[ WP ] You are an average citizen in the universe of Grand Theft Auto . Describe an average day .

**Up-N-Atom Burger, Vinewood Boulevard -- -April 14th 6:13 PM, 2013** 
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 The price of two burger and two order of fries in that little burger joint down the road usually runs in at about $ 7.88. With the additional soda or two, the price tag suddenly runs up to a flat $ 10, which is usually more than Xia can afford, having just moved in to the city about a month or so back. Pisswater's actually pretty filling for the whooping $ 15 it steals from the wallet, though it washes down a lot better than soda and keeps a working man up at night for work. 
 
 Today, Xia and his `` business associate'' Liam are enjoying some fine, greasy-coated burgers and salty-as-Africa potato fries. A fine meal in the name of the American spirit. 
 
 `` So come on Xia, buddy. What do you think of the place so far?'' 
 
 `` Ehh. LS is pretty nice so far, Liam. Decent money here and there. Say, you happen to know where to find a dayjob?'' 
 
 `` What? Come on, the night shifts down at 24/7 ai n't cutting it for you, nigga?'' 
 
 A purple-coated man walks over, waving around a gun in his hand. Hearing the words, he runs right over and points the barrel at the skinny white Liam's temple. 
 
 `` What'd you just say bitch?!'' 
 
 `` No hablo ingles, lo siento putita. Puedo ayudarlo con buscar su padre?'' 
 
 Xia quickly picks up the mood and pulls Liam away. Pointing at the gun with a shaky finger, he adds `` Shi shi? Ni hao, gong hei fa choi-'' 
 
 The Balla raises an eyebrow and puts his gun away. Calling his brothers to his side, he leaves the restaurant with a little bag in his hand and a swagger in his steps. `` Lousy fucking Mexicanese ruining San Andreas...'' 
 
 `` Jesus fooking Christ, can you believe that guy?'' 
 
 `` You should n't have used that word, you know.'' 
 
 `` What? It's not like we're on Grove Street getting fresh with those motherfuckers.'' 
 
 `` Ehh, still.'' Xia takes a long sip from his little paper cup, swishing the bubbly brown E-cola around his yellowing teeth. `` Hey, got a light?'' 
 
 The little Chinaman pulls out a little pinch of bright-brown shavings and wraps it around in a little dark roll of paper, sticking it in his mouth. A flame is lit on a little white lighter which heats up the end with its warm glow. He inhales deeply before letting the ashen-tasting smoke cloud escape his mouth with a long drag. Thank god for Free Smoke in San Andreas. 
 
 Liam pulls out his phone and checks the time. 6:23 PM. Only seven more minutes before it was time to start heading for work. He stuffs it away and crams the rest of his burger into his mouth, letting the mushy meat roll around his mouth as he talks. 
 
 `` So, how was your morning man?'' 
 
 `` Honestly, pretty shitty.'' His friend taps his long fingernails across the table, staring and admiring the little cigar between his fingers. `` That one uhh... black guy was driving a tank around my car again. I had insurance so I got covered for it but still, long walk to the train this morning.'' 
 
 `` I hear ya. You know one of those uhh... fuck, who were those guys with the really gay looking black motorcycles around in Blaine County again?'' 
 
 `` The Lost, I think. Wait, are you talking about the one with Johnny?'' 
 
 `` Yeah, that coke-upped guy. Man, I was selling some cars down at the Bodyworks the other day and the guy struts on in with a completely torn apart motorcycle.'' Liam rips up a bag of salt and pours it all over the greasy fries, licking the white remains on his hand. `` And I mean fucking destroyed! Wheels popped, lights out, seat gone... half the goddamn handlebar was gone! And you know what he asked me?'' 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 `` He asked me to give him bullet-proof wheels and add a new horn. Did n't ask me to fix it. Just asked for a goddamn fucking horn and bullet-proof wheels.'' 
 
 `` You mean, replace the popped ones with bullet-proof?'' 
 
 `` No! He wanted me to make the broken tires bullet-proof! How in the fuck do you make popped tires fucking bulletproof?'' 
 
 `` You're the mechanic not me.'' Xia pulls out his phone. The time was 6:30 PM. He picks up the emptied, ketchup-smeared tray and dumps in the trash can, feeling around his backpack. `` Well, see ya in two hours Liam. I've got ta get to work.'' 
 
 `` Alright man. Hey, mind if I tag along?'' His friend grins, getting up and walking over to the nearest cash register, zipping open his own backpack and digging around for his materials. 
 
 `` Pffft. Alright man. You're driving though.'' 
 
 `` Do I get to do the thing?'' asks Liam as he wraps a white hockey mask around his head. 
 
 Xia pulls his hood over his masked head. `` Ehh. On the count of 3, we do it together.'' 
 
 `` Alright, cool. 1, 2, 3.'' 
 
 `` **EVERYONE PUT YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR AND HAND OVER THE MONEY! MAKE A MOVE AND EVERYONE FUCKING DIES! **'' 

