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Mr Facebook Chat

Toby’s Facebook behaviour is as fucked up as making eye contact with the naked guy in a gym changing room while he’s polishing his old man scrotum. To his male contacts he is as unsettling as a quiet guy with a monobrow, but towards random females, he is as creepy as Gary Busey wearing a clown mask made out of warm human skin.

It’s an unnerving 6:45am on a Thursday morning when Toby logs to terrorise the good people of Facebook. He spots a bloke he went to school with 11 years ago, he clicks on his name and is presented with a sinister chat history, 12 unanswered “hey” messages. Toby briefly ponders his “friends” lack of chit chat and devises a cunning plan to get a response from him, he types slowly and meaningfully, “hey”. Genius. Just throw that “hey” on the conversational garbage heap that Toby has shamelessly created.

It’s 11am, and Toby decides to chat to a female contact that occasionally sends him a pity response, “lol rememba wen I puked on ya front lawn in year 10?” The desperation is thicker than the Vegemite on an uninitiated ethnic guy’s piece of toast. She responds, “hey Toby, na”. This is Toby’s time to shine, he has managed to wrangle an actual conversation with a human female, time to bring out the big guns, “lol”. Toby’s empty and creepy “lol” has sent shivers up her spine. If you could bottle a chat with Toby, it would smell like a heavy breathing taxi driver angrily leering at you through his rearview mirror. Seen but un-replied.

Toby’s comment on a Human Zoo article manages to get 8 likes. Sleaze drips off his fangs like a trench-coat wearing spider that has felt the tingle of a 17-year-old fly getting trapped in his web of crusty tissues. One of the people who liked his comments happens to be a deliciously busty female with a semi-public Facebook profile: the holy grail of Inbox sex pests. He begins the waltz, “hey add me lol”. Hmm, no response. “you are so beautiful lol”. Seconds pass, and Toby begins to get impatient, “did u block me lol”. Does this bitch not know what she’s missing? “You look so hot babe lol, add me ay”. Toby is now simmering like a slow cooker full of restraining orders and zip ties, “fuck off then ya slut”. Woah.

Toby mate, you are as well adjusted as a cross-dressing prison guard that pays a prostitute to call him a faggot. He is still seething from that “slut” ignoring his messages and goes on a vicious friend request marathon. Finally, a girl accepts, “hey how do I know you”. Toby licks his lips, “random add, hope you don’t mind”.

She minds Toby, they all mind.

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