Being a Glorious Shit-Stirrer in a Godforsaken Cesspit

On a fine day after the rain had cleared, PC finally couldn't resist stuffing a huge handful of thumbtacks into the cushion in Bailey's office.

He sat by the window and lit a cigarette he'd probably extorted after beating up the golden-haired school bully, reminiscing through the smoke about the youth he'd left behind.

A fucked-up town. A fucked-up life.

He took a deep breath and silently watched the smoke rings slowly dissipate into the air.

Suddenly, he thought that being alive really wasn't all that interesting.

P.S. A fanfic for a certain yellow game. Short story. Centered on the scumbag PC, be warned.

P.S. Maybe there'll be a continuation someday. After all, I'd gotten as far as the dragon transformation. But I've quit the game now, so it'll have to wait until someday.

Theme: Freedom