Letters to Sweet - June 7

June 7

Dear Sweet,

I finally have a moment to write to you, hope you are doing well. Sally and I barely made it out of Bayside with our brains. Be thankful you are safe in prison, Sweet. The horror of Bayside is not something I ever wish to repeat.

The rocket launcher took care of the Zombies at the marina, but they swarmed the streets of the village with their blood thirsty eyes. Sally and I dashed down a side street looking desperately for a car in which to steal, but could find none. “We have to get out of here,” Sally said with urgency. But we had no idea where to run, or which way to go. Zombies were everywhere, thick as the mist that wrapped it’s icy hands around any shred of hope. And then, I saw it.

It was a beacon of light, a ray of hope, a means of escape. Sitting on a heli-pad was our salvation - a helicopter! Sally and I made a beeline towards the whirlybird, blasting Zombies out of our way. We got in quickly, hotwired the thing, and soared off into the night, robbing the crazed beasts of their evening meal of brains. Tragically, we landed right next to the Bayside lighthouse and more Zombies. So we stole a handy motorcycle and sped away. We ended up in Las Barrancas. I was starving, but the only place to eat at was a Cluckin’ Bell. Sweet, I would cut my own leg off and eat it before I’d ever set foot in a Cluckin’ Bell. They look like they use the gristle and beaks of the chicken. And I’m like, “ew”.

Forging on, we found a chili-dog stand in Fort Carson. If you’ve never been to Fort Carson, don’t bother. It’s not even quaint. If there was a dump of human civilization, Fort Carson would be it. I thought the Hood was bad, but I was wrong. Horribly wrong. I’m pretty sure that there is a total of five brain cells for all the inhabitants of Fort Carson. It seemed the perfect place to start over. You know I’ve always wanted to put my criminal past behind me when it is convenient for me.

In the end, four hours later, I just couldn’t stand the place. It smelled like feet. Well, “feet” is not really the best word. I guess the best way to describe it is that it smelled like the business end of a goat. Which smells nothing like feet, I should know.

Sally and I left Fort Carson and headed to Greenglass College. The campus was nothing to write home about, so we ran over a few co-eds and headed towards Las Venturas and the casinos. I was hoping to find more than one casino I could gambol in. After having fun riding my motorcycle up and down a pyramid, I saw that I was able to go into Caligula’s Palace.

Sweet, it was a high class place. They hide the slot machines away from the entrance so one does not feel as if one has a gamboling problem. Such a thing actually allows one to lie to themselves and say, “hey, I’m only here for the floor show” or similar. I, however, have a slight gamboling problem and wandered around to find the penny slots. What I did find was an unlocked door marked “authorized personnel only”

Sweet, you know I’ve never bowed to authority. And that sign was not my mother. Our mother, if you recall, is dead, and one day I shall find the dirty scum that killed her and he shall pay. I think it’s Tenpenny. But I won’t say too much, as I know they screen your letters.

As Sally and I explored the bowels of the casino, we found the security room, the electrical room, and a wooden door I was unable to open. I tried a Molotov cocktail, the rocket launcher, and a bomb, but nothing would budge it. So Sally and I went back the way we came. But we got a tad lost and found another room.

It was a huge room, like a warehouse, and from floor to ceiling were square metal boxes - like drawers in a morgue. Now why, I asked myself, would a casino need a morgue? And then, I knew. It was not a morgue, Sweet. Can you guess what it was?

It was where the Zombies lie in hiatus, waiting to be released by whomever was creating them. Sally and I left quietly. We plan on returning to our house in the Hood and grab our camera and come back to Caligula’s Palace Casino and take pictures for proof. I shall send them in my next letter.

Wish me luck, Sweet. I shall write more when I have time.

Your loving brother,


Letters To Sweet

Introduction: GTA can be a lot of fun if you don't follow the normal gameplay. Sometimes we like to get on our San Andreas game and just spend hours doing nothing but go to different places. To follow actual game play can be kind of ....boring....sometimes.

Letters to Sweet is the result of killing time on the game. Imagine, if you will, the main character of the game, CJ (and his friend and companion, Sally Babykitty, who is not actually in the game but we just use our imagination) exploring the world of San Andreas instead of doing what the game wants, which is to work towards getting his brother Sweet out of prison. And what if CJ wrote letters to Sweet about his adventures? Here is GTA- H2yk style:

June 5

Dear Sweet,

Sally and I decided it was time for another road trip and so we set out. When our stolen police bike fell into the drink, we snagged a Coast Guard boat and sailed to Battery Point. Sally was enchanted by the Giant Bridge and said we must cross it in a car. I looked for a place to dock the boat, but could find none. As I’ve always said, Sweet, if you can’t find a place to dock, make one. I put the boat into high gear and gunned the gas. We skipped like a flat stone over the wine-dark sea and hit the embankment with enough force to jump up and over the wrought-iron fence that was at the top. We were on the sidewalk, our stolen boat still humming at full throttle.

While the bystanders collected about our boat, Sally and I strolled away to look for a tasty automobile. Once we acquired one, finding the entrance point to the bridge was a bit tricky. However, we persevered and at last, found the crossing point.

Oh, Sweet, it was majestic. A beautiful red suspension bridge that spanned the harbor, connecting the mainland to the charming island of Bayside. It rose like a dragon, all steel and concrete, its towers soaring into the sky, reaching for a small piece of heaven. Sally was enchanted and I…I was breathless at the sight. We began to cross, our hearts light as we laughed merrily and sang a jaunty tune.

Sweet, we were not even a quarter of the way across when we came to a road block. Sally and I exited our stolen vehicle and pondered our next move. At that very moment a taxi cab approached the orange barrels and went right through. I activated the jet pack and we flew over the road block and landed daintily on the other side. A second cab came and stopped on our side of the road block. We jacked it, and continued our journey across the Great Bridge.

You will not believe this, Sweet, but we encountered yet another road block. This time the cab would not pass through. Frustrated but determined, I activated the jet pack again and attempted to fly over it. But to our surprise, we were unable to move. It was as if an invisible wall prevented us from proceeding. We tried to fly higher, but no luck. We tried to fly around, but were denied. Finally, we flew under the bridge and along the surface of the water and made our way gracefully to Bayside.

But something was very strange about the tiny island. It was quiet. Too quiet. There were no people, no traffic, just buildings with their dark windows staring back at us like soulless eyes of the night. Sally swallowed hard and said, “if it goes all Children of the Corn on us, I’m going to scream.” Sweet, I agreed with her statement.

We ventured into the small village and found the docks. Something about the water looked extremely unfriendly. One could almost see the swamp creature rising from it, hungry for human flesh. Sally and I edged away from the water slowly and headed towards the warehouses. The fog began to roll in slowly, the mist became thicker. And as we took stock of our situation….we saw them.
Oh, Sweet, they were dreadful, lumbering around in the mist searching for sustenance. Sally let out a small peep of fear and I….I screamed like a little girl. Quickly withdrawing my rocket launcher I began firing with extreme prejudice. Sweet, they were all over the place!

There’s a reason the bridge was blocked, you know. A reason that they want that tiny island to be kept from the rest of San Andreas….Bayside has it’s terrible secret, Sweet.

It’s inhabited by Zombies!!

Hope you are not suffering too much in prison, my brother. I shall write more later when I have a moment and tell you of our daring escape from Bayside.

Your brother,

“CJ” Carl Johnson