Hacked!

It’s a dimly lit closet of a room. Just wide enough for a desk and big enough for a single chair. Needless to say it’s an uncomfortably tight fit with Bobby Dean seated behind the illuminated screen on the small laptop. A pair of half moon style bifocals sit perched low along the bridge of his nose, as if he were a tenured professor counting down the days before retirement.

He looks old, fat, and out of place, is what I’m trying to say.

Leaning closer towards the screen he reads aloud, “Login…” followed by the sound of a single finger poking at the keys. Smiling, he drags his fat finger along the track pad and clicks on the next box. “Password… Shit, what was the super long and very complicated password she gave me?”

This couldn’t be it, could it? Stymied already?

“Oh yeah!” Bobby happily exclaims before looking down at his forearm. A 32-alphanumerical combination is penciled along the length of his arm with a black felt tip sharpie. It’s a bit faded and jagged now, but it’s apparently still there. Mostly.

Try not to think about the fact that it should have been showered off by now, I mean, he hasn’t logged into this website for over a year now, right? Could he be that disgusting?

Yes. Yes I could.

The single pecking of the keys commences, which takes longer than it should. Upon completion he drags the mouse along the screen and hits “Log In” only for an error message to appear. “Wait, what!? Did they revoke my access?”

Bobby looks down at his forearm once more and realizes, “Oh shit, I forgot I need to capitalize these stupid letters!”

Three tries later he’s finally logged in, “Beat that Snowden.”

It takes all of 5 minutes for the master hacker known amongst the script kiddies as 3033Y, to craft a simple, yet elegant message. It took you all of 1 minute to click the link and read aloud.

“Hello PRIME! I miss all of your feces!”

Please pretend that it reads faces and not feces. Please.