Since the thing with my planned abstinence works just as well as my fucking crap dishwasher, I take heart from an advice from the Internet – first take a deep breath. The stench from the defective device forces me after one hundredth of a breath, however, to the oral air supply – which in turn upsets me so much that I beat the junk one more time and sprain my fist.

Afterwards I even scream at the computer, why the hell does it tell me, with a little breathing everything is great? Asshole technique, do take a deep breath yourself. Furiously I throw the laptop into the filthy no-name dishwasher and beat against it with my sprained hand once more – barely as the door closes, the thing actually starts to wash. Had I known how easy that is, I’d have thrown a computer in there a lot sooner.

After all the excitement I need something for my nerves – the best of all publishers gifted me vodka, thank God. I promise myself and my liver to move Ramadan to 2020, while I fill my coffee cup with Stolichnaja and check my e-mails on my mobile phone, as the other internet device is just being drowned.

Strangely enough, I discover a message sent from my own account. When I finished reading it, I breathe as deeply as I can. Besides I also count to a hundred to calm myself down. At one hundred and one the Samsung bangs against the booze – God seems to have compassion and lets both survive.

“What the hell is the matter with you,” inquires Mr. L., who breezes in as unexpectedly as the blackmail enamel just received.

“What the heck do you want here? I’m in enough trouble as it is, just leave me alone,” I try to get rid of him.

He doesn’t understand a word of what I’m saying, the bumping noises of the two electrical appliances even drown out my hysterical nagging. He eyes me up in a baffled way, shaking his head to open the dishwasher.

„What the fuck …?“

I reach for that bottle of vodka, he is aghast.

“No more money for the antivirus program, or why are you washing your PC with the spaghetti strainer,” he inquires.

“Because you’re sexually and emotionally inept.”

How can the guy be so slow-witted? How can one even be viable with such a birdbrain?

“And you lunatic completely waste yourself in the morning, run riot your place and fuck my brain to pulp.”

As if that were justification enough, I scroll down the display of the phone to show him the mail.

As you may have notices, I sent you an email from your own acount.
This means that I have full access to your account.
I’ve been watching you for a few months now.
The fact is that you were infected with malware through an adult website you visited.
If you’re not familiar with it, I’ll explain it to you.
The Trojan virus gives me complete access and control over a computer or other device.
This means I can see everything on your screen, turn on the camera and microphone, but you don’t know anything about it.
I also have access to all your contacts and your correspondence.
Why didn’t your antivirus detect any malware?
Answer: My malware uses the driver.
I update the signatures every four hours to prevent your antivirus from being engaged.
I made a video that shows you how to satisfy yourself …
in the left half of the screen,
and in the right half, you’ll see the video you were watching.
With one click I can send this video to all your emails and contacts on social networks.
I can also access all your email correspondence and messengers that you use to post.
If you want to prevent this, transfer the amount of 337€ to my Bitcoin address
(if you don’t know how to do this, write to Google: “Buy Bitcoin”).
My Bitcoin address (BTC Wallet) is: 1G1qFoadiDxa7zTvppSMJhJi63tNUL3cy7
After payment I delete video and you will never hear me again.
I give you 48 hours to pay.
I receive a notification that you have read this letter, and the timer works when you see this letter.
It does not make sense to file a complaint anywhere, as this e-mail cannot be tracked.
I make no mistakes.
If I find out that you have shared this message with another person, video will be distributed immediately.

Mister L.’s tone becomes a nuance softer when he has finished reading and turns to me again:

“And why am I to blame for everything?”

Pumping air into the lungs to the limit three times, trying to find self-control.

“If you idiot had penetrated me properly, I wouldn’t have to watch online porn all the time. Then I wouldn’t have caught a virus, but at most a Playstation. And if you had repaired my dishwasher, my computer would still be alive. It’s all your fault – is it so hard to understand?”

His understanding nod doesn’t quite match the suppressed grin that just won’t disappear from his face.

“You’re an idiot, I hate you.”

He smiles. “The more often I hear that from you, the more it loses its effect, babe.”

“Oh, yeah? Then fuck yourself. And besides, your penis is hanging crooked, you insensitive son of a bitch,” I yell at him, running out of the apartment angry and barefoot, and to prove that I’m serious, I slam the front door as well.

“Honey, you don’t have to flee from your own apartment,” I can hear him calling.

Well, he’ll be surprised …