Pac Man: -Story of a legend-

This place was a dump. The Apartment was painted all white yet had become a dingy brown. The refrigerator was wide open occasionally creaking as the door opened and closed which was dependant on the wind. Every cabinet drawer was open, either hanging half-way off of the hinges or scattered in pieces across the floor.

“…These were my glory days, when games actually took skill to play...”

The was one room in the Apartment but the window was cracked in the middle with blood dripping of the shards of glass that still managed to retain its shape inside the window frame. The carpet was molded and occasionally you would see an insect run across the floor.

There were hole punched in the wall also there were also visible attempts to fill some of the holes with stucco yet they did not match the color of the dirty walls. Paintings and pictures hung sideways or lay scattered across the carpet. As I looked around Mr. Pac-Man’s apartment I could not help but think to myself “this is going to be a long day”.

Around Pac-Man’s apartment I saw many different posters either of Pac-Man or his cherished high score. “Are we going to do this or what!?!” he violently coughed for the next five minutes making his way to the sink to hock a luggie into the drain. I suddenly faced to face with him. Pac-Man, He had single handedly stared in over He was round, circular in shape; he had no visible eyes or tongue for that matter and sat calmly on his couch. He lit a cigarette and placed it in his mouth he took a long deep drag on the cigarette and sighed with impatience. “…Well, hurry up then”. I decided to do what the man asked and pushed some of clothes made up mostly of red and white sneakers, orange gloves and many, many hair ties…I decided that I would question Pac-Man about the hair ties.

“… (Sobs) it feels so good to admit it…”

“Oh yeah, those are HER’S she hasn’t taken her sh*^ yet.” He point to a box by the front door marked ‘HER SH*^’ .He stood up and dropped the cigarette into the carpet, then he quickly lit another. I coughed as the heavy stench of tobacco finally reached my lungs. “What’s wrong with you” Pac-Man asked me as he reached over the couch he was sitting on to a nearby desk drawer. “Can’t take a little smoke?”

In an act of clumsiness the drawer fell open revealing its contents: scraps of paper, various colored pills and pellets and many different containers of red lipstick, eyelash curler, purple eye shadow, long red gloves and red boots. “Why are those things in the nightstand?” “I…I… don’t know what you…” Suddenly I was struck across the face by Pac-Man. I was knocked unconscious for what seemed like a very long time. While I was unconscious I dreamed of Cortana scolding Master Chief about which gun he should use to kill as many Brutes as possible and the chief nodding his head saying ‘yes honey…of course, what was I thinking”.

When I awoke I was in a very old wooden chair inside the bedroom of the apartment. “Hello?” The lights flashed on and flickered for a minute until the light from the light bulb filled the room. Directly in front of me was a woman. She wore long red boots that came up past her knee, red gloves that fit snuggly on her hand and a big bow-tie completing the ensemble on her round and yellow body. “Can you tell me what happened maim” I asked the woman, she turned around and answered with a voice that could only be attained through years of smoking. “You’re just fine honey”. “Oh, lord?!” I could not contain my shock as I fit all the pieces of the puzzle in place. The lipstick, the bow-tie and the boots. I was obvious to me now what exactly he was hiding. I was staring at no women; I was staring at Pac-Man! I caught my fleeting composure, straightened my shirt and tried with all my might not to run out of that apartment screaming, I am a journalist and I am going to finish my story, no matter how weird this gets.