[ WP ] You live in a world where you do n't tell people about yourself , they do . Furthermore everything they say about you becomes true .

“ Thank you for coming, ” Tobias said and, with a weak smile, closed the door. 
 
 The house, after an afternoon alive with the respectful murmur of the wake, was now empty. Tobias stood in the empty hallway for a moment and noticed, bemused, that his sadness at his mother ’ s passing had left him along with his last guest. What replaced it however, was even more unwelcome. Fear gripped him as he made his way upstairs to change, stiff fingers tugging at the tie which now seemed to be choking him. With his mother gone there was no-one left to undo the backtalker ’ s work. He wondered how far he would make it tomorrow. 
 
 As it turned out, it was further than he would ever have imagined. 
 
 His first test came the following morning, on the bus to work. Ever since his boss had told him he was “ a hard worker ”, Tobias had been unable to miss work for anything but the most exceptional circumstances. His mother ’ s death had meant his first day off in nearly 3 years. 
 
 As usual he caught the 8:38 from the corner of his street. The buses ran like clockwork in most places ( it was common practice for bus companies to tell their employees they were “ punctual, courteous and safe drivers ” upon hiring ), and as he boarded the bus and headed for his usual seat, his eyes flicked past the faces around him. Dez. His presence could be relied on almost as readily as the bus ’ s punctuality. With cropped hair, jutting jaw and intricate tattoos, Dez was a typical backtalker. Rumour had it he should be locked up, but he told the prison officers that they were best mates. He got his tattoos for free for the same reason. Backed up by an extensive network of skinhead friends of his, Dez was protected from reciprocal attacks which would be noticed and undone by his mates. And woe betide anyone who messed with a backtalker. Dez sauntered over as the bus pulled away. 
 
 “ Morning, Tubs ” came the usual greeting. Tobias didn ’ t respond. 
 
 “ Your nose is looking particularly big today, Tubs. ” 
 
 Christ, he wasn ’ t wasting time today. Tobias grimaced as he felt his nose swell and redden until he took on the appearance of an alcoholic. 
 
 “ Please, Dez. Don ’ t. ” 
 
 “ I don ’ t know why you bother Tubs, I really don ’ t ” came the reply. 
 
 By the time Tobias got off the bus, as well as his swollen nose, he had a badly receding hairline, shoelaces tied together and mustard stains on his suit. 
 
 Thankfully it had all been physical today. Tobias ’ s mind was still his own, and it buzzed with fear and rage as he made his way to the office, the snickers of Dez and his gang receded into the distance. 
 
 “ Tobias, Mr Schaefer wants to see you in his office. ” Becky the secretary put down the phone without waiting for a reply. Tobias sighed, put aside his work and trudged to the front of the floor, past cubicles of colleagues, none of whom paid him any attention. 
 
 Mr Schaefer was a tall, muscular man with great hair. Tobias reckoned his wife had told him to be that way, or maybe some family member. Either way it was unlikely that Mr Schaefer had always been like this. You could tell by the way he acted. Although only a lowly sales manager, he ran his team like a slave driver. 
 
 “ Sit down ” he ordered, as soon as Tobias had closed the office door behind him. 
 
 “ I see once again you have failed to properly dress yourself for work this morning ”, Schaefer noted, peering down his nose at Tobias ’ s mustard-stained shirt. 
 
 That hurt. Schaefer knew full well that Tobias got backchat on the way to work, having seen him with a different deformity or ailment practically every day. Yet he still picked him out as a target. 
 
 “ Your output is down this month. This is not acceptable. ” 
 
 Until that moment, Tobias had been on track to meet this month ’ s output target. But as soon as the words left Schaefer ’ s mouth, he felt himself forgetting the contents of presentations, growth startegies and sales targets slipping from his mind. Feeling anger rising in him like it never had before, Tobias knew that no matter what he did, he would now miss his targets, just as his boss said. Without his mother there was no way to undo Shaefer ’ s meddling. 
 
 “ You ’ re going to keep slipping at work, lose control and home and eventually leave me no choice but to fire you ” Shaefer continued, a cruel smile on his lips. “ Why should I keep you around when I can replace you with someone else at least as hard working as you, who doesn ’ t get backchat on his way to work every day? ” 
 
 He had said it. Admitted he knew exactly what was going on. Yet still he persisted in this ridiculous and unjustified attack. As Tobias felt himself losing the will to work, begin craving a drink, he snapped. No-one was going to mess with his mind like this ever again. Coldly, he stood and spoke for the first time since he had arrived at work. 
 
 “ You ’ re a fat f****r, Schaefer. A worthless, spineless waste of space with no 
 future in this company. ” 
 
 Schaefer ’ s eyes widened in horror as he began to expand, a huge beer belly straining at his shirt, buttons popping and fabric tearing. He began to speak, revenge undoubtedly on his mind. 
 
 “ You- “ 
 
 “ YOU ’ RE MUTE, SCHAEFER. YOU CAN ’ T SPEAK! ” screamed Tobias, as his now fat and spineless boss collapsed onto the floor gurgling indistinctly. 
 
 Towering over him, defiance in his eyes, it was then that Tobias learnt the true power of the backtalker. 
 
 “ Think you can push me around, huh? ” 
 
 “ You ’ re a dead man. ” 
 

