Note: I'm on April Vacation, dudes. Expect a lot of updates.
I own nothing of Sonic the Hedgehog, only my original characters, my plot, and my brain.
Chapter Three: Trapped in Misery
It's ten AM and I'm just waking up now. It's a Thursday. Well, by now it's safe to say I'm not going back to South High ever again. Not after the way I completely destroyed the shrink's office and left a flaming trail of footprints in the hallway. I doubt I'd even be allowed on the premises at this point.
Oh, and I smell burning eggs once again.
"Aw, Uncle Shadow..."
So I get up and head downstairs to the sound of the blaring smoke alarm and rough coughing in the kitchen.
Smooth, Uncle. Real smooth. Make yourself sound even more like a chain-smoker.
"Quiet, you!"
Oh crap, I said that out loud.
"Help me with this!"
"Alright, alright..."
It helps to have a fire extinguisher, you know...
Not that we have one...
Which makes things rather difficult, as I'm currently choking on smoke and the rancid smell of burnt eggs.
So I'm doing the only thing I can think of, and just spraying water on it.
And it's not helping, instead just serving to steam up and hiss, adding an oxygen base for...
Oh, crap.
No, let me reiterate.
Oh, holy mother of shit on a sandwich.
"RUN!" Uncle Shadow screeches.
Luckily, we've both made it out of the house before the fire department arrives.
Media, the neighbors crowding, ambulances, the whole kit-n-caboodle.
Damn, that media lady knows me...
"Aren't you Scooter Hedgehog, the very same that stormed from South High yesterday, leaving a trail of flame in your wake?"
"Maybe. You lookin' to find out, lady?"
"Scooter, calm down. It's not worth it to threaten the camera." Uncle Shadow drags me off, only to be stopped by that woman again.
"Are you curious to know what your public thinks?"
"Are you curious as to how that microphone would taste?" I retort sharply, grabbing said item from her hand and swiping at her face with it.
She dodges. Damn it!
The fireman comes up to Uncle Shadow.
"Well, the fire's out. What happened?"
"Breakfast incident." Uncle Shadow replies, mumbling.
The fireman (a human, therefore about twice as tall as Uncle Shadow), pats Uncle Shadow on the head hard and laughs, sending the guy reeling to the floor.
Well, that has to hurt.
Uh-oh, he's got the evil look going. I don't like that look.
"Well, might I suggest the microwave next time?" The fireman adds before leaving. I have to physically restrain Uncle Shadow from pulling out his gun from God-only-knows-where and shooting the guy in the head.
He keeps guns seemingly in some sort of hammerspace. He can pull a gun the size of himself from nowhere. Up his ass, maybe? Nah, it wouldn't fit, not along with that stick that's been up there for fifty-something years.
So I drop the microphone (which I still have in my hand... hmm) and just walk away, Shadow following.
Now we're homeless. Fan-freaking-tastic.
I hope Uncle Tails has room in the workshop, 'cause that's apparently where we're goin'.