My name is Guronzo. I am an assassin and murderer. I will kill anything and anyone, as long as I get a good paycheck. I have murdered over 85,000 people throughout this job, not counting the people I like to sometimes run over when driving. I feel no guilt at all. I killed people by stabbing, shooting, slow torture, dismemberment, and burning. It made me a multimillionaire, and I have been doing this for 7 years. Plus, some people I kill are either rude, careless, or evil. I hop in my Phantom, and drive to my job. It an abandoned house that my boss turned into royalty with his millions. His name is Mr. Bobby. He is a man that has became a billionaire by stealing money from people’s credit cards and bank accounts. He is 38 years old and has been doing this for 15 years. Now, he hires people to do what he wants. I walk in his room, and I see him drinking Henessy, while 4 hot chicks rub his feet. That is the type of business he runs. Completely unprofessional, and non-government affiliated. He is a stripper loving, money obsessed, hypersexual, revenge-crazed psycho that will hurt anything that gets in his way. I love that guy. We share a lot of the same qualities. After he finishes the bottle, he gives me my assignment. I have to go kill the boss and executives for a company called ¨Furniture Gods.¨ They once got his order wrong. One time, he ordered a gold, $10,000 couch from them. They have messed up his order, and gave him 4 thrones. Man, I hate when people mess up my order. I have killed multiple store employees and delivery men over this sort if thing. When I order something, I don’t want it messed up. Period. He goes, ¨I’ll pay you $18 million if you do this, and do it right!¨ All I needed to hear.
I hop back my orange Phantom, and listen to ¨Homicide¨ by Tony Yayo. After that goes off, I listen to Snoop Dogg’s Doggystyle album. I then drive from L.A to New York City, since that is where the headquarters are located. I am strapped with the 2 Uzis, 2 357s with silencers, 2 daggers, and an AR-15. I drink 3 bottles of Ciroc, 4 bottles of malt liquor, and 5 bottles of Jack Daniels. Then, I go inside. I see this man in a gold suit. He welcomes me into the building. I pull out one of my 357s, and squeeze the trigger 16 times at his head. I hear others screaming, running. The noise starts to hurt my ears. I just pull out the AR-15 off my back, and start shooting at everyone I see. Any man or woman working here was going to get it. I caught about 27 bloody bodies just now, and I feel no sorrow. I just go on an elevator. I see one employee. He was very polite, and he offered me a 98% discount on beds and couches. Too bad he worked for this company. I have no choice but to kill him. His family and friends will never see him again. Oh well. I just put a plastic bag over his head, and start stabbing his neck and brain. I never get emotional about the deaths I cause. He was killed for a reason. I just start walking through after I get off of the elevator, and see 8 men and women discussing the company. I pull out my Uzi, and they all start screaming and begging. I just start firing like crazy. These people dare work for a company that messes up orders. My boss wanted a couch, and instead he got 4 thrones. Disgraceful. I keep blazing at everyone in the place with no sympathy. You won’t see your kids. Who gives a crap? When someone screws up, you kill them!! I see the blood on the computers, bloody bodies on the floor, brains on the walls and tables. Hahaha. Some man slaps the gun out my hand, and then punches me in the face. So, I pull out my dagger, and chase him. Once I grab him, I stab his arm. He begs for his life, talking about how he wants go home to his wife, how he wants to watch batman with his son. What does any of that have to do with me? So what if you want to be a pathetic child. I want your employees to start getting orders right dammit!! I start stabbing and slicing. He tries to crawl away, but I just jump on him, and start to cut off his nose, hands, fingers, feet, and toes. This goes on for 15 minutes because I wanted him to feel the pain. I see salt on one of the tables, and I start pouring them in his wounds. His screaming and whining eventually got annoying, so I let the 357 take him out. People will ask ¨Why do you kill do many people even when they had nothing to do with it?¨ Because you are connected with the people who did this. I hear cop cars coming. I run out the building, and I see this Escalade. I steal it, and I start driving away from the cops. After 7 minutes, I eventually lose the cops. I call my boss, and tell him what I did. He was happy, and I got paid for it.
I celebrate by going to the liquor store, and buying all the booze I can get. Vodka, rum, beer, wine, gin, champagne, malt liquor, and whiskey. In total, that’s 33 bottles . After killing the cashier, I drink some of the booze, and save the rest for later. I decide to take a break for murdering, and I go to the movies as a nice, relaxed white man who needs just a little break. I decide to drive back to LA the next day. Once I get back, I travel watch the movie 22 Jump Street. It was very funny. I relaxed, and I did not even kill or shoot anyone. I just ate popcorn, drank some Jack Daniels that I bought, and enjoyed the film. I started driving around, and decided to play Motley Crue’s Too Fast For Love album. I enjoy it as I drive around town drinking an 40 ounce, and then drinking 2 bottles of Champagne. But now, I really want ton do something
Now, I want to kill more people. It’s not only a fun hobby, but it helps train me for my next mission. So, I go to a local bar, and start talking crap. I piss everyone off, and they want to fight. They ain’t know about the submachine gun on my hip, so I pull it out and start shooting. They all act like sissies. I hear all this screaming, and see all this running!! I thought these cowards were supposed to be tough. Why aint y’all tough no more? Just because y’all catchin’ bullet-holes to the legs, arms, armpits, butt, back, brain, crotch, ears, eyes, face, feet, neck, and chest? All 37 of y’all have your white-trash blood, brains, teeth and eyes on floor? And y’all cried and screamed like little girls as it happened? What a disgrace. Some of them had desert eagles and was shooting, but I ducked & dodged all of the bullets fired at me. They all got bloodied up by that submachine fire, and rightfully so.
I suddenly feel two fists hit my head. I see two men ready to fight. They start kicking me, and I eventually get up and grab a shotgun I see on the floor. I hit the guy with it, and he bends over the table. My sick, twisted head tells me to shove the shotgun up that punk’s rectum. And I do. You should of heard that coward scream. I then put the trigger 3 times. The bullets must have went to his heart or something. As for the other guy running, I aim at his right leg, and shoot it clean off his entire body. Wow, you should have heard him scream and beg for help. He was in so much pain, but he did not know that there was more to come. I pick up a machete, and start hitting and stabbing his back with it. Then I cut off half of his left arm. After that, I went back inside the bar to get some gasoline, and poured it on his body. I threw a lighter on his body, and watched him scream as he was burning alive. It’s really fun to watch people suffer, but it’s more fun when you have caused the suffering. That’s what’s so sick about me. I enjoy watching people suffer. I love to hear them beg for mercy, and love to hear their love ones beg and cry. I was always like this as a kid. I had a lot of hatred in my heart, and still do. This happened ever since I committed my first murders at age 10, in the year of 1995. I had an small uzi, a knife, and pistol strapped to my hip. My parents were kind and thoughtful enough to give me those guns. I went to see Friday. The movie person would not let me buy tickets because it was rated R. I was annoyed and angry. So I let the pistol talk to the man’s brain and throat. I heard screaming. So I pulled out my uzi, and made a mess out of the customers, and the people selling popcorn and snacks. Then, I just walked into the movie. I loved it. I also love the sequels that came out later. But that day showed me that murder can solve just about any problem.
3 hours later, get a call from Mr. Bobby. He called me saying that I have to kill a glam metal band called Sexy Needle. Their latest album, Beer From Some Demon Chicks, went 23x diamond in 4 days. Mr. Bobby was a fan, and he asked for an autograph from the lead singer, Drunken Prophet. He refused to give him an autograph. Reason? He had to catch a plane very quickly. Mr. Bobby might be acting a little childish about this, but he is paying me to kill this band. So I will kill the band, their crew, and the concert’s crowd. They will be performing at the Martini Center. So, I stop by McDonalds for a power-up drink. Everyone is giving me a look. I walk in there sipping on Jack Daniel’s Honey straight out the bottle. I ordered 2 lattes from a cashier named George. I got lattes, but they were medium when I ordered large. How despicable. I pull out my glock, and I put 43 bullets in his head and neck. Brains all on the counter and floor. He deserved it. I hope he is being slowly tortured by Satan himself. Now, I hear all these customers screaming and threatening to call the cops. So I went to the car. I put an uzi and a submachine gun on my hip. Then, I bought my shotgun. So, now I am making a mess out of these men and women I see screaming and running. I am blowing off legs, hands, genitals, and jaws. I am also painting the store with brains, blood, hearts, and eyeballs. Holes to the throat, brain, and crotch. Just the way I like it. I laugh as I do this. Again, I feel no guilt or shame. I don’t care that I see children crying as their parents die and suffer. After turning every customer over the age of 18 into a pink and red mess, and after stealing some wallets, I put the shotgun on the counter. I pull out the sub, and go to the kitchen. Where the people be cooking. I start shooting at the 17 workers i see, as well as the manager. The grease, floor, and food are covered in red liquid. And it sure aint ketchup. There were 2 pathetic survivors. I decide to pick up a baseball bat I see next to me. I watch them beg as I walk towards them. After that, you know what happens next. Hahahaha!!!
I later sit down in my car, drink 19 bottles of Jack Daniels and 14 bottles of malt liquor, and reflect about all of the craziness I have done in my life for about 4 hours. I start to wonder if I was wrong for all of these murders. Many people would say what I do, and have done, is straight up evil. And I am evil. I am not trying to be a pathetic loser like Gandhi. What a pacifist. I believe that when somebody wrongs me, or my friends, then I should kill them. They should not be breathing the same air as me. Period. And why would I feel guilty? Because the 5 year old brat won’t see his dad or mom again because I killed both of them? Man, please. I would be a clown to feel guilt over that kid. He’s a kid!! Why don’t he play with his toys or something. Speaking of death, I am obsessed with. Yet, I hate funerals and memorials. Can’t begin to tell how many of those things I shot up. So many of them. I might need to stop that though. The more bodies I catch, the more funerals and memorials I create. And that means funeral cars blocking the road. My policy for all killings is that the victim must be at least 18. I never kill children. That’s a little too far. But anyone else, man or woman, is fair game. I love to kill. I don’t know if I can stop. It’s one of my favorite hobbies. I also like to steal houses, mansions, cars, tvs and money. And I love to bomb places. I I have done so much bombing in my days. I just, to make it simple, love destruction and violence. These are all passions of mine that I have had since I was a young child. But, I might stop one day. This is a dangerous hobby. I could end up getting the death penalty, or get prison time. That’s not cool. I was born sadistic. I was born a killer. It really isn’t a choice. But, I may quit one day. But not today.
After all of this self-reflection, I steal a Yukon that I see, and I go my mission. Yes I do. After arriving to place with a special luggage, I go backstage and see security looking around, a bunch of sexy groupies drinking bottles of rum and vodka, and a bunch of roadies and employees air guitaring. The security stops me. The uzis want to talk, not me. So I pull out both of them, and let them express themselves to everyone in sight. The are now bloody messes lying in huge red puddles. I then see gaurds holding tasers, and they are rushing towards. Same Uzis, same bloody results. I then put the uzis back on my waist. I finally see Sexy Needle, and they walked on stage. After the get on stage, they start to play a song called ¨Demon Strippers (Satan’s A Pimp).¨ I stop them with the glock. I aim it. The band starts complaining, and starts telling me to get off the stage. I see and hear the crowd booing me and chanting the band’s name. I pull some bombs out of the luggage and throw them into the crowd. I see 4 huge, bloody explosions. I hear start to hear screaming and running. The band gets scared too, and they try to negotiate and apologize. I let the glock take 4 members out. Now they are now corpses covered in red and pink. But, Drunken Prophet was alive. He did not know that my suitcase had a chainsaw. I chase him for 17 seconds. Then I cut off his right foot. After that, I start dismembering him as he screams, cries, and begs. As his rock-star blood sprays all over my clothes, body, and face. Then, I cut the head off. You shoul have heard the screaming. Fans, groupies, and security start running to attack me. I know their music is amazing, and it really is. But, sometimes great people must take great suffering. I start to shoot the fans with the sub. I really start to pile up bloody corpses. So many dead men and women. It’s crazy. I haven’t seen this many bodies piling up since 8 days ago when I bombed that nightclub. It was beautiful to see this many bodies on a stage. I also throw more bombs into the crowd. After all this killing, I decide to play with Drunken Prophet’s decapitated head. I kick it around a little. Then, I kick it into the crowd. Like Ice Cube said, today was a good day.
Let’s fast forward 2 months later. The news called this event a terrorist attack. So many fans across the world were sad and angry. I can’t blame them. Sexy Needle had amazing music, and I have all of their albums on my phone. The band had a collective funeral 3 days after the event, which I bombed and shot up. But, they were a good band. I decided to quit the assassin job. I was a millionaire, and I wanted to adopt kids. Mr. Bobby understood, and he is still one of my best friends. I have also quit killing and bombing in general. It’s now been 3 and half weeks since I killed or bombed anyone. And I have also now adopted 2 young boys, and I love playing GTA 5 with these 6 year-old sons of mine. Not only is it fun, but it reminds me the many civilians and people I have killed. The many wonderful cars I have stolen, some which I still have today. And the many wonderful things I have stolen, such as tvs, booze, clothes, video games, and books. It’s just really fun for all of us. This murder-free life is a good life. I think I will continue to live it.