Poor little Brad Stick was a natural victim. He was only 11 years and had just started going up to the big wide World of the Comprehensive School. Now separated from his earliest friends since Primary School it was a huge culture shock coming from a cossetted little school that he had spent seven years known merely ‘as the Nerd in the corner’. His only friends were imaginary and he was more of a loner than alleged JFK Kennedy assassin Lee Harvey Oswald but in the little school he was tacitly accepted and tolerated by his first school peers.
His emaciated frame, topped by Michael Gove ‘Milhouse’ glasses, struggled to carry the spanking new leather satchel his Mother had bought him, which she insisted he carry to school every morning on his daily 20 minute hike from his house in Brecon Road, Merthyr Tydfil to his new educational version of Borstal. It was a Sisyphean task for the puny schoolboy, as the satchel with his exercise books weighed nearly half his bodyweight and made him look like a myopic hunchbacked King Richard III, as he struggled up the steep hills that led up to his new Alcatraz.
To get there he had to go through hostile enemy territory – well named as ‘territory’ as he was terrified of who or what he would encounter each day on his journey up the ‘Red Lane’ though the notorious Gurnos Estate. The Lane was so called because it was bloodstained from beatings and muggings in this little corner of Paradise. He often sang THAT 1980’s Phil Collins song that he had heard on Spotify for confidence, usually as he passed rough sleepers with their rabid XL Bully dogs, lying in unbridled layers of dogshit, broken glass and used syringes.
But the worst of all- was the elder groups of boys- who hunted in packs of threes for someone to bully and steal their lunch money. His Mother (who had separated from his Biological Father Gordon) was his only protection – as his Mother had told him that his real Father had left for Silicon Valley years ago. He had no recollection of this Father but as he had a penchant for computer sciences -he was always proud of this fact -until the day he discovered that Silicon Valley was the nickname his Mother had given to the big breasted implanted woman he had eloped with.
Which was somewhat strange as his Mother had told him that his Father was only a little over Five Foot in height- she told her son she should blame him for his genetic shortcomings- so he innocently assumed that he must have used them as ear muffs. His Mother continued to be embarrassed by the doorstep gossips as some years later his Father was caught indecently exposing himself to Women in Cyfarthfa Park. She wanted nothing to do with him and made up a story for her young son that his dad was into science fiction whenever the pair were cruelly shouted at in the street about ‘Flash Gordon’.
Brad felt given his wan stature made him a more akin to a test tube baby, as his Mother had worked in the Sekisui science laboratory for years. She claimed to be responsible for the discovery of Viagra but her test case had failed to stand up in the Patent’s Court. Puberty had not yet kicked in for little Brad- the hair on his head was brown and very wavy and every morning it stuck up in all directions for fine weather. During his first ever PE lessons he could remember being assaulted by some older boys trying to discover if the school rumour was true in that he had one solitary pubic hair downstairs.
Sadly for him it was. He had gone from being known as ‘the Nerd in the Corner’ to ‘One Pube’ in an instant.
A Tik-Tok moment that is when he was held down and filmed while one the bully boys put on a David Attenborough voice over – with the infamous words- “ And here we have the Amazon rainforest....decimated by illegal logging with only one tree left standing!”
He particularly hated cross country and was always last finishing last with all of the children returning hours before him but at least it had taught him how to run. One of his local sheep farmers had accused him of interfering with his livestock – suggesting he was seen lying down in his pasture smoking but it wasn’t certainly him- as despite his Mother’s claim to fame - he was incapable of Vape.
Brad had no social life- not surprising considering his face was permanently in a phone or computer screen. He like modern schoolchildren no longer sat around the dining table and actually spoke to his Mother. He only communicated with her by text. A lot of the time she was in work but it was often when they were in the same room. She – like most modern working single parents had little time to actually cook wholesome food- Brad survived on takeout meals from MuckDonalds & the bogus Colonel.
To get by she also worked part time in the evenings in a care home. Not surprisingly he was seriously malnourished, as his Mother was always taking part in clinical trials and was never there to ‘care’ for him. The only time he had nutrition in the form of fresh food was when one of his Mother’s ‘inmates’ went sick and the relatives brought in fruit. But even that stopped when Covid came.
His Mother would however bring home lots of old-fashioned clothes which were destined for the landfill when the old ladies died- which made Brad a little bi-curious when he put them on. He thought he had an alter ego which he called ‘Granny Tranny’. It was not his only alter ego though as he had discovered a new means of escapism from his miserable life. Online Gaming.
Here in the Meta Verse he was no longer called ‘Nerd in the Corner’, nor ‘One Pube’- he could be a virtual hero without challenge. Here he didn’t have to rub his Bitcoin with shit to get back at the bullies.
In cyber space, he was a keyboard warrior under his online masculine name of Arnold Schwarzawigga – which was totally inconsistent with his real life – as he was thinner than supermodel bulimia diet soup.Here in the Meta Verse he had an online presence that was noticed by his fellow female space aliens from all over the Universe. He loved his online Space Crusade game as part of World of Warcraft, where he could teleport into strange Alien Planets and spawn as his Schwarzawigga Hero or other sci-fi hero.
Brad, when walking to school, had his face in a mobile screen and then for six hours every night in a computer one. No wonder he had glasses thicker than the bottom of a milk bottle and that was even before he discovered the other ‘joystick’ evolution had given him.
At 11 years of age, he was like a mini-version of Mr Magoo – everything outside the end of his nose was a blur as he was always bumping into fellow pupils in the corridor as he passed in his own personal i-cloud. This didn’t engender to making new friends and he was often met with the jibe- “Careful One Pube or you will knock it off!”- not from the schoolchildren but from the cruel teachers, who doubled as Prison warders in his new reality Hell.
Academically, Brad was bright but sitting at the front of the class and raising his hand to answer questions just gave the bully majority more cause to pick on him. As soon as the teachers would turn their backs, the innocent child would endure more missiles than those in the Gaza strip. Brad wanted to learn- but the Neanderthal Bullies didn’t and disrupted the class at every opportunity.
He looked forward to the day that the knuckle-draggers were separated out into the remedial classes and he be placed into A-Band where he could actually learn something. Today had been particularly tiresome as his fellow classmates had discovered the art of chewing paper and then spitting it out like an old- fashioned pea-shooter through the hollow plastic tubing of Bic pens. His curly hair in the back was covered in them as he now contained more white spots than a septic tonsil. Even the teachers frustrated him by referring to him as ‘Boy’ when he had a perfectly good name.
No sooner than the school bell had rung for the end of the day than Brad was off running. Like Indiana Jones in the opening scene of the film Raiders of the Lost Ark, Brad sprinted towards the exit trying to get a head-start on the other Amazonian tribesmen throwing discarded cardboard boxes like boomerang frisbies, hoping to reach sanctuary before he lost his new adult teeth to a fist. Jogging down the Red Lane with a gravity assisted satchel the Nerd World Man made his escape. He had outwitted his tormentors once again who had paused to pick on some slower animals on the Gurnos/Serengeti Plain. In a race with a cheetah only the slowest of two men get devoured and he was determined today it would not be him.
That cross-country training must be finally paying off. In through the front door he leapt, stopping only to grab the remains of last night’s pizza delivery as he went upstairs heading for his safe space. His computer and the Meta Verse. He soon became immersed in an alien world of strange characters with blue hair and tattoos everywhere.
A World not dissimilar to James Cameron’s Avatar – a World he controlled and could interact with fake humans just like on Love Island. As he ‘spawned’ his character onto a planet with moon like craters. He was suddenly approached by a three-breasted semi-naked woman.
“Hello Muscles....why aren’t you handsome!” said the stranger. Brad suddenly had a picture in his head of a slim Ariana Grande. But just in case Brad kept his fingers poised above the X button. This was the button that enabled him to raise his gigantic Highlander sword.
He had encountered virtual sirens like this one before and always erred on the side of caution. “How old are you?” asked the virtual stranger in bubble speak. Brad looked at his spawn clock.
“Two minutes old!” the keyboard warrior replied also in caption form.
“What’s a good- looking thing like you doing in a place like this?”
Brad wasn’t sure whether to press the X button and strike or continue the Artificial Intelligence chat. He decided on the latter.
“Why don’t we go over to the power juice bar and I can buy you some liquid steroids ?”
Brad followed the stranger – interested to see where this new emotion of affection might lead him. He did after all have some stirrings in his Nether Regions that he could not explain even if he could put his finger on it.
“The bar takes payment by bitcoin or if you go to your Mother’s handbag and get her credit card its free!” said Three Tit. Brad paused the game and went downstairs to get the requested card.He could hear that his Mother was in the shower.
“Schwartzenwigga .....do you have the card?” asked the stranger. Brad typed back “Yes!”
“Good Boy!”
“ Now read me the long numbers off the middle there should be 12 of them!”
Brad started to get suspicious. “Why did the stranger call me Boy when I am a man in this World?” He still typed in the numbers but more slowly this time.
“Well done Boy!” replied the stranger.
She called me Boy again he thought.
“What do you want to drink?... Power Juice....Steroid Surprise.... or a Tiny Cocktail?” questioned the Tri-mammoried Avatar.
“Power Juice please!” Brad replied knowing his character would take on extra energy for the game ahead.
“Okay Boy can you read me the expiry date on the card?” continued the stranger.
“Why do you need that?” typed back Brad hackles beginning to raise. He then typed the numbers.
“And finally Boy ....what about the three numbers on the signature strip....its so we can both pay for the Power Juice of course!” replied the Alien Avatar.
Brad began to smell a cyber rat.
“I can’t find them!” he typed.
“Boy ...look on the back of the card!” demanded the stranger.
“Sorry I can’t see it....the numbering is too small for my limited eyesight!” replied Brad frustrating the efforts of the Avatar who was now paused with three tits swaying angrily like a cat’s cradle.
“I say there Boy.... do you have a web cam?” asked the stranger.
The Avatar had now called Brad ‘Boy’ more times than cartoon rooster Foghorn Leghorn.
“Yes....a Spiderman Web cam from my Mother for Christmas!” said Brad.
“Good...then switch on then Boy and put the card up close to the camera!” ordered the stranger.
From his early schooling through to present day, Brad was hard-wired to do what he was told by adults but coming from Merthyr he had been born with the rebel streak. He was no longer confident that the alluring semi-naked space alien that was the other end in cyber-space was who she claimed to be, but in his innocence, he didn’t know what harm it could do to give his mother’s information out. He did however, reach across his desk fumbling for something. As the two-way camera whirred into action, the sight that met his bespectacled eyes was not what he had expected.
It was not the beautiful US cheerleader schoolgirl that he had imagined but a fifty year old man sat in stained vest and y-fronts squinting back at him trying to see the card. Brad turned the laser pen on full beam blinding the Yankee Con-Man as Brad took on the mantle of his old man -an alternative Flash Gordon and ‘Boy’ had he been ‘merciless’ to that Minging creature at the other end of that lens. Just like Mannfred the other Man had been ‘blinded by the light’ and the Nerd World Man had triumphed over the First World one.
The Welsh worm had turned.
It was December 13th 2023 and the delegates at the United Nations Climate Change Conference known as C.O.P 28 in Dubai the capital of the United Arab Emirates were just about to conclude matters, when the heavy golden double doors flew open and a size 10 Railtrack Boot appeared followed rapidly by a leg belonging to Welshman Morgan Chamber.
