STATUS UPDATE FROM RIVER CITY

You might remember me as the guy who used to run these streets with my sidekick Ryan, who (sorta) helped me clean up River City of all the highschool gangs in town. Back then the cops wouldn't even engage with these gangs, claiming "they aren't really doing anything illegal, just sorta hanging out," yeah, sure buddy, and I'm your aunt Sally.

Status Update from River City: The Hero’s Decline

Hey hepcats! It’s Alex!

You might remember me as the guy who used to run these streets with my sidekick Ryan, who (sorta) helped me clean up River City of all the highschool gangs in town.

Back then the cops wouldn't even engage with these gangs, claiming "they aren't really doing anything illegal, just sorta hanging out," yeah, sure buddy, and I'm your aunt Sally.  

SIMPLER TIMES

Things used to be easy. If you were short on bread, you just stepped outside, found a Frat Guy or a "Squid," and punched the pocket change right out of him.

They’d sometimes vomit, scream "BARF!", and drop enough quarters for a double burger at Merv’s.

It was a good living. Honest. You didn't need a resume, or know what "Microsoft Teams" is; you just needed to know how to throw a trash can at someone's head. 

All you needed to know was FAFO.  Adrenaline and coffee was all a man needed to make rent.  

Awful Reality

I’ve spent my life-savings on those Stone Hands and Dragon Feet books, but reading those doesn't make the Jamba Juice blender spin any faster.

Ryan has moved on—he’s got a minivan, a bunch of snot-nosed kids, and a 401k, and he's not returning my calls ever since Cyndi left him for Slick.

Slick is apparently a successful day trader now and drives a corvette. Guy is some piece of work. Even tried to sue me for "emotional trauma" or whatever.

Meanwhile, I invested all my money in something my nephew calls Bitcoin and now I'm broke as hell.

Thanks a bunch Jimmy, great "tip."

Cyndi thinks I’m a "detriment to her social circle."  They have all gone "no-contact" with me. Zero gratitude. Sometimes I wonder if we were saving her at all.

Imagine marrying your kidnapper and then calling your savior a "balding putz" on Facebook. Unreal.

Things have gotten so rotten for me, I even tried to go to the local sauna to sweat off the depression, but it came right back when I ate 3 stacks of flapjacks in one sitting and my sciatica started flaring up bad.

Also the price used to be $3.30 cents for a stack! Now it's $18.99! Thanks liberals! Thanks WOKE.

(Find me on Tinder...please)

I guess times are a'changin.

Now I'm off to meet my parole officer and I need to take the bus over to buy some khaki pants at the thrift store. If someone could just sorta... hurl an actual tire at my head, or ambush me in the parking lot, that would be great.