7days7authors

Friday: "Real Life Experiences in GTA's Liberty City" by Peter W. Knox

1.

I took my cousin Roman out to play pool at a crosstown bar. He said on the phone that’s what he wanted to do, so I thought it was a safe bet.

We get to the bar only after accidentally ramming then out running a cop car - I don’t quite have a handle on American acceleration or the concept of “lanes.” Regardless, we arrive a little dinged up.

After entering the bar, I was hoping the pool wasn’t going to cost me (I had spent my last dollar on new shoes hoping to impress this midwest chick Michelle) and luckily there was no charge. However, I did not enjoy pool as I was immediately not good at it. I had no patience for lining up impossible shots, no matter how good the graphics were, this was still a lame flash game.

I couldn’t stand it and just as he was about to win handily as I had yet to sink a shot, I quit and walked away from the table. “You know I don’t like to stop in the middle of anything cousin!” Roman complained. Yeah, so what, you fucking hustler.

We get back into my car and as a result of the ensuing heated car chase on the way back to his place, we both die in firey flames surrounded by cops.

2.

It had been the requisite three days since I met Michelle and with new duds I was determined to leave a good impression. So I called her back (she had called me when I was chasing around knee-breakers with cousin Roman the night previous) and we set a date in an hour. I still didn’t know where I should take her, but I got there in three minutes by not following any moving vehicle regulations whatsoever.

Sure, I was picking her up in a stolen Mercedes, smoke pouring out of where the hood would be if it were still on the car. But I hadn’t ‘wanted to be late. She came out looking as beautiful as someone computer generated could be. I didn’t waste whisking her up into my car. We sped off in the direction of the local cabaret.

Parking my still smoking car on the sidewalk, we entered the club. There I was subjected to the worst digital magician slapstick humor followed by the saddest comic I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t believe I didn’t read any reviews before taking a first date here! Despite the appalling performances she seemed to like it. Maybe she liked me!

If she liked me, she sure didn’t like me stopping the first car we saw, a station waggon, and pulling the driver out through the window, and motioning for her to get in. Regardless of the means, I believed I was doing the right thing - only looking out for her safety, although the numerous speeding violations and hit and runs I did on the way home may have sent her a different message.

Still, I was given the option to a) “Go for it” or b) “Say Goodnight.” The show cost me $100. I went for it. Michelle compromised on a brief make out session in the car before leaving for her apt. I was so happy I stole six cars, murdered eight thugs, and made back $56 of it that night.

3.

Obviously I needed to go out drinking with cousin Roman. You’d think that that would be something he’d be up for, but it took me two days and nine phone calls before he gave in to the idea. I just hoped it wouldn’t be too expensive a night, but there I was, picking him up in at his phoney car shop in DUMBO.

We took off for the nearest bar, which was sadly a five minute drive away. There I pulled a parking 250 degree turn, a fitting climax for the police chase I had to evade on my way to get there. Roman and I touched the bouncing blinking yellow arrow to enter the drinking establishment. I thought drinking would be fun, but I was not able to participate in the actual act as I immediately reappeared on the street, completely intoxicated.

Damn, this is meta, I thought to myself, struggling with the controls to remain upright. Despite my best efforts, my avatar was faltering like a dreidel on its way down, and I found myself constantly on the ground. I tried to get Roman’s attention but he was in the same state as I, emulating chalk outlines on the sidewalk. I didn’t want to become one, so I pointed him towards our car. Getting in, my brain, addled by the drink, really thought I should be able to drive fine., despite not being able to even walk.

Pure mental force got the foot down and us off the sidewalk. And into the wall. I backed out, mowing down a family of tourists (I’m sure), and tried taking off. But the cops were already there. They wanted to slap me with a DUI and put me away. I ain’t going down like that, I thought, as I barrelled out of the car and took to the alleyways.

Once there I was immediately reminded of just how immobile my drunkenness had rendered me as I found myself instead crawling from the police. I had forgotten about Roman. I didn’t see him until the next morning outside the hospital. We both had been shot on sight, part of Liberty City’s new Police Policy to render drunks corpses before they can do even more damage.

4.

Recovered from one hell of a hangover, I found myself thinking with my dick and calling Michelle up to see if we could “hang out.” She was surprisingly down with the idea and I quickly stole a nice car to impress her out of her pants. This time when I showed up, only the bumper and exhaust pipe were damaged and dragging on the pavement.

She bounded down the stairs, wearing the EXACT SAME THING SHE WORE FOR OUR LAST DATE. But then I calmed down, realizing that, so was I. Figuring our photo albums were going to look like they were all of one day, I let her in the car and we took off for lunch.

Taking the neighborhood and my wallet into the equation, I made the obvious choice for “Clucking Bell”. I had been planning on going there myself for the great wings anyway. Touching the yellow arrow, we entered the greasy joint and apparently had a great meal. Anyway, that’s what I had hoped as we instantly reappeared, outside the venue. She seemed happy anyway.

I kept my right hand, idly on her thigh for the terrifying trip in cinematic view back to her place. Again, I was given an ultimatum. Should I go for it? We all know pimpin’ ain’t easy, but it’s necessary. Should I add another ho to the area code? I pressed a) and this time was rewarded. Cut, new scene outside of her place, we hear audible lovemaking sounds and my controller shakes violently. I just hope it was good for her.

5.

Fresh off my latest conquest, I’m going to like America!, I called round to the only other name in my phone, cousin Roman, to tell him of my mid-day lunch quickie. We both felt like a trip to the local strip club was the only way to celebrate. I picked him up, as usual, and we headed to Jamaica, Queens for the club.

Delayed by yet another cop car evasion, we arrived and I realized I didn’t have any cash! I used it all at Clucking Bell for wings and condoms. Shit, I thought as I approached the ATM there inside. Checked my balance and to my horror, I didn’t see any money available. Then again, I don’t remember opening an account or depositing any money either.

Well, I shrugged to my non-generous cousin, hopefully they won’t charge me. It was three steps before I was accosted for a private show. As one of many brothers and sisters, i had always valued privacy and naturally said yes, thinking with something other than my empty wallet (but you’re getting close!). She took me back for one dance. Then she moved a little closer for the second dance. By the third dance, she was all over me. The forth dance; another girl appeared out of nowhere, just to join us. It was by this time that I noticed a fourth party entering the room.

The bulging bouncer in his tight black tee killed my boner faster than old Russian Dictator killed my family. It was time to make my exit, but he was taking up the whole doorway. Wait - I had remembered learning something about a stun punch, four missions back. That could work, I thought. It did not. Now I’m fighting two bouncers, and what’s this? The cops are here. I’m yelling “Sean Bell” as I run across the stage, leap over the dirty plush couch, and book it out the door - but I’m surrounded.

As I’m shot down for frequenting a strip club for out staying my welcome, I’m only thinking about Roman, and how pissed he’ll probably be about this.

by peterwknox