HAPPY EASTER
I do not own Sonic and co. I do not own Sonic and co. I do not own Sonic and co. I do not own Sonic and co. I do not own Sonic and co. I do not own Sonic and co. I do not own Sonic…
Knuckles wasn't angry, not really, he just liked to scowl at the overjoyed spring happening all around him. It was a guardian thing; smile at a bluebird and soon all the little feathery buggers will think you've gone soft and will try to steal the huge emerald you are guarding. His brain shoved a mental picture of ninja-bluebirds in front of his eyes, twittering conspiratorily through the night in a not-so-far-away tree. He just knew they were up to something! He flinched and shook his head, as though trying to dislodge a bothersome thought.
It was this stupid season. The bright colours gave him a headache, the way they kept trying to lure him away from his duty, and the wind mumbled pleasently in his ears, telling him all sorts or ridiculus lies about running in a meadow in his drawers… Hmmm – probably the colours and the wind were trying to get to the emerald too…
The echidna stiffened his back and crossed his arms over his chest. Well. He had done this before, he could do it again. He just had to wait, and eventually this annoying spring-thing would turn into summer, and the world would snap back to normal like a rubber sheet in a dry-cleaner. Nice and neat. And boring.
WHAT?! He leapt to his feet in shock; had he actually thought that?! Boring? BORING?! There was no such thing as boring – there was peace, which was when no-one else was around to threaten the master emerald, and there was fighting, which ensued as soon as peace ended. There was no in-between, and he certainly didn't think the state labelled "peace" was boring. He sat down again, facing the emerald, while very carefully not thinking that his job was boring.
Suddenly, something moved in front of the sun, throwing a fountain of sparkles off the bright surface of the huge gem. Knuckles dived sidewards without a second thought. ""Peace" has ended," the words flashed through his mind, as he rolled under a nearby handy bush, and then, with the slightest of smirks, "finally." Every nerve tingling with anticipation of a fight, he tensed in the dark-green shadows under the thick leaves… Nothing… Still nothing… Oh – what?! No, nothing… and nothing… bah…
Bloody sun, he sneered inwardly, emerging from under the bush; probably it too, was part of the seasonal conspiracy… Something would have to be done about all this confounded nature… His foot struck softly against something which went "0"
He went from maltempered creature to mean fighting machine in a matter of seconds. He glanced down. And further down. He frowned. Something small and inanimate was causing a riot of colour in the grass around his feet.
Probably, he wouldn't have to fight it, he thought to himself, after an hour of staring at the small object in a menacing way. He relaxed and went to sit down by his big green ward. The thing in the grass shimmered as he went by. Hmmm – perhaps he ought to pick it up, can't have trash lying around on this beautiful island… It turned out to be bigger than he thought, as it lay there peacefully in his hand, wrapped in brightly coloured paper, and vaguely egg-shaped. He meditated about the dangers it might or might not present for the rest of the day, and in the evening, he ate it. It turned out to be chokolate, and delicious.
In a nearby tree, someone streched a by now stiff and aching back, and whispered softly: "Happy easter, Knucklehead…"