Barred Speech

by MistressAli

All you ever or never wanted to know about Snively and more, as he narrates from his cell in the Devil's Gulag Prison.

1. Prison Blues

Barred Speech (c) 99 by MistressAli
All "Sonic the Hedgehog" characters and related indicia (c) and TM Sega/Archie/and DIC.
Used without permission.
Packbell (c) David Pistone. Also used without permission!
Devon, DaSilva, Beau, Fala, Marshe, Tattle, & Ernie (c) MistressAli
Oh, and all song lyrics, and movie quotes are (c) their respective owners.

This document may be freely distributed, as long as it's not altered in any way.
Ok, peoples, this story contains: violence, swearing, naughty language (they are prisoners, after all!) and just a tiny bit of sexual things. Rated R...So Beware! (Now go back and reread that warning again.)

Just a note this ** indicates thoughts, memories, dreams, or empathized words.

"Barred Speech"
By MistressAli

Chapter 1:
Prison Blues

I got nobody on my side...
And surely that ain't right...
---Portishead "Roads"

The food that day was some sort of mushy meat, one side burned and hard, the other side undercooked. It was buried under a puddle of grayish gravy that had way too much flour in it.
"This stuff sucks," complained a burly white wolf. His handcuffs were attached to the table by way of a ring melded into the metal table. The chain clinked as he raised a forkful of the goop to his mouth.
I surveyed the room with disinterested eyes, the food with even more apathy. I wasn't touching it.
"Why ain't ya eating?" grumbled one of the guards. His tag read 'Smiley'. How cute.
"I'm not hungry," I said curtly.
Another guard came my way, leaning past the white wolf to smile at me. "Oh, our new guest ain't eating? Whatsa matter? You don't like the food?" His tag read 'Marshe'.
"I'm not hungry," I repeated.
"Think you're too good for the Devil's Gulag, eh? Think you should get gourmet meals, tv and porn movies in your cell? Is that what you think?!"
I was a master at an apathetic unblinking stare. It drove people nuts. This guy was no different.
"WELL?" he bellowed.
"Yes," I said, just to irritate him.
"Well, you're not," he growled. He scooped up some goop on one finger and flicked it into my face. "So eat up!"
My temper was thin that day and that rudeness was enough to snap it. I grabbed the food tray and slammed it into his leering face. He howled and stumbled backwards.
The wolf started laughing. He tripped Marshe, who hit the ground hard. Then he dumped his entire tray over the guard's body.
"WHOOOO!!! Why don't ya eat some, boy?!"
Marshe growled and sat up, wiping the goop off his face.
"You ugly little freak!" He dove over the table at me. I couldn't get out of the way because I was hooked to the table. He had the tray in hand and started beating me with it.
"OW!" I cringed and tried to huddle up, but my ankles were shackled too. "STOP!"
"Little prick...ugly...bastard..." He hit me harder. I felt blood ooze from my nose, tasted it in my mouth.
"Hey, calm down," said Smiley finally, pushing Marshe away.

I lay in my cell later, curled up on the hard bed. Great. First day in prison and I was already bruised and bloody. My poor head was aching. I couldn't even think...my mind just swarmed over the earlier events of today...when I was first brought here to the Devil's Gulag...

Breathe in. Breathe out. It's always strange to wake up from unconsciousness. My body felt limp, my brain felt stupid. I sat up slowly. I was restrained. My arms were tied behind my back, and my ankles were shackled. There was some kind of bag over my head.
"Where am I?" I screeched.
"He's awake," a male voice said.
"So what? He's not goin' anywhere." Another male voice, deep and gruff responded.
I was lying on a cold metal surface and I stayed there for a long time. Finally I was grabbed by my wrists and dragged down a hallway, I guess. The way our footsteps echoed made me believe that.
"Search him," a voice said.
I felt hands patting me down.
"Strip search, ya moron."
"I getta touch him? Oh goody!"
"Do it. He might have something on him." I heard the snap of rubber gloves. Somebody undid the cuffs. My clothes were removed, despite my protests. I felt the rubber-gloved hands patting me down.
"OW!! YOU BASTARD!" I howled.
"He ain't hiding nothing up there," the voice sneered. "And you owe me five bucks, Smiley. He ain't gay...he's way too tight."
I punched out. My fist connected with somebody. They yelped. Then somebody slammed their fist hard into my belly. I doubled over, falling to my knees. My ankle shackles were cold against my skin.
I half expected them to force me to do obscene...uh, things to them, or them to do something to me. But they didn't. Somebody clothed me again in different clothes and then the cuffs were snapped back on and I was led down a hallway again.
They pulled the head bag off though, and I saw them. They were beaver guys...guards, by their clothes.
"Where am I?" I asked, but they didn't answer. They led me to the cafeteria, and that's where my first day in the Devil's Gulag began...

I floated back to the present.

The white wolf was just returning to his cell, which was to the left of mine. "You ok?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I said.
"Eh, ok."
He stared hard at me with bluish-brown eyes. "Yer Robotnik's kid, aren't ya?"
"Nephew."
"Oh yeah."
"How they catch you?"
"It was the Freedom Fighters. They caught me. They sent me here."
"That sucks."
"Yes, it does."
"So, how's the fat guy?"
"Robotnik? He's dead."
"Dead? Are ya shittin' me?"
"No."
"Hmph. Thought the lord o' lard would never croak."
"Believe me," I muttered, "so did I."

Oh yes. That's me. Robotnik's nephew. I go by Snively, of course...just hearing my name spoken makes me instinctively wary, because for the longest time, it was only Robotnik who I was around. So he would be the only one speaking my name, and the way he treated me, I had a right to be afraid.

Julian Ivo is my uncle. He changed his name to Robotnik, which he thought sounded 'wonderful', and which I personally think sounds ridiculous. Like I can talk. My name's not music to the ears either. But anyway, Julian was a fat old bastard. He was in his late forties, maybe even fifties; I never did keep track of such superficial things like birthdays. That makes him a good twenty plus years older than myself.
He sometimes wore little round dark glasses, and he had the world's longest gaudiest mustache. The orange hairs spread out like a fan underneath his nose; I was always expecting to see something tangled up in it, but he kept it combed out nice and neat. His left arm was robotic from an accident with a roboticizer; his right was still flesh. And due to another accident earlier in his life, his eyes and ears were replaced with robotic ones. Which gave him red pupils against a black backdrop and little flat cylinders on the sides of his head. His face was all mustache, double chins and teeth, big square teeth.
He was downright ugly. And he wore the stupidest ugliest clothes he could dredge up! A gaudy red and black tight jumpsuit thing, with a yellow cross on it, a long yellow cape, and these red and black boots. It made my eyes hurt just looking at him.

I HATED Julian.

Oh no...not at first. But I grew to hate him. It was inevitable really; when you treat someone the way Julian treated me, then they're bound to hate you. Hate and fear you, which is exactly what I did. I hated him so much it made me hurt inside.
It was a kind of hate that made everything inside me clench up to hold back my furious rage against him. It was a fear-hate, because I couldn't scream or attack him. There would be severe consequences for those actions, hoo boy. Julian was unforgiving, the most of all towards me. He was bad-tempered, and easily enraged, and he comforted himself by smashing and breaking things, which included me.
I was always nervous around him, constantly shaking or sweating or stuttering. Sometimes I'd walk away from him, then look over my shoulder to see if he was coming after me...because he could've been, sometimes he attacked without warning. I've gotten so many black eyes and bloody noses from smashing into walls because I wasn't watching where I was going. But I've gotten triple that amount from him.

I learned to sense his moods, well somewhat. If Robotnik was weather, he'd be a meteorologist's worst nightmare. He was unpredictable. Sunny one day, cloudy the next, chance of rain one minute, full out thunderstorm the next. Sometimes I could sense his anger building, and I would do everything in my power to calm him, to make him see anger wouldn't help him, or that things were getting better.

But it was usually no use. I lived with my fear, and I developed a rather strong addiction to painkillers. It was pathetic, now that I look back.

My silence bored the wolf; he snorted and turned away. I sat up on the bed and leaned against the wall, only to instantly lean forward with a groan. My poor back must've been one big bruise...at least, that's what it felt like.
The wolf looked over again. "They kicked the shit outta you, eh?" He laughed.
"I don't find it so funny," I snapped.
"It's cause yer so puny. They don't pick on big guys like me so much, cause they know I'd wreck 'em before they got a shot in. But you...yer scrawny, man."
"Thanks for telling me. I would've never noticed."
He shrugged. "Anytime, man." He came up to the bars again. "Is it true that YOU made that machine blow up Robotnik and not Knothole?"
My look of misery was replaced by a vicious grin (at least, it FELT vicious...), and I practically crooned, "Yes..."
"Man, that's cold. The guy was yer UNCLE."
"He deserved it," I said flatly. "You don't know how much he deserved it. Deserved worse, actually."
"Yeah, whatever." The wolf flopped down on his bed and picked up a ratty old book.

I sighed and laid down. It was going to be a long day...a long week...a long year.

I must've fallen asleep, because I jerked awake at the sound of metal against metal. A guard was unlocking my door.
"I'm out already?"
"In your dreams," the guard snorted. "It's exercise time. You should take some tips from ole Drago there." He aimed his finger at the white wolf, who flexed an enormous bicep.
Drago...now why did that name sound so familiar? Must've been one of Robotnik's minions. I never did keep track of any of them; that silly Croc-bot, or that bounty hunter...Nick, or Knock, whatever his name was. They were nowhere near as important at me. But Robotnik didn't see it that way. He thought he had good help with them. He praised their efforts, but never a kind word was said to me.
The guard snapped cuffs on me, and I jumped, shaken out of my thoughts. He led our block of prisoners into a large room within the prison. We were herded into this room, and there was a fenced enclosure which we were locked into. I felt like some zoo animal.
There were a few exercise machines around; treadmills, and stationary bikes, barbells, and weight-lifting equipment. I wasn't really interested. I sat down on the floor near a crate containing basketballs. There was a hoop nearby, but no one was playing.
A large brown dog came up to me. "You new here?"
"Yes."
"Pretty stupid to get caught."
I didn't say anything. He picked up one of the basketballs and bounced it a few times. He shot at the hoop. It twirled on the rim and dropped through the net. "Heh." He laughed. "Was that good or was that good?"
"It was probably luck."
"Puh. Sleuth dosen't get lucky. He's just damn good."
I gave him one of those 'I don't think so' looks, but he just spun the basketball on a fingertip and grinned stupidly.
"You ain't good, though, that's for sure," he said. "Gettin' caught by those freaks, puh. What a retard."
"That makes you a retard then, too. You got caught by them."
His hand jittered and the basketball fell to the floor. "Awww, shut up," he growled. He retrieved the basketball and bounced it at me. "You wanna play?"
I almost laughed. Me? Play against this nearly six-foot tall man? What a joke. He could bunch me up and use me for the ball if he wanted. Not a pleasant thought.
"C'mon."
I declined politely, but he insisted. But I knew he wasn't really that eager for the game. He just wanted to mess with me.
While I was irritated easily, I was rather good at not showing it. I mean...I had to be. Robotnik didn't like it when I got snappy at him, so I had to control myself.
I did the same now. I kept a calm air, while inside I was wishing I was bigger, stronger. 'Cause I'd be slugging this guy. He was pulling on my hair now...what was left of it, anyway.
He wasn't the only one who was a pest. Another dog came up, a white one this time. He shoved me. "What's going on, Sleuth? Baldie bothering you?"
"Yeah," replied Sleuth. "He's bugging the hell outta me."
The white dog shoved me again. "Why you bugging Sleuth?"
"I wasn't..." I began, but then realized he knew I wasn't bugging anybody. It was just a nice line to veil his bullying with.
"I don't like it when people mess with my buddy Sleuth." He shoved me again. Like everybody else, he was bigger than me. I stumbled backwards, and tripped over the crate of basketballs, landing on my ass. It wasn't graceful, at any rate.
The two dogs laughed like nothing was funnier in the world.
I stood up, fuming, but still trying to maintain at least a shred of dignity. I attempted to walk past them as arrogantly as possible, but the white one grabbed me.
"How 'bout a little one on one, Sleuth? I got the ball!" He laughed and threw me towards Sleuth.
The brown dog caught me by the upper arms and dragged me towards the hoop. He lifted me up, past his chest, shoulder height, now above his head! He held me up there for a second, just reveling in his strength. Not that I was heavy, but still...

"HEY!" yelled one of the guards. He came towards us. Unlike the two guards I'd been with at first, this man wasn't a beaver. He was a wirey, mean-looking animal. A raccoon, maybe, but no...more like something else. A coati or a ringtail perhaps. He didn't look too friendly.
"Well...uh, we was just talking and this new guy butted in. Started talking about escaping. We decided to trash 'im, you know. I mean, we don't want no trouble." The white dog was a bad liar, but the guard was obviously the type who didn't give a shit, as long as there was a scapegoat. Which was me.
"Humph," he snorted. "He IS an Overlander. You can't trust those furless bastards. Put him down."
The brown dog set me down. I was grateful that he didn't drop me. Robotnik had done that a lot. I remember I landed pretty rough some of those times, breaking my wrist one time, and a few ribs another.
The guard poked at me with a stubby finger. I noticed there was dirt caked under the claws. Ah, a 'manly man'. Not afraid to get his hands dirty. Probably refused to ever hire a repairman. My hands, they're the exact opposite; no fur, smooth, pale, clean. I worked indoors. Not to say I never touched anything dirty. There had sometimes been gore in Robotropolis; experiments gone wrong, prisoners killed, blood shed. Oh yes, I knew what blood felt like. Warm, thick, coppery-smelling. Different shades of red too; brighter at the skin's surface, darker when further into the body.
He poked me again, a scowl on his face. "Are you listenin'?"
"Not really."
He slugged me. I didn't expect it, and was surprised to find myself on the floor suddenly. I felt something oozing from my nose. His hands were on me, grabbing me roughly by the back of the uniform and pulling me up.
"Don't you mouth off to me, Overlander. You just might piss me off."
The blood tickled in my nostrils. I sneezed, spraying his face with a mixture of blood and snot.
He stared at me, his eyes wide in disbelieving anger. Slowly, he wiped one paw across his face. Then he drew the other back.
I stomped on his foot. It didn't hurt him, but it did distract him for a moment. My hands grabbed a small weight off the floor. It weighed down on my skinny arm. I looked at it, briefly; 15 pounds.
The guard was coming at me, and I swung my hand, the weight clutched firmly in it. The metal connected with his skull and he staggered.
I bolted.
There wasn't anywhere to go! The entire room was fenced in, and there were guards outside the fence door. I ran towards it anyway...desperate. It was opening!
Two of the outside guards came in. They had clubs in their hands, one had a laser pistol. They were coming at me! I tried to dodge around them, to make it out the open door, but they had me.
I stopped, put my hands up in surrender.
I couldn't see it, but I heard a whoosh in the air. Somebody had swung...GOD! I fell to my knees, then collapsed onto my stomach. My back...God, somebody's broken my back...
I closed my eyes hard, feeling tears squeezing up inside them. Somebody's boot slammed into my ribs. I gasped for air desperately. Funny how pain turns your vision into flashing white. Like lightning or something.
A hand closed around the back of my neck, lifting me to my feet.
"It ain't smart, trying to escape." It was the guard named Smiley. He wasn't smiling though, he looked somewhat pissed, yet amused at the same time.
I didn't blame the guards for bullying, not really. They didn't have anything better to do; why not beat the hell out of a prisoner? Who was going to care? The Princess? Surely not, she didn't even give any of us a trial. Her only orders had been to 'keep him (me) alive'. Then I was cuffed, and some skunk bastard knocked me out to ensure I wouldn't 'try anything'. I suppose that's when I was loaded into a hovercraft and brought to this wretched place.
"I wasn't trying to escape," I said in a tight voice. My ribs hurt bad. A few were probably bruised. "That guard over there attacked me." I aimed a finger at the coati/ringtail/whatever-it-was. Smiley grabbed my finger in his fist. He could break it easily if he wished. I knew that, and squirmed uncomfortably.
"Ya must've started it. We don't just attack prisoners, do we?"
There were noises of agreement.
"So ya better just watch yaself, Snidely..."
"It's Sniv---," I started to correct, but he jerked my finger warningly. It hurt.
"DON'T INTERRUPT! I don't give a shit what ya name is, ya hear me!? What I give a shit about is keeping ya pissheads in here! SO DON'T TRY TO ESCAPE AGAIN, or yer going to regret it. Ya understand me?"
"Yes," I said.
"DO YA?" he screamed.
"YES!"
"Good." He let go of my finger and shoved me. "Now go do something. And don't start any more trouble."

My oh my, how the day was turning out. Terrible. This wasn't unusual in my screwed-up little world, but it doesn't mean I like it. We were all back in the cells. I had fortunately gotten out of the exercise room with no more incidents.
I was lying on the bed. It was hard, but I was used to that. Sleeping on my bed back in Robotropolis was the equivalent of sleeping on a stone floor. At least it was warm.
My ribs hurt, as did the rest of my body. I sighed and squirmed, trying to get comfortable. It seemed impossible.
There was a squeaking sound in the hallway. I sat up. "What's that?"
"The book cart," said the wolf, sounding pleased. "Every Thursday we get to pick out a coupla books."
"Whoop de shit," an ugly frog said. His cell was to the right of mine. "Books suck."
"They don't," argued the wolf. "Not when you get the porno ones."
"Drago, man, you been holdin' out on me? All this time I thought they were shitty books, now you tell me there's pussy in 'em?"
I scowled at the rather obscene reference to women. While I certainly wasn't a goody-two shoes, my father had been adamant about teaching me and my siblings to respect women. He beat it into me, along with everything else.
"Yeah," said the wolf. "Some of 'em suck, ya know. They pretend to be sexy, ya know, but they ain't really. But then some of 'em, whoowheeee! Good shit."
"Huh," the frog snorted. "I guess I'll take a look this time."
"What about you, Snidely?"
"It's Snively, dammit."
"Whatever. You gonna get some of that shit?"
"I doubt it."
The cart came into sight. It was pushed by a scrawny guard. He stopped in front of Drago's cell and waited. Drago drew some books out from under his bed and handed them through the bars. The guard put the books onto the cart, then gestured. "Pick some new ones if ya want 'em."
Drago peered at the books, then selected a couple of well-handled magazines. I caught a glimpse of large breasts on the cover of one.
The cart moved to me. I choose two novels. One was named 'The Terrible Rage', the other, 'The Abused'. Great titles. How fitting for me. But they were thick, and would take at least a few days to finish each. Something to keep me from getting bored out of my skull.
The frog picked what looked like porno magazines and hopped onto his bed eagerly, flipping through them.
Wheels squeaking, the cart moved on.

Drago flipped idly through one of his magazines, then looked over at me. "You got regular ole books?"
"Yes? You have a problem with that?"
"What are ya?" He laughed, baring his teeth. "Let me guess. Yer a faggot, right?"
"What?"
"Ya heard me. Yer a cock-lover, right?"
I scowled.
"Don't deny it. Who the hell would pick those fricken' books over shit like this?" He waved his magazine. "Pussy in here. Young, hot, wet pussy. Ya passin' up this shit for books; yer fuckin' gay, man."
"Fuck you." It was a lame response, but I was too insulted to be insulting.
"Oh man, Flying Frog, he wants to fuck me? Ya hear him?"
"I heard him," said the frog.
I gritted my teeth. "Go to hell, both of you."
The wolf grabbed at his crotch. "Ya like this, don't ya? Ya'd be droolin' if I got a woodie, wouldn't ya? Well, I ain't gonna. I only get woodies over chicks, thank ya very much."
I closed my eyes and hoped I wouldn't lose my temper. That would not be good.
"Damn, he's thinking about me," said Drago. "Thinking about screwing me. Whatta fag."
A surge of anger brought me to my feet. My fists were clenched and I snarled at the wolf through the bars that separated his cell from mine. Then I realized how stupid I must look.
The wolf was huge. He was at least six feet tall. His chest was more than two feet wide.
"Whatcha gonna do? Beat me up?" The wolf laughed and came up to bars. I glared up at him. "Don't worry man, I'm only teasin'. Ya just better not hit on me. I'll bust yer little ass."
"I'm not gay," I said.
"Whatever. Ya must just be a freak."
"I must be." I rolled my eyes and backed away from the bars. The wolf chuckled.

'The Terrible Rage' was one of those books that has a slow beginning. I wanted to stop reading, but didn't. It gave hints that better things were to come. I've read books with the most lousy beginnings, and further in they become excellent.
Nevertheless, I was about to try the other book instead, when a guard came by.
"You boys hungry?"
"Yeah," said Drago and Flying Frog in unison.
"Is the food going to be edible this time?"
The guard smirked at me. "A smart-ass, huh?"
"I'm just being truthful."
"Yah, guess you are." The guard laughed heartily.

In this place, it seems we were either chained, fenced in, or else watched extremely close. We were led down to the cafeteria in a single file line. A guard closed up the line; he had a high-powered plasma rifle. The frog was last in line. I kept hearing him yelp, "Hey, quit pokin' me with that thing! I'm movin'!"
When we got to the café' (as it was graciously called), we each were handed a tray. There was a long line leading up to a counter where the food was given out by sour-faced cooks. I was almost up to the counter when a weasel came up to me. I recognized him instantly.
It was Nick, or Knock...whatever, the bounty hunter.
"'Ey, I know yoouuu," he said.
"Yes," I said warily.
"Yer Fat-boy's little ass-kisser."
"Not anymore," I said.
"Yeah? And why not?"
"Because he's dead. And I killed him." I said it with a sneer. Somehow I thought that would make it sound true.
"You?" He laughed uproariously. "Yeah right!"
"Welllll...it was indirectly...but still. I take some of the credit."
He eyed me shrewdly, his ridiculous fang jutting over his lower lip. "Eh...that I can believe. Yer the sneaky bastard type."
I took that as a compliment and smiled.
"I was thinking..." He put a friendly arm around my shoulder, which I didn't like. "...yer kinda smart...I'm kinda smart."
"Yes, so?" I stepped sideways. His hand slid off.
"I was thinkin'...we could, ya know, plan a bust togetha. I mean...anyone who can blow Fatboy ta hell can bust outta some ole prison, eh?"
I looked around as discreetly as possible. Some of the guards, especially the coati one, were gazing over the line. More specifically, they were gazing at us. We were the only ones talking. And after my 'escape attempt', I suppose they got suspicious. The coati headed our way.
Nack eased back to his place in the line. His movements were smooth, like water. He was tough. I wondered why, then...why had he never outdone Sonic? The hedgehog was fast...but not immune to surprise attacks.
The coati should've backed off then. But he didn't. He came straight up to me, reached out his tan and white hand and grabbed me.
"HEY!" I exclaimed. He shook me.
"I don't like your face, Overlander. So if you step even a millimeter outta line, I'm gonna make you pay." He shook me again. "You got that?"
I tried to pry his hands off. This seemed to anger him though; he shook me harder until my head snapped back and forth. I thought he was going to break my neck.
I have long since learned that, if I cannot escape somebody, and they are stronger than me, to just submit. I did just that. I let my body go limp, averted my eyes to floor. I was harmless.
He seemed to sense this and let me go. I rubbed my neck with one hand, grimacing. It hurt. I had a crink in it.
"You didn't have to do that," I said. "I comprehend things just fine...I don't need them beaten into me."
"Like I said, I DON'T LIKE YOUR FACE!" He practically screamed it at me.
No use reasoning with this guy. I looked down at the floor.
"That's better. Just you remember what I said. Because I ain't lying. You hear me?"
"Yes sir," I said. Being polite never hurt, even though I was wishing I could hurt him. Badly.
He snorted and walked off. I stepped back into line.
"That guy is a total dickhead," said the frog behind me.
"Yeah, loves sticking his dickhead up other people's asses," said Drago from in front of me.
"Ewww...gross!" cackled the frog.
I sighed. There was no intelligence in this place. Except for me, of course. Oh well. I dealt with it in Robotropolis, I suppose I could deal with it here. Although being surrounded by incompetents was sure to give me migraines.
I was at the counter. The cook was a scraggly dog-type, with fat cheeks and mean slanty eyes. He scooped up a large ladleful of grayish white crap and slapped it into my bowl.
"Enjoy," he said.
"I won't," I replied sweetly.

The food wasn't as bad as it looked. That was a good thing. But still, I knew that if I ate too much, I'd get nauseous.
"Ya know what this stuff looks like?" The wolf addressed our table. He held a spoonful of the goop out.
"What?" asked the white dog who'd harassed me earlier.
"Looks like they scrapped this crap outta some guy's skivvies after a wet dream."
The frog laughed and there were groans from the others. Drago chuckled and slurped the goop off his spoon. I looked down at my bowl and pushed it away, my stomach twisting.
Drago's eyes were on me. They were the color of sky and earth. I glanced up at him.
"Lost yer appetite?"
"I didn't have one in the first place."
He shook his spoon at me. "Now...that's yer problem, cueball. Ya don't eat enough."
"You've been possessed by my mother?"
The wolf laughed. He had nice white teeth. Very sharp. Sometimes I wondered if the carnivore Mobians ever thought of the other Mobians as food. I wondered if he thought of me as food. It didn't even have to be an outright thought, it could be some primal thing, tucked far back into his consciousness...
"Nah, but ya know I'm right. Yer skinny cause ya don't eat."
"He's just a wuss," said the white dog. He laid his brown eyes on me. "How'd you end up here anyway, hoooman?"
The table (The white dog, Sleuth, Drago, Nack, the frog, and an ugly blue hawk) began to elaborate.
"I say he got thrown in here cause he's ugly," said Sleuth.
"Maybe because he's a hoooman," said the white dog.
"Probably stabbed somebody with his nose, heh."
The frog laughed. He seemed like an easily amused fellow.
"He probably butt-rammed somebody with it," said Drago. "He's a faggot, ya know."
"I coulda guessed," said the white dog. He bent his spoon back, sending goop my way. It hit the table just a few inches in front of me.
"I'm not gay," I said.
"Sure," laughed Drago.
"Why you in here, then?" demanded the white dog.
"I worked for Robotnik. Practically ran the city myself."
"You lived in Robotropolis?" He sounded just a teeniest bit impressed.
"Yes," I smirked. "I was second-in-command."
"No way."
"Yes."
The white dog stirred his goop. "What about that android feller, Packard Bell?"
"Packbell? I was higher rank than him."
"Well, how do you like that? What made you so special?"
"I'm smart. Robotnik knew it, so he picked me." It sounded corny, even to me.
"He's his nephew, that's why." The white wolf let his spoon clatter into his empty bowl.
"Ahh." The white dog waved his hand. "That's the only reason. Lucky break, s'all."
I almost laughed at that. Lucky break?! It was so damn ridiculous. They thought I was lucky to have lived in that city. They didn't know how I suffered.
They seemed disinterested in me now.
"Anyone read 'Lolita's Hard Work'?"
"What's it about?" asked Sleuth.
"Ohhooohooo, man, you gotta read it!" crooned the white dog. "It's got some of the skankiest, nastiest crap I've ever seen, man..."

Guard Smiley came around, his eyes sweeping over us. He saw the empty bowls of most everybody, and my nearly full one.
"Ya still ain't eatin'?"
"'Ey, I just told some little joke, and he got all squeamish," snorted Drago.
"What a wimp," said Smiley. "But it's too late to eat now. Time to go back to ya cells."

I paced the cell. "So, where do we go next?"
"Get a potty break later tonight. Then, that's it." The white wolf reached under his bed to get his magazines. "Trust me, cueball, today was a thrill ride compared to most."
I didn't know whether to take that as good news or bad. After all, I'd been insulted and hassled all day. On the other hand...I could go insane from boredom.
It had been boring in Robotropolis. But at least I wasn't stuck in one room. At least I could get outside sometimes. And at least I had my alcohol... And my painkillers. Couldn't forget those. With those two drugs in my system, I could handle the boredom.

But here, I wasn't sure.