My name was John Cross. However the newspapers always use a moniker based on a personal symbol I use. The symbol may not mean much. I got it off of some kid’s card game, because it looked cool at the time of me seeing it. You know, arrows pointing in every direction just seem to fit in my life. To me it stood for the limitless possibilities opened to me upon arrival in San Paro. To them, it was a symbol for simply more Chaos.
The headlines were always different. “Chaos ensues as driver mows down pedestrian.” Sure blame me. They didn’t see the gun that was aimed at my newly replaced windshield. It didn’t help that I dragged her half a mile into the park. The missing gun would skid across the freshly cut grass and conveniently into the pond.
“San Paro First national in Chaos!” Pffft, we all need money right. Why not the bank? Those bureaucrats are always waving around there financial and saving it for a rainy day. Well I was hungry and needed new tires. What am I supposed to do? With the economy in shambles I could only go one of two ways. Go corporate and add to the problem. Or live life free. Corporate is just a prison you get paid for. No thanks.
So why am I at the Expresso Royal Café? Perhaps times are hard and finding work is becoming more like a chore. Perhaps with the growing rise of the formations of gangs, belonging to one is becoming a survival necessity. Perhaps it’s because I’ve heard of the Rain dogs. They do sounds like my kind of people. Or perhaps they just have really, really good coffee.” Mmmmm…. I do love coffee.”
Anyway, I was never one for ads. So hopefully this counts. Tacking this paper to the classified section of the newspaper and sliding it to the group in the back before exiting should technically count as an ad. Besides, I like the personal touch a little bit more. No?
The headlines were always different. “Chaos ensues as driver mows down pedestrian.” Sure blame me. They didn’t see the gun that was aimed at my newly replaced windshield. It didn’t help that I dragged her half a mile into the park. The missing gun would skid across the freshly cut grass and conveniently into the pond.
“San Paro First national in Chaos!” Pffft, we all need money right. Why not the bank? Those bureaucrats are always waving around there financial and saving it for a rainy day. Well I was hungry and needed new tires. What am I supposed to do? With the economy in shambles I could only go one of two ways. Go corporate and add to the problem. Or live life free. Corporate is just a prison you get paid for. No thanks.
So why am I at the Expresso Royal Café? Perhaps times are hard and finding work is becoming more like a chore. Perhaps with the growing rise of the formations of gangs, belonging to one is becoming a survival necessity. Perhaps it’s because I’ve heard of the Rain dogs. They do sounds like my kind of people. Or perhaps they just have really, really good coffee.” Mmmmm…. I do love coffee.”
Anyway, I was never one for ads. So hopefully this counts. Tacking this paper to the classified section of the newspaper and sliding it to the group in the back before exiting should technically count as an ad. Besides, I like the personal touch a little bit more. No?
))
