it's a tiny bit like d&d, more like a LARP in the old-fashioned definition. fatrick is playing a character in an involuntary life-long avant-garde improvisational theater project. we are the audience, he cannot leave the role, and the performance will only end when he does.
someday (soon, because fat) when the police come by for the biweekly swattings, they will find patrick lying dead and stinking worse than usual. in his puffy hand will be a new-ish $1800 phone, and still unsent, his final words, his last message ever on earth:
"no, child, my clothing is not made of poop. my car is not just a toilet on wheels"