Eyes tearing up behind a set of binoculars blink away streams of suffering to try and get a clearer picture.
There's the cake, the cake that started all of this.
The elegant lettering in icing on the top can just be discerned from this angle as Bubsy helps Tidus place it gingerly on the rotating stand on the elegantly clothed table.
This was supposed to be her special day, Amy thinks to herself, hiccuping on snot and dribble. But that bitch Elise took him from her.
That bitch Elise took everything from her and she'd just have to take it all back, wouldn't she?
"Hope you kept the receipt you dumb fleshy Jezebel," Amy says, sniffling, recomposing herself. "Repo girl is coming to collect."
Mooseknuckle boxing;
a fanfic by Backpack, backpack
Amy likes looking at the pretty cakes and cute cupcakes when she goes to the supermarket. It's usually the first thing she does.
She doesn't buy anything, but she likes to fantasize about baking and making all those pretty desserts for the people she loves and the people that love her.
"Thank you, Amy!" they say in her head. "This is the most beautiful cake I've ever seen!"
She giggles to herself as she acts modestly in her head. "It was no trouble at all," she says to nobody. "It's my pleasure! I hope you like it."
In her head they always do. They always tell her what a great person she is and she always denies it but feels good about it anyway. This all happens in her head while she admires those pretty, pretty cakes.
"Hey, Amy!"
A familiar voice. Tails.
Amy stifles an internal groan.
She wouldn't call it jealousy. She'd never call it jealousy. But if she confided in you the same way she confided in her diary, she'd tell you she thought it was stupid that that dumb egghead who could have been anything from scientist to mechanic decided to horn in on her dream and get really good at baking, too. And choose that, of all things, as a career! The nerve! She's not jealous or anything, but she hates showboats and bragwagglers.
But still. That artificial smile on Amy's face lights up upon recognition and greeting.
"Hey, Tails! How ARE you!" It reads more like a formality to the trained eye than a question but it's not something Tails ever picks up on.
"I'm great! We've been keeping busy all day!"
"That's goooooood," she says through her smile, nodding.
"Are you going to Sonic's party?"
Amy's eyes pop open. "Sonic's.. party?"
"Yeah! I'd go but we're shortstaffed and I don't mind the extra hours. We just finished the cake for Elise to pick up this afternoon. Are you gonna go?"
"No, I uh- I mean, I was INVITED but I have a date with my super rich boyfriend. Ohohoho, yes. He's very handsome."
"Maybe you should bring your boyfriend by after your date! I'm sure Sonic and Elise wouldn't mind!"
This really upsets Amy in ways she doesn't have or want words for. "Can I see it?"
"Excuse me?"
"Can I see the cake?"
"Oh, uh," Tails looks around for other customers and finds none. "Sure, but we gotta make it quick, okay? I got a ton of cakes to finish by the end of my shift."
"Just a second," Amy promises through a sad, fake smile.
Tails motions around the counter and leads her to the back. In a clear to go box waiting for them is the prettiest cake she's ever seen.
It says; CONGRATULATIONS SONIC AND ELISE.
Amy doesn't understand what that could possibly mean. Are they getting married? Having a baby? Her fists tighten and her body begins to shake.
"It's... beautiful.." she says through clenched teeth.
"Thank you! I worked extra hard on it, on account of it's Sonic and Eli-"
The hammer slams against the back of his head, cracking his skull. His body ragdolls to the floor and twitches uncontrollably. She hits him a couple more times to stop his movement fully. Just to be sure.
Tiptoeing carefully away from the pooling blood around his crushed head, she makes her way out front and around the counter and into the store, to locate a razor and some scissors and some double sided tape before she returns to the bakery.
The bell rings just as she's finishing up and she peaks out from in back to see just the customer she was waiting for.
Delicately, she picks up the cake and makes her way out front to greet the famous Elise with a fake smile. Hat bill pulled down just over her eyes, orange and white fur matted to her face with a thin layer of cake icing. Two tails leaving a subtle trail of blood behind her as she walks taped and pinned to the uniform Tails died in.
"Hey *Princess*. Your cake is ready."
She sets it down between them on the counter, not bothering to look up at her. Breathing heavily.
"Oh, uh. Are you okay? You look. Uh. Different."
"Just a skin condition, ma'am," she says in her boy voice, trying to sound like Tails but sounding more like Ash Ketchum.
"Er. Are you sure you should be working with food if you have a skin condition?"
"Are you sure you should be handling food with all that ugly," Amy mutters to herself.
"Excuse me?"
"It's not contagious, ma'am. I got it under control. We're short staffed enough as it is."
"Oh- well, all right, if you're sure..."
"I am. That'll be six hundred dollars."
"Six hundred dollars?! For a cake?!"
"It's a really good cake, ma'am. And you smell bad. Because you smell so bad I can only get this close to you if it's worth six hundred dollars."
"Smell bad? What?"
"It must be that cheap perfume you're wearing, ma'am. I'm allergic to cheap, gaudy perfumes."
"This perfume is really expensi-"
"Six hundred dollars, ma'am. Take it or leave it."
"Can I speak with your manager...?"
"I am the manager, ma'am."
Elise sighs in frustration. "You're a very rude manager."
"You're a very rude smelling customer," Amy coughs and clears her throat, turning her head to the side, getting back on top of the voice. "Six hundred dollars, ma'am."
Elise stares at the top of her hat with Tails's fur awkwardly smeared across her face and covered in icing poking out with her hands on her hips. She hmphs, and dumps a pile of money from her purse onto the counter before leaving with her cake.
Amy's gaze picks up to follow her.
She leaves the uniform attached to the severed tails in a pile on his corpse.
His cracked and warped skull covered in a pile of matting paper towels. Scarlet bleeding its way slowly through the layers, absorbing and sticking them together. Amy watches for a second in her underwear. Hypnotized by the blood consuming the fibers.
She puts her clothes on and leaves, checking the bottoms of her shoes before she walks out behind the counter.
She opens the register and cleans it out.
The bear behind the counter at the pawn shop is smelly and he's picking his nose. Gross, Amy thinks to herself.
He doesn't notice her standing there, so she clears her throat.
"Ahem," she says before actually clearing her throat to say "ahem" louder. "Ahem."
The bear notices and wipes his hands on his jeans, putting down the lewd magazine by the register and leaning in.
"Hi there," he says, smiling. What can I do for ye?"
She doesn't bother with the pleasantries. "I need a gun."
"What kind of gun you after, little lady?"
"I, uh." She looks at the display. "I dunno. I don't know that much about guns. What's your favorite?"
"Favorite? Honey, for my money, I like me a good smith and wesson chambered in .357. Four inch barrel, eight rounds. Now, that's what I keep behind the register for all those shady characters you hear about in gangster rap. But we aint got one of those for sale and a revolver's a more complicated gun for someone what aint used to shootin' off guns or nothin'. Is this to carry or for home defense?"
"Er. Carry?" Amy says with some uncertainty.
"What you want is a glock," he says, fishing a model 19 out from the display case. He sets it on the counter in front of her. "Compact. Fifteen plus one. That's a polymer pistol, so it's cheap and durable. You could get it wet, drop it in mud, hell, even spray the damn thing down with a liter of hot diarrhea and it'd still shoot. Mechanics are very simple. Point and shoot. No beginner confusion."
Amy picks up the pistol and examines it. "Where's the safety?"
The bear shakes his head. "No safety. Point and shoot. Now, let's get one thing straight, alright? The safety is in your head." He points to his skull. "It's in your brain. Up here. Look. Listen. This here is a striker fire pistol. It aint gonna shoot unless you pull that trigger. Don't put your finger on that trigger until you are ready to shoot it and you aint gonna have any problems. You unnerstand?"
Amy nods. "I like that. I'll take it. And the bullets. Can you show me how to load it?"
"Yeah," he says, ejecting the magazine from the pistol. "You press that button to eject the magazine. Some people call this a clip. It's not a clip, unnerstand? It's a magazine."
Amy nods.
"Now, I seen some people try and push these bullets in through the top. These lips are meant to hold the bullet in place, so that aint no good, y'hear? You're gonna ruin your magazine. You slide it in here," the bear demonstrates, "like so. One at a time. Now, you can only fit fifteen in the magazine but you can rack it and add another one for an extra round. Like so."
The bear hands the loaded gun to Amy and she just looks at it, admiring its ugly frame.
She stuffs it into her purse and dumps a stinky wad of sweaty cash on the counter before throwing it over her shoulder and turning around to walk out.
"Uh. Ma'am, wait."
It's not the bear that sold her the gun that stops her, but the sight of a wedding gown that stops her dead in her tracks.
"Ma'am. You gave me uh. Like way more than this pistol is worth."
"Keep it," she says, standing on her tiptoes to remove the hanger from the hook and bring the dress down to her level.
Pressing the dress against her body. Eyeballing it. "I'm taking this."
The bear shrugs and counts out some money for the register and stuffs the rest in his pocket.
Amy smooths out the dress on her passenger seat. A sad lonely dress for a sad lonely hedgehog. A perfect fit for their special day.
If you asked her, she'd say she was very in tune with the poetry of the universe.
She starts the car and puts it in reverse.
Amy takes special time and care putting on her makeup tonight.
She's surveyed the area. She knows tonight can only go one way - magical.
Taking a pull from the uncorked champagne bottle on the sink she leans back in to carefully dash on her eyeliner.
And somewhere down below, in the pipes of her sink, her medication turns into sludge. She hadn't taken it in awhile and today was finally the day she realized she didn't need it anymore.
Shortly after waking up she dumped it all down the drain.
Her eggs tasted better today. The air was cleaner. This was supposed to be a good time.
She wouldn't cry again. She just cleaned up and put on fresh mascara and she wouldn't ruin that by crying. More importantly, She wouldn't let that stupid floozy Elise ruin her perfect makeup.
This *will* be her special day. Whether Elise likes it or not.
"Yeah, but like," Sonic says, belching at some fizzy cold brew, "human boobies are way better, man. I'm telling ya."
"I look at Elise like damn son I couldn't fit a whole knuckle around a titty I'm like. Damn, son. I need two knucks. Boff' knucks just ta fit a titty how you like that."
"Knuckles, you really should stop talking like that. You're not a black man. You're a red echidna. It's super insensitive."
"Ye, ah'm red because I grew up in the blood on the streets, homey. That's what's real."
"That's not- urgh, Knuckles, that doesn't make any sense, okay? You don't just-"
He's cut off by Toad approaching him on the backyard deck. "HI SONIC."
He sighs, visibly. "Hi Toad. Look, we're having a grownup decision right now so if you could-"
"I AM A GROWNUP," Toad says, smiling unapologetically. "I'M SO GROWNUP I'M PROBABLY ABOUT TO DIE SOON. US TOADSTOOLS HAVE REALLY SHORT LIFESPANS."
"Oh, uh. I'm sorry to hear that."
"Word is bond."
Sonic elbows Knuckles and Knuckles gets visibly upset.
"IT'S OKAY! I'VE ALREADY SPAWNED. I JUST HAD AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS TWO DAYS AGO WHICH SHOULD CARRY ME THROUGH UNTIL IT HAPPENS. I MEAN HECK. MY CONSCIOUSNESS HAS ALMOST ALREADY REENTERED THE FOLD OF EXISTENCE. ARE THOSE COCKTAIL WEENIES?"
"Yeah, help yourself little guy," Sonic says, concerned. "All you want."
"THANKS!" Toad says, waddling away.
"Jesus Christ, that's depressing, right?"
"Word is bond."
"That's not what that means, Knuckles. Come on."
"Wait, what's a Jesus Christ?"
"It's a-" Sonic is cut off by Tidus.
"Hey! Any of you chumps wanna play two on two blitzball?"
"Tidus," Sonic says cupping his mouth to project his voice. "That isn't physically possible on this planet."
"Oh! Haha!" Tidus does an anime sweat. "You true! You true bro!"
Tidus punches the volleyball he's holding into the pool and Sonic gives him a thumbs up.
"What is wrong with Elise," Sonic mutters to himself. "Doesn't she know to invite people I actually like?"
"Hell yeah, homey," Knuckles says, nudging Sonic with his elbow. "I wasn't even invited! Haha!"
"At least she got that right," he says muttering into a beer before he sips it.
"Wh-"
That's when the upstairs window breaks out and startles everybody as the corpse of Bubsy falls hard to the deck, splattering blood on Knuckles and Sonic's faces.
Sonic's eye lazily revolves and twitches around its socket while Amy hungrily bathes it with her tongue, licking all he blood leaking onto it from his forehead off without batting an eye.
She never breaks eye contact with Elise while she grinds Sonic and licks his eyeball.
"Oh yeah, Sonneee. You like that, don't you?"
"Hhhrrrggh," Sonic whines in protest. He's suffering severe brain damage and head trauma. His speech is unintelligible at best and his thoughts are an incoherent pile of human dirt. "NNnnrnnrnhhhgghhh."
"Oh yahhh, Sonnneeeeee." Amy moans and grinds him harder.
Elise is sobbing, as she very well should be.
This is what she did to Amy so she deserves it.
She deserves to cry while her most and best love makes sex at something that isn't her.
This is how the world works. You take what's yours and you take what's not yours and you guess you feel good about yourself, don't you?
Yeah, that's what you do. Just to get by. Just to make this cesspool worth it.
And Amy holds the pistol against the back of his head, his useless body tied to a chair while she struggles and cries, forced to watch as Amy licks his tongue and grinds against him.
"Why," Elise sniffles and sobs, truly sad, truly pathetic in such a state. "Why are you doing this to us?"
Amy doesn't know their names but she imagines the dead bodies bleeding out on the deck are telling her she's doing great.
That she's beautiful and awesome.
That she's doing the right thing and they love her for it.
That they wish they could have more friends like her.
She digs into her panties and pulls out a fat wad of goo she strings between three fingers wide until it pops and she says "this is what you do to me, Soneeee. This is what you make my womanparts like. Soneeeee."
She's playing up the theatrics because she knows Elise has to watch.
"Stop!" Elise sobs, letting her head drop. "Please stop! He needs to go to a hospital, he's DYING! Please don't do this to him." Her body shudders under the rhythm of her crying.
Amy stops licking Sonic's eyeball and never takes her eyes off Elise. She stops grinding him and stands up. She backs up at least three sideways steps from Sonic, keeping her in her line of sight. She unloads the remaining seven rounds into Sonic and Elise's hyperventilated sobbing turns into screaming again and Amy throws her empty pistol into Elise's face before bouncing off and splashing into the pool.
"This is what you did you me you- ... you HARLOT!" Amy shouts as she closes her eyes and balls her fists at her sides. Her wedding dress reacting to the momentum.
Tears leaking from her tightly shut eyes and leaving sad trails of mascara behind.
She breaks down. Falls to her knees and begins sobbing into her shaking hands. Muffled, she shouts at Elise, having broken eye contact for the first time since she woke up tied to that deck chair.
"THIS IS WHAT YOU DID TO ME," she screams. "YOU TOOK MY SONIC AWAY FROM ME SO NOW I HAVE TO TAKE HIM AWAY FROM YOU."
She's so far gone not even the sirens remove her from her tantrum.
Amy would be hugging herself if it weren't for the fact that when she tried to pull her arms apart from behind her back, they wouldn't come apart.
She was handcuffed, and in the back of a cop car when she regained consciousness.
The wet splotches on her windshield being wiped away systematically reminding her what it's like to be abandoned and forgotten. She struggles further, audibly laugh-crying in her endeavors. She slams her back into the upright portion of the seat a couple of times before both the laughter and crying intensify a few minutes before ultimately dying down.
The cop driving the car tries to ignore it. He speaks inaudibly to his shoulder microphone as he drives. Her head bobs in motion with the car as she settles her breathing.
"I'm getting married today," she says, distantly.
"What?"
"I'm getting MARRIED today," she says, louder, shifting in her seat. The elaborate wedding gown bouncing around. She locks eyes with the driver in the rear-view mirror. "I'm getting married today. We're going to have a baby."
The driver tries to redirect his attention back to the road, but she speaks again.
"We had a party today. Everyone that loved me came today and they wished me a happy birthday and a happy wedding and a happy baby shower. They told me how much they loved me and they told me how important I was to their lives. It's funny but it's sad because all my friends left me because I needed medication. And now that I don't need medication anymore... I think I proved to them that I deserve to be their friend. I'm glad I finally deserve to be their friend."
The cop is feeling sad as he looks into her sad eyes through the rear view mirror;
"Yeah," he says, not knowing what else to say. "Me, too."
When his eyes scan his immediate surroundings, he slams on the breaks, fishtailing and flipping the cop car directly into what the cop was trying to avoid hitting.
A squirrel crossing the street, wearing nothing but a blue vest and drinking a mangoseamaddness from Smoothie Lord. Her eyes bug out as she sees the approaching headlights and the car pulls a hard right and flips itself into her, mashing her organs out of her body like a sledgehammer against a tube of toothpaste.
The cake is rotating as Amy lifts her wedding gown above it and onto her back, squatting over it.
Plops of poop splatter against the surface of the cake as she piddles a spiraling line across the center.
The Gary Jules cover of Mad World plays on the stereo as feces drip from her back like an ill-fed icecream machine while Elise watches and screams for the life of her dead Sonic.
Amy profoundly ruins the most beautiful cake ever conceived with her peepee and poopoo as the cops kick in the back door and point loaded shotguns and SMG's at both of them.
After the cage in the car caved in and dislodged itself, Amy manages to crawl her injured self out of the vehicle and remove her handcuffs.
The driver gurgles through the glass stuck in his throat. She wonders if he'll suffocate or burn to death first.
Probably suffocate.
She checked the magazine loaded into the police officer's pistol.
It's a glock. She knows how to use one of those.
Point and shoot. Haha!
She loves the idea of a little Sonic growing inside of her. She decides she'll call him Gregory. She holds her pistol to her side as she hugs herself and trudges onward into the darkening horizon.
Amy hopes her new lease on life lasts forever. It doesn't.