Omochao's Revenge
Omochao sat on an armchair, huddled over a table. He was rolling a cigar. He crushed the tobacco so it was compacted into a cylindrical shape. He then took out a rolled-up sheet of rough paper and used a Swiss army knife to cut a rectangle from it. Omochao rolled the rectangle of paper around the tobacco tightly and sealed it with a circular sticker reading "Best of Cuba 1803." He placed the cigar among several others in a worn box and closed it, fastening a latch.
"Ah, the only thing better than selling fake vintage cigars… is smoking them," he smiled. He quickly repeated the process, flicked out a lighter, and took a deep drag. He began to hum softly to himself as the tip of the cigar smoldered.
"But since you been gone, I can breathe for the first time, I'm so moving on, yeah, yeah, thanks to you now I get what I want, since you been gone," he muttered.
Suddenly, the little angel and devil appeared on his shoulders. They looked like the Hero Chao and the Dark Chao from Sonic Adventure 2: Battle.
"Don't smoke that cigar!" shrilled the angel. "It'll give you cancer!"
"You're a man!" argued the devil. "Keep smoking!"
Omochao's thought process was interrupted by a robot barging in.
"The Onion of Doom is 90 percent complete!"
Omochao moodily threw a shot glass at the robot and continued listening to his angel and devil.
"What's wrong with smoking?" asked the devil. "James Bond smokes! Brad Pitt smokes! You'll be fine, and cool!"
"Not true!" squeaked the angel, its halo glowing brightly. "Smoking gives you lung cancer, and any kind of cancer is bad! Did you know that Eggman got breast cancer?"
"Too much detail!" shrieked Omochao in a panic.
"Be a man!" snarled the devil.
"You can stop the habit!" argued the angel.
Omochao ground out the cigar on the angel's head and flicked it off his shoulder before rolling a new one and smoking it.
Eggman walked in. His eyes lit up when he saw the cigars.
"Are those… drugs?" he asked in a voice that quivered with emotion.
"Yeah, but you'll have to pay me twenty bucks for one," said Omochao pompously. "They are, after all, Best Of Cuba 1803."
"Fine," scowled Eggman, pulling out two cans of Coors Light and passing one to Omochao. "Ah, this is the life!"
"It sure is," agreed Omochao, blowing a smoke ring.
"Hey," said Eggman, looking mischievous, "let's play Monopoly!"
Omochao was too wasted to point out how random and stupid that was. "Sure."
They began playing. Within minutes Omochao had multiple hotels on every property he owned, and he had about 3/4 of all the properties on the board.
"Oooh! A chance card!" said Omochao, who had rolled double sixes for the last eight turns. He took a card and read it. "Wealthy mother dies and leaves you 2000 dollars. Collect 5000 dollars." Omochao looked confused. "Wait, I thought she left me 2000 dollars. Oh well." Omochao looked at the bank. "We're running out of 500 dollar bills!" He took the money and, with his lighter, accidentally set a 500-dollar bill on fire. "Well, it doesn't make much difference," he smiled, gesturing at his massive amount of cash.
Eggman growled. "I rolled double ones and landed in jail… again… for the ninth time in a row… I want to see that chance card you got," he muttered, looking at it. His face changed from tan (or peach or beige or whatever you want to call it) to crimson. "This says you lost 300 dollars! This says nothing about a mother!"
"Well, I have something to say about your mother!" roared Omochao.
"That does it!" shouted Eggman, standing up. "I know you've been cheating! Nobody can get so many hotels that we run out!"
"Are you calling me a cheater?" screeched Omochao. "This means war!"
Things looked tense between the two of them. In fact, things could have gotten very dire indeed if Metal Sonic had not jumped in the room, stolen the cigars, and left.
For a moment there was silence. Then…
"Metal Sonic!"
The Onion of Doom gets completed next chapter, so review!