The Twat

Christian Van Minnen 2

“Manfungus 1.2” by Christian Rex Van Minnen (2007)

I may delete this.  So get it while it’s hot, I suppose.  Written on the 8th April 2017.


The Twat

Ray kicked down the door and stormed into the living room. “Welp, I’ve just been for my god damn twatogram,” he announced with the air of a man ready to kill multiple people and/or animals without the aid of weapons.

“And?” replied Kathy, putting the phone book she’d been licking down.

“And it turns out I am a massive twat!”

Kathy picked up the book again and resumed slobbering over its yellow pages. She always knew her boyfriend was a twat. This was simply confirmation.

Ray, on the other hand, had always denied with great passion that he was anything other than a well-respected, upstanding and productive member of the BDSM community. In his mind, there was no way he could be a twat, let alone a massive one. No, the twatopractor must have gotten it wrong. Maybe he’d put the diodes in the wrong hole or something?

“I’m going to go back there with a sledgehammer,” he declared, kicking their rubber cat statue across the room and into the television.

“We don’t have a sledgehammer,” reminded Kathy. They had to get rid of the last one. Court order.

“Shit. That’s right. Well I’ll just have to use the cat statue then”.

“You can’t do that either,” said Kathy, deciding now that chewing the pages of the phone book was a far better use of her mouth than merely licking them until the phone numbers entered her bloodstream. Without looking up she pointed to the far end of the room. The cat was melting in the electrical fire which had begun to consume most of the wall.

“I don’t care anymore, Kathy. I really don’t. I can’t accept this. There’s no way I’m a twat! All your stupid friends are wrong, they shouldn’t be throwing insults around like that. Someone’s going to have to pay for this injustice!” Ray ran into the sub-basement dungeon and retrieved the rubber fire hydrant they sometimes used in their party games. “This’ll have to do”.

“Is the minister’s pee off it yet?” asked Kathy, not looking up from her mindless chewing.

“No. And you know what? I don’t care if his pee is all over it. It’s going through someone’s face in a minute. I’m out of here”.

“Don’t forget you’re still wearing that latex gimp suit, Ray,” reminded Kathy.

Ray looked down and suddenly realised he’d been out and about in his homemade slug costume the whole time. Maybe he was a bit of a twat after all?

But Ray was too far lost in his rage to care or change into something more reasonable. He dove out the window, obliterating the triple glazing in the process as well as most of his facial features. “If I don’t come back, watch for me on the news”.

After kicking most of the mithril flamingoes off the neighbour’s lawn and smearing some war paint on his bleeding face with cat feces, Ray looked back through the window at his gorging girlfriend. “Oh, and Kathy?” he said, mounting his Segway.

“Yes Ray?”

“Tell them I’m not a massive twat”.

12 thoughts on “The Twat

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