I spend six months plotting before I set in motion a plan to ruin the life of Unskilled Gamer Keika. At first, my purpose was clear. I just wanted that one thing. It was mine by right, and I was willing to do all it took to have it. After the third night in a row without sleep, and the tenth night I've gone without sleep, I started to loose myself. I started to doubt everything. Could what I was doing really be worth it?
I started with his family members. I was subtle, very subtle. For the plan to work he had to believe his misfortune an act of misfortune. His mother died of "nursing home malpractice." Her IV drip was mysteriously overdosed by her attendants. I felt nothing at this. After all she was old, she could drop dead any second.
I waited for her funeral to move into my next stage of planning. There was rat poison mysteriously slipped into the punch bowl. His poor niece was one of the first to go. This was the point where the guilt started to accumulate. I told myself it was nothing, I HAD to do this.
He started to become more and more depressed. First, he bought a dog. A cute thing, Pomeranian poodle mix. I chuckled at how easy he made it. As I sawed a hole through his fence, I started to feel more guilt. My plan was to make a hole so the neighbor's pitbull could get in. Did either of the poor animals deserve this? I couldn't let that get to me, I HAD to do it… I HAD to get it.
After the death of his poor dog, he focused more and more on work. It didn't take much to get him fired- I just had to "Misplace" certain work related files he kept at his house. It was around this point where I started to loose myself. The faces of those who I'd killed circled in my mind. Gone. By my hand. For what? Was what I wanted really worth it? I could only ever know until I had it, couldn't I?
It was then when he fell into depression. I should mention that, at the time, I worked at the post office and I was very good at forgery. I intercepted one of his relief checks and added a zero to it. The forged check had just barley enough to buy a sawed-off from the hunting supply store down the street. I eagerly awaited the moment when I heard that sweet sound. When the time finally came I let out, almost involuntarily, a childlike giggle of joy as I heard the gunshot that indicated he took his own life. At this point, I was no longer myself, but a mockery of the man I once was. A mess, whose guilt had destroyed him and replaced him with a cold, unfeeling husk.
As the police cleared his house, I waited until dark to pick the lock on his back door. I was very meticulous in my searching. Once I found the object, It took every ounce of my willpower to not let out a screaming fit of laughter. I stuffed it in my pocket and set out.
EDITOR'S NOTE: After his apparent mental breakdown, SirCrona's diary (Which had contained the above memoir) was collected as evidence and was enough evidence to find him not guilty by insanity. While undergoing treatment, SirCrona eventually died from apparent suicide, When the doctors came to inspect his progress, they found written on the walls with his own blood over and over the same four words that he had filled every page of his diary with:
"I HAVE THE CHEESE"
