The Tw@trix – Chapter 6

Seeing a truly broken man is not a pleasant sight to behold. Terry is one such man.

It all started going wrong when he found his wife in bed with his best friend. Thinking they were up for a threesome he tried to join them and his wife broke his nose with a hefty right hook. The ensuing divorce bankrupted him, and cost him his house and modest 2nd hand car business.

Homeless and skint, he slept rough for a while until, in desperation, he tried to mug a… erm… ‘larger’ lady for the contents of her purse. His reasoning was that he’d be able to run faster than her. What he didn’t figure on was the strong strap on the handbag and the strong grip on his throat she swiftly managed to get just before she sat on him whilst phoning the police.

His 6 months at Her Majesty’s Pleasure (the magistrate decided to make an example of him) was no walk in the park. Once word got round what he had tried to do, the larger guys made him their biatch, and his piles had given him problems ever since.

Once released, he was placed in a house for ex-offenders; bedsit land, with a shared bathroom that always smelled of pee.

He kept his head down and did various menial minimum wage jobs for years, but the stigma of prison hung over him like flies hung over a bucket of shyte. For his 55th birthday he bought himself a present; he had saved enough money for a computer, and once online, the deluge of p0rn was enough to make him forget everything.

Soon, however, that wasn’t enough.

By some stroke of luck – good or bad, the jury is out – he stumbled upon The Tw@trix. There he could be someone new! There he could forget what had happened to him! There he could pour his scorn about larger ladies and the poor people he had been forced to join.

Terry logged on as “axante_m”.

“you are all fat women here and all poor people” he would type over and over and over taking a large swig of vodka straight from the bottle every couple of minutes. Tears blurred his vision so he was unable to read the replies (which were mostly “just fck off axante you boring prck” or words to that effect).

The memory was too strong. The emotional (and anal) wounds were still fresh after all these years. And no amount of vodka poured down his throat every night would sterilise those wounds and make him feel clean again.

“you are all fat women and all poor people” over and over like a stuck record and never reading anything typed to him…

When he got eventually got sacked from whichever dead-end job he was in (which was as certain as night following day) he knew he wouldn’t be able to pay his phone bill and would be forced offline, so would tell people about a cruise he was going on. He always dreamed of going on a cruise. Many users from The Tw@trix wished he would go on a cruise. A really long one.