As the sun slowly sinks from the sky above, the moon moved through eerie silence to take its place, casting its dark shadow on the island. In the distance, two figures walked side by side, meandering along the sidewalk. One of them had short pointed ears, an oval shaped nose, a wide mouth with large fangs, and a bowtie imprint on his body. Officially, he was classified as Experiment 322 — though he much preferred his assumed name, Heckler. His friend and companion was Experiment 020, who had grown to like the name Slick. Slick was a fast-talking, pink dog-like experiment, with a purple nose and two ebony eyes under a straw boater hat — and a bowtie of his own.
They had met during a raucous set of events known as the "Leroy Incident." While many of their cousins would later speak about it in hushed tones, Heckler and Slick were much more vociferous. It had been a difficult time, for sure. Yet, without this incident, they may never have become a nigh inseparable duo who were eager to hang out as frequently as they could. Out of that chaos, an incredible friendship had formed, and as the moon rose to its place high above the island, they chuckled on their wayward walk.
Earlier, they had together decided that they had earned a day off from their one true place, and so roamed the town for a little breath of fresh air, enjoying the accompanying serenity. As the day concluded, the noise emanating from the town subsided, and most of the locals started to head home. Finally, there were fewer people around to heckle, and the urge for Heckler to carry out his intended purpose diminished.
Their meandering took them to a nearby ice cream parlor. Slick fulfilled his purpose by negotiating an end-of-day two-for-one deal on triple-scoop cones. While the ice cream scooper busied himself with his job, something about the place brought up a feeling in Heckler. A feeling for someone. Slick grabbed the cones out of the messy hands of the scooper, and Heckler contemplated whether he should finally let out his true feelings for his friend.
"I want to…but I just can't seem to…" he muttered softly. Every fiber of his being yearned to speak, and he feared that he might lose control, and along with it, his deep and close friendship. But, saying what needed to be said was all he ever wanted. Control and fear, though, had locked the words away in his mind, and he had decided to keep it that way.
Even when the words surfaced, when he had steeled his nerves and was ready to speak, an insult tumbled out every time. After all, he was designed for insults, with the capability of destroying enemy morale. Had it been anyone else right now, he would have already cussed them out. But this was different. His companion wasn't an enemy — it was someone he truly cared about. One insult, and everything could fall apart.
This uncontrollable desire bothered Heckler to no end. The endless streams of questions flooded his mind, taunting him to the point where he could not control it. Turbulent thoughts drew a frown on Heckler's face that stubbornly refused to leave, even after he had eaten the first of three scoops.
Despite Heckler's mind sitting on the verge of exploding, it was Slick who spoke first. "Hey Bud, you've been silent the whole time we've been walking together. Anything bothering ya, chap?" 020 softly patted Heckler's head.
That did little to help Heckler's brain, which was nearly bursting by this point. Confusion and fear tied his tongue for a few moments, and Slick began to stare. So, Heckler expertly hid his sullen mood behind a goofy smile. "Me? I'm ok, fine as dandy!"
"Hmm…I can feel something is occupying your mind. Maybe we could find a bench to sit on and, y'know, talk this out as friends," Slick replied innocently.
Friends…the word fired through his mind. It shot around the farthest corners and pierced through his skull and bounded around his body. He felt his heart shatter before it reached his stomach, roiling the pit of insecurity that had lingered for so long. Those times where he thought their friendship could develop into something more…had they all been wrong? Friends…nothing more.
Slick nudged Heckler's tensed shoulders. "Hello, you still there?"
Heckler's eyes had been glued to the pavement as "friends" did its damage, ignoring Slick's presence; but, eventually, Heckler grunted. "Sorry, Slick. There's just…a lot of things going right now."
"Well then, we'd better hurry now and find that special spot!" Slick suddenly snatched Heckler's closest arm, and yanked him through the entrance to the park.
Heckler tried in vain to break apart from his pal's grip, and then opted to talk his way out. "Hey, let go, you're hurting it ya big lunkhead!" he spat. Slick let go, and Heckler rubbed the sore spots and occasionally winced in pain as they stood in the park.
"Does it hurt?" Slick asked with a disappointed frown.
"I'm sorry, what? Does it hurt?!" Heckler was snarky with his reply. "Are you completely stupid — you almost broke my arm, moron! Yeah…it hurts, Slick."
"Hey, there's no need to be rude. I'm just trying to help—"
"You wanna help? Then keep your words to yourself, sales boy!" Heckler didn't mean to snap, but his irritation had assumed control and with a head already filled with fearful thoughts, harsh words had slipped out, even though they felt wrong as they left his mouth.
Slick blinked. And at that moment, Heckler knew he had gone too far. Anger started to melt away, leaving behind a quagmire of self-pity in which to wallow. He knew he would be unable to take it all back. But he tried nonetheless.
"Hey, I didn't mean to…I mean I just…I was…" Heckler rambled random words, softer and meeker than before.
"Heckler, please — stop!" Slick shouted, interrupting the flow of the conversation.
Heckler had slogged through the quagmire, only to get stuck at the end. Tears were now welling in the corners of his eyes, "Look Slick, I didn't mean to — to do it on purpose." A few sniffles followed while Heckler cleared some of the tears from his eyes.
Slick sighed. "It's alright, don't worry about it. Besides, we all know it's kinda part of your programming. And there ain't nothing wrong with that!" Slick assured before straightening his posture and his bowtie. "Now, since this is partially my fault, and thus my responsibility, could you maybe let me examine your arm?"
Heckler extended his trust along with his arm for Slick's examination. "It's like you stuck a needle in my arm," Heckler joked as Slick inspected. And as it progressed, Heckler held his gaze on Slick's large hands, which were warm and tender as they slowly crept into the soft, orange fur of Heckler's right arm, leaving behind the lightest of touches. Heckler couldn't take his eyes off Slick, but he consciously broke from the trance inspired by large warm hands.
'What's the point in doing all of this,' burbled Heckler's usual pessimism. 'There's no chance that Slick will ever have feelings for me — it's just ridiculous.' Yet optimism had other ideas. 'I have to give it a go; take it before I lose that chance. I'm sure Slick will open up somehow. I just know it's there inside of him.'
"Looks like your arm will be fine, no permanent damage as far as I can tell," reported Slick as he gently released Heckler's arm.
Heckler was overjoyed. "Thanks Slick. Hah, y'know, I thought I was gonna lose an arm. And, uh, I hope you weren't butthurt over the things I said," he floated while, as he expected, his cheeks flushed a deep red.
Slick smiled, and Heckler wondered what his friend felt. He hoped for…something. Maybe a flutter in his heart, some collection of pride, awe, and accomplishment. Maybe something that could blossom into more. Heckler shied away, desperate for his cheeks to relinquish their reddened glow.
"You probably had a bad day," Slick guessed, "but I suppose — if you're up for it , that is — that we can chat a bit on what's been bothering you, little buddy."
In the pale moonlight, Heckler could barely disguise his glee. He had to concentrate to look stern and somber. "Well…alright, let's go. We can sit over there if you want. There's no one here but the two of us." He pointed toward the leftmost of a row of benches beneath the swaying branches of a large tree. As Slick headed onward, Heckler bounded behind.
