It had only been a few weeks since the first jab, but Sonic already grew to love that gentle trickle of red jump into the needle's clear tube. It was hard to see against the deep hues of brown and black in the chilidog sauce that filled both his needle and his mind with lascivious desire.
"Fuck," Sonic muttered under his breath, "it's cold as shit and this cheap plunger is stuck to the walls of the needle."
"Hey motherfucker," screamed the part-time store manager Sonic had struggled so hard to avoid, "this is a Walgreens not a crack house! Get the hell out of here hedgehog."
Sonic forced the plunger down and tried to stand. He fumbled. The chilidog sauce already filled his veins and he knew he only had aa few seconds to get his feet beneath him before he would inevitably nod off into his wonderland. His needle fell to the floor, but he needed to leave it behind. While he lacked the means to buy or bum a new needle, the last thing he needed was a trip with the cops. Sonic patted his hip. He half-expected his last chaos emerald, which he sold for chilidogs five days ago, to be by his side. Nothing. He felt nothing. Of course, he felt something. Maybe it was the tinge of guilt over that interaction at Walgreens. Maybe it was the excesses of his lifestyle. No. He knew what he felt. He felt the pure agony of his situation. The ghost of his life before the sauce. Before he was lost in the sauce, Sonic had rings. He had friends. Now, he is lost. Lost in the sauce. His only companion is the ghost of the life that once was. He needs control, not of chaos but a true reordering. Sonic threw away his last packet of sauce and defiantly raised his eyes to the sky.
"I will never lay down my life to this. I will never give in to this. My life is full of color and Sonic will boom once more!"
As the afternoon commuters exited the train and went on with their day to day lives, only a few glanced at the lump of fur and ratty sneakers, while even fewer shook their heads upon recognizing this lump as the once great hedgehog hero.
