#steemitwritingprompt

"There is a picture of you committing a crime on the morning news. It doesn't make sense. You remember falling asleep last night."

Christian Rock stared at the words displayed by the nu-retro text-based rpg that he was playing. It had looked awesome on Steam, based on the virtual box art, but now he was regretting the purchase. He had spent a whole fifty cents on the damn thing, and it was utter trash. Thank god he got it during the summer sale and hadn't spent the full nineteen ninety-nine on it.

He ctrl-c'ed that pile of regurgitated fecal matter. He brought up his games library. There were one hundred thirty-seven thousand, five hundred and seventy-one games listed. He congratulated himself on buying all these games for at minimum 80% off. Out of the nine he had played, six of them were pretty darn entertaining.

He scrolled through the list. And kept scrolling. And scrolling. And scrolling. All these games and nothing to play! He rage quit out of Steam. Why did they make him buy so many games! Those sales were too good to pass up! It was a conspiracy to bankrupt him, he just knew it. He had known it for a long time. He couldn't help himself tho. Even after he sold his house and moved into a van down by the river, he kept purchasing those damn games.

It was all that Newell's fault. With his smug hair and beautiful nose. He knew what he was doing to honest, hard-working joe's like himself. And yet he sat up in his ivory developer's tower constantly slashing prices on games that easily could have sold for almost full price! Christian imagined Newell up there, topped by an extravagant crown and waving a golden, jewel encrusted sceptre. And laughing maniacally. Of course he would be laughing maniacally. That was the kind of person that Newell was. Only a devil would bankrupt a poor working man.

It dawned on Christian. Newell had to be stopped. There were unsuspecting people out there who hadn't completely emptied their life savings and quit their jobs so they could cash out their 401k and throw the money at Valve. Valve. Valve Software. More like, SLASHES PRICES SO LOW THAT YOU CAN'T RESIST CLICKING THAT BUY BUTTON AND THE NEXT THING YOU KNOW, YOUR WIFE HAS LEFT YOU AND TAKEN THE CHINCHILLA, AND YOUR DIET CONSISTS OF SPAM THAT YOU EAT WITH SPORKS STOLEN FROM KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN, AND YOU'RE LIVING IN A VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER Software.

Christian decided that it wouldn't be that hard to single-handedly save all those potential victims of Newell's tyrannical price-slashing. But first, he would need a good night's sleep! He always thought clearer on a solid eight hours. There was that pesky sleep-walking habit that sometimes interrupted his sleep. Like there was that one time when he woke up with the chinchilla stuffed in his mouth. That had been a terrible night for sleep. Maybe he wouldn't sleep walk tonight. Maybe. He willed himself not to sleepwalk. That was all he thought about as he laid down on the sofa and pulled the tarp up over his ovoid body. He wouldn't sleep walk at all tonight, and then in the morning, all fresh and chipper on eight hours, he'd get started with his revenge/reluctant hero/saving the world deal...