I am a simple man. Every day, I wake up. Every day, I clean up. Every day, I eat up. Every day, I go to work. Every day, I come home. Every day I sleep. It's a basic cycle because that's all I need.

But today is different. Today, I wake up like usual, but there are two people in dark clothing opening my bedroom door. So, I shut my eyes and pull my covers over myself. No need to start trouble with them.

But the two of them are really insistent. So much so that they struggle to rip me out of bed and tie me up. *Sigh* Why don't you leave me alone? I didn't even do anything.

(???) "Hey, Paul! Do we need to do this? I mean, it looks like he just wants to sleep," says one.

(Paul) "That's what he wants us to think, dumbass! And don't say my name, Terry!" hissed the other.

(Terry) "But you just said mine!" the first whined, in a higher-pitched peal. My ears...

(Paul) "Whatever! Just make sure he can't do anything. We already took everything valuable," the second retorted.

I give a quick glance as Paul puts his trash bag down and opens it up to show his point. Really? Can you not tell the difference between ornaments and genuine treasures? These are all souvenirs from my college friends. And why are the colorful, Japanese objects more expensive to you? Are you weeaboos? I swear people who get overly obsessed with entertainment fall apart in real life. Just look at these two! They resorted to robbing me blind... Sad really.

(Paul) "Hey, snap out of it! Tell us where you have the more pricey stuff!" he demanded.

I turn my eyes to focus on his face. I don't understand how they can have such professional getup but be so idiotic. Paul, was it? He's the hulking figure who squeezed his way through my doorway. Terry is the small, reedy man. They look like a dominant duo, with their black one piece suits showing off their muscles underneath and their sharp eyes piercing out of their concealing ski masks. But it seems like I was disappointed.

(Me) "There's nothing else. I keep my necessities in private Storehouses and my money at Banks," I murmured tiredly.

(Terry) "See, Paul! I told you! There's nothing else! Let's leave him alone," piped the whiner.

(Paul) "But he knows our names now. We have to shut him up!" deducted his friend.

Aren't these two geniuses? I really need to get these two to leave...

(Me) "I only know your first name. I need your last name to actually do anything big. So just take that stuff and go. I didn't want it anyway. I also have to get to work soon or I'll be late" I interject, in attempting to reason with these fools.

The dumbos look at me in surprise. They didn't expect their victim to comply as well as I am, now did they? Well, my life is more valuable than anything. And my work is prized over that, so they need to go before I'm late.

(Paul) "Alright. Let's go. We were already spotted by his neighbors so let's case this joint," evaluates the careful one.

I am shocked at their stupidity. They could have gone through any of the open windows, unlocked doors, or even my chimney, which are all hidden from sight. But no, straight through the front door they went. And in plain sight of the neighborhood, no less.

Everything besides my front door is too decrepit and shabby to do anything and that is why the door stands out. I don't earn much money and don't want to use much money either. So my home is a hovel that is old and worn out, but still habitable. I'm cheap, but I pull out the stops for my own comfort. It's what's on the inside that counts, right?

Suddenly, I hear police sirens approaching. They really are that bad at stealing, aren't they? How long have they been here when the cops in this neighborhood have notoriously long response times.

Once, a man was being murdered by his wife and called them several times. They took their sweet time and then 2 hours later, he was butchered into an unrecognizable mess. The woman escaped, but I always kept in my mind of my dead yet friendly neighbor's fate. It helped to look dirt-poor when keeping away anyone crazy. But not people who are full-on stupid and insane to boot.

(Terry) "What now Paul? What do we do? The cops will get us before we can drive off!" squealed the panicking idiot. His damn voice...

(Paul) "Don't worry. We got a hostage!" said the more composed thief.

I slump down onto the floor even further. They literally tied me up with a jump rope I recently got for my nephew and I am losing my cool. Calm down. It will be over soon. The police are going to beat their asses and everything will go back to normal.

The two drag me to my front door and hold me in front of them as a meatshield. A cop car is already parked outside.

(Paul) "We got a hostage! Don't move!" boomed the huge man.

The law enforcement duo stops in their tracks. They are stuck partially outside of their cruiser but have their guns pulled out. Ah, come on! You both are veteran partners! I know you're lazy shits, but do something about them! At least take cover, for fuck's sake! If they had guns, you'd be dead know, you know!?!

(Paul) "Good. Now drop your weapons or else this will happen!" he said, as he outstretched an arm to his friend.

Terry pulls out a black thing. Is that a... It's a fucking sock! A literal black sock. How is he going to do anything with that? Just fuck them up cops. Do your damn civil duties!

(Young Cop) "Watch out! He's got a grenade! Get them down on the ground! Down on the GROUND!!!"

What?

Both cops begin firing and disregard my safety entirely. The first shot hits me like a sledgehammer and probably goes straight into my kidney. The rest somehow slam into my lungs with pinpoint accuracy. The entire time this happens, the thieves and I are spraying blood everywhere. After filling my torso full of holes, the two thieves fall onto the grass with me on top of them. At first, it was unbelievably painful but for some reason, I can't feel anything now. It's a dull feeling now but I'm scared because I'm starting to lose even that.

(Femcop) "Man, you were lucky we were here. If it was anyone else, they would have negotiated with them and then be blown to smithereens!" she declares triumphantly and even adds some representation of the explosion with her hands. What a fucker.

(Young Cop) "Yeah, that's right, Jess. Those terrorists all deserve to die!" he says pridefully. Yeah, well shove that up your ass before you kill anyone else.

Like terrorists use grenades, you shits! I have a hard time puking the blood out of my rapidly filling lungs. The ground is soaked in both mine and the thieves'. I think I can feel some of my organs spilling out but I can't raise my head high enough to see. The air is choking me with the metallic smell of blood and its taste is even worse. I might even be choking on it. It's all too mixed to tell. Ah. They finally realize I'm dying. Shit, why today? Instead of dying in so much pain, I should be teaching elementary students how to count!

(Jess) "Oh my God! I'm sorry! What do we do, Jim?" she says, as she's crouched down and looking at my obvious wounds. Tears are forming at the edges of her eyes. Yeah, try to apply pressure with those hands you dumbass. There are too many bullet holes.

(Jim) "Well... My pop used to tell me to put animals out of their misery when they are dying. So..." he trails on in a sad manner.

He quickly grabs another magazine, reloads, and aims straight at my head. His arms are shaking, but his eyes are determined. My head lulls to the side because I'm too tired to hold it up to look at him. And then I notice the sock Paul was carrying. It's full of fucking holes! I would've died even if it was a grenade! This is why I became a teacher. It's to stop dumbasses like these from growing up. Ah, I'm blacking out...

(Jim) "I hope you have a good afterlife" he says and I faintly hear it in the back of my mind.

Well, fuck you too, asshat!

I guess I got banged so hard it killed me and then I feel a blissful emptiness. Putting aside my joke, I feel that's all to life: empty purposelessness. But now I don't have to deal with any more problems. Then I realize, in all of my meaningless life, that it all has ended. There's no need for useless struggle nor deal with failures. I did my job. I'm done.

I am at such a euphoric peace. This blank nothingness... I wonder if this is Nirvana. No pangs of hunger, desire, or even discomfort. Nothing. But no, I still can't catch a break.

(???) "Welcome to Tekton! The fate of the world rests on your shoulders, Otherworlder!" someone chortles is a musically sweet voice.

A slender and well-endowed woman pops up out of nowhere and starts passing me some spiel about needing to do more work. But I say NOPE! I've done my job! It's not my fault nothing worked out. So I gently brush off my shoulders and forcefully put my finger to her lips. I make a soft shushing sound as I press it more and more into her face. I put my own face right in front of hers and my nose touches hers. She's being submissive about the whole process and is probably intimidated by my strange actions.

(Me) "I dusted off my shoulders from this. I don't need this trash called 'fate'!"

The woman looks at me and is dumbfounded at my blatant disregard. Yeah, fuck your shit. I'm done with life. Too much of a hassle. And so I walk into the distance while leaving her far behind.