#squishycool

“Well it definitely ain’t no kid’s toy, I can tell ya that much!” Merle guffawed. Then he placed the white box down and picked the Amazon box back up, closing the flaps and squinting down at the shipping label that had been split in half during opening (he desperately needed reading glasses, but was still adamantly refusing to accept that his vision was deteriorating with age just like the rest of his body). His eyes suddenly went wide and he snorted, pursing his lips like he was holding back maniacal laughter.  “You gonna lemme in on the joke or what?” Daryl asked impatiently, still holding the silicone rosebud between his fingertips as he watched his brother from across the couch. Merle raised his head and met his gaze. “Oops.” “Oops what?” “Well, the Amazon driver fucked up. Look’t this.” He tossed the box to Daryl, who dropped the silicone thing onto the couch cushion. Daryl grabbed up the Amazon box and looked at the shipping label—sure enough, it was meant for apartment 224. He and Merle lived in apartment 214. And, God help him, Merle’s stupid ass never bothered to read the labels on packages before ripping them open like a fuckin’ kid on Christmas morning. The name of the recipient was plain as day on the shipping label: Beth Greene. The pieces were clicking together. Slowly but surely, Daryl put it together in his head. He looked up to find his brother grinning at him, downright gleeful.  “No,” Daryl said. Merle nodded, holding up the little white box. “It’s a goddamn sex toy!”

Don’t Make Me Haunt You

Today, though… today was the day it really and truly started. They were gonna unpack as much as they could, arrange furniture, designate rooms for specific purposes. And then they’d probably take a shower together. Order a pizza and split a bottle of wine. Fuck until they collapsed into a sweaty heap atop the king-sized bed that was now their bed.   God, he couldn’t wait to wake up next to her every day from here on out. He backed out of the long driveway that led up to the Greenes’ farmhouse and began driving down the road, slow at first before he could reach the highway and really pick up speed. He was already reaching over to switch on the radio when he spotted a curious sight at the edge of the large front yard, near the road: a girl. Oh, shit—a Greene girl. Not the older, bitchy one. The baby. All blonde hair and suntanned skin, sitting with her back against a tree and her knees pulled up to her chest, dressed in shorts and a tanktop. And was she… crying? Merle slowed the truck and pulled up close, stopping to roll down his window all the way. He placed his arm on the edge of the window and craned his head out. “Hey, blondie!” She sniffled, raising her puffy, red-rimmed eyes to look at him.  “Y’alright?” She hurriedly wiped at her face, embarrassed. Then she nodded. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.” She probably expected him to keep driving—and he expected it, too—but there was somethin’ pitiful about the way she looked that made him stop and linger. She was still babyfaced, skinny as all get out, and he couldn’t really tell whether she was 14 or 24. He reckoned it was closer to the former since he knew her older sister had just barely become legal within the last five years or so. How far apart in age were they, anyway? Oh, hell. Not like it mattered. She was jailbait regardless, as far as he was concerned.

His voice was too hoarse, too rough, too loud. The total opposite of her. She was real pretty, real nice, real fragile under the tough exterior. He was all sharp edges. She was all soft corners.  He was all dirt and trailer park and the scrape of coins. She was all grass and white picket fences and the brush of dollar bills. What the hell kinda business did he have thinkin’ he could fool around with her…? Alexa, play "House Tour" by Sabrina Carpenter.

He chewed on his lower lip, biting down on a piece of dead skin until it peeled away to settle on the tip of his tongue. He thought about Daryl, stuck in Senoia with nowhere to go, nowhere to sleep, not a dime to his name. Damn boy didn’t even know how to sling drugs to get by, didn’t have the contacts or anything—he’d have to get down and dirty, do some kinda under-the-table work to make enough cash for a motel room or something. And he was just a kid, still in his 20s and as bright-eyed as a Dixon could be. No skills, no resumé, not even a high school diploma or a GED. Even more aimless and inexperienced than Merle was at that age. Would some kind soul take pity on him? Or would he be scorned and outcast everywhere he went, just like his big brother? The Dixon name didn’t do shit for them, and it surely wouldn’t do anything for Daryl. He was sweet. Always had been. But how far would bein’ sweet actually get him without Merle around to stand up for him, to advocate for him? Well, Merle thought, he sure as hell survived without me while I was in the service and locked up after that. But just barely. He got beat so bad, it’s a miracle he survived. Those damn scars on his back… he couldn’t even fight off Pa. How’s he gonna fend for himself in a whole world full of men like Pa? He needs me. He’s the only person who’s ever needed me. How am I ever gonna come back after letting him down like this? How am I gonna get him to trust me again? Goddammit, Merle. Why’d you ever leave in the first place, you stupid fuck? Pa coulda killed him. You knew it. An’ ya still left. You stupid, cocky son of a bitch. Who the hell did you think you were, goin’ off to enlist and actin’ like it’d make things any different? Why’d you have to go an’ fuck it all up for the both of ya? Can’t you do anything right? His eyes settled on the paperwork. That highlighted line that Deanna had been pointing to. Three years wouldn’t be so bad. Right? It was better than five. A helluva lot better than ten, or twenty.  Maybe I can do one thing right. For the first time in my godforsaken life. Finally, Merle sat up and leaned forward. Uncrossed his arms and rested his elbows on the table. He met Deanna’s patient eyes.  She was kind. A lot kinder than any other public defender he’d ever had. He really should be grateful. Should give her a genuine thanks after all this, if it worked out the way she swore it would. Hell, he’d name his firstborn after her if it really did work out the way she was promising. Reckoned that was the least he could do. He was even regretting being such a crude asshole to her the first dozen times they’d convened.  With a deep sigh, he opened his mouth to speak. Rethought it. Closed his mouth again. Pulled the paper toward him and read back over it. He felt tears pushing up from the back of his throat. He fought them back forcefully. Cleared his throat. “Alright,” he said plainly. “I’ll do it. I’ll take the deal.”

He took a long drag off his cigarette before dropping it to the floor and snuffing it out with his boot, and as he exhaled the gray cloud up towards the ceiling, he rasped out in a gravelly voice, “Ho ho ho.” “If that’s what you want me to be,” she quipped, stopping just in front of him and looking up at him. “You did say I could be on the naughty list.” Daryl grunted. “Seems y’already are.” Beth shrugged, feigning a coy innocence as she batted her eyelashes at him. “Does that mean ya won’t be comin’ down my chimney this year?” A knot formed in Daryl’s throat, his cock growing fully hard. He managed to respond, “‘M tryna make a point of visiting the naughty girls first.” She could feel the heat coiling in her belly, blood rushing, a tiny pool of wetness already forming in her panties. She bit down on her lower lip teasingly, glancing him up and down before meeting his icy blue eyes again. “Guess it’s a good thing I saved you a cookie, then.”

She came to the very sudden realization that she was in love with an android. No… She was in love with Daryl. And whether he was made of flesh and blood or plastic and thirium, he was just as alive as she was. Beth is just a lonely daddy's girl, having already accepted her place on the farm and as the sole inheritor of all her father has built and worked for over the course of his life. She's fine with that. Happy with it, in fact. Then Daryl comes along. He's no more than an android—a machine. He is designed to work, to keep things in line, to follow his programming and do no more. But as they edge towards something greater in the year 2038, Beth and Daryl find themselves at a crossroads. What does it really mean to be alive? What does it really mean to fight for something greater? And most of all... what does it really mean to love?