The Rat in the Maze (Poofless-esque)

Canoe

"Goddammit." I push the chair over in the middle of the desk and grab my liquid crack, ready to wait out whatever the fuck you call this horror show shit in the corner like the dunce I am. "Goddammit, Turq. You and your goddamn blackmail." Shoulda just stayed at home and upgraded servers like Alex told me to.

I bet that little fucker knew something.

I bet the little shit stain knew this was coming and didn't bother tellin' me shit about it.

You wait 'til I get home, Dondo, you just wait 'til I get home.

My ass plants itself in the dark little mini-room under the security desk and I sit and sip and listen to the disk drives whirrrrrr. Truthwatcher 3 should be about done by now. Find out what's up with that shitty cliffhanger from the last one. Better be worth my time, coming all the way down to goddamn gun-slingin' snowflakey Texas for diarrhea-inducing fake barbecue chicken and these damn demos. At this rate, we'll be fryin' bacon on those big ass machine guns - bet Ted Cruz gets a kick outta that, sick fuck. Still wish Zeus coulda tied him and his seances to those angry hookers in time. Woulda been a fun show for sure.

I take another sip and my Monster's gettin' warm. What kinda shitty day is this, anyways? Can't even go pull a Woof and pilfer me a new one now. Wish Adan coulda stuck his ass around to tell me all the shortcuts and keep me entertained but he'd get caught in a hot second with that bright orange crossing guard uniform he's got on, get us both hooked and sunk for piracy over a couple dozen shitty mid-year release demos. These pieces of shit weren't even good enough to make it to the August conventions and they aren't worth losin' my ass over. I wonder what it'd feel like to take five years off from streaming every day... Shouldn't be thinking things like that. I should feel bad. I was my idea, anyways. I take another sip and it's warm like milk from the microwave, just like the babysitter used to make. Feels like home. Another sip and the pop makes me jump and almost smack my head on the desk in surprise.

"Goddammit." I get up and swap the full disk out for a new one and start downloading a copy of the Kingdom Hearts demo. Wish they hadn't overkilled that series with the shitty spin-offs. I miss whackin' on Mitch with my old paper-towel-holder-and-tin-foil Keyblade. I spin around on my knees and check to make sure the locks are all still in place. Good thing about bein' a pirate's you always end up in a high-security cell of some kind, whether it's a steel-reinforced classified back room or a prison cell's up to you to decide. Depends on what kinda booty you're after.

I check the cameras and there're a couple crazy fuckers trollin' two hallways over and I crawl back under the desk and lay perpendicular to the door as far in the corner as I can. It's silent in here except the disk drive and the tiny little fans and the screechy high-pitched static only true not-adults can still hear. I don't know what I'm gonna do when I can't hear that shit anymore. I don't wanna get old and dumb and shit. Well, old-er and dumb-er and shit-ier. Too late to stop it, I guess. Just enough time to slow it down. I take one last sip of sweet sugary addiction and prop it upright on my chest like a bouquet o' flowers at my funeral. No doubt I got the best chances outta everyone trapped in this rat trap but I'm gonna maximize those chances. I've played too many horror games and too many first-person shooters to underestimate this shit and I have some ass-kickin' to do when I get home.

Little shit ass, tryin' to get rid of me by not tellin' me I was walking right into a big ass death trap.

I wonder if at least one o' those crazy fucks is here just to blow me away on their genocide run.

You'd think it'd be flattering to have your own personal assassin - it's not.

I don't know if they have a way to pick up cell signals so I keep my mouth and my fingers silent. I stick my little magnets from the break room raid together over and over and over again and play 3-D air hockey with myself on the sides of the black and green can after the inside of the desk gets boring. The Monster's long, long, long, long, long, long gone by the time the last disk's done and scribbled on and tossed in a free convention backpack. I check the cameras and I don't see anyone for like three hallways. I stare up at the emergency exit map glued to the wall by the door and check it against the screens and it looks like we're free to go. I slide off my shoes and stick 'em in my backpack and slide it on and take one last breath before I open the door and let all hell loose right in my face.

There's nothing out here but blood stains and broken glass and what used to be people. Lots of 'em. No time to feel shitty about being alive right now - we'll look into it when we get home. Something tells me this isn't somethin' the government's really gonna give a shit about. They don't have a real good track record on this kinda thing. I Endyman my way over to the far hallway and peek around the corner... Nothing. Sweetness.

I kiss one of my beautiful babies for good luck and wedge it in the space between the side of the emergency exit door and the doorframe where the little electromagnet thingy is - the alarm gives an ear-splitting half chirp before it shuts the fuck up and makes out with Maggie the Magnet. This's why I told Mitch Magneton's like the best fucking Pokemon ever - you could do anything with that many power moves. I scurry down the fire exit ladder ramp like a giant ass rat and before I know it, my hands are up and I'm tryin' not to smile at the cops standing like three feet away from enough evidence to send me to prison for at least half a decade. No one wants 'em to check my bag at the door and get a two-for-one scapegoat sacrifice on this fine afternoon. That'd be cheap - if they wanna hang my ass for cyber crimes they can't prove I did, they gotta catch me fair and square.

I hate owing favors to people. Out here almost gettin' shot by brainwashed dumbasses who think they're savin' the world and almost gettin' tased by overzealous cops who think a skinny ass kid on the verge of tears's actually a fuckin' threat. Or maybe they know more'n I'm givin' 'em credit for. Who knows? Either way, we don't need that many goddamn guns out right this second.

But I hate owing favors to people and here's why: whoever set all this shit up's not stupid enough to be here today.