Some say life is a rollercoaster.

Some say life is hell.

I say it is a time of goodbyes and hellos.

My name is Queen Bonnie Thunderspeed. Well, not really.

I am REALLY a fanfic writer who felt like sharing something to people. And then I realised I can't hog the limelight forever. This is my last story. It may be a oneshot, or I may expand it a little more. But all I know is that it is my last story ever in the Toontown archive. Thank you to my supporters, I think you are the best! Thank you to pikachuprinplup, for being a good writer and helping me with my writing.

And now we begin...

The Storyteller from Space.


My name is Bonnie.

I have tried to help everyone in my life as much as I can. But then I realised I had to step down from the throne of responsibility. I left my crown to the young and foolish, who would probably use the power in a much better way.

I have experienced pain and death as many times as your teeth have fallen out. Well, maybe not that many. But a lot. I have experienced pain a lot. I lost my parents. My sister. My family. Hope and dreams. My first kiss. Everything a normal teen would want. But a learnt a valuable lesson.

These are the moments in my life that I cherish:

"Hey BonBon! Yo, Bonnie! THUNDERSPEED, WAIT UP!"

I giggled, running as fast as I could. I was 4 years old, and my babysitter, McDoodle, was chasing after me in the garden. I wouldn't say he was the most appropriate babysitter - he swore a lot, and dressed quite suspiciously, but to me, he was my best friend. He was a tall, red dog, with two gold teeth, which I liked to stroke quite a lot. I was a weird kid. He would always play with me, and put up with my crying and tantrums, and he always gave me that warm smile whenever my parents gave him the cash. I liked him a lot. He would chase me, like now, everywhere, while I'd squeal and hide in nooks and crannies where he was too tall to reach.
Eventually, he would manage to tempt me to stop running with a jellybean sandwich with a small blob of mustard - my favourite!
Then he would crack jokes at me and tell me about life in the alleyways. Sometimes he would tell me stories about his gang before I went to sleep, because he always thought I'd get freaked out with them. But I never was.
I loved McDoodle. I loved everything about him.

But then things went horribly wrong.

McDoodle was killed by his own gang when they thought he was working for the enemy gang. His body was found bruised and battered in a dustbin. He was in pieces. Literally.
I was too young to be told what really happened to McDoodle. But I uncovered his body and found out for myself. My parents told me he couldn't babysit me anymore because he had moved to Minnie's Melodyland. But I was smart for a 4 year old. And then I realised all those vicious tales he used to tell me before bed were true. I never used to believe him. But now I did.

I gave McDoodle's grave a red poppy. I used to visit that grave everyday. And oddly enough, that flower never wilted and died. And I still think he is alive. In me.

I always used to dream about him, and he would tell me that he thought I was the best little mouse ever. Then he would tell me to go to sleep and forget about him.

Eventually, I did.

Another little escapade was when I first started nursery. My teacher, Mrs Garboocho, would always smile and laugh and be a lovely person. All us tots loved her. But then, our class pet, a doodle named Nelly, ran away. I remember all of us going on a little search in the town central. But I lost everyone while I was looking in a bush. I started crying and then Nelly came up to me, sniffing my feet. I smiled at her and we played in a nearby park. That were good times.

Ah, it's time for me to go now.

Professor Pete is coming to take my soul and put it into a glass jar. Then he'll cremate it.

I guess it's a goodbye from me.

And a hello to the future.