WARNING: The following short story contains the detailed process of body mutilation. So if you're mentally insane or disturbed, do not enter! You'll miss the end, though. Spoilers too, but at this time of the GTA 5 era, I don't know anyone that buys the game just to play Online.
"Today was a beautiful day in Los Santos. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, my son was exercising, and my daughter was studying on her computer.
My name is Michael de Santa and I am a movie producer, having produced only one movie so far, named Meltdown, a production by Richards Majestic Productions, made by the one and only Solomon Richards.
My son, Jimmy, is a pro video gamer, and before me and my family met with the family psychologist, Dr. Isiah Friedlander, back in the bygone days of the household, Jimmy would yell out various insults to strangers when he gets himself killed for numerous absurd actions that he had done, yet, the other players were simply skillful in aiming, and I do not believe that the other players were "camping" or utilize "aimbots", with my own conclusion that other players, from Liberty City to Shanghai, have equal sportsmanship in video gaming, and to end my conclusion, I can safely assume that all first-person shooter players are aspiring professional gamers, with their goals including cooperating in the Major League Gaming championships, with some tourneys occurring miles away from my mansion.
My daughter, Tracey, is a college girl that once wanted to become a reality TV star, by auditioning for some dumb show named Fame or Shame. I reacted negatively to her appearance on the show, with me and my friend Trevor having our own parts on the show, by walking into the studio out of nowhere, and my daughter had a profound reaction to my appearance. My wife, Amanda, was a stripper until I met her in North Yankton decades ago.
Before Dr. Friedlander, my wife would spend her own money with articles I believe are unnecessary, including that feeling of plastic whenever I touch her gluteus maximus. Since then, me and my wife reestablished our relationship, but I always get bombed in tennis whenever I accepted a tennis challenge with Amanda, and she can somehow play two versus one, even when my friend Trevor decided to challenge her, yet we were both professionals in tennis. But today, my dreams of defeating Amanda in a game of tennis abruptly ended when I caught her having an affair for the second time, with her tennis coach, Kyle Chavis.
Me and Mr. Chavis had a strained relationship when I first caught him sleeping with my wife. I was having a smoke one day, and I saw the two tennis rackets resting by the door, while I puffed my Newport, before I got suspicious about Mr. Chavis. After I dropped the butt on the ground, I opened the door furiously, and I yelled out Amanda's name, with no response. I ran up the stairs, and there was my wife, wrapped with a towel, telling me to fuck off and it's none of my business.
Meanwhile, Mr. Chavis was clad with leopard briefs, as I walked into my bedroom, threatening to shank him with anything I could find. This resulted me and my African-American friend named Franklin Clinton to get involved with a chase, which should've been me yelling at him about why he repossessed my son's SUV. Mr. Chavis made me destroy a house belonging to a mistress of Martin Madrazo, a drug cartel leader. But my next experience with Mr. Chavis was more violent than last time, and it is worse than the heist at the Union Depository not long ago.
Again, after a long day at the movie studio, I drove back home, waving to my son, who was riding his bike to an unknown location. It was in the middle of the afternoon, and after I got out of my decorated Obey Tailgater, I started smoking another Redwood. Suddenly, when I went to the living room to find the ashtray for the Redwood, I heard my daughter bawling her eyes out in the kitchen. I comforted her with a massage, and I just cannot believe what I heard after I took note of her response.
Mr. Chavis was sleeping with my wife again, after numerous times I told him not to enter my mansion. I am surprised that my wife didn't hear my daughter's loud cry, despite that I could hear it behind the door while I was smoking. After grabbing a chainsaw from the garage, fast as a Zentorno, I sprinted up the stairs and revved up the chainsaw. My wife's moans were as loud as an airplane for her and Mr. Chavis to hear my chainsaw rising up, which was an advantage for me to enter my bedroom with surprise. When I saw the chainsaw's blade spin like a silver-colored spoon carousel, I carefully made an incision to the door, and the last thing I heard from my wife was to have Mr. Chavis enter her "baby room". The nude love makers saw me enter the bedroom with the chainsaw, and I looked at my daughter, who somehow watched me perform my incision to the door. I instructed her to go to her room and take a nap, but she stormed downstairs, outside through the door.
Mr. Chavis had a strong reaction of my entrance into my bedroom, but as I started to chase him and attempt to decapitate him, he, like last time, jumped off the balcony I don't usually relax in. I kicked the door to the balcony, and I noticed my daughter driving her own personal vehicle, chasing Mr. Chavis. My wife was standing there in shock, and I told her to leave me and my children alone, as I exit the bedroom to enter the garage, so that I could chase him with my Tailgater.
I threw my chainsaw to the ground, and I stormed to the garage, with the door open, and I entered the vehicle, while I called Trevor and Franklin at the same time to finish off the tennis coach's life. I witnessed Mr. Chavis carjacking someone driving a decent sedan, so this could be an easy chase. I gave my daughter thanks as she walked back into the house, presumably to confront my wife.
I raced through the gate, and I attempted to find any vehicle driving obnoxiously, like a douche. Mr. Chavis was driving on the left side on the road, so I followed him, driving on the correct side on the road, as Chavis narrowly avoided hit-and-run charges, but he is probably already being targeted by the LSPD.
As I followed Mr. Chavis driving like a fool, Trevor and Franklin contacted me for my location, and I told them not to retaliate until Chavis gets into an accident for driving stupid, or if the police decide to chase Chavis and arrest him. When I got close to the sedan he stole, somehow, the sedan became as fast as the Comet. Probably, Chavis got lucky when he stole the sedan, because the owner must've supercharged his or her vehicle, or it received a nitro boost at the Los Santos Customs.
But then, I noticed that the vehicle he was driving looked like it was forty years old. I took note cars that are old like me can be set on fire easily by crashing into the back of his car. Seeing myself and Chavis at Vinewood Boulevard, my foot carefully pushed the gas pedal, while the Tailgater started speeding up.
During the process, I witnessed Chavis ramming his vehicle towards random people, including a person donning a Republican Space Ranger costume. At this point, the LSPD have been dispatched to pursue Chavis, which I find distracting, because the purpose of this chase was to finish off Chavis' life, so I don't have to deal with any more affairs. In the meantime, I saw Franklin riding his Bagger down the street, and he beeped his horn at me.
Though he passed by, I called him to help me assist with the chase, and he reluctantly agreed to help me. Me and Frank drove down the road, as we noticed Chavis again driving on the wrong side of the road, with the LSPD yelling at him numerous times to pull over, or they will be forced to shoot.
Later, Chavis jumped off his vehicle, and the vehicle crashed into a restaurant, killing a small number of people, and according to my perspective, it looked like a lot, judging by the amount of blood splatter right there, even though I only got to peek at the accident for only five seconds, before me and Franklin turned to an alley, where I saw Chavis climbing up a ladder, presumably attempting to commit suicide. Me and Franklin decided to pursue him up the ladder, but I told him we had to finish him quickly before the LSPD catches us blowing his head off. We got out of our vehicles, and we started climbing up the same ladder Chavis was climbing on.
Reaching the top, we saw an angry Trevor teabagging Chavis, because he somehow interrupted his sleep, given by that there was a stack of beer bottles next to a billboard.
There I was, including Franklin and Trevor, threatening to end Chavis' life, which I am intending to do anyways. Trevor took out a knife from his pocket, and he began to make an incision on his genitalia, but he decided to remove it altogether, including his scrotum. Me and Franklin started to feel nauseous after that, because I have never seen anything like this in my life, and I repeatedly yelled at Trevor to stop cutting up Chavis' ding-dong, for the courtesy of me and Frank's eyes, because Chavis is a man and I still believe he needs his wing-wang. We agreed to slowly cut all of his vitals off, and Franklin grabbed the knife from Trevor, now bloody from cutting up the genitals. Franklin started to make a cut on a vein on his hand, beginning the slow process of Chavis' death.
Chavis started to complain about how much it hurts, and he tried to escape from us, but we successfully restrained him, and Trevor knocked him out by slamming his head on the concrete ground. We assumed that Chavis was finally in a coma induced by Trevor, after he knocked him out on the concrete, but we continued to make several cuts on numerous parts of his body, including his leg, arms and part of his face, his nipples and his lungs. I began my part of killing Chavis, and I started making an incision down Chavis' stomach area, eventually reaching the stomach itself. I made another incision to his intestines, before moving on to the liver, the most vital body part we all have.
Trevor yelled at me to be quick, because he claimed that the LSPD are nearby and we need to simply kill him off. I repeatedly stabbed Chavis like a maniac, and the liver began to bleed terribly. I decided to cut up his rib area, so I could stab his heart and make him bleed out to death. I made another incision to his breast area, and when I saw the ribs, Trevor smashed it open, and there it is: the heart and lungs, the most vital organs we all have. I have no deep regret doing this, but I slowly cut up his lungs to fully shut down his respiratory system.
Next, I slowly started to make a cut through his heart, but suddenly I repeatedly stabbed him until his arteries started to spray blood on my face. To finish it off, I simply stabbed his neck, and Trevor pulled out a pistol and blew his head off with a single bullet. Trevor pulled out his jerry can, spilled some gasoline on him, and set him on fire, which started the decomposing process of the recently dead tennis coach, that had an affair with my wife.
After Trevor finished his final part, we saw the LSPD, standing there in shock, and they proceeded to terrorize us with their weapons. We used our parkour skills to avoid getting shot by any officer trying to chase us, but Trevor wanted to be left behind so he could negotiate with the officers. Me and Frank started to run away from the cops, jumping to various buildings we could reach within a possible distance, and that was the last time we ever saw Trevor.
As we reached the end of the line of buildings, Franklin thought there were more buildings ahead of us, and I knew the area very well, so I stopped before I could fall to my death, but I was unable to stop Franklin due to my adrenaline rush. Eventually, Franklin kept running until he jumped off the building to his death, and I heard a scream coming out of his mouth, which signaled the end of his life. I attempted to search for a ladder, but an LSPD officer popped up out of nowhere, like a ninja, and he stabbed my leg, so I could not move. He restrained me to the ground, and I got arrested on the the spot. After getting arrested, my leg healed very fast, and I ran out of the court as fast as possible during the trial. I later ran home, and the only people I saw in my mansion were my daughter and my son. They said my wife ran away, and Tracey said my wife doesn't want to see me again, but I think she might be having an affair with a male stripper, and I just want to say that who knows where the fuck is she," Mike said.
"Very interesting story, Michael. How about, your, er, sexual problems?"
"What?! Sexual problems?"
"Yes, Michael. Sexual problems!"
"I have sexual problems?" Mike asked.
"Yes, sexual problems!"
"Well, I'm just a guy that enjoys life," Mike replied.
"Well, 'just a guy that enjoys life', what are your sexual problems?"
"Listen doc, I'm just a guy that enjoys life!"
"Listen Michael, you have sexual problems and I want to know them!"
"No, doc, I'm just a movie producer, too!"
"Just a movie producer, for the love of Kifflom, what are your sexual problems?"
"I don't have any sexual problems, and I am a movie producer that doesn't cause scandals!"
"Michael! What are your sexual problems?!" Dr. Friedlander tried asking.
"LISTEN HERE, DOC, YOU FAT DICK, I DON'T HAVE FUCKING PROBLEMS!"
"What's with the language, YOU HAVE FUCKING PROBLEMS? WOULD YOU LIKE 24-HOUR MOLLIS?" Dr. Friedlander offered.
"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT, YOU SKINNY, IGNORANT SHIT WITH PUBE HAIR! I AM A MOVIE PRODUCER!"
"Listen to me, Michael. You're going to be a pimp and eat all the pussy in the end, and you're going to be pleased about it!"
"I DON'T WANT TO BE A GHETTO PIMP, STICK IT UP YOUR UGLY ASS!"
"My fucking what? You're gonna be a pimp!"
"LISTEN, YOU DIPSHIT! I'M GONNA STICK MY WING-WANG IN A POTHOLE," Mike said, now raging like a 2-year old, compared to Jimmy.
"I did that last year, and that was an arousing move. YOU HAVE SEXUAL PROBLEMS!" Dr. Friedlander yelled.
"I've been through this and I DON'T GIVE A SINGLE FUCK!"
"You come with me, you movie-producing fuck, small dick, and frequent jerk off!"
"LISTEN HERE, I'M GONNA SET YOUR CAR ON FIRE!"
"COME AT ME, BRO!"
"I'LL FUCKING GET A SEIZURE!"
"Listen here, dickhead. If you don't square up, I'm gonna drag you to the Epsilon Program. You'll get a robe, you'll get friend and be praised by Cris Formage."
"I'LL CUT YOUR DICK OFF, DOC."
"Do that, and I will spank your ass like a bitch," Dr. Friedlander threatened.
"Oh, you're trying to be sexual, do you have sexual problems?" Mike asked.
"COME AT ME, BRO!"
"SUCK MY SODA CAN, YOU PIXIE STICK!"
"I'LL RUPTURE YOUR BUTTHOLE WITH MY LONG PIG ANUS," Dr. Friedlander suddenly yelled.
"I'M GONNA CUT YOUR GIANT ANUS OFF AND SMASH IT WITH A DICK!" Mike yelled back, with enthusiasm.
"BRING IT ON, YOU BASTARD!"
Mike and Dr. Friedlander fought in the outdoors like girls, and there were many people recording the footage of the latter fighting. An old man pulled over the road to complain about why he doesn't have a scooter. Soon, the LSPD arrived to restrain the two fighting, and an officer asked about why they were fighting, but it escalated to Mike stealing a police cruiser, attempting to run over Dr. Friedlander.
Dr. Friedlander somehow started dancing like a douche, and the crowd started to focus on dancing with the therapist, instead of recording him fighting with Mike.
Mike started to fly to the other side of Los Santos, like the swing glitch that occurs on GTA 4. Mike arrived at a highway, complete with Albany Emperors, with all the drivers being a nude Dr. Friedlander, with the voice of Big Smoke. Mike started to make all the cars perform the swing glitch, and Los Santos was starting to rain cars and Dr. Friedlander.
Meanwhile, all the pedestrians looked like Carl and Ryder, and the drivers looked like Roman Bellic.
"Bowling! Bowling! Bowling!" the drivers yelled.
Eventually, everything in Los Santos performed the swing glitch, and everything, including pedestrians, started to get hit by cars, and the buildings felt like foam from Burger Shot. The entire city was thrown off shore, and in the middle of the ocean, everything started to sink.
"I'll never let you go," said a pedestrian.
An ear rape version of Cry by Godley and Creme (A/N a good song, by the way) started playing, which exploded every vehicle within a 69 mile radius of Mike. It also caused every sinking pedestrian to become a train, and the buildings were replaced by a large Carl and Big Smoke, riding on a bike. Big Smoke started to yell at Carl for not following the train, which exploded every train, eventually making a nuclear explosion that was so loud that Mike was thrown off the party.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"What happened, Dad?" Jimmy asked.
"Just a dream," Mike said.
"Oh, just wondering. See you later, Dad," Jimmy said.
"But making a deal with Chavis was a total racket after all," Mike said to himself, as Jimmy walked away from the living room.
Michael walked out of his mansion, to the tennis court, where Amanda and the tennis coach were seen practicing. Mike pulled out his pistol, pointed at the coach at point blank range. The bullet ran out of the hole, puncturing the tennis coach's head.