Cerv

damn, with all the shit talk that goes on around here, I thought that one would be a hit, not hit a nerve. my bad.

I wrote that long before chat gpt was even a spark in openai's virtual nutsack. Just because your adolescent tiktok brain couldn't possibly fathom the idea that humans are capable of creative writing doesn't make it true.

In an effort to add some class to the comment entries, I'll leave the narritive I wrote for my original R&R application way back in 2016 for anyone who cares to read it. It's long, but I'm still proud of it. "I grew up as a boy in the small town of Athira. My family wasn't rich or well off, in fact, I wouldn't even say we got by without too much trouble.. no.. but I, as an only child, always had what I needed. Perhaps not what I wanted all the time, but I always had what I needed. My parents were simple cocaine farmers. Every day after day, they would drive our little truck to the cocaine fields. It was a modest truck, with an open box. Clunky, that's the word my father always used to describe it... it only held about 200 pounds of cocaine which, for all intents and purposes, isn't that much. So my parents would lug around heavy backpacks to carry as much raw cocaine as possible to the processor so they could sell it to the gangs of Altis. It was all they knew, god bless their souls.. It didn't provide them the lavish, luxurious life my mother always dreamt of, but she was happy and that made my father happy. They would fill our clunky truck and their backpacks as full as they could and haul it all down to the cocaine processor. Larry... Larry the cocaine processor. This guy was a real piece of work. I was too young to comprehend at the time, but I remember the fights my parents had after returning from a trip to see Larry as if they were yesterday. Those fights began with my mother yelling at my father for not sticking up to Larry, whom I would later learn took a 40% cut of all the cocaine my parents brought to him. My parents weren't violent people, they just wanted to put in a hard day of work so they could provide a life for themselves and I. My father argued back saying that Larry was a dangerous man, and capable of anything. He feared for the safety of his family... When I was old enough, 8, maybe 9, my parents took me along for my very first cocaine picking field trip. I sat in between them on the bench seat of our clunky truck as we rumbled down the dirt road to the picking field. When we finally arrived one of my most vivid memories was getting out of the truck with an extremely sore behind, wondering how my parents did that trip every. single. day... I was too little to carry a big knapsack so as my parents filled our truck and their carryalls, I stuff as much raw cocaine in my little pockets as I could fit. I was so proud. Even though I didn't have enough to even process a single cocaine rock, I felt like a little superhero helping my parents. When we finished up at the field, it was already starting to get dark... today had taken much longer than usual to fill our cargo and my Mother was concerned about taking me with them to see Larry so late in the evening. My father, however, was too nervous to waste the precious time driving all the way home to drop me off then go to Larry. You see, night time on the island of Altis is extremely dangerous. Gangs roam around all over the place and are known for robbing, kidnapping, and even murdering people who are trying to make an honest living. In the end my mother agreed and we made the trek down to the cocaine processing plant as a family. The first, and last time I would go with my parents on such a journey... I was instructed to stay in the truck while my parents went to negotiate with Larry. I sat quietly with the doors locked outside the large white corrugated metal building, twiddling my thumbs humming to myself. I could hear voices, however, as we were parked close enough to the office which had 2 windows wide open. I could hear my father's voice growing louder, but I couldn't make out what anyone was saying. Now he was yelling. He was yelling so much. It was the angriest I've ever heard my father when he was suddenly silenced. Immediately followed by the scream of a woman. My mother... she sounded like she was crying.. pleading. A gunshot rang out. Then a woman's cry and another gunshot. To my youthful ears, it sounded like the most terrifying thunder crashing straight in my head. I could feel a rush of fear flood through my body. The door to the office swung open and a bulky man stepped out and looked around. He spotted our truck sitting in the dark and began heading my way. My way. He was coming straight at me. I could feel my tiny knees shaking and my heart rate increasing as I tried to sink as low as I could into the cab of our clunky truck. The man began searching through the box of the truck. I can only guess he was looking for more unprocessed cocaine or anything else of value, but as my parents had already unloaded everything, he found nothing. He began heading back to the office when he suddenly stopped and whipped around, facing right at the cab of the truck. I was so scared I didn't even realise I was crying. The man must have heard. As he peered through the passenger side window straight into my eyes he called out in a grizzly voice, "Hey Boss! I've got something in the truck!". He tried to open the door but as my father instructed, I had kept the doors locked. "Go away! Leave me alone!", I cried. The man cocked his arm back and punched straight through the window as if it weren't even there. tempered glass showered me, small pieces making tiny cuts on my face and arms as I screamed in horror. As I yelled I felt a pain in my arm as the man ripped me out of the truck and threw me over his back like a cement bag. I kicked and screamed as he carried me inside. I stopped screaming. I couldn't actually scream, even though it's all I wanted to do. No, instead my mind was concentrating on holding the contents of my stomach down as I gazed upon my parents. My Father, who lay on his back. Blood had soaked through his white shirt covering the stains of sweat and a hard days work. Next to him, my mother. With a small hole in her forehead, but missing most of the rear of her skull. I looked at them, then up at a man standing over me with a 9mm rook in his hand, the barrel still smoking. I could only assume that this was Larry... he was a scrawny character, with deep sunken eyes and long hair slicked back around the top of his head. He gazed into my tear drenched eyes and said, "You see, son? You see what happens when you try to take more than you deserve?". I begged him to call the paramedics. These angels of life are known for performing medical miracles, bringing people back from the brink of death, and even from death itself! He laughed. He laughed so hard. As he pulled out a cell phone, dialled the R&R number and handed me the phone. "Altis Repair and Recovery, what is your emergency?", a voice answered on the other end of the phone. "M, m, my parents! Please come help! They were shot!", I whimpered into the cell phone, still trying to keep from vomiting all over my parents. "Keep calm, Son, where are you?", replied the voice. "We.. we're, we're at the cocaine processing plant! Please! Please help me!", I cried. Larry and his thug were still chuckling at this point, as if they knew something I didn't. "Son, listen to me now." Said the voice with a very somber tone, "I'm very sorry, Son, we can't go there. The cocaine processing plant is an illegal, restricted area and our EMT's are not authorised to go there unless escorted by the APD. And they are all guarding the Federal Reserve right now. All of the authorised Paramedics are with them as well. I'm very sorry, Son." I yelled into the phone, "NO! WAIT! PLEASE COME HELP!! MY PARENTS ARE DEAD! THEY WERE SH-", but before I could finish the voice on the other side of the line hung up. I fell to my knee's crying, listening to the dull tone on the phone... the room began to get blurry.. the laughter of Larry and his thug sounded further, and further away. "EMTs... they.. they will come... they have to come..." I murmured as the room fell to black. My eyes slowly opened. I recognised the ceiling. I was laying in my own bed. Remembering what had happened I sat up like a bullet, but.. it felt like a dream, or rather, a nightmare.. no.. it couldn't be real. I must have been dreaming. I went to rub away the morning goo from my eyes but instead pain rushed through my face and hands. I stared at my arms... small cuts... but how?! what hap... The glass... it started to dawn on me... it wasn't a dream. It was all real. The EMT never came and because of it, my parents are dead. They are gone. I sat on my bed for what felt like an eternity. I cried and cried until there were no more tears to shed. It was then, after the fear, the rage, the deafening sadness that I made up my mind. I would become an Altis R&R Technician. I will be that guardian angel. The one who would have come to save my parents."

I too am missing all of my homes virtual items... which is crappy, I had a bunch of monies worth of shit in there