Trenton Rapperty is a borderline loonatic, in a craphole town that he can't esacape, in a dream world that he helped to create... The only problem is, that now, he doesn't seem so "crazy", once his dreams begin to rapidly replace his "reality", and in this dreamworld, he is the only one that is "sane". In fact, it begins to appear to him, that he may be the only one within this world that is actually, completely human...
It's 2 a.m., dark and rainy outside.
It's really humid, and Trenton Rapperty sits at an isolated corner table, in the dirtiest, darkest, nastiest corner in a 24 hour, shithole washateria in crap-ville, u.s.a...
He sits hunched over a beatup and crumbled up newspaper from 2 days ago.
(He keeps it with him because there is an article within it, on the 3rd page, that interests him.
It interests him because the article is about a guy who went "crazy", started seeing people as "monsters" and started to attack those people, that he thought were monsters. He beat them, to death...)
(Fuck the comics, now THIS, was really interesting...)
He puts down the paper, bored nearly shitless now, and after scrowging up some willpower, begins to slowly work an index finger into a nostril, digging for the little bastard that is also annoying the inside of his nose with it's dry, cracked little itchiness.
After some trifling...success! He works out a long, bloody, fleshy little booger, only slightly a tinge of green, from his nostril.
He eyesballs it for a few, in the blinking, decaying flahes of light from the failing lightbulb above him, marveling at how dis-fucking-gusting it is, and then flicks it across the room, accompanied with a growing, sadistic grin.
Mr. Rapperty is truly not the most charming of gentlemen, as can be easily deduced from his mannerisms, but nobody's there, so nobody cares...
He raises his slowly drooping head, struggling to keep it up until his clothes are finished drying.
At 2:30 a.m., he fails completely and falls asleep into a deep slumber.
2:35... he is awakened by a loud and rash deluge of static, coming from one of the small, mounted televisions, the one that is closest to him.
He raises his head and rubs his eyes in annoyance.
Things unseen by him creep on by outside in the night, outside the fogging up windows.
Rain begins to fall, but silently... The darkened sky, seeming to promise to never, ever stop.
Both t.v.s are now emitting a static hiss, that seems to just be pleased with it's abilities to incite insanity, if much more of this is to be taken.
Complete with stuttering, black and white layers of bad signal, flashing and repeating, repeating, repeating and headache inducing. This quickly becomes too much to be taken by him.
He decides to seek liberation from this.
He stands up, walks towards the door, seeking and looking forward to the freedom that the outside shall provide.
He pushes the door, slowly opening it, into the night, and...