Last week, my English teacher assigned the class to read a short story by the name of "The Kugelmass Episode", written by Woody Allen. In short, the story is about a man who is fed up with his wife and decides to use a machine that can transport him into any novel. My assignment was to write a short (1-2 pg) story of my own where I insert myself into any novel, film, tv show, or video game that I wanted. I chose GTA. Here it is:

I was bored of living in Detroit as an investment banker. I decided that it was time for a change, so the misses and I moved to the booming and lively Liberty City. I remember my first day there as though it were yesterday. I started my day by going out for a drive around the city in search of the best restaurants. I got into my newly purchased Blista Compact and drove off.
As I explored Liberty City I noticed something peculiar and a little disconcerting. All of the eating establishments were fast food joints by the names of Burger Shot or Cluckin’ Bell. Also, there were numerous stores called Ammu-Nation, which I later found out were gun shops. Driving home, I accidentally ran a red light in front of a cop, but to my surprise, he did not pull me over or even take notice of me. Liberty City was a strange place and as weird as it sounds, I felt homesick for Detroit. I returned home and told my wife of all the days happenings. She too was a little unnerved by my stories, but she was optimistic and told me that Liberty City is probably fine and that I was just homesick.
The following morning was my first scheduled day of work at the investment-banking firm. I got into my Blista and drove off to work. While sitting in traffic, I thought it was best to play with the radio and find the best stations that Liberty City had to offer. My favorite signal was K-JAH, or k-Jah, as the dj called it. Things were looking better than yesterday, I thought, until an eastern European man came up to my door. He opened my door, took hold of my head, and slammed it against the wheel. He then pistol-whipped me, pulled me out of the car, and screamed, “welcome to Liberty City ass hole!” in a condescending tone. As if that was not painful and odd enough, the man drove a little ways then got out of my car. I could hear the police in the background and thought that maybe he was surrendering. The following happened exactly like this: the man took out a pistol, then a shotgun, then aimed at a pedestrian, then took out a rifle, turned around, then turned around again five more times. To say the least I was baffled as to what he was doing, but whatever he did, it made the cops immediately forgot about arresting him. The cops then got back into their cruisers and drove away as if nothing had happened. I was infuriated. The eastern European then did another odd dance: he punched six times, fired his pistol, took out a shotgun, fired the shotgun, then jumped in the air, punched the air, then jumped up again. This crazy jig made a tank drop from the sky right in front of him. He got in and drove away. That is when I passed out.
When I came to, I was standing outside of a hospital, with no signs of bruising or any indications that I had been car jacked. I hailed a cab, returned home, and ran to my wife. I said that I wanted to go back to Detroit not only because I was homesick, but also because Detroit was safer than Liberty City.

(I'm not really an investment banker in Detroit with a wife by the way)