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Taste


Is it possible to feel the same way about god as you do about your cunt?
You think on that for a bit. I'm gonna take a shit.


"I just love waffles," she says forcing a soggy piece off with the side of her fork, impaling it, and stuffing it into her mouth. "I love blueberry waffles. With syrup. I looooove syrup."
"Of course you do."

Waffle Land. Bottom of the barrel diner.
How the fuck does she talk me into this shit?

"I was thinking that later we could get manicures," she says through a mouthful of waffle. "Also, you need your eyebrows trimmed. You look like shit."
"We've got orders to go see the big guy."
"You call him the big guy because he's fat, right?"
"Yes. Yes, I do."

I should program Nicole to refer to him as the big guy from now on.

"Any idea what we have to do this time?"
"I dunno," I say, chin resting on the palms of my hands. "I'll probably kill something and you'll probably fuck something. Like always."
"I just hope it's not him again..."
"Um. Excuse me?"
"WAFFLES!" she says, digging into her meal. Eyes wide with paranoia and undertones of shame.
"Whore." Sip my coffee. Look down at my newspaper.

Oh, lookie. Sonic did something magnificent that everyone fucking loves him for.
Asswipe.

"Hey, the body is meant to have sex with," she says, her fork scraping against the plate underneath her soaked waffle. "Not, uh. Not to be not had sex with."
"You do realize how stupid you sound whenever you say things like that, right?"
"Hey. If god didn't want us to constantly have sex, why would he make it feel good?"
"Why would he make it painful to begin with? Sex is for reproduction. You just kept subjecting yourself to vaginal pains because you heard somewhere that it eventually feels good."

Amy blinks at me and goes back to her waffle.
Oh, lookie. Someone lost their dog.
Oscar Townsend. That's the name of the dog, not the girl who lost it.
What kind of name for an animal is Oscar Townsend.

"You're just jealous because I get laid more," she says, swallowing. How fitting.
"Took you long enough."
"It's true, though." Her head shaking from side to side, like some kind of dumb teen stereotype.
"There's more to life than using men to feel wanted and needed all the time. You're insignificant, ultimately. Accept it, already, and act like a goddamn grownup."
"All I hear is blah, blah, blah, I don't get laid," she says, giggling.
"All you're about to hear are your own goddamn screams drowning out my laughter..."
"Oh, you!"

She giggles and throws an artificial sweetener packet at me.
Fucking whore.
I'm gonna rip your goddamn tits off with my bare hands, you slut. And I'm going to stuff them in your face and force you to choke on your own goddamned money ticket.

"Do you two need anything?"

Old, cow waitress with the coffee dispenser and the hair net.
Her life, very obviously in shambles, her face stricken with a permanent displeased expression.

"More coffee," I tell her, sliding my cup over to the edge.
She fills it and looks up, eying me warily. "Did you have an accident?"
"What do you mean by an accident?"
"It smells like piss over here."
"I wouldn't call that an accident."

She just sighs, defeated. Shakes her head and walks away.
Another victory for Sally Acorn.


"It's good to see you again, ladies."
"HAIIII! ^^"
"Whatever," I say. "Just get to the point."

Working for Robotnik.
If I would have known this was my future back in the good old days, I would have fucking killed myself a long time ago. I suppose you could say that about a lot of the aspects of my life. But I can use him to get what I want. And I will, if it's the last fucking thing I ever do.

"Today I've decided to change things up a bit. As you all know, and by all, I mean both of you, as you all know Amy's specialty is the fabulous honeypot, while Sally's expertise lies in killing. I want to see how versatile my minions are."
"THIS SOUNDS FUN!"
"Shut up, Amy," I say to her before turning my attention to Robotnik. "What the hell are you getting at?"
"Sally, I want you to take care of the honeypot on this one. Amy will do the killing."
"FINALLY!" she shouts, prancing. "I GET TO USE MY HAMMER!"
"What? This is bullshit, Ivo."
"This is going to require you getting a makeover, Sally. You're a little on the... meh, side. I mean there's a reason why we do things the way we do them. But I wanna see if you can pull it off."
"I fucking hate you."
"Hate me all you want," he replies, chuckling. "Do it, or get Roboticized. Now, there is no specific target this time, this is just a practice run. Pick anybody you'd like."
The word "Shadow" escapes my lips as my cunt begins to moisten. Oh, shit, did I just really say that out loud? Cover my mouth and look around. Amy's staring at me funny.
"Fat chance," Robotnik snorts. "Stick with someone in your league. May I suggest Big?"
"Fuck you, fatty," I spit. Yellow cable splattering against the metallic floor beneath my feet. Splashing up against my legs.
"Again. Your league," he says, grabbing hold of the lever next to his chair. "Stick with it."

He pulls the lever and the floor opens up, sending us tumbling down into the blinding light below.


If you want some of this
you gotta come up
and give me a-


Splash.
Freezing cold water engulfs us, and we struggle to the top.
I fucking hate it when he does this.
Inhale deeply and make way to the shore.
Just drops us from the Death Egg into a fucking lake. No escorts back down. Heavens no. Let's just fucking drop them in a lake.
Asswipe. Prick.

The Death Egg floats above the great forest, with some kind of newfangled cloaking device. So ironic he would end up hiding out here when we took control of the city.
My city.

Crawl from the water and roll over onto the dirt. I don't know where Amy is, and I don't give a shit.
Fuck it all.


"Well, you look... better?"
Sigh. "Just give me the fucking mirror, Amy."

She hands it to me, and I take a look at myself.

"Jesus Christ, I look like a whore."
"That's what you're going for," she tells me, with that stupid fucking smile on her face.
"I hate you, Amy," I tell her. "I hate you so fucking much."
"Oh, you!" she giggles.
"I'm not having sex with anyone."
"You are such a prude, Sally."
"I'm not a prude, you idiot. I'm just not a slut."
"Mmmmhm. When's the last time you got laid?"
"That's none of your business."
"Oh, Sally," she says, sad look on her face. Head cocked to the side. "You're not a virgin are you?"
"Of course not. It's just, uh. It's been awhile."
"Years, huh?"
"Fuck you."
"That's the spirit! Only, you wanna go for men, and not me. I'm not a lesbian."
"Bitch," I say. "Fucking stupid bitch. Whatever. Alright, get in the closet."
"Can't I come pick up guys with you?"
"You have to assassinate him, stupid. Jump out of the closet, hit him when he's not looking."

Cheap hotel. Never use your own place. Never check in using your name.
Call ahead. Pay in cash.
The roaches will only be a problem for the deceased.

These places stink so bad, you can't even smell the body.

"This is bullshit," Amy says, opening the closet door, stepping inside and turning around.
"Tell me about it," I mutter, approaching the closet door. "Did you bring your hammer?"
"Of course," she says, drawing a giant pink mallet from somewhere on her body. "I always have this baby on me."
"Your murder weapon is pink. And I don't even want to know where you pulled that from."
"I LOVE pink!" she says with a smile on her face, her eyes closed. "And it was in my-"
"That's enough. See you later."
"Hey, Sally?"
"What?"
"Remember. There is an art to what I do. You have to know people. You have to get inside their brain thingies and move stuff around to accommodate you and your needs. Quite frankly, I'm not even sure you can pull it off."
"You think I can't get a guy?"
"It's possible," she says. "But what I do isn't easy. Don't take it lightly." She has a very serious look on her face.
"Whatever," I say, slamming the closet door in her face. "See you soon."


Stepping outside the ratty hotel, I see a guy sitting on a bench next to the ashtray, smoking a cigarette. He doesn't look too bad. Suppose I could work with this.

"Hey," I say. "Hey you."
"Me?" he asks dumbly, pointing his thumb at himself.
"Yeah. You. Wanna fuck?"
"Are you a hooker? Because I don't-"
"Nope. Free sex. Right here, right now. You in?"
"Are you serious?"
"Serious as Ebola. Ebola is pretty serious, sir."
"Hm. Yeah, okay."
"Good man. You won't regret this," I say grabbing his hand.

Pull him up and lead him back inside, and into the elevator.
God. Men. Not difficult at all.

Isn't easy, my ass.


Rake him into the room and shut the door behind him.

"Lock it," I say, walking into the bathroom. "Then get undressed. Hurry."

He says something, but I'm not listening.
I'm looking at myself in the mirror. Jesus god, I look like a tramp.

"You naked, yet?" I call out to him.
"Yeah."

Cool.
Walk out of the bathroom and look over at him on the bed. He's not bad looking for a fox. I've never been into foxes. Not my style.
Did I really just say that? Please kill me.

Nobody. Nobody is my style.
His dick is pretty big, though.

"You gonna take that vest off?" he asks.
"No," I tell him.
"The boots?"
"Boots stay on."
'We gonna fuck?"
"Oh, you're fucked alright. Amy?"

Suddenly, the closet door bursts open, and Amy pops out with the hammer that's bigger than she is. Screaming and waving it around manically.
I didn't know she had it in her.

"What the fuck?" he shouts, getting up and scrambling to pick up his clothes.

Amy hops up on the bed and swings the hammer backwards over her head. You can see the fire in her eyes. The lust.
She brings it down on his confused head with all the might she has in her. The sensitive skin on his head, tearing open. Blood soaking his orange fur, darkening it. He falls to his knees. She swings it to the left, and brings it to the right, hitting him right across the face. The crack echoing off the walls as he falls over a bleeding, twitching mess.
She screams as she brings the hammer down on him again, and again, and again, and again, and again before dropping the bloody hammer, hyperventilating and staring off into space.

"How do you feel, Amy?"

That's when she breaks down, and starts sobbing.


She doesn't like the elevator because the lights flicker on and off in this dark, rusty old box.
Perfect time to strike.

"I saw that look in your eyes," I say.
"What?"
"When you killed him." Lick my lips. Her eyes get wide. "When you bludgeoned him to death with your hammer."
"I don't know what that means," she says, looking away. Trying to dismiss me.
"Something snapped in you, didn't it? You got off on it, didn't you?"
"You're gross, Sally."
"It's the truth and you know it," I state, grinning. "It felt good, didn't it? It felt real good."

She bites her lip and the lights go out again. When the light comes back on, she's looking at me with the most peculiar look on her face.
Almost as if she's thinking.

"What would that mean?" She asks, timidly.
"It means you've just discovered that it's much easier to create than it is to destroy," I tell her, crossing my arms. "More fun, too. That's just the nature of shit."

She's staring at me, eyes wide when the lights go off again.
The door opens.

I step out into the light first.