The Mafia's Conman

Chapter Fourteen: Learning Pointless Lessons Like A True Patriot

Chapter Fourteen: Learning Pointless Lessons Like A True Patriot

   There's always a certain amount of responsibility I manage to grab, destroy, abolish, burn, and scatter on a very regular basis.

   Thus, where I am.

   Wait, where am I?

   I arose from the bed in a sitting position, looking around in confusion before finally remembering my situation.

   Goddamnit.

   I really thought it was just a weird dream.

   I know religious worshippers will say "Don't use God's name in vain." and all that, but I mean....... nope. Not gonna probe that topic.

   Invigored with renewed energy, I was like a ray of sunshine, spouting energy despite having barely woken up.

   I have a plan.

   It's an amazing plan. A perfect one. A plan that is 100% foolproof. A plan that will easily get me out of here without any problems whatsoever.

   Is that what you want me to say?

   Well, sorry to buRST YOUR BUBBLE, DARLING! How about you come up with a plan for once!? Huh? One simple enough for an air-headed person like me to follow. HUH?

   SEE!? IT'S NOT THAT EASY!

   What? YOu want me suddenly go POOF! and a magical plan will form, and then I will run off into the sunset, live a happy life scamming dumb people out of their life savings, or live like the "Identity Thief" lady before Sandy or whatever his name was came and RUINED IT ALL!? YOu want me to be a CREDIT CARD THIEF? IS that the life you want for me?

   Woah, wait, who am I even yelling at? Some imaginary person?

   I've turned schizophrenic.

   Can I see dead people too? Are you a ghost?

   ...It's evolving!

   Okay, deep breaths here Chris. Calm down.

   Back to the main problem, I'm half asleep, plan less, and pants less.

   Wait, what?

   Where are my pants!? Oh wait, never mind. I'm just covered with a blanket.

   Where's the bastard?

   Who is the bastard, you may ask? Jackson's the bastard!

   Again, calm down Chris.

   It was a ritual to tell myself to calm down at this point, having done it all my life. My whole life consists of hearing the words, "Chris, calm down" from my own mouth. And I'm sure yours soon will too.

   Ho my Hod.

   You're my imaginary friend from Mr. Robot! But like, without me having crippling depression and anxiety, and then technology hates me so without the hacking part, and then... I don't have a Tyrell in my life so without the crazy CFO either. (I mean, I can't be the only one who ships it, right?)