"What are you trying to prove?"

Someone said that to me. Or asked me that, rather.

What am I trying to prove? That's a damn good question. One worth asking, too. What am I doing here? Why do I proceed?

This shit's dumb, when I really look at it. And now I seem to have made her cry. Sobs break out in muffled segments through her hands, clasped on either side of her face.
She looks pretty pathetic, really.
Sorry about that. Or something.
I honestly can't say I care. I know I should, but I don't. That is that.

Sorry, babe. Better luck next time?

Look, I say, while advancing towards her to "console" and "comfort" her.

"I love you, Cream. I just didn't want to hurt you."

"You ARE hurting me, stupid!"

She only cries more. She only cries louder.
I hate chicks, sometimes. If they didn't have twats they would be completely fucking useless.

"Baby"

"No! Fuck you!"

She's hitting me and trying to push me away. I could never remember a time in my life when she had been so aggressive. Don't think I've ever heard her say the word "fuck" before, either.
Ah, well.

You live.
You learn.
You grow.

It's a beautiful cycle.

Where was I?
Something about Cream.

Oh, right. Dumping her. It wasn't easy. The bitch is a little crazy.
A little? Okay, maybe a lot. Maybe we're all mad, and just used to it. Maybe it doesn't fucking matter. Maybe I need a beer. So what?

I feel dizzy...

Right. Dumping cream.

I did it for the right reasons. I thought they were the right reasons. Think they are for the right reasons. It makes sense.
Or maybe she's dumping me. We're definitely having an argument, here. She's definitely sickened by me at this point. Either way, it's decided. We're splitting up.
Am I repeating myself?
It doesn't matter.

Let's move on.
Actually, scratch that. Let's backtrack.

We were a gem, Cream and me. I? Doesn't matter.
We were meant for each other, or so it seemed.
We loved each other, and shit.

Things were good. I moved in with her.
She paid the rent.
She bought the food.
She cleaned the house.
She cooked me dinner.
The sex was decent.
She sucked at head. Could not suck dick for shit. Just throwing that out there.
But it was nice. She didn't seem to complain much in those days.

I miss the silence.

Then she started complaining. Talking about how I need a job, and shit. Talking about how I needed to clean.
Talking about how I need to learn to cook. What the shit is that? Me? A twenty-two year old man, and you're giving me orders?
Just where do you think you get the tits to pull some shit like that?

She thought since she owned the house, that she could tell me what to do. Like she could be the man, or something. Well, I don't let that shit slide. So I didn't. And I won't.
So, this planted the seed. It took a while for things to get like they are. This was just the initial action that started this whole mess. Maybe it happened sooner. Maybe it happened when I agreed to take Cream in. You never know. In a way, this could all be my fault.
But I doubt it.

"How could you do this to me?"

Got that question from someone, too. Actually, I heard that a couple times.
Probably the most asked question.

"How could you?" How could I?

Was the act really that terrible? Was I really the monster everyone made me out to be? No. I wasn't a monster.
Still not a monster.
Don't think I'll ever be a "monster"
That's just silly.
Silly and dumb.
Exaggerated.
I'm a fox.
Two tails, maybe, but does this actually constitute monster?
No. Mutant at best. Your arguments are jell-o to my rock solid intellect.

Hm. We were talking about Amy, right?
Right. Amy.

I always had a thing for Amy. Amy's tits. Yeah. Big ones. Cream hardly has tits. No ass, either. You aren't working with much but a cook in that department. I mentioned Cream couldn't give head, didn't I?

Anyway, Amy always had this thing for Sonic. Me and Sonic don't get along so well. Sonic and I. Whatever. Doesn't matter.
I don't like the prick, okay?
We started out friends.
"Best buds" he used to call us. This was, of course, back when I was stupid and young. Not stupid. I was never stupid. Foolish, perhaps. Naive is better. We'll go with that.

Sonic used me. He struck me for every resource I had, then moved along once there was nothing left. If my feelings could get hurt, they might have been. Instead, I was just pissed off. Insulted.
The prick.

I helped him.
Mobotropolis was restored because of me. Well, he helped, yeah, but it was mostly me.
Okay, well yeah. It wasn't mostly me. It was mostly him.
But he wouldn't have been able to pull it off without me, no matter how insignificant my role during the actual war.

Look, that shit doesn't matter. What happens, is when Mobotropolis gets reestablished, the fucker takes the credit. He somehow forgets to mention me to the press at all, so I never got made into a cartoon. Comic book. Video game.
Where's the Tails action figure?
When do I get my check for the novelty Tails coffee mug? Tee shirt? The Miles Prower spin-off series? I don't.
I don't, because it doesn't fucking exist.

And that pisses me off.

But Sonic? Fucker's face is on my cereal box. He has his own clothing line. The irony of this, is that he only wears shoes.
His shoes say his fucking name on them. That's for sure.

Did I see a dollar of any of this money? Did I get any recognition? Did I even get a cameo in the movie that came out last summer about the war? Nope. Nothing.
Unless you look really closely into SONIC'S FUCKING SHADOW!!

See there? No? You still can't see me? Don't worry. I never could, either.

"I thought we were friends"

Hah. That's a laugh.

I mentioned Sonic and Amy together for a specific reason. You see, I had always had this thing for Amy. I said that, right? And Amy always had this thing for sonic. Following? Okay, now Sonic was never interested. Sonic never really liked Amy. Not perfect enough for his godly super hero standards, or some such stupid bullshit. No, he wanted a princess. Princess Sally.
But Sally had this proverbial boner for Antoine. And just when you think the chain might end; it doesn't. Antoine has a not-so-proverbial boner for Bunnie Rabbot, and she only has a proverbial boner for god, because she has no lady parts, and can't have sex with anything, also causing a lack of emotional feelings for anyone or anything else whatsoever. Alright, got that?

Good.

Okay, lets recap.

Cream loves me. I love Amy. Amy loves Sonic. Sonic loves Sally. Sally loves Antoine. Antoine loves Bunnie. And Bunnie loves the invisible man that she can't touch, feel, or see, who supposedly loves everyone, starting the whole fucking cycle all over again.

But Princess Sally died of lung cancer. Yep. Lung cancer.

So Sonic did the only thing he could think to do. Settle for second best.
So I figured I had better do the same. Settle for second best.
Stick with the options you are given, rather than seeking something exotic.

Cream.
She was a safe one. Probably would have never cheated on me. Probably would have never broken up with me. Probably would have put up with my bullshit a lot longer before taking any kind of action, like attempting to kick me out.
I say attempting, because she would simply not be successful. I'm definitely bigger than she is.

Yeah. She was safe. But safe is boring.
Life isn't life without taking chances.

Right, guys?

I was lost.
In a daze.
Stuck in a state of constant motion. Circles.
Where was I going?
Where could I go?

What about the future?
You know?

I simply couldn't see things working with Cream. She was always upset. I guess I shouldn't blame her. Females are insane. Something about the chemical imbalance. Too much X chromosome, not near enough Y. Fucks with their heads. No shit.

Every day was exactly the same.

I needed out.

Amy and me were friends, yeah. I. Fuck you.

Anyway, we were friends. Old, old friends. Friends. As far as we ever got. Before this night.

I got lucky. Yeah. Lucky.

She was crying when I called her. I asked if she wanted to do something, or if she needed anything, and she supposed she could use some company.
Hah.
Gotcha.

I showed up with the sympathetic switch on.
People tell me I should have been an actor.
All the right things get me into her pants.

And let me tell you guys something. Cream doesn't have shit on Amy. Nope, not one bit. Amy, the little nymphomaniac that she is, was the best fuck I had ever had.

Never found out exactly how Cream found out. Can't say I was too careful, so it simply didn't surprise me.

This puts us back at the beginning. Or, the present rather.

With all of this in mind, I decide it's time to just end it with her. Stop things entirely. Force it all to come to a screeching halt.

"It's over."

"What?!"

"You heard me. It's over."

And then I walked away. I never saw Cream again after that day. Heard from her, sure, but I sure as fuck never saw her again.

Eat shit, Padro.