As he kicked off his shoes he opened the fridge door and peered in. It looked not unlike the average jungle in nature programmes. He wondered how long it had been since he had last cleaned it out, and realised it was the wrong question to ask. The person to clean this thing last, as well as the three dozen times before, no longer lived there. He moved aside something that looked like it had once grown from a tree but now resembled more of a fluffy root vegetable and stared beyond it at a huge lump of ice that had formed at the back. That was not good. But not something he would worry himself about on a Friday night.
   He moved down a shelf and picked up a plastic container with a sell-by date so distantly in the past he couldn't estimate how many governments around the world had fallen since. Whatever had been in there when it was bought, by now its contents must surely have been altered even to the chemical core. He picked it up and very carefully discarded it in the waste bin, curiously but carefully checking whether it would explode as it hit yesterday's rock hard pepperoni pizza at the bottom. Disappointed it didn't so much as pop he went back to the fridge and managed to extract a bottle of beer from the back.
   After a bit of rummaging around the kitchen counter he found a tool that could reasonably be assumed to have been designed to open bottles and he popped off the cap with great satisfaction. When he had chucked it towards the bin and missed by a good few inches he sauntered through the hallway and into his living room. Once he had flicked on the lights and pressed the big blue button on his computer he opened a drawer and sifted through his cassette tapes. Eventually he decided on the Beach Boys. Taking the occasional swig from his beer bottle he pulled a tape by the Rolling Stones out of the tape deck, and casually flung it onto the big chair in front of the telly. He inserted the new tape and pressed play.
   His mouse seemed to have disappeared since the last time he saw it, and he had to remove several sections of the Independent on Sunday from his desk before he recovered it. He picked it up and his computer screen flicked on.
   You have no new messages.
Great. It was bad enough his friends and siblings weren't talking to him; now even porn sites and Viagra companies had given up on him. This was surely a new low to reach in life. He took another gulp from his beer bottle, realised he had nearly finished it already, and casually clicked on the inexplicable icon associated with the messenger software on his PC before digging back into his jungle fridge in the kitchen.
   Upon his return he studied the list of contacts that were online. And there she was. The third one from the bottom. Kitten. He hovered the wee arrow over her name. He should just say hello. It's not like she never wanted to speak to him again, was it? But then maybe he would seem too eager, like he was obsessing. He would only alienate her even further. Slowly he pressed the button down once. Her name turned blue, followed immediately by a loud electronic noise best described as a ploing-sound.
   Speed King says: hey
   Speed King says: how's u?
Deaf. That's how he was. He reached over and turned down the sound on his computer before replying. He moved the mouse away from Kitten's still illuminated name and instead clicked on the window blinking at him. How was he doing? He looked at the keyboard and typed very severely fucked thanks. You? Then he hit backspace and deleted the whole line. No need to get melodramatic.
   He tried again. Bit down. Nah. Again he deleted the line. Not bad, he tried. But he knew he wouldn't be fooling anyone. Nobody takes that long to tell someone they are 'not bad'. He drew the mouse across it, hit delete and with his right index finger plonked in five keys one by one, slowly and carefully, as though to make a point to someone who wasn't there.
   My Little Demon says: fine
First line and he was already lying. Good start to the evening. He clicked back onto the list of contacts and stared at the name in blue. Couldn't hurt to say hello. Just out of politeness. She wouldn't think anything of it. Decidedly he double-clicked on the name and a new window opened up. He stared at the blinking cursor and wondered what would be the least conspicuous greeting.
   Another ploing. He would have to find out how to switch that thing off without disconnecting his speakers.
   Speed King says: cool
Right behind the word there was a yellow face with a grin he would normally associate with maniacs driving very fast down country lanes after consuming extraordinarily copious amounts of drugs. Grown men certainly shouldn't employ these kinds of silly pictures, especially while they were talking to other grown men. It made him feel as though he was being groomed by a paedophile.
   Speed King says: wht ru up 2 2nite?
And that was another thing grown men shouldn't do. If he wanted to solve riddles he would have been doing the crossword, not sitting behind his computer. He deciphered the code and keyed in his reply.
   My Little Demon says: not sure
It was another lie. He was going to sit around and mope. He was going to play the Beach Boys louder and louder as he steadily got more drunk. He would also watch a really bad movie on either Channel 4 or 5 and quite probably at the end of the night he would visit websites that came with a warning regarding adult content, and, should he feel like it, masturbate to pictures of half or completely naked women. But none of this was any of Steve's business.
   Speed King says: cool
   Speed King says: brb
   Speed King says: need a piss
This was not information he required, nor particularly wanted, but at least it was written in English. He decided this was a good time to get himself another beer and upon returning to his computer he looked back at the blank screen he had opened.
   Kitten is away
Shit.
   He should have said hello. Who knows where she had gone off to now. Or maybe she noticed his name and decided to pretend she wasn't there. To stop him from talking to her. But then she would have done that when he first appeared. He clicked the window away, and once again he found himself staring at a dark blue square with her nickname in the middle. Perhaps she was waiting for him to say something. Because she was the one that finished things she could very well feel awkward to start talking to him, but maybe she was really hoping he would get in touch. Either way though, it was too late now.
   Ploing.
   Speed King says: u there?
   My Little Demon says: ay
   Speed King says: u wn2 huv a drink l8er
He did this on purpose, surely. No other person in the world would write such nonsense. And that with an entire keyboard at his disposal. He stared at the sentence. You ... have a drink ...
   This was like doing a French Higher. Context was of the utmost importance. Just as he came to realise the last word started with an L rather than the number 18 a rather rudimentary beer glass appeared on his screen. Yes, he understood that part, thank you. You ... have a drink later. That made sense at least. He could confidently fill in the blanks. And add a question mark. But he was still intrigued.
   wn2. Sounds like wntoo. No word he knew sounded like wntoo. He looked back at the sentence. Want to. That's not fair. Contractions are not allowed. And if they are, they shouldn't be.
   My Little Demon says: not sure. Maybe
   Ploing.
Bastard noise.
   Delta Lady is online
That was good news. Jen would keep him entertained tonight. He went back to the list of people online and just as he double-clicked her name he noticed Kitten had reappeared as well. He moved the mouse back over her name and highlighted it again. He couldn't just say hello. It would be too casual. She would never fall for that. What he needed was a good excuse to talk to her. An earthquake in some faraway place they had been planning to visit. He slid the mouse down his desk and opened the BBC news website.
   No earthquakes. No mudslides, volcanoes erupting or forest fires. There weren't even floods in Bangladesh. The world had certainly managed to pick a day not to cause havoc.
   Ploing.
   Delta Lady says: hey there handsome
How sweet.
   My Little Demon says: hey sexy. How are things in Canada?
   Delta Lady says: cold. and scotland?
   My Little Demon says: cold.
   My Little Demon says: and wet
   Delta Lady says: lol
   The tape came to an abrupt halt halfway through a song, and a short click followed. Expectantly he looked at his stereo, which started doing a lot more clicking and for some reason he had never been able to fathom instead of just playing the other side of the tape it switched decks and all of a sudden he was listening to a strangely soothing female voice talking complete and utter bollocks.
   My Little Demon says: give me a minute
   He pushed himself back in the desk chair and paddled the last few yards to the stereo. He pressed stop, and took out the tape. Then he pressed play on the other deck to get his tape started again, and looked at the cassette he had just removed. It was a self-help motivational tape to build up your self esteem, and he hated it with all his heart.
   It worked, to be sure. Far too well as far as he was concerned. About three weeks into the course his girlfriend made her first resolute decision. She was going to be an artist. A week later she made another; that she was going to be a single artist. That was most definitely not why he had bought her the set of tapes and books, which she had kindly left behind when she took all of her stuff, and some of his, with her on her way out.
   He pushed himself back towards his desk and started rooting around the pile of paper on the desk, theatrically throwing parts of the newspaper over his shoulder to be picked up or slipped on later.
   Delta Lady says: problem?
Not really. He had just found a cigarette lighter.
   My Little Demon says: just burning some bridges
   He held the tape over his desk and lit a flame underneath. Staring into the glow he felt an empty space in his stomach. He blamed it on a lack of supper and this tape. Not only had it ruined his relationship, but now it had the audacity to refuse to burn. The corner he was trying to set alight merely melted away slowly. This was no fun.
   He let go of the lighter and reached over to grab the book that came with the tape. On the back there was a picture of the author. He held it steady and carefully pressed the molten plastic onto her face. Holding it down he blew on the base to cool it down, and eventually let go. It stayed up perfectly straight.
   Delta Lady says: ???
   My Little Demon says: I think we can safely conclude I am not yet over my ex.
   Delta Lady says: why?
   My Little Demon says: I just set fire to her motivation tape
No reply. He quickly checked whether Kitten was still there. She was indeed.
   Ploing.
   Delta Lady says: are you serious?
   My Little Demon says: ay. Wouldn't burn though. Just smells really bad. Stuck it to a book. Looks very nice. Like art. I think I'll call it 'therapy'.
   Instead of a reply she just sent him another one of those yellow faces, this one looking as though it was preparing for the blowjob of a lifetime. He failed to see how this was appropriate, so he looked back at the list of people.
   Say something. Anything. He stared at her highlighted name as if he could send telepathic signals through the phone line, but he soon gave up. If she wanted to talk to him she would have done so by now. Maybe he should just go and watch that really bad movie. But then she might say something just as he was sprawled out in front of the telly and he was guaranteed to miss it.
   Who was he kidding anyway? She knew he was there. He had been online for ages by now. She must have seen him. Unless of course she didn't check her list. Maybe she was engaged in conversation with one of her friends, or her cousins, and would have said something had she known he was there. He would have to start a conversation.
   But then, if she didn't want to speak to him, she would only say something back out of politeness, and that was hardly what he was hoping for.
   Suddenly it came to him. He moved the mouse down again and logged off. He walked into the kitchen, got himself another beer and walked back into the living room, reconnecting once he had sat down. That would send her a message he was now online.
   Ploing.
   Ploing.
This noise was going to drive him bonkers.
   Speed King says: hey
Exactly the right response; wrong person. He clicked the other window.
   Delta Lady says: what happened?
Mmm.
   My Little Demon says: had to restart
Well, he did in a way.
   Delta Lady says: thank god. was afraid you had burned the house down. lol
Very funny indeed, Jen.
   Ploing.
   A separate window popped into existence at the bottom of his screen. His heart leapt. He knew she would talk to him eventually!
   Dirty Davey is online
Piss off, Dave.
   Ploing.
   Speed King says: how bout tht drink?
It was slowly becoming more tempting. All his other planned activities could just as easily be carried out after closing time. And clearly he was not getting anywhere with his ex.
   My Little Demon says: ay, alright then. Grassmarket in half an hour?
   Speed King says: cool
   Speed King says: cu there
   He stared at the window. This was slowly driving him nuts. He now had only ten minutes before he had to go. It was now or never. Decisively he clicked away his conversation with Steve and went to his contact list. He looked it over twice. She had just left.