Be great if more people actually read this forum. Oh well, for those that do, enjoy.
I wish real life were more like Earthbound. I would wake up every morning greeting the new day with a smile. Go outside and beat the shit out of gangsters at the Arcade. Tame wild dogs and kill venomous snakes. My dad would call me up, and greet me with a "Congratulations! I deposited $800 into your account".
"FUCK," I would clammer at my newfound small fortune, "DRINKS ARE ON ME". Rocking the crib down to the only bar in town, I would use my Dead Presidents to flood the bar with alcohol and cause a riot. New-Age Retro Hippies will protest and preach about the evils of alcohol while forcing their marijuana legalization pamphlets into my face, upon which all hell shall violently erupt from the cesspool of chaos I have wrought.
A maelstrom of violence, swearing and cheeseburgers later, I stand atop a mountain of defeated fools, clutching my sister's cracked baseball bat. A fiery tenacity ablaze in my eyes, I gaze downward upon the undeserving masses fortunate enough to fall victim to my glorious dominance. My receiver phone rings, my dad ignites with an intense passion "Amazing job Ness, my son! I have deposited $53,250 into your account! BWA HA HA HA! *slam*"
The streetlights glaring out the starlight in the suburban downtown outlet of night time entertainment, I gaze upwards at the moon, its sickle-shaven crescent cuts through the black of the night revealing to me the path I must now take. Attempting to hop on my bicycle, I realize I am carrying a Teddy Bear. Looking down a darkened alley I see a homeless child in the dankness of my seemingly unforgiving suburbia.
"Merry christmas, Timmy" I say to him, and bestow upon him the Teddy Bear. Timmy was not his name, but that is not the point. He grew up to be the President of the Skip Sandwich Corporation inspired by my generosity.
Pimping up on my bicycle, I jam on the R-shoulder button glued onto my handle bar, ringing the bell of resounding victory as that is the only purpose the damnable incarnation served in this world. I make my way onward unto destiny.
I arrive in the supposed peaceful town of Twoson, where the black market of pit vipers and underworld-dealing demon-hearted make their living. I am attacked by a fat man in a Muu-Muu jumping off of his roof. I dispatch him with the greatest of finesse and superb ease--jutting through his path with a single stroke of my splintering wooden bat of justice, his body launched into the heavens above while I stand crouched like a tiger poised ready for further mortal combat. He gives up, handing me a wad of Kennedies which I use to further my cause--my Holy War.
I take my leave and head onward to the haunted village of Threed. Hungry ghosts, demonic poltergeists thirsty to spread their soul-eviscerating revenge of ages past. Mindless ghouls cascading with dripping rivers of gouting blood erupt forth from the oversized pores of their fetid decaying flesh, an army of the restless undead seek to impede my path for Justice. Theirs is the path of the weak and the ignorant. I sense a new enthralling power fill my being, the surging power of PSI Goats▀ takes form. Have at thee, blasphemous sinners!
With a single motion of my hand and focused mental energy, a horrific torrent of psychedelic euphoria engulfs the tunnel, deconstructing the demon hordes' meta-biological atomic structure reducing them to cinders and piles of ash. I must ignore this God Forsaken depraved town to carry out my mission--Threed, your time shall soon come, but not yet. I take the Bicycle that fits inside of my backpack for reasons unbeknownst to mankind, and continue onward to righteous retribution.
The Desert, a vast nothingness, unless you follow the road that goes right through it. A normally simple task, if not for the Yak that died in the middle of the road blocking traffic. I normally would walk to the side of the traffic as I am a pedestrian, but I decide to enter the emptiness of the desert to see what fate holds in store for me. Avast, heat stroke has befallen me so soon. I stop into the local liquor store and purchase a wet towel, I immediately wrap it around my head's entirety, smashing and twisting it into my face so as to create a makeshift waterfall of holy liquid salvation. I am cured, thank you, wet towel selling liquor store, but I must continue, for the end to my quest is neigh.
I arrive at Fourside, my destination. The metropolitan city of Pagan worshiping malevolence. My dad rings me up: "My Son, you have destroyed an army of the demonic undead, congratulations, I have deposited $4,945,950 into your account."
My goal is near, my plan is set, the time is now. I withdraw five million dollars that a local ATM seems to have room for. With money in hand, I decide before making my ultimate purchase, I still have $20 in my pocket from the beginning of my quest. I purchase a roll of mints and tuck them into the very same pocket. I make my way to the nearest phone to place my order. A sattelite system and a rented computer hacker from Moonside who was born and raised in Winters. Together with much malcontent for the current state of the world, we entangle the world's network of information to broadcast the end result of my labor.
A latent power overwhelms me, the ultimate God Force of PSI Goats? has arisen within my soul. I make haste to the center of the Satan-Loving metropolitan Fourside, for your uppance has come.
The sky above has become blackened with clouds of rolling despair. Quaking volleys of thunder shake the ground at my feet as lightning dances in a crazy waltz through the landscape, slashing wildly at buildings as though the searing sword of an angry God. The darkened sky begins to crack as rays of light break through, as if kisses from angels grace the befouled land as a final saving grace for the untimely cataclysm of holy cerebral retribution neigh at hand. The end has come, in a single blink of an eye, torrenting gales of cascading rainbow light dance throughout the streets rampaging the foundation of the city. As lighting splits the very land in two, breaking into a trident of blinding, searing light, buildings are instantly ripped to dust-laden shreds as the resounding aftershock of blitzing thunder hammers the remnants of structure into lifelessness.
The volcanic destruction wages for seeming hours, yet in the blink of an eye, I have destroyed the cursed city of Fourside.
My father calls my receiver phone, he has deposited the entire sum of the world's money into my bank account. I take the world's funds and become its new ruler, where I command the world's scientists to halt biological weapons research and engage into gene-splicing DNA experiments. The result is a success, and I now live in my 900 room mansion build of gold and titanium in outerspace, with my own personal harem of catgirl maids and waitresses feeding my grapes off of the vine while I watch television with my dog.