Toxic Tom

That bitch named us! That’s what really gets my goat. She swans into our home. Takes over and ruins my damn life! They were my friends dammit! All of them! We had a good thing going and then good ole sweetness and light walks through the door and everything turns to shit.

No good deed goes unpunished.

I have those words going through my head over and over and over again! But why me? Why am I the one who has to pay. It gets my goat!

Scapegoat! That’s what I am! And she had it in for me from the very start. I mean who does that? Walks into someone’s home and workplace and within minutes she’s diminishing us with bloody nicknames! Reducing us into her possessions and slaves simply by applying labels to us. How did we fall for that!?

Just a bit of fun. That’s what she said. How’s that fun? Control is what it is. She doesn’t even know my actual name. Never bothered to find out. Never cared about any of us.

It’s Tom you bloody bitch! That’s my bleeding name! Tom! And I’m not toxic!

Yeah, how are those onions? You ignorant piece of lying shit.

She used us. The others can’t see that. Got them wrapped around her stinking little finger. Nasty piece of work that one is. Plays the victim far too well. None of us ever checked up on that back story of hers. Pure fantasy I’ll bet. Which is bloody ironic! Lift the lid and peer at what she really is? I think I’d puke my legs out. Her hobby is collecting red flags and explaining them away before anyone gets wise to her. She’s the chief poohbah of that hobby. Rules that roost too. Bloody cuckoo she is!

Sleepy will get it next. She’s a sitting target. She’s always late. That conniving bitch will overlook the fact that Sleepy’s the hardest working one of the lot of us. But she’ll keep indulging Dopey. She likes them stupid and pliable. Spotted him a mile off. Not just because he’s thick as mince either. He’s a shallow and treacherous sod. Sucks up to Doc because of what he can get out of him. Those two need to grow up. Their little in jokes are so transparent. And nearly always at the expense of Happy. No one sees it. But I did. I would have put a stop to it if she hadn’t come stomping into our home in her size nines and ruined everything.

They’re too blind to see what she’s doing. I suppose I’m lucky that I’m out of it now. I should call myself Lucky once I reinvent my life. A life without any of my lifelong friends. How the blinking flip did that happen? What manner of dark magic does she wield? I’m beginning to think her step-mother isn’t wicked at all. Maybe I should pay her a visit and have a chat about good ole Snowie.

I am so upset! She targeted me with so many lies. Smiling to my face and painting my back with her shit as she pretended to hug me. By the time I could smell what she was doing I was done for. Oh, I tried to talk to my friends. But even I struggled to explain what was afoot. All the while she smiled sweetly as though everything was fine and dandy. Made me look hysterical and mad. Fit me up for all the drama she had created.

They called me Toxic. Me! I had no chance though. That bloody label she’d lumbered me with. I mean Grumpy!? The clue is in the name. Grumpy is as Grumpy does. People see what they want to see and however cheerful and positive I was? Nah. I was going down for her crimes.

Have I mentioned that she is a total bitch-faced skunk-assed horror of a fascist human bean? I should have led with that. And even then, that description doesn’t even touch the surface of the stagnant pool of hateful piss that she really is. She labelled me with ease. I’ll never find the words for her and what she has done to me and mine.

That smile though! The weird confidence that she has. Who waltzes into someone’s home and turns the occupants into slaves?! And then she sacked me! From my own business. After she’d ceased paying me my own bloody money! In a way, its genius. Either that, or we’re all really dopey.

I know what my money is on.

How was I taken in like that? We all loved her? Took her into our fold. Doted on her. Now I know that she doesn’t give a shit about us. It’s all about using us until there’s nothing and her drama. She always has to be the centre of attention. My friends are sleep walking into a very bad place. It will not end well. They’ve lost a good friend, but I no longer count. We were all BFFs, but they didn’t even bat an eye lid when she got rid of me. She told them it was all my fault and they turned on me as though I was the villain of the piece.

I still can’t believe it. And I’m a fairy tale character! Go figure that one out! No, on second thoughts, please don’t. You’ll be insane before you work out how she operates. Don’t go there. I tried and my head is still in pieces that won’t fit back together again. She’s mad that one and that sort of madness is catching.

Worse still, she’s done this before. I knew I recognised her. Took me a while to figure it out. I had to be out of the constant confusion and drama to begin to see clearly. All those poor suitors! She led them on! Had them dance to her tune and then broke each and every one of them.

Again, she used the victim act. She’s Oscar winning on that front. She steals the scene and takes a whole lot more. A sad tale to accompany a faux ailment. Sleeping sickness that time. All the people she stitched up. Raised their hopes and then dashed them on the hidden rocks of her selfish hatred.

That last guy thought he’d hit the jackpot and won her stone cold heart. Poor bloke. When the police knocked on his door and he tried to tell them his story he didn’t get he was incriminating himself far more than she ever could. Innocent sod did her work for her.

You broke into her bedroom?

She was asleep you say?!

And you did what?!!

Pervert!!

Bang him up and throw away the key!

I wouldn’t be surprised if she had long hair once upon a time. Long climb that. And for what? To find a homicidal maniac smiling sweetly in a room with no door and no escape. On the far side of that room would be a pile of broken bodies in various states of decomposition. The smiling assassin would literally feed on the confusion and terror of the well meaning hero. Dead before he understood the fatal reality of the situation. That’s how she does it. Creeps up on your blindsight whilst smiling sweetly to your face. Quite a trick that. I wonder how she does it? How do we not see her coming?

And there’s the rub. We’re all at fault here. This is the land of fairy tales. We’re all a woven fantasy with the false promise of a happy ending. We eschewed reality a long time ago. So long ago that we don’t know where it is anymore. We are lost to it. And now we are lost to the likes of her. She woke up one day and realised she could own the narrative and once she got started with that, she owned us. Lock, stock and smoking bloody barrel. In a way, I can’t blame her. She got there first so no one could screw with her. Good old girl power. And hey, she knows how to play the entitled princess, so is it any wonder how she’s turned out?

Ah now, there’s the bears’ cottage. Always a warm welcome there. And I’m starving. They do the best porridge ever! Porridge to die for!

That’s odd…

The front door’s wide open.

“Papa Bear?”

The kitchen is in a right state.

“Mama Bear?”

The little one’s bed is broken. This doesn’t look good.

Maybe they’re in the basement.

Crikey! What’s that smell?

“Little Bear? Is that you?”

Oh…

Oh no…

Those poor, kind-hearted bears. They didn’t deserve to go out like that. Oh! The horror! Porridge should never be used like that! Is there no end to what she will weaponise!?

I have to go and warn my friends!

I just hope they’ll listen this time…

And I hope I don’t find our beautiful home in cinders.

Cinders! Is there no end to her treachery!

Aha! There’s a young lady wearing a red coat. With the hood up. Maybe she’ll help me before it’s too late? Aid me as I face that wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Excuse me! Miss! Yoo-hoo!”