Seamlessly as it had begun, the first fragment of the writing process had concluded.
"Thank Phil Collins," the Writer sighed as he closed Microsoft Office Word 2010. He'd been tirelessly exceeding his mental parameters attempting to construct sentences in a literary fashion so that he may not come off as a writer still in preschool. Typing the exposition for his latest anal excrement which only toddlers would find entertaining was exhausting. He clicked open his Firefox browser and crossed out of the window. He continued on to delete his history as well, as if some emo douche on the internet took it upon themselves to steal his information, and in turn discover how much of a vocabulary hack he really was.
The Writer was moments from deactivating the roaring beast next to him did an idea flash in his mind.
"That's brilliant!" the Writer exclaimed to himself. "That's masterful writing in its purest!"
The Writer quickly re-opened Microsoft Office Word 2010, and set his formatting. Only then did he realize, with great dismay, the idea had escaped him, and he could no longer recall what he had thought to be the most brilliant of literary comedy. The Writer wept for a moment, and resumed his writing for the second part of his atrocity: Sonic the Comedy.
The set of Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles sustained the exposition from the previous part. They were journeying to become the foundation of the demise of the once brilliant commander of militias of large mechanical locomotives. Sonic had excommunicated himself from the group, presuming the other two were voluntarily participating in gossip and continually excluding Sonic from partaking in said gossip as well.
"Those fools won't make a morning's worth of travel before the monsters find them," Sonic laughed with pride. He was speaking, of course, of the tribes of incessant ghouls that wandered the outskirts of the Writer's mind. What, you think this took place in a real location? Why that's a foolish mistake indeed! What sort of story such as this would ever take place in a true world? No, the forest that Sonic and every other character Sonic's ever come across has always existed within the mind of the Writer! Just be careful not to inform Sonic of this classified information. If he or anyone else in the story discovered this, great chaos would definitely ensue (chaos is used in this case as a verb. It's very difficult to distinguish the two words in the Sonic universe). In any case, we'll resume with the story.
Sonic sprinted throughout the woodland on his own, wondering why the plot had been on standstill for the entirety of the previous paragraph. It soon became apparent to him what exactly had been going on. He stopped running and stared intently.
"Okay," Sonic spoke softly, "I know what mission the narrator has told you to carry out, but certainly you mustn't have believed him!"
Sonic was alone among the trees, and was merely speaking to the air in front of him, but anyone who has ever read Don't Let The Pigeon Do X book series knew exactly what was approaching: Audience participation!
"Great chaos and destruction?" Sonic scoffed. "How could anyone fall for such nonsense? Surely you must understand the insurmountable importance of informing me on the sensitive topic of whether or not we really exist or we're just a manifestation of the Writer's conscious and/or subconscious mind? You can tell me that, right?"
(At this point the reader should shout as piercingly and anti-cohesively as utterly imaginable to his or her computer screen. Or don't, it won't affect the outcome of the story anyway)
Sonic was befuddled at the retort of the audience. "What do you mean you won't tell me? Do you have any idea of the implications of your misinformation? We could all be dead and we don't even know it! Just speak, man! Or woman!"
(Once again, the reader should shriek at his or her screen. You really should. It'll be fun)
Sonic, this time taken aback, would not stand for such deification. "I hereby command you, reader of this story, to speak of our tragedies!"
(You really should shout. I mean, I'd stop pestering you to do it! You'd like that monkey off your back, wouldn't you?)
Sonic, infuriated, finally moved to his last resort. "Please?"
(You know what, I'm not even going to say it this time. If you really want to, go ahead and tell Sonic! That would be hilarious, correct; death, destruction, only Hollywood's best attempt at comedy in this day and age? Pathetic.)
Sonic dropped the subject, and noticed he had been watched. From afar, he could visually notice two distinguishable silhouettes. He quickly pulled out his smartphone and brought up his Fave-Fives from his T-Mobile telecommunications provider. Neither of the silhouettes resembled that of his Fave-Fives friends icons. In fact, the silhouettes resembled more that of robots, rather than anthropomorphic mammals. One robot scaled much higher than the other. Sonic registered one silhouette as a Terminator and the other as R2-D2.
"How foolish of you to fall for my EEEEEEVIL plot, SHAWNICK!" a voice bellowed.
Sonic thought the robots had challenged him, however after a moment's contemplation Sonic concluded that the voice had not come from the robots in front of him, but rather from above him. Seconds later, he was gone. Not in a cloud of dust, but rather into a cloud of dust. The one at the center of the event had none other been the sinister Dr. Gregory Fitzgerald Otto Nikola Sigmund Albert Archimedes Galileo Augustus Julius Plato Ivo Robotnik, who everyone had finally gotten to calling "Eggman" after Robotnik's long ass name needed to be plastered on every wanted poster across Sonic's domain (For more detailed information on the Writer's Sonic fanworld, please venture to my Sonic fanfiction titled Adventures Explained. Shameless self-promotion, I know).
Eggman, soon deflated by his victory, viewed Sonic's ashes as a mistake. He decided he would create a machine to return Sonic to the land of the living. Right after, of course, his daily dose of Modern Family.
The story cut to Tails and Knuckles who, over the course of the previous events, discovered Eggman's latest base of operations. The night was finally upon them. Tails, never known for the clumsiness he'd been experiencing that day, had forgotten to bring torches along, meaning every turn could mean a gaggle of creepers primed and prepared to combust immediately in their faces. Luckily for them, they were not within the realm of Minecraft, but rather in the realm of Fallout. Unluckily for them, they were in the realm of Fallout, meaning both were unwillingly forced into side quests in order to raise their XP to a level of which they may stand a fighting chance in the thick woods. Tails, in the midst of the worst sun cycle of his short life, had also forgotten stimpaks, meaning they had to survive by way of slowly regenerating from squirrel on a stick and 200 year old Salisbury steak. Tails had only packed anticipating encounters of Postal-like enemies. He was carrying seventeen cats, all of which originally intended to be used as silencers, two M-16 rifles, and taco take-out. They wasted the taco take-out early on after an encounter with a super mutant. In any case, the two would need to find shelter within the confines of Eggman's fortress. Tails hoped there was already a bed inside that did not have an owner; because of course he had not packed any wool.
Knuckles used his once dragging knuckles to vehemently penetrate the steel encasement of Eggman's base, thus crafting a microscopic orifice; if there was an orifice at all, Tails couldn't view it due to the lack of a microscope.
In any case, they chose to enter through the front door. Within the confines of the iron shell, thick darkness immediately befell the two. Blinded in the lingering blackness and insurmountably eerie silence, neither could control their heartbeats. A solitary sound would be reassuring, but the total silence was what was disconcerting. The dense, black emptiness of the base exhausted the imagination, as if goblins hung in the shadows mere inches from their faces. The culminating fear and sudden rush of similes were too much for Tails to take, and he screeched.
This activated the security system.
Immediately, a multitude of red targeting rays emitted from several robotic defense mechanisms implanted on the walls of the base. The targets locked, and a countdown initiated counting down from 10.
"I'd love to know whether or not I'd love to say this," the always confusing Knuckles spoke softly, "But I'd love to believe that I've always loved to love you, Tails."
"Would you shut up?" Tails responded.
Then, just as suddenly as the targeting rays appeared, they vanished, and the simile-filled darkness returned again. A voice could be heard from outside the base.
"Perhaps next time I'll give him a head start," Eggman spoke.
Eggman entered his base, and drug his feet as he walked into the steel shell.
The two anthropomorphic animals had only a second to dive into hiding before Eggman trudged into view. He had a sad look upon his face and he held an order from Pizza Hut.
"Hopefully this pizza will help the brainstorming process," Eggman talked (at least he thought he was) to himself as he activated a 50" HDTV. "A device to bring Sonic back to life… now how could that be built?"
Knuckles could hardly contain his excitement, "Sonic is dead? But dead is dead! How could someone who has never been dead like Sonic be dead now? Well, he was dead once but that past is dead and dead is dead is dead."
"I wonder what that voice in the sky meant by 'all in the Writer's head?'" Eggman continued.
"'All in the Writer's head?'" Tails reverberated.
"That would explain the sudden drop off of details. I can hardly make out the world around me."
"Everything is in the Writer's head? So we only exist in the imagination of a higher being? That almost sounds like an idea for a religion…"
Suddenly the world around the three began to tremble, as if a large scale earthquake had triggered. Eggman's base began to crumble under the tension. A helix of color emitted from Eggman's HDTV. It generated a gravitational pull, and soon, that pull became stronger than the Earth's, and random objects began spiraling into the helix of color.
"Why is my TV a black hole?" Eggman screamed at the top of his lungs before being sucked into the helix.
It wasn't long until the entire base, along with Tails and Knuckles, were sucked into the black hole. Where it went, nobody knows. Until the next part of course.
BECAUSE PLOT DEVELOPMENT
