The food got cut off. All I could think about was food. When I was high, my mouth was hungry. Now, it was my stomach. A whole different kind of hunger. Even my teeth were shooting pain.

I hated myself. What a stupid idiot I was. Stupid beyond belief. I didn’t deserve love. Not from Mom. Not from the king. Or Ghada. I was a complete and utter idiot. I didn’t even know if I could type, or even work my computer. I was in my room again. I missed Christmas. It was yesterday. I guess I was so hungry that by the time I got dragged home, it hit me. Christmas. What a bunch of shit. All my friends getting gifts. These idiots didn’t know what was about to shoot up their butts. I’d been using my Heftyvision like a psycho. As soon as that 23 minutes came up, I hit that FLOW state. I’d programmed every possible aspect of the plan. The second that bomb hits Cleveland, the king is over. The only thing I hadn’t linked to the drone strike network was my location. Unfortunately, I thought the king will be with me, so he would still be alive. My beautiful crypto rig, on the other hand, would be toast. The second those servers explode all that Bitcoin would be erased. I was doin’ the world a favor. With that much money out of the system, everyone’s Bitcoin would skyrocket. I might even stabilize the market.

I could have kept it. I could’ve. Just find someone and shoot them 8.1 Billion dollars. Now that would have pissed off the king. But I would so be dead. But I could also keep that 8.1 billion. Give it to some crazy slimeball somewhere in the world and try and hack it back from them when I got out of there.

Just then, the king came in. He was eating a big old chunk of lamb in some bread. God, I hated him and his eyes. He was taunting me. Taunting my stomach. “Yullah,” he said, motioning me to come with him.

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Instead, I said, “Lala. Give me food.”

He smiled. Those idiot teeth. Then he took a monstrous chunk out of his sandwich. He chewed it like 7 times, then dropped it out of his mouth.

Plop.

He turned and walked out. I planned to eat it. I waited a second, then grabbed the food when I felt I had some privacy. Hm. So that’s what the King tasted like, cigarettes. It had to be the best tasting lamb I’ve ever had, but I had been so hungry I couldn’t think of what good lamb tasted like. This was the standard now.

Then the king emerged and swiftly kicked my stomach. I heard my potbelly slap against my groin. I spit out the food. Then I felt the rest of the “sandwich” hit my face.

“Eat,” was all he said.

You know what’s worse than 7-times-chewed food? Food caked in sand.

I got back to work. Every 23 minutes, I “Heftyvised”. My algorithm was getting pretty frickin’ awesome. I’d encrypted it so hard an AI would cuss trying to decrypt it. Pretty much every button the B-2 pilot pushes will execute another task. Sending coordinates. Selling Bitcoin. Shooting bombs up ISIS bungholes. And this way, I wouldn’t have to do anything. it was like I wasn’t killing a stadium of people. Like did the guillotine dude kill all those people? No. He just came up with an awesome invention. I just got to watch it all happen.

I couldn’t tell the authorities, whoever would be listening, where Mom was. I thought about it. If I did, the cops would show up. That means sirens. The king could hear those. He would kill her before anyone saved her.

I didn’t trust Mom’s hitman to go out without a fight. I wondered what would happen if the GoPro died?

Mom would be safe.

And I wouldn’t have to blow up the Browns.

I waited another 23 minutes, Samir still giving me that look. That what-are-you-scheming? kind of look.

Well, guess what, Samir? In 23 minutes, I WON’T tell you. Mainly because I don’t know what it is yet.

But I knew there had to be a way to avoid all this.

I at least had to try… and I thought I knew where to start.

Sorry Emma, but you and your Ferrari house were about to become my pawn. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. You won’t get in too much trouble. Just remember, you can always blame Hefty.

And as soon as the 23 minutes came in, and the Heftyvision came on, it hit me.

If Mom lived, and the Browns lived

What would happen to me?