Card

The Card – Tempeh

Tempeh, yeah, his mum had named him after some goddamned Indonesian fake meat, sat in front of his computer and looked at the page in front of him. He had entered the address on the black card that the bloke who had killed himself had left and it took him to a page with a single line of text above an input bar.

ENTER REQUEST

What the fuck did that even mean? Like, a web request, some kind of a hacking thing, or like was it some genie wish-granting motherfucker that would give him bitches and clothes? Tempeh, T to his friends mind you, sat there and stared at it for a long time as he pondered the existential questions of whether or not this thing was legit. He didn’t give two bloody squirts if it was legal, he had stopped caring about that shit a long while back. He was a thief by trade, sold the shit he nicked on the Internet, bought some drugs and computer things with the money he got. It was a good, reciprocal relationship. It sucked for the people he robbed, but that was the way of things. Survival of the fittest and all of that. Tempeh was a big believer in Social Darwinism, even if he had no idea what that was. If you couldn’t get by on your own, why the hell should you get by at all then? Goddamn pensioners and fucks on the dole and he was supposed to care about them? Fuckers got themselves in that position, so fuck all of that nonsense.

In a moment of clarity or maybe deluded optimism, Tempeh knew what he was going to type into the little bar there. Even if it was a joke site, it would make him feel better to type it out and get it out of his head. His fingers, long since versed in the keyboard arts, flew over the keys as he typed out the semi-long sentence and smiled.

“I want all them pricks on the dole and the pensioners to have it nice and cushy. rich as barons and twice as happy about it. They can has all the money they want with no badside for them at all.”

Now, other than not exactly being a scholar of the language he was typing, he thought he was doing the world a huge service. I mean, what better thing could he do than to make all the poor folk rich? He would be a god among men and they would never know he did it because that is the way he wanted it. He slammed his finger into the enter key and laughed, the screen goes black like he thought it might.

REQUEST GRANTED

The black screen flashed those two words in bright green text and Tempeh laughed along with the joke the computer had with him and forgot about it all instantly and went to a few sites to see what of that bloke’s shit he could sell.

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