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One day she opened her inbox to find a mail that said Open Me. So she did. It read:
"Hello. By opening this mail you have released the BlahBlah virus. All the love letters you ever wrote have just been opened, digitally read, and resent to different lovers. All the gossip you passed on about your boss has been forwarded to her, and all the porn sites you stored in your secret H drive have been sent to your neighbours with your face airbrushed into the images. But never fear. The attack is now over, and although you will suffer some embarrassing social consequences, you will overcome them and your life will be better and more honest for the experience. Tomorrow you will receive a mail with the subject line "Heal Me". This mail contains the code you require to purge your system of the BlahBlah Virus. Be happy."
The next day her neighbours weren't speaking to her and every single one of her lovers had emailed their departure notes. As she carefully filed away each one, she received a mail with "Heal Me" in the subject line. She was uncertain as to whether this was a trick, but decided to risk it. After all, healing is such a wondrous thing. She opened it. It was a voice mail. It whispered:
"Hello. By opening this mail you have released the BleeBlah virus. All the food in your fridge has gone suddenly rancid and your dog just ran under a car. You have forgotten to pick up your kid from school and World War III has broken out down the road. Your lipstick has turned into the colour which suits you least and all the A's you ever got at school have been regraded to E's. But never fear. The attack is now over, and although you will suffer some painful personal consequences, you will overcome them and your life will be better and more honest for the experience. Tomorrow you will receive a mail with the subject line "Fix Me". This mail contains the code you require to purge your system of the BleeBlah Virus. Remember - tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life."
In the morning her kid still hadn't returned from school and her boss's secretary had called to say her services were no longer required. She couldn’t bear to look in the mirror, her lipstick was so vile. The "Fix Me" email arrived but should she open it? Third time lucky, she thought. She clicked on the tiny envelope and immediately the front doorbell rang.
"Hello," it said, as it wiped its feet on the mat, "By opening that mail you have released me. I am the BleeBlee virus. This will be my easy chair. That will be my breakfast. Please make sure the eggs are over-easy. You'll enjoy having me here, and although you'll suffer some annoying personal consequences, you will overcome them, and your life will be better and more honest for the experience. I think we'll be happy together."
