Disclaimer: Do I look like I own anything at all? Don't own RE.

Inspired by (I always do this): The good people. Bandanas. Chicago Typewriter. (Does he have any inkribbons? xD)

Warnings: Some of my reviewers call me the Queen of Randomness. Don't like random? Then leave strangah! Mentions Resident Evil; Nemesis aswell. Like once or twice.
Okay, one more then. I have NOT finished the game yet. I always reset fun parts, so if something happens to Mr. Merchant in the game I can only say; Consider it undone.

Ready? ENJOY!

Ah, welcome strangah. I can tell you've been captivated by my neverending presence, and now you want to know who I really am. Well, I'm a merchant.
I bet you guessed that already, because all I ever say is 'What're ya buying?', and the only people who want to sell things are merchants and those human beings that make commercialbreaks. Who are probably merchants themselves aswell.
If you have met Leon he probably told you I have many brothers, but let me tell you this; He's wrong. I don't have any brothers at all, it's always the same person he came across. You think someone like me would have any brothers? God no, my mother went through enough trouble trying to raise just me. Imagine having to raise more than one!
You don't like the sound of that, do you strangah?

Good, now that is out of the way we can get on with the real story.
Do you know how hard it is to be a merchant? And how hard it is to have an accent like I do? I bet you don't, strangah. That's why you have to read my story, and my story alone.
Forget Leon, he's overrated. Forget Ashley, she's nothing more than a pain in the neck. Forget Luis, even though he might be just as sexy as that guy with the chainsaw. I'm the real deal.

As I mentioned before, the life of a merchant can be hard, especially with an accent like this. I sell guns to many people, and to many who aren't people anymore aswell, and they always misunderstand me.
Like this one time that Salazar came up to me, looking all tiny and... Well tiny alone will do. He wanted a weapon, he preferred a shotgun, but he said anything would do.
So I told him, because at that moment it was the truth, "Not enough cash."
"What?"
"Not enough cash." I said again.
"What?"
"Not enough cash, strangah."
Salazar tried to look up to me, but to no avail. "Did you just call me strange?"
"What're ya buying?"

Okay, here's the first point I'm going to make in my story. The reason I only talk about buyin', sellin' and cash is because I don't want to get too friendly with the strangahs. They might think I will give them a discount if I become friendly, and that is, no matter who wants it, out of the question. If I gave everyone a discount I wouldn't have enough money to buy cardboard-cutouts of ganados I use to practice my own shooting-skills on. And what happens to a weapons-merchant that hasn't got great aim himself? He becomes a laughing-stock.
I know what you're thinking now strangah, you're thinking; 'But you already are.' That is where you're wrong again. Believe me, had you needed my guns you would've considered me your hero, rather than some weirdo to entertain you when you're feelin' bored.

There are other reasons I need cash, but we will get to that some other day. I'm a busy man, I can't write everything down in one night. Even though I have an unlimited supply of inkribbons.

Ah, of course. Would you like to know where I got those?
I got them at a fine day strangah. I was on vacation in a city inhabited by raccoons. Or that's what I thought anyway. When I got there I found out there were no raccoons in the city at all, just a lot of moaning people trying to eat me. After considering finding a city with less moaning people I decided to stay after all. I thought it would be good for my wallet, because there was one man always looking for weapons.
He was rather fond of me, let me tell you that. I promised him I would give him a weapon if he brought me as many inkribbons as he could find. Yes, ribbons. He didn't look very loaded to me. With cash I mean, strangah.
"S.T.A.R.S." He just moaned, and went away again. Now everybody always says I have a limited vocabulary, but that guy, well, he was much worse. But I didn't care, he did not practice shooting his rocket launcher on my face, so I let him be.
Anyway, after a few hours he came back, loaded with inkribbons. He got so dirty from the ink I couldn't even see him before he moaned something. I gave him a gun, and he gave me a lot of inkribbons.

Which by the way is exactly the reason that Jill had trouble finding any. How was I supposed to know she wanted to be an author? I may be a gifted man, but I never attempted to read her mind. I thought nothing would be in there anyway.
Maybe she wanted to write something dirty, I saw her with that Chris guy a lot. I did not attempt to read his mind either, he looked too boring to be interesting in the first place.

Oh my strangah, I told you about my inkribbons and you now know the reason I never give discounts. However I did not see time flies by so quickly when you're typing something. I still plan on going to Chicago to get a typewriter there, but we will get to that some other time aswell. I have to go now, the man with the chainsaw looks like he wants to buy something. I think he wants a...
Never mind, he tried his chainsaw on my blue flame and caught on fire in the process. Hmmm, makes me wonder. Maybe I should set some ganados on fire with that next time I go out to sell something. It attracts a lot more attention than the regular flame.
Indeed I might do that.

But now it's time to practice my amazing skills on some cardboard ganados. Because next time I go to Raccoon City I will be expecting some raccoons, and I have to make sure I'll be able to shoot them when they come for me.
Until next time, strangah.

I had fun here. And I never write things like this. WHOOHOO. *Hyper mode*
Don't worry, RE; Nemesis won't be mentioned again. Aye? Aye.