Did you piss off your significant other so bad that he or she or they:

a) took a baseball bat to your RME, or
b) threw it at you with intent to inflict harm but somehow missed and hit the fridge instead, or
c) all of the above

and yet still works despite the gash in its carcass case through which you can see that millipede called AKM something still soldered to the board? Well, bust your buttons and call yourself lucky because here I am, willing to pay money to relieve you of the item that's PTSD-ing you at circa 3:28 in the morning in your local timezone.

I shouldn't need to clarify, but truly, I am not interested in cherries, only in survivors that are priced according to their wounds.