The Sweaty Mess

What if everyone on Earth gave you $1?

That’s the way this all started: answering that question. I was writing a computer program, and I wanted to solve that little, one-dollar question. I started writing this program in Mrs. Freck’s Government class. Back when I was still going to school. I only took her class cause it was in the computer lab. I figured out that I could mine Bitcoin from inside the school. I sat at a different computer every day, and by the time I left school forever, that whole lab was my personal mining bank.

“What kind of government do you think would help the most people?” Mrs. Freck asked the class of monkeys that I was forced to sit next to. That was the assignment she gave us. LAME. Who cares? Instead of doing her bogus assignment, I got busy writing my own computer program based off that one dollar. I will give Mrs. Freck credit: she was the only teacher I had that believed in me. I would write these ridiculous essays in her classes (literally, they were just some hogwash I typed up). She kept talking about how well I wrote. If only you knew what I was really up to, Mrs. Freck. As soon as she walked by, I made sure to change my screen from the code to my “essay”. It was actually how I came up with the whole idea… what if it was the screen that changed.

“You type so fast,” she would tell me, “maybe you belong in Silicon Valley.” Well, if cheating your class made me into a bajillionaire, then thank you, Mrs. Freck. I couldn’t have stolen it all without you.

I mean, I’m so good I can steal whatever I want. After Babtsya died, Mom gave me $500. She let me spend my inheritance. I wasn’t stupid. I bought Bitcoin. Back when it was only $1.08.

The Internet is full of suckers, which is why I win. After Bitcoin went to $700, I built my own computer. I was obsessed with computers and with Bitcoin. I started mining it from Mrs. Freck’s class, and was just getting richer. When you’ve got someone like Mrs. Freck letting you do what you want… you can really do something lit.

I just finished writing this thing called Heftyware. It’s the shit!

What’s Heftyware, you ask? It’s a pretend computer screen. I use it to steal money. Right out of a bank. $1 at a time. It started in Mrs. Freck’s class, but that was amateur hour. Now, I bring it up on any bank app or website. Those banks are so god damn stupid it kills me. They have all this money, and they hire these stupid people to man the stations.

It’s literally just a window I created on people’s bank account pages. Like the ones your mom and dad use to pay for stuff. When they log in, they have to pay this thing called a “monthly service inspection fee” (aka Heftyware in disguise). And they pay it. It’s easy as cheese. I created the screen with one button: [YES]. When they click it, their dollar goes into my Bitcoin wallet.

Every click is $1. And I did it just for fun.

The best part: the bank can’t see anything. That pretend computer screen? My Heftyware? It’s invisible to anyone who doesn’t see it on their own screen. It’s like a ghost screen. Once they pay the “fee”, I’m gone, with their dollar. It’s MY dollar now. I steal from everyone; the people, the bank, the school. I win. And I win 100% of the time. Guaranteed. No one knows who I am. No one knows where my computer is. No one knows… but the Heftyware strikes. Ha-YA!

Many months later, I hit [ENTER] on the keyboard. It was official. My software was running on the dark net. Seeing the “complete” on my screen was fire. I was writing this since before I quit school, but now the Death Star was fully operational. Heftyware was a GO! My half-a-million dollars was about to become… more. Why shouldn’t it? Hell, I’m RICH! It wasn’t enough that those school computers were mining me some Bitcoin. Now, I was running off with anyone’s dollar. Everyone’s dollar. Now this was something I could get used to. Throw some money at Mom. Throw some money at myself.

I fired up FaceTime to call up Johnny. We had to do something crazy to celebrate. The screen loaded and I saw my face from the built-in camera.

There was a lot of scraggly hair. My blue eyes were tiny and dark in my plump face. As soon as I saw myself, I remembered how much I didn’t look like a millionaire.

Old women always told me how they love my hair because it’s got nice curls. I wished girls my age liked it. Every time I stared into my selfie-cam, my face changed into a horrific image. My eyes sunk into my head. My chins bloated. I was fat again. I was always fat. Never mind any push-ups, or sit-ups, or diet pills I got on the dark web. I was still fat. But as my body morphed in front of me, I at least had fun. I grabbed my sagging titties and pretended I was a Mardi Gras dancer. I pushed my gut out and put it in my mouth. It was then that Johnny picked up the FaceTime call, and I quickly hung up on him. Fuck, that’s right, I was trying to call him. In the screen, I was still there, looking down at my nose as if the nostrils were eyes. But I hated my nose. I hated it because everyone said it looks like Mom’s nose.

Yea, I loved Mom, but she wasn’t that good-looking. She was the super ugly, fat parent. So I was trying to lose at least the ugly part. Then girls would like me.

Besides, I wasn’t worthless. I was Hefty. I could move mountains, blow up whole beaches. I was the strongest kid in my class… well, when I was still in school, I was. I could bust anything people gave me, which meant I was basically the biggest badass I knew.

Hefty is big. Hell, consider the name. It isn’t a mistake. God made me big, and Mom kept me fed, from cradle to grave… we’ll see.

Bitcoin, though, it was unreal what you could do with it. I got away with everything, for real. I wasn’t a millionaire, yet. My mom was always crawling up my ass, but I got away with everything. She wasn’t exactly smart since she got cancer, and she didn’t really pay attention.

I mean, I hacked my way out of school. At 14. You can do anything with the internet. Forge Homeschooling docs, get super legit Fake IDs and passports. Within a month, thanks to Mrs. Freck, I was out of school. I started getting Airbnb’s during school hours before I finally got my own secret apartment. Turns out with the right phone-voice mod, I could real fake mom’s voice. CareSyn Real Estate really bent over backwards when they heard the words “terminally ill”. I was only 14 and I was telling adults what to do. Setting prices. I was basically working for myself. I might not have been “living the life,” but dammit if I wasn’t hacking the ever-loving shit out of it.

In no time, Heftyware dollars flooded my Bitcoin wallet. From my Bitcoin wallet to Paypal. From my Paypal into Mom’s bank. From her bank into cash. From cash into reality. I paid for everything.

I am Hefty. Period. Hiding in the suburbs. In a town near you. Maybe next door even. Heftyware was foolproof. I wrote it myself. There was no way anyone could figure it out. I mean, I’m just a kid, with zero adult-supervision.

Who could possibly be watching me?