t mean she suspects” Bluebell argued with slight concern.
    “Well, you’re the master liar. If you were being extra nice, what would it mean?” Callista said, sitting back down on the arm of the sofa.
    “Well… I’m the master liar, so I wouldn’t change my behaviour at all. But… when I’m feeling guilty about… us… one of the things I have to catch myself doing is being too nice. I don’t want to make her suspicious by being extra nice. Like the thing about the cheating husband who buys his wife gifts. If I dote on her, she’d know something was up. But I don’t do that, cos I’m a master liar” Bluebell explained.
    “Keep thinking… you’re about to reach an epiphany…”
    “So… if Bosh is being nicer than normal… you think she’s cheating on me?” Bluebell’s eyes raged.
    “Bingo” Callista said. “I’d know, I’ve been the cheating husband too. Only, I didn’t buy him things, I just stopped griping about him going out with the lads. Started encouraging it. It stopped me feeling guilty and it got him out of the house so I could… well, y’know the rest”.
    “Bosh is cheating?” Bluebell’s bottom lip suddenly started twitching.
    “Hey, don’t get upset. I mean, you are too” Callista sympathised.
    “Yeah, I know. It’s hypocritical. But… why does the thought really hurt then? I’m cheating on her and feel fine, so why am I insulted when she cheats on me?”
    “Because all people are hypocrites. Look, she might not be cheating…”
    “She spends a lot of time and puts a lot of effort into keeping on the good side of the two Geoffs”
    “She works with two people called Geoff?”
    “Different spellings. And she got very upset about not looking her best this morning” Bluebell’s eyes drifted off into the middle-distance, dancing on the far wall.
    “Maybe… maybe… you should leave her then. I mean, it’s my name on the house deeds, so I can probably kick Wallace out. You could live with me. And… I know that’s ridiculous and too fast but…”
    Bluebell’s head couldn’t keep up with the thoughts. Far from the stereotype that time slows down in times of shock and trauma, time actually speeds up. And it was running away from her faster than her brain could compute. Was that why Bosh was crying in the garden the night before last? Was Bosh no longer in love with her? And did Bluebell really have any right to begrudge that, given what she was up to?
    “Can I think… about it? I… I’m not sure. I’m not sure I want to find out” Bluebell said, her voice suddenly feeling very dry and croaky. She poured herself a strong vodka and coke and downed it.
    “Hey, look. I’ll go get that fish and chip dinner, you just… I’ll be back in 5” Callista said, and left Bluebell to cogitate.
     

    9 Days Until Christmas
     

    “To be fair, you deserve that headache” Bosh said, as Bluebell grumbled and fumbled for aspirin.
    “Nobody deserves this headache”
    “I… I haven’t seen you that ** in a long time, Blue. If ever. I tried to ask you what prompted it, but you weren’t really making much sense”
    Bluebell closed her eyes slowly. Every blink of them hurt.
    “I dunno, Bosh. I dunno” Bluebell said, barely audibly.
    “Well, you can have both of the pizzas for breakfast and I won’t judge” Bosh smiled, and Bluebell strained a grateful smile as she sat wrapped in her duvet downstairs on the sofa. Bosh leant in and bit into her pizza.
    “You’re being very nice” Bluebell noticed.
    “Of course. I’m always nice” Bosh smiled. “Oh, I heard about Keir Starmer on the radio. Letting that woman be racist. Of course, I don’t think it’s really his fault she was racist, and he did argue with her, but I know that’s the sort of thing you have opinions about”.
    “Yeah, he’s a prick. Wait, why did you follow a politics story?”
    “Oh, I didn’t. Jeff - with a J - is a Tory activist. So he was criticising the Labour man…”
    “Jeff…” Bluebell said suspiciously.
    “But then Geoff - with a G - considers himself a floating voter and said that was hypocritical given where Boris had steered the party, and that the Labour man did object and the only issue was that he maybe argued too politely”
    “Geoff…” Bluebell said suspiciously.
    “Fuck, the hangover’s left you monosyllabic, hasn’t it? Well, I’m gonna eat these last few slices in the car on the way to work. You take care of yourself. And have a cheat day. I know every day’s a cheat day for you, but you look like you need it today. You look rough” Bosh said, kissing her on the forehead.
    “Rough…”
    “Yeah, you’re still fucked. I’m gonna love ya and leave ya, and I’ll see you when I get back. And, when the hangover passes, sort out the fucking trash in the garden. You promised, don’t make yourself a liar…”
    “Liar…”
    And Bluebell just cuddled up on the sofa and fell back asleep.
     
    8 Days Until Christmas
     

    “The trash is still out there, in the garden” Bosh said, sharply, walking into the house with her excessively snug jacket from work still on.
    “Yeah, but… I’m all the way over here” Bluebell pleaded, sitting on her armchair at the computer as ever.
    “Come on Blue, yesterday was a write-off, because of the hang-over. But what’s your excuse today?”
    “I was still hungover today. It was my first ever two-day hangover” Bluebell moaned, finishing her JD and coke and then lighting a cigarette.
    “No, today’s hangover was due to last night’s drinking Blue. It’s a separate hangover” Bosh said sharply, walking over to the drinks cabinet and pouring herself a stiff drink.
    “Top us up, while you’re at it babe” Blue asked.
    “Babe? You never call me babe. And fine, but I do so under objection. You look like shit, Blue. Like, you look awful”
    “Yeah, neither of my parents were lookers”
    “No… I don’t mean you’re not an attractive person…”
    “Don’t you?” Bluebell glanced at her girlfriend.
    “No. I mean… you need to look after yourself. You look…”
    “Awful. I know. I heard you the first time” Bluebell said bitterly.
    “No, I…” Bosh put her hand on her head when she saw the boxes. “You had pizza for lunch? As well as breakfast?”
    “You didn’t mind yesterday when I did it”
    “You weren’t actually in the land of the living yesterday. You don’t have that excuse today”
    “I need an excuse to eat pizza?”
    “You… are being… challenging, Blue. I’m tired and I come home and find all this shit everywhere and you’re sat at that fucking computer playing that fucking game and you’re so pale they’d let you in an Evanescence concert. And here’s your cigarettes by the way. Try to make these 200 last more than three days”
    Bosh threw the back on the desk next to the armchair and walked into the kitchen. Blue just stared defiantly at the screen.
    “And Blue, when was the last time you fucking showered?”
    “Dunno… yesterday”
    “You weren’t physically capable of showering yesterday”
    “So the day before then. Which… I’ll admit, isn’t ideal. But I thought we agreed you’d stop nagging me until the new year”
    “We never agreed that” Bosh said, looking at her girlfriend in confusion.
    “No? Maybe it just felt like it. We should agree on that. An Armistice until the 1st” Bluebell said, finishing her drink.
    “Fine. No nagging until the New Year” Bosh agreed reluctantly. “If you sort out the trash outside”.
    “I’ll do it tomorrow” Bluebell said, not looking away from her screen. 
    “Fine then” Bosh grumped, sitting on the sofa and switching on the TV. “But I’m ordering pizza for tea cos I’m fucking exhausted, and if that doesn’t suit you, then maybe you shouldn’t have had those pizzas for lunch”.
    “No, I’m fine with pizzas. And I’ll have a garlic bread with my two” Bluebell said spitefully.
     
    7 Days Until Christmas
     
    “Help me, Jason. You’re my Jiminy Cricket, you know what I should do” Bluebell said, staring at her phone as she Facetimed her best friend.
    “Blue… if I’m your Jiminy Cricket, then you are French Connection UK-ed”
    “What?”
    “FCUKed, Blue. You are FCUKed. If I, harlot extraordinaire, I am your moral compass in the face of moral turpitude and sexual liaisons, then you are as fucked as the long list of lovers that I currently have on the go” Jason told her, while switching his smoothie maker on.
    “Firstly, you only pretend to be a whore for the street cred. And second, what are you making in that smoothie maker?”
    “Have a guess?”
    “Chocolate shake?”
    “Smoothie, Blue. I’m making a smoothie in the smoothie maker. Like, the etymology is a clue. And also, I am not a whore, I’m a slut. But if I wanted to get paid, I could. Cassius would pay through the nose. Or, indeed, any other orifice”
    “Isn’t Cassius the straight guy from my leaving do?”
    “Yeah, but I’ve cured him of his straightness. What people don’t realise is that Gay Conversion Therapy is therapy that makes you gay. And I, harlot extraordianire, am a one-man Gay Conversion Therapy centre” Jason puffed his chest out with pride, and Bluebell just laughed
    “So, what’s the dilemma then, Pinocchio? And I’ll give you my wisest counsel”
    “Well… Bosh makes no sense. One day she’s spoiling me with gifts and saying I’m allowed to binge, other times she’s being grumpy for me eating pizza and not doing housework”
    “So you think she’s cheating on you?”
    “What? Why does everybody say that?”
    “Who else said that?”
    “So, Doc… Callista, whatever you want to call her. She said… well, she gave me the space to reach the conclusion that she might be cheating” Bluebell pondered.
    “Suspicious…”
    “Right? And then she asked me to move in with her. Kick out her husband and everything”
    “Fuck. So both of your girlfriends are acting sus?”
    “And I’m the one acting normal, even though I’m the one doing the backstabbing” Bluebell said.
    “Just like you do in every game of Among Us” Jason noted.
    “So… what’s your advice?”
    “Well, why are you with Bosh?”
    “I dunno… habit? Plus… promise not to judge me?”
    “Nope”
    “Alright, then promise not to verbalise those judgements…”
    “Oh, okay. That I can do. I’ll just silently do it, and maybe raise a quizzical eyebrow” Jason giggled.
    “Fine. Eyebrows, I can cope with. So… I do enjoy sabotaging her diet” Bluebell said, her voice trailing off as the sentence progressed.
    “And you’re not letting me verbalise a response to THAT?!?!?!” Jason said, with pent up frustration.
    “No”
    “Oh, please!!! I have so many judgements and I didn’t realise I was agreeing to not judging as juicy as that”
    Bluebell paused, knocking back the last of her perry cider and then pushing in some more baklava into her mouth. Eventually, she relented, and let him vent.
    “Oh, thank God Blue. Cos I have views. Firstly - oh my god. That’s my first take. Second take - oh my god, again. It’s the same as the first take, I know, but I just can’t get over how Oh My God it is. Third take - you devious bitch, I love it. When did Bluebell become so Machiavellian?”
    “Ugghh, why does everyone I know use words that are impossible to understand? What, Jase, was that last word and where are people being taught these terms that I swear are not English? Like, that’s one of them German stupid long words that means something like ‘the feeling you get when a tooth falls out and it reminds you of a long-lost child’, isn’t it?” Bluebell complained, while chewing more baklava.
    “I mean, that is soooo manipulative and evil. Bluebell, lovely cutey-pie Bluebell, is a stone-cold sabotaging bitch. Oh, that breathes love and fire into my heart, I love it so much” Jason giddied himself.
    “Yeah, it’s pretty shitty of me, I admit. But… I’m just pissed off with her. Not for the cheating, I’ve been doing it longer than that. No, just… I dunno. Like, I hate it when she’s so grumpy about my weight. That’s one thing. Another thing, when she pretends it doesn’t bother her, that’s even worse”
    “Soooo, when she does or doesn’t acknowledge your weight?”
    “Don’t say it like that. You make me sound contrary. It’s different when you experience it first-hand”
    “So why are you even with her then?” Jason asked, and Bluebell went to answer when she realised she didn’t know the answer.
    “Not sure”
    “I mean, you have a pretty good Plan B. She’s hot… she’s a doctor… she’s also a hot doctor. I mean, they’re the big three things you look for in a partner”
    “True…”
    “So, what’s your problem?”
    “She’s… like, I think there’s something wrong with her. She’s been a bit weird about me moving in, a bit over-keen. And it’s weird how she took up smoking within one day of meeting me. Like, why is she trying so hard?”
    “Cos she likes you?”
    “Yeah, but why?”
    “Ah” Jason said, and raising his eyebrows in a quizzical manner.
    “I didn’t mean it like that…”
    “Oh, didn’t you? You are suspicious of her because she likes you, aren’t you?”
    “No”
    “Blue, babes, don’t lie to your BFF-forever. We pinky-promised, remember?”
    “Fine. Yes, Jason, I’m suspicious because a hot 40-something year old doctor with her own house and a husband that she’s been for ages would risk her career and her marriage for some twenty-something girl who has tripled in weight in less than two years. Why wouldn’t I be?”
    “Oh girl, that’s so sad! This is a self-loathing thing, isn’t it? You’re self-loathing again, aren’t you?”
    “No” Bluebell huffed, necking her next cider.
    “That’s why you’re sabotaging Bosh’s diet. Because you don’t feel worthy of either of them, do you? Is this a weight thing?”
    “No. Yes. Maybe. Look, I’m… they’re both really good-looking. Bosh maybe less so now she has a **-belly, but still a catch. And Callista is amazing. Like, what a woman. So why the fuck would they get with some chain-smoking, binge-drinking unemployed lard-arse with zero prospects and supports a party run by Keir fucking Starmer” she ranted.
    “I mean, I like him. Better than the anti-Semite before him”
    “Oh, don’t you fucking start!” Bluebell said, biting a doughnut angrily.
    “Maybe the issue isn’t Bosh and it isn’t Doc…”
    “It’s me? Ya think?”
    “No, I think… you love both of them. But you can’t love them properly until you love yourself” Jason said sympathetically.
    “Which cracker was that nugget of advice found in?” Bluebell snarked, and Jason laughed.
    “No, crackers contain jokes, Blue. You’re thinking of Chinese fortune cookies. Anyway, I’m just saying, how can you see them clearly, to know who you want to be with… if you can’t even see yourself clearly? Because, you are amazing Bluebell, and everyone who meets you always comes away thinking it. You are pretty and witty and bright…”
    “Are you quoting West Side Story at me?”
    “Yeah, but they had a point. Those Sharks. Or Jets. Or whichever one it was… was John Travolta in that movie? I feel like he was”
    “Either way, you’re a 300lb woman and everyone drops at your feet because you’re adorable. You’re kind and sharp and so bloody affection-inducing” Jason smiled sympathetically as Bluebell finished her doughnut.
    “You know, I’m well over 300 now”
    “I must admit, I thought your face was looking a bit…”
    “A bit what, Jason?”
    “Fluffy?”
    “I have a fluffy face?”
    “Like, I can’t see all of it on my phone. Which is new?”
    “My face is so fat, you can’t see all of it on your phone”
    “Well… it is in portrait. It’s fine when I turn it to landscape”
    “I fucking well hope so! Imagine having a face too wide for landscape!” Bluebell giggled, despite herself.
    “So… what’s the damage? How much Bluebell is there, these days?”
    “I don’t know”
    “Oh, come on, don’t be coy Blue. I know you don’t like admitting it to Callista or Bosh, but you can always tell Jason” he reassured.
    “No… I literally don’t know. They scales only go up to 400”
    “Oh”
    “Yeah, two weeks ago, I got a reading of 408 and it didn’t sound good then. But I’ve had nothing since but broken sounding clunking noises” Bluebell said, before pausing. Deeply. “Well? Come on, say something…”
    “I mean, it’s just a number, isn’t it? You’re only as heavy as you feel” Jason tried to downplay it.
    “I feel very fucking heavy. I’m fat, Jase. Like, embarrassingly fat” Bluebell said, sniffling a little.
    “400 isn’t… I mean, there’s no exact figure. And you’re quite tall…”
    “I’m a short-arse, Jase. Just a fat short-arse”
    “Fine. It’s a big number. You’re a big girl. Whoopdy-fuck”
    “It’s… affecting my health. Don’t… whatever you do, don’t tell anyone this. Not my parents, nobody. But, sometimes my skin feels… weird. Sensitive, I dunno what the word for it is. And I get out of breath, really easy. Like, I filled up the bin with the rubbish that had fallen out - broken bin bag, don’t ask - and I was sweating by the end of it. And panting. From just leaning over and picking stuff up. It’s… a bit scary. But don’t tell anyone. Please”
    Jason went quiet for a second, before answering.
    “Fine. But speak to Callista. She’s a bloody doctor”
    “Okay. I’ll… speak to her. In the new year. I’m… gonna have a nice Christmas, worry about it later”
    “Babes, I think you’re already worrying about it. And your solution to worrying - eating, drinking, smoking - is also the thing you’re worrying about. You see that, right?”
    “Stop being such a shrink, Jase. After Christmas. I’ll sort it in the New Year”
    “Fine. But… make sure you… y’know… don’t…”
    “Don’t what?”
    “Drink or eat yourself into the hospital before then” Jason said with concern.
    “Fuck you Jason!” Bluebell burst, switching gears in fury. Without a moment's hesitation, she switched the call off and threw her phone away. She could feel her hand shake with fury and shock at the suggestion. Between tears, she poured herself another drink.
     
    6 Days Until Christmas
     
    “I’m serious, Bosh. You’ve got no more work worries until after the new year now. It’s the weekend, and it’s holiday season. Let’s have some fun” Bluebell pleaded, dipping her spoon into her salted caramel ice cream. They were lying in bed.
    “When you say fun…?”
    “Just cut loose. Go all out. Leave nothing behind. Until the New Year” Blue was leaning back in the bed while Bosh was sitting up.
    “I still don’t understand…”
    “Eat, drink, be merry, that sort of thing…”
    “I do. I mean, I am. I…” Bosh said. “Is this your way of saying you want me to open the port?”
    “I was thinking tequila”
    “Mockingbird?”
    “What?”
    “Tequila Mockingbird? To Kill A Mockingbird? It’s… a book”
    “I know it’s a book Bosh. I just didn’t realise you did Dad jokes now” Bluebell smirked, her spoon scraping the bottom of the ice cream tub.
    “You’ve finished that already?”
    “This is what I mean. We should just cut loose. Go for it. Pedal to the metal”
    “Don’t say ‘pedal to the metal’, Blue?”
    “Why, do the kids not say that any more? Is… is it inappropriate in some way? Climate denialist or…” Bluebell seemed genuinely confused as she put the empty carton on the bedside stand.
    “No. It’s just… you… you remember what I was like when I was pedal to the metal. In the old days. We don’t… I don’t want that any more” Bosh explained, flinching at the thought.
    “But that’s my point. It’s Christmas. You don’t have to be Gizmo Bosh for 11 more days. The Bosh Gremlins can come out and play”
    “I’m… I don’t like my gremlins, Blue. I worry about my drinking recently as it is and…”
    “Please Bosh. For me. It would make me happy” Bluebell smiled.
    “It would make you happy?”
    “Yes. It would mean the world”
    “Okay. Fuck. Pedal to the metal, it is. But you’re gonna struggle to keep up, Blue. I’m warning you. I’ll just grab the tequila…”
    “Mockingbird?”
    “Y’know, Tequila Mockingbird sounds like a Bond girl” Bosh joked as she walked out the bedroom to go downstairs and grab the tequila, and Blue laughed.
    “And grab us another tub of ice cream Bosh!” Bluebell shouted from the bed. “Let’s go all out!”
    ???? Days Until Christmas
    The first thing Blue could feel was the cold of the rain hitting her face, droplets bouncing off her chubby cheeks, and rolling down her chin and onto the grass below. It was this chilled damp that caused Bluebell’s heavy eyelids to strain open.
    “Oh fuck”
    She couldn’t stand up. Of that much, she was certain. No, her body simply didn’t have the strength. Instead, she crawled to the back door, and used the door handle to pull herself up. On her feet, she leant against the wall and caught her breath. Her head felt pan-fried.
    Legs wobbly, she walked into the house, well aware of the squelching of mud underfoot. Continuing to lean against the wall for balance, she dragged mud through along the wall and carpet as the world continued to spin before her. Eventually, she stumbled onto the sofa and faceplanted herself in its cushions with relief. And then she fell back asleep again
     
    +
     

    Bluebell’s eyes opened again, and focused on the fuzzy outline of a woman, scrubbing the house clean.
    “Bosh?” she croaked.
    The woman carried on working, putting her marigolded hands back into the bucket of soapy water, and then scrubbing the walls until they were the original eggshell white.
    “Bosh? Is that you?”
    “Now, who do you think it is?”
    “I dunno. Where am I? Am I dead?” Blue slurred. Bosh chuckled a little at that, but then her face stiffened.
    “You’re on the sofa, and you’re not dead yet” Bosh smiled facilely.
    “Good. I don’t know if Pizza Hut deliver to Hell'' Bluebell mumbled, trying to prise her own eyes open, but they kept falling shut.
    “Come on, you mucky pup. Up you get, off your fat arse Blue. I need to put the cushion covers in the wash, since you decided to cake them in mud. Might wanna have a shower and put that dress in the wash too”
    The dress in question was a denim dress, not a million miles from what Bluebell used to where, back in the good old days when her head didn’t feel like it was about to erupt. It had pockets and thin straps and had looked good on her a week ago when she first tried it on. She looked less good now, but that was probably the mud.
    “...Kay” Bluebell muttered, sitting up and fiddling with her straps to take it off.
    “I like you in that dress. You look good” Bosh said, quietly.
    “Bit tight”
    “It wasn’t when I bought it” Bosh added, sharply.
    “Can you give me a hand?” Bluebell said, fairly pathetically. She wasn’t sitting particularly straight, gently wobbling on the spot.
    “Come here you pisshead. Now, put your arms up and I’ll pull it off”
    And Bosh pulled the top off, and Bluebell sat there in just her underwear.
    Bosh looked back at her girlfriend, her eyes squinting from the low winter light and hair with mud woven into it. She sat on the sofa, pooling out in all directions. Her hips were wide and softly cushioned, and her legs were folded with fat. Her stomach, still her most distinctive feature, drooped down like the bin bag that Bosh had carried to the bin that broke, seemingly overflowed and beyond capacity. Her breasts, carried in a bra just to maintain some sort of discipline, still folded downwards. Her jawline was jowly, her cheeks were puffy, and her eyes were listless. And she was covered in mud.
    “You really need to clean up, Blue. You look like The Thing from the film...  The Thing”
    “Which film’s that again?”
    “It’s the one with The Thing in it”
    “The wrestler?”
    “No, not The Rock… anyway, just clean the fuck up”
    “Yeah, in a sec. Need a smoke… where’s my cigarettes?” Bluebell said, looking for pockets and then realising she wasn’t wearing anything.
    “Here, box here. Look, you’re cold, wet and naked. Grab a shower and put some clothes on” Bosh pushed.
    “Wet and naked is the name of my sex tape” Bluebell smiled, mentally high-fiving herself. She then began rummaging for something to eat on the table in front of her, settling upon an uneaten pizza. She grabbed the first slice and put it in her mouth.
    “Oh, trust me Blue, you’re not hungry” Bosh said sternly.
    “Oh, trust me, I am” Blue smiled, mainly to herself, as she launched into another bite. Bosh didn’t say anything.
    “What day is it? I… my memory’s not as sharp as a fiddle at the minute”
    “The saying’s either sharp as a tack, or fit as a fiddle” Bosh corrected. “And Monday. Today is Monday”.
    “Fuck yeah. Blacked out the entire weekend. Sign of a good weekend” Bluebell chuckled, finishing the first slice.
    “What… was the last thing you remember?”
    “Asking you about pedal to the metal on the Friday night. My headache tells me that it’s so far, so good”
    “So far?”
    “Yeah, we said until New Year. If it’s still the Monday, then that’s the… what, 21st? So yeah, we’ve got a long way to go. Shall we order in?”
    “You’re literally eating pizza right now”
    “I know, but for after” Bluebell replied as if that answer was the most normal answer in the world.
    “Fuck, sure. I’ll order more pizza. How many do you want, three? Four?” Bosh said with a cynical eye-roll.
    “I can have four pizzas?”
    “No! I was taking the piss. You can have two” Bosh sighed, reaching for her phone.
    “And a garlic bread?”
    “Sure, whatever”
    “And what are you having?”
    “I’m… good. Thank you”
    “Bosh… pedal to the metal. You promised me”
    “Yeah, I’m thinking about breaking that promise to be honest, Blue” Bosh said, quietly.
    “You’re acting weird. Cut it out, order yourself a pizza, and let’s open the gin that Aunt Sally got us”
    “We drank it”
    “The bourbon from Mandy and Pete?”
    “Gone”
    “The whiskey from…”
    “All of it, Blue. We’re cleared out”
    “In two days?” Blue asked, confused.
    “No. In nine days. It’s not Monday the 21st. It’s Monday the 28th. For crying out loud Blue, we’ve been blackout ** for nine days straight, including Christmas. A proper Christmas, together, as a couple” Bosh snarled. Her nervous energy suddenly felt more like angry energy
    “What about the cider from…”
    “Didn’t you listen to a word I said? No booze left! And it’s the fucking 28th!” Bosh’s voice raised to a shout, causing a vulnerable feeling Bluebell to wince and let her hands drift to her ears.
    “So… just the one pizza for you then, is that what you’re saying?” Bluebell said, eating a slice from the old pizza.
     

    +
     

    “I nearly swallowed my tongue?” Bluebell asked with shock. Her headache and wobbliness felt a lot better with food in her stomach.
    “I dunno. I thought you had. You were passed out on this sofa and… I remember trying to call for an ambulance… and failing” Bosh told her between sips of water.
    “You failed?”
    “Yeah, I called 1-2-3 instead of 9-9-9. Fuck knows why”
    “What’s 1-2-3..?”
    “The talking clock. I ended up telling the talking clock that you had swallowed your tongue” Bosh admitted, and Bluebell smiled that contagious smile of hers.
    “And what did the clock say?”
    “...The time. It’s not sentient, Blue. The talking clock tells you the time” Bosh shook her head and sipped her water.
    “Fuck!” Bluebell laughed. “You must have really heavily put the pedal to the metal, Bosh. Thanks. I appreciate it”
    “Don’t thank me Blue, seriously” Bosh said bashfully.
    “No. Seriously. That was really nice of you. It means a lot”
    Bosh squirmed awkwardly. “Whatever”.
    “Hey, why you not eating your pizza?” Bluebell asked, ramming another slice of her own into her mouth.
    “Dunno, not hungry” Bosh said, taking another sip of water. She had pulled the armchair out away from the computer and into the main room, so she could sit down and allow Bluebell the sofa to herself.
    “Is… this your way of saying ‘pedal to the metal’ time is over?”
    “Yeah, yeah it is, I guess. It’s over” Bosh said, taking another sip and not making much eye contact. Blue looked at her girlfriend suspiciously, while taking a bite out of her pizza.
    “Well, if it’s going free…”
    “Yeah, sure Blue. Help yourself” Bosh pushed the box over to her girlfriend.
    “Really? You don’t mind?” Blue smiled, layering a slice of Bosh’s pizza onto her own and eating both at the same time.
    “Would it matter if I did?”
    “Don’t be like that Bosh”
    “Like what?”
    “Grumpy. Weird. You’ve been weird ever since I came to”
    “Came to? You mean woke up from being passed out in your own garden, on muddy grass while it rained, and then crawled, at one point literally, to the sofa, dragging mud through the house that I had to clean up, and then collapsed on the sofa, in just a dress, still covered in mud, and then refused to shower?” Bosh’s voice rose again. Her entire presence felt barely on its leash, straining to snap at every word.
    “Fuck off, I didn’t refuse to shower. I’m just having these first”
    “Sorry, I forgot every hour is pizza hour”
    “What is your problem, Bosh? Because, sometime it feels as though you’re enabling me, and other times it feels as though your taking the fact that you’re enabling me out on me”
    “I… just… don’t Blue. I’m not looking for an argument. Just eat your fucking pizzas. Or don’t. Like I give a fuck”
    “Yeah, you don’t sound like someone who doesn’t give a fuck” Bluebell replied, snarling slightly with every bite out of pettiness.
    Bluebell silently tucked in, while Bosh hugged herself to keep warm. Bluebell wasn’t the only one inappropriately dressed for the time of year. Bosh was just wearing one of Bluebell’s tops, letting it drape over her like a tablecloth.
    “Oh, you need to ring your parents” Bosh said, as Bluebell chewed absent-mindedly.
    “Do I bollocks”
    “You’ve got missed calls from them. Like, a lot” Bosh said, trying to regather her composure.
    “You have my phone?”
    “Yeah, you gonna ring them then? It could be serious. There is a pandemic going on” Bosh was terse as she spoke.
    “Did they leave a message?”
    “No…”
    “Well, it can’t be that important, can it?” Bluebell bit into another slice, scowling as she did so. “So, can I have my phone back?”
    “D’ya need it then or…”
    “It’s my phone Bosh. I just want my phone back, that’s all”
    “Why?”
    “Cos it’s mine”
    “Fine”
    And Bosh passed the phone over, and Blue snatched it petulantly.
    “Thanks”
    “Also, Jason called, but I know you and him aren’t talking either” Bosh added, her face rarely elevating above a sneer.
    “No. We’re not” Bluebell replied curtly, pushing the last of her pizza into her mouth, and exhaling in relief.
    “And your GP called”
    Bluebell looked up at Bosh suspiciously.
    “What? My GP?”
    “Yeah, a whole bunch of times”
    “Is… is it serious? Why are you only mentioning it now?”
    “Don’t worry, it wasn’t to do with your health”
    Bluebell’s eyes scanned Bosh’s face for further meaning.
    “So, what did they want?”
    “She left messages”
    “Oh.. kay”
    “Blooby”
    Bluebell’s spine straightened at that.
    She went through to her messages and played the first one from Callista.
    “Hey Blooby, it’s your favourite GP here. Just seeing if you fancy another… appointment. Wallace is… not here so I wanted to know if you fancied coming round and I could give you a… physical. Anyway, let me know when you get this message. Cheers babe, bye”
    Bosh’s eyes closed as she heard each word hit her like shellfire. Bluebell sat cold and still, every muscle on edge.
    “Bosh… I might go up for a shower now…”
    “Sit the fuck down!” Bosh snapped ferociously. Blue obliged, sitting still and frightened.
    “It’s not what it sounds like”
    “It sounds like your ‘male’ GP is a woman, which you conveniently forgot to mention. And that you’re fucking her, which you conveniently forgot to mention” Bosh ranted, standing up and pointing.
    “Oh, like your not fucking a Geoff?”
    “I’m not… I’m not fucking a Geoff”
    “Well, then who is it?”
    “Nobody. Hang on, don’t turn this around…”
    “Well, you’re clearly fucking someone behind my back. Constant treats and gifts, mood swinging from bitch to doting depending on the day at work. It’s obvious, Bosh. You always were a shit liar” Blue argued, folding her arms defensively as she accused.
    Bosh took a deep breath.
    “I… bought you those things because… I knew about the affair. I knew you were shagging her and I was afraid to fucking lose you” Bosh admitted, cringing as she heard those words.
    “What?”
    “I hung around. At the Medical Unit. On that first check-up. It was a big deal for you and I knew you were nervous, so I hung around to make sure you were okay. And I saw you smoking with her. And flirting with her. And then when you came home and told me - sorry, lied to me - that she was male, I knew you liked her. You see, you’re not the great liar you think you are. Because life isn’t a fucking shitty PC game”
    “Among Us is not a shitty game!” Bluebell argued.
    “That was the bit you had a problem with?” Bosh would have found that funny in another conversation. But here, that irreverence felt like acid on the skin. “So, because I knew you were lying to me, I decided to see what you were up to. And then I saw you go round hers the next day”
    “You were following me?” Bluebell’s eyebrows arched sharply.
    “Yes. Because I’m the one in the wrong here” Bosh rolled her eyes and sipped her water.
    “I…”
    “No excuses Blue. I don’t wanna hear them. I… thought it was a fling. A one-off. I mean, I’m not an idiot. I know I’m not… providing for you physically. Maybe it would lift your mood, I thought? Maybe a quickie with an attractive female GP might shift your gloom and fix your mojo. I might get my Bluebell back. The old Bluebell. But you couldn’t just shag her the once, could you? You kept going back”
    “I’m sorry” Bluebell said, her voice deep and solemn.
    “No you’re not. You’re just sorry you’ve been caught. So I fought for you. I gave you everything you wanted. You wanted to drink yourself stupid every night? Sure, if it made you happy. Eat like a fucking possessed animal? Anything for you Blue. I even put my - oh, how did you phrase it? - ‘pedal to the metal’. For you. I fought for you Blue. But it’s not enough. It was never enough” Bosh was standing now as she spoke, towering over the slouched Bluebell on her comfy sofa.
    “No, don’t talk about us in the past tense, Bosh”
    “If I nagged, you complained. If I let you cut loose, you complained. It wasn’t me you were angry with. It was yourself. You hated yourself for getting fat, and you ate to punish yourself for getting fat, and then you took it out on me. And I tried Blue. I tried so hard. But you’re a lost cause, Blue. You’re beyond redemption”
    “D… Don’t say that. Don’t say it like that” Bluebell said, tears in her eyes. The room started spinning.
    “And, as much as I love you, and for some fucking reason I do fucking love you, I have to love myself first. The past week was terrifying. If you could remember it, you’d wish you could forget it. You went berserk. And… I did too. I can’t do that to myself, Blue. You can to yourself, because you don’t care. And, I genuinely hope this Doctor Bitch is good for you and can rescue you. Because I can’t. You’re a lost cause to me” Bosh broke off eye contact and stared at the wall, her eyes getting wet.
    “I’m not… I can change…”
    “You have changed already Blue. Fucking look at you”
    Bluebell refused to, tilting her head to the side to refuse self-reflection. Her head felt loose on her neck, her brain throbbing and her concentration weak.
    “It was just one week, Bosh. It was fucking Christmas. You’re supposed to cut loose at Christmas!” Bluebell sobbed.
    “It’s not just fucking Christmas. Christmas has been terrifying, sure. But it’s just been the cumulation of a year of this type of behaviour. This is just one step up from November, which was one step from October. Do you even remember what you were like two years ago? Do you remember what you looked like? Acted like? Hoped like?”
    “Stop it… please” Bluebell continued to sob. She could feel her hand trembling, but couldn’t stop it.
    “So, that Doctor Bitch can have you. Because I’m done, Blue. I have nothing left to give. I gave you my all, and everything else too. Because I love you. And because, somewhere, underneath everything, is the most adorable, most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. The kindest, wittiest, most charming woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Underneath it all. But it’s buried under so much these days, that I barely recognise you. Not because you’re fat, though you are so fucking fat Blue, but because of how you are. You are unrecognisable from the girl that I met at that flat party with your blue hair, your skinny dress, hair in a bow. I don’t recognise you anymore. You’re just a burden. And I won’t let you drag me down with you. So please, just fuck off Bluebell. Just fuck off and never come back, please”
    “No. I don’t want to”
    “GO!” Bosh yelled, throwing her glass against the wall and screeching, stamping her feet until she collapsed on the floor. “Just go!”
    Silently, Bluebell heaved herself to her feet. Unsteadily, she put one foot marginally in front of the other, and slowly trudged away from Bosh and towards the front door. Her head was numb, her eyes drooping to the floor. And she waddled slowly to the door.
    Her feet felt unsteady as she walked, her breaths were shallow. And her heart was racing in her chest, like an imprisoned wild animal clawing at the bars of her ribcage. Another step towards the door and she could feel the room list, like a ship in a storm. Another step and she began to fall.
    At which point, she passed out.
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