[ WP ] The Swap N ' Buy will trade or purchase your current skills for credits . Being an average person with no impressive or unique skills , you do n't have many credits . Searching the discount bin , you find a skill that has no business being there ...

I'm not really good at anything. 
 
 
 See, the entire freaking system is rigged against people like me. We're all dopey flightless birds stuck on the prosaic sinking ship that is mediocrity, going down in the unforgiving sea of unremarkability. And its not like there's any chance of survival considering well, *I do n't even have the ability to swim*. I ca n't even feasibly compare myself to an Average Joe because at least whoever this average Joe guy is, people know his name. I am, truly by all accounts, a nobody. And my bank account reflects this lack of anything meaningful. I'm telling you, the entire system is a sham. You need skills in order to gain credits, *but you need credits in order to gain any meaningful skills*. Its all a ploy for the government to keep us people, the skill-nots, oppressed. Anyway, in all honesty, at this point I'm basically a mortician since really my only income is from people dying. While others see `` Your Aunt Sarah passed away'', all I see are four big fat blue credit symbols. Thankfully enough though severe hemophilia runs rampant in my huge family of 84 and counting ( luckily for me, down ). Like clockwork every month, credits roll in, bringing me back to life like Jesus on a Sunday. And hey I mean, if they ever stop, at least my suicide note'll double as the weapon. To probably the utter disappointment of my parents, most days I just blow what credits I have on garbage rag root shavings, usually laced with god knows what since I'm not really in a position to afford anything remotely quality. Yeah my parents were n't the proudest of me, but pride has no worth in the afterlife. They did have my brother to quench their ego's thirst for parental satisfaction. He's some hotshot Qeiber Ball player, naturally born with the skill, ranking in credits like a god damn vacuum. I love him as far as love goes for someone you randomly just happened to pop out of the same genitalia from, but in this credit economy, my concern for family's life is inversely proportional to the size of their credit account. Jackassery aside, I do n't have much to lose, other than my life maybe, but at this point I do n't really know if I'd consider that a loss. How's that quote go? `` You miss 100 % of the Qeiber shots you do n't take''? I have no idea, never got the ability to read, not that it matters. Not that any of this matters. I trot on over to the local Swap N' Buy, with my blotched brown beanie serving as a screw on cap to keep all my feelings of doubt and self loathing bottled. Shake well before serving maybe? It's kinda late, walking down the cobbled road, the moon is rather uninteresting contrasting against the eerily purple night sky, the stars are almost nonexistent, and the silhouette of the buildings crammed like sardines down the street towering down over the insignificant life below. 
 I get to The Swap N' Buy and for a moment, I look across the cobble street, past the flickering black lamps adorning the sidewalks, and see it. Skills R' Us. The filet minion of skill stores. Thankfully I snap out of that delusion real quick. I may be hopeful but I'm not *stupid*. Forget Skills R' Us, I highly doubt I can even afford anything in the Swap N' Buy, which I think to myself *as I walk into the Swap N' Buy*... Huh, maybe I *am* stupid. Whatever. Passing by the obnoxiously optimistic employees it does n't take much to realized that I have utterly no purpose here, I ca n't even afford the stupid fucking candy skills chilling in the checkout area, *on sale*. Again, whatever. I do n't even care. Its not like I was planning on doing anything better with my time. On my way out one of the obnoxious retail jockeys blocks my way from the exit like god damn Gandalf the Grey in a distastefully red shirt and khaki pants. 
 
 
 `` Hello sir! I'm a Swap Specialist! Did you find everything you need?'' 
 
 
 Jesus Christ I should've never left the house. I can see the pearly gates of the exit a mere feet away, with this 5'7'', red headed, scrawny Neanderthal standing in my way as if he's the god damn gatekeeper. 
 
 
 `` I'm fine, I do n't need an employee.'' I retort, hoping he gets out of my way so I can make my escape. 
 
 He clears his throat, `` *Ahem* you mean Swap Specialist!'' 
 
 
 No, I mean get the hell out of my way you minimum credit per hour creatine. Not that I have much room to talk, since my pay is less frequent and more per... death. 
 
 
 I reply, `` Listen man I just came to browse.'' 
 
 
 Hopefully that'll shut him up, and he'll stop doing this weird sideways shuffle every time I attempt to make a break for the door. 
 
 
 but alas no, my replies are to no avail, 
 
 
 `` Just wait right here sir, if budget's your issue I *think* I can pick up just the thing for you. Wait here please.'' 
 
 
 Mother of god is this guy socially retarded? I mean before this day I had no idea it was possible to be born without the *how to take a fucking hint* skill. But still I do n't leave. The exit is right there, its open, its free. I am a prisoner with no guard, a zoo animal with no trainer, a horse with no carriage. Yet I stay. Why? Honestly I do n't know. Maybe deep down I want to see what he has to offer? I have hope that I can turn my life around. Or perhaps I fear returning home, to my life of being drunk on mediocrity? Or maybe I'm lazy and want an excuse to not do anything. My introspective internal monologue's eventually interrupted when he shows back up with a blue box, *tattered to the point that you wonder how it can possibly ever hold anything*, which ironically is a line from a heartbreak poem I wrote in college after a breakup. I got a C-. Anyway the guy returns with the same annoying grin he left with. He plops the box at my feet and it somehow miraculously stays together, and as he's looking to *finally* leave he goes: 
 
 
 `` Here's our clearance skills, popular among our less affluent customers. Enjoy! It's a slow day so I'll be right over there in the third checkout if you need anything else.'' 
 
 
 He's gone. Finally. But wait, did he just call me poor? And he expects me to look through this bullshit and buy something after that? I can not believe the audacity... although... those do seem like some pretty nice skills... and I mean, he's not wrong... Who cares, its not like I had integrity to begin with. I rummage through the capsules of preloaded skills, and its the basic hand-me-down crap you'd expect in a bin like this. Momma always told me `` clearance'' was another word for `` garbage''. Not that she actually said that, my parents never really spoke to me in the first place. Funny enough they actually put theft detection on these pieces of trash. Greedy bastards. Is it that necessary to protect these? Are *Inaudibly Whispering* and *Gender Studies* really that important that anyone would steal them? Among the trivially idiotic skills available, I do manage to scavenge a few quality ones. `` Writing'' is at a complete bargain of a price. I mean, nothing'll ever amount from it, but if it's working maybe I could sell it later or something, who knows. Right in the corner of the box however, stuck between two decaying pieces of cardboard, theres this purple capsule with weird designs resembling the bottles of homeopathic medicine my mother would make me take as a child. It was completely nasty when I was younger, and to not relive any memories of that, I chuck the skill capsule right back in the box. I check under the cardboard to see if theres anything else of interest. Theres a few cool ones here and there, but I end up narrowing it down to two capsules, `` Writing'' and `` *Self Love*''. Honestly I do n't know what the hell compels me to pick up that utter nonsense hippie `` Self Love'' bullshit, but the capsules the cheapest there ( probably for a good reason ) and its pretty cool looking with like tie dye designs and this trippy heart, so I consider it. It's late, I really should head home whether I like it or not, so I choose a capsule and rush over to the register. Unfortunately the only register open is register three, so again I'm greeted by the asshole with the smile. I'm trying to just the capsule, transfer over the credit or two it costs, and avoid any further social contact than necessary. But in my attempt to attain social isolationism, of course Mr. Swap Specialist has to pipe up. 
 
 `` Is that all sir?..... Would you like a bag?.....I hope you enjoyed!..... Sir?....'' 
 
 
 Jesus again, take a hint buddy. I get the hell out as fast as I can, capsule in hand, and as I'm leaving he voices his opinion. 
 
 
 `` Come back next week sir! We'll have a sale on the MANNERS SKILL.'' 
 
 Yea OK buddy, I'll either be dead or shopping somewhere better by next week, manners my ass. I think about my choice in skill as I make the small trek home. It seems to have rained a bit earlier, and the cobblestone roads are glistening under the moonlight. The clouds have cleared revealing a bright full moon, reigning king over all mortals below. I snap out of my weird internal romanticization of a giant rock in the sky as I get home. I know they say patience is a virtue, however both patience and virtue are vastly out of my credit range. I blow an amass of dust off my skill capsule infuser, pop in my new purchase, and hook up the neural cord from the infuser to the port in the rear of my cerebellum. The infuser was a gift from one of my now passed relatives, not the newest model or the best shape, but it gets the job done. I hope at least. I have n't exactly used it ever. Now it was time. I lay back on my sofa, the back of my head hanging over the arms of the couch allowing the cord to run through, flip the switch, and fall into the most refreshing sleep in my entire mortal life.
