text: [Themes: modern]
  
  Our time is over, and here you are, endlessly reading through my fables. Is there something you're searching for? Besides those of you so militaristically conscripted into reviewing these stories, why are you here? This certainly isn't a grand story where you take control of nations by sheer power and an unparalleled level of badassery.
  
  No, you're here for something more, for something deeper. I can sense it within you. I know there's an incident in your mind. Perhaps, a certain somebody or something that you would like to avoid at all cost. It's the holiday time, so I'm willing to bet meaningless EXP points it has something to do with family.
  
  > It doesn't.
  Well tickle my udders and milk me like a mommy. Ok fine. Admin give this cheater one of my EXP points. Did it happen? Double or nothing you didn't receive one of my points. That's what I thought. Tough fuckin' luck, kid. That's just the way life works sometimes. Sometimes it's like you're up to the plate and the umpire switched your bat with a chopstick.
  
  No, there's something eating at you. I thought it was family at first, but it's something worse (that's a horror movie itself, isn't it?). There's an underlying issue within that you hide deep. In quiet moments, perhaps late at night when sleep doesn't come, it rears its ugly head.
  
  It's the issue that appears when you stare in the mirror too long. It's the issue that pops into your mind when your Ipod is in-between songs. It's the issue that appears when Netflix asks "are you still watching?" Media consumption certainly helps, though it's a little like putting a paper towel on spilled water; it will soak it up initially, but then it will inevitably be overrun and become part of the mess itself.
  
  > You've had enough of you.
  Sure. That's your right. I'm a little surprised you made it this far. The tiny red "X" in the top corner of your browser probably looked tempting at times, huh? It's ok, you can admit it. I won't be offended by the 5 you rate this story.
  
  Why would I be? You, random internet denizen, have no influence on me. You're nothing, you're a nobody that wastes your time reading shitty amateur writing online. Did I offend you? I hope not, though I don't really care either way. Your offense has no effect on my life. Sure, go ahead and rate all my stories a 1. See if I care.
  
  I really don't give two shits what you think, and you should think the same thing about me. What's the benefit of caring what others think anyway? So we can doubt ourselves and question every tiny fucking action like where to look or what to wear? No, that, my friend, is futile. That, my dear, is the deepest, most idiotic thing you can do. Are you an idiot?
  
  > No you're not. Please shut up.
  Good! Gooooood (Emperor Palpatine voice). You're learning to stand up for yourself. That's an important life skill. I admit, I'm a bit surprised you're still here. You didn't take the easy way out. You could have simply closed the browser and gotten on with your life. Instead, you stuck around. Instead, you decided to see this through to the end. It's commendable, really.
  
  Would you have picked the same path in real life? (IRL, if you will). Of course you would have! You're a no-nonsense tough sonuva gun. Besides, the way you act online should be the same you act IRL, despite the supposed anonymity being behind a screen gives.
  
  > act the same online as you do in real life.
  From what I've seen from you so far, I have no reason to doubt the truth of your statement. It would be easy, wouldn't it? To use the computer screen as a cover to share the vile nature within for "shits and giggles." I think there's a Bible verse that addresses that. No, not how conduct yourself online, specifically, but there's plenty on how to conduct yourself in general. "Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks," or something along those lines. Throw that on a T-shirt and sell it for $19.99 a pop.
  
  It's true, huh? I doubt even the atheist of atheists can't deny that. I don't know, maybe they can. I tend to think a person's nature will eventually show itself whether that is in public, online, or in private. Player's gonna play, and hater's gonna hate. Republicans will vote red, and Demys will vote blue. 4/5 Dentists will recommend Colgate, and BuzzFeed will continue publishing the most god-awful articles. People act in accord with their nature.
  
  > What is your nature?
  That's the age-old question, isn't it? If I knew the answer to that, I'd publish a series of religious texts with the answer. I've already thought of the title for the series. Ready? I'd call it The Nature of Man. Sorry to disappoint you with the too-literal title. To be honest (TBH, if you will), did you really expect something better based on the title of this storygame? I mean, Pitka's Fables? Really? REALLY?? Why not just call it Storygame or Contest Story? Those were taken, I checked.
  
  Remember bookstores? They were a little like Blockbuster, except with books. Ah, shit. You probably don't remember Blockbuster. Imagine if you could physically walk through your Netflix page. Each category is a series of shelves with titles attempting to jump out at you. I bet you'd get lost in the Anime section, weeb. It's sort of like a library, except with movies and the occasional video game. And yes, I just used a library to explain a video store to explain a bookstore. Don't question my method, we got here, didn't we?
  
  > Where is "here" exactly?
  In your mind, of course. The words that I write fill your imagination, connecting new railing for your thought train to travel. It's the age-old saying, ironically mostly told by old-age people: "Don't think of a pink elephant." What's the first thing you think of after that? Ding ding! Correct! You automatically think of a pink elephant.
  
  We can't help ourselves. The mind almost has, well, a mind of its own. You can't control it for very long. Soon, the auto-pilot takes over and you have to strap yourself in for the ride, sometimes having to brace yourself for the crash and burn. It's strange how the mind has moments of creative genius [Example A: Pitka's Fables] and moments of sheer stupidity [Example B: The King's Command*].
  
  *I rag on the story, but everyone starts somewhere. At least my first publishing wasn't "The Twelve Sexual Positions of Wolves; A Letter From One Alpha to the Next").
  
  > Kindly, sir, you want to leave.
  I cannot keep you here against your will, though I do not know why you would willingly leave. Am I not enough for you? Does your Fortnite addiction distract you from reading pure, unadulterated content? Eh, what do I care? I'll leave you with one last story to skim through. See you in the comment section, Friendo Calrissian.
  
  Awaking each morning to her messy hair and unwashed face was like a daily removal of her bridal veil. Watching her undress was like seeing the final ray of the sunset's red glow over the Pacific. She had an addictive, attractive personality. People were drawn to her and she loved them no matter their circumstance or flaw. The two of us couldn't have been more opposite.
  
  I bet she even would have loved him, despite his tendency to drive after a few drinks. I arrived at the scene just in time to see the police pull her broken, bloodied body from the ravine. Through the heavy downpour and blackness of night, I saw her body hanging limp in the officer's arms. They passed through the high beams of her overturned truck as if a boat on the river Styx. I watched in dread as they placed her in the black bag. It was sealed shut. I was alone.
  
  I wanted to hurt the drunk driver who had escaped with his life that night. I wanted to make him feel the pain that he caused me. I wanted to take all that was good in his life and leave him a miserable wretch.
  
  That is not what she would have wanted.
  
  I sat at her grave, alone, with a bottle of Jameson and two glasses. I abandoned my usual barstool for a seat next to her. The Friday night breeze stung my face. Each sip of Irish whiskey reminded me of how desperately I wanted to join her. I wished that I was in the car instead of her as I emptied the chamber of the revolver. The bullets I dropped on her grave were like coins in a wishing well. I lacked the resolve to end my loneliness. Perhaps next Friday would be different.
  
  That is not what she would have wanted. For the first time, I didn't care.
  
  > Don't leave you with a depressing story, asshole.
  Not every story can be rainbows and happy endings, princess. Sometimes the good guy dies and the bad guy thrives. Such is life. Hell, most video games reward you for being the villain with loot, currency, and an array of badass abilities (KOTOR, I'm lookin' at you). At least in video games, we know right from wrong. It's much more black and white. The real world, not so much. You choose a path, uncertain if it's right or wrong. It's a lot like a storygame, except you get no "back" button in the real world. Why should we? The world would be a terrible mess if we did.
  
  Imagine a place where every wrong could be instantly corrected. You utter the wrong word. Back button. You win a competition. Your opponent hits the Back button. Everything would be fabricated and false. There would be no winners or losers. You'd simply exist without any meaningful decision and the allure of uncertainty, of the unknown, would be absent. You'd live a lifeless existence, desperately wishing for an END GAME link. I'm the soft pillow covering your bed-ridden face. I offer you a chance to escape.