You wouldn't believe how much it skeeves me out when the mask and wig talk to me when I'm not looking at them, in fact sometimes I'm not even in the same goddamn room. They things like "hey asshole, maybe fart in your own pants next time," or even, my favorite, "I wish your mom was buried in a fruit garden, so I could laugh at your face while drinking your mom with additional preservatives and high fructose corn syrup."
It's next to insufferable. As next to next can be, I guess.
Maybe double-next. I don't know. I'm not a scientist in such matters. I'm a goddamn detective, and I'll get to the bottom of whatever sweet ass you throw at me, because it's my job, crotchniblet.
"Jesus Christ, dude."
"What are you being such a faggot about, again, Knuck the Cuck?"
I made capitals in where I thought was a good writing material, because I am a writer and I write things.
"Amy Rose is dead on your goddamn couch, dude. What? What the fuck is up with that."
"Don't mind that, sailor. In fact, don't mind it at all. Or anything else you see. If your job was detecting, I'd say something, like, 'hey! Pay attention to things!' But I'm not that guy, see? I'm somebody else. You can't put me in a box. I won't be put in a box, you understand? I'm a goddamn hedgehog. Suck ants you Efrikan nightmare."
"Jesus Christ, dude." It's almost like he has nothing to say.
"Listen here, you," I say into his brain with my face. "I do not approve of your lifestyle choices and I do not approve of your muscles, either. They aren't as good as they'd be if they were on me."
"Wh."
"Can't finish your thought, can you? It's because you feel with your emotions, not facts or logic or factlogict either. What have you."
"What day is today? Dude, I'm worried."
"Today is the FIRST DAY of the REST OF MY GODDAMN LIFE. Are you LISTENING. TO ME?!"
"Yes, but I-"
My fart wraps around his neck like a stinky chokehold, or a weakest chicken cuddlematch. It's very oppressive.
"Could you make a statement about the starving younglings in SouCarol? Jesus Christ, how dare you invade my territory, and rub your nipples all over everything. I mean, seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Uh, to answer your first question, I mean, a tragedy is a tragedy, but-"
"Ah, see. So you just proved me right. You validated everything I said just after I said it like the Cuck you are! That'se why I call you! Knuck the Cuck!"
"Listen, motherfucker, I-"
"Are you threatening me?!" I ask as my gun comes out of my COAT faster than a hippo demolishing a fleshy, egotistical meatsack. "I feel like your emotions are threatening me with VIOLENCE and I FEEL UNIMPRESSED. I would like to know how you would HURT ME with your mindsticks and wonder about my past."
"You're insane. I can't deal with this dude, I'm sorry."
"THEN FUCKING LEAVE." I say, and I mean, which is not always the same thing as saying but it is in this case, because I say what I mean. "I DON'T need NEED YOU AROUND HERE TO know MY VALUE. THE value OF ME."
"Jesus Christ, dude."
"Yeah. GET MAD. GET MAD and GET OUT OF HERE!"
You wouldn't believe the day I had, fans. It was bullshit.
"I'm gonna leave," he says, tired.
"What?! I mean, fucking EXCUSE ME?!"
"Maaan, you just told me to get out of here if I didn't like it and uh. I kinda don't. I'm sorry. I need to get out of here."
"Good. Go. You coward. YOU FUCKING COWARD. "GET OUT OF HERE YOU FUCKING COWARD."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Then, suddenly, Tom the Cop walks iunto the room. It's pretty good, and I like it for a second.
"Hello! I'm Tom the Cop!"
"Hello, Tom the Cop!" I say. "You should get paid more! I am sorry you have to see this!"
"Excuse me?" Tom the Cop says, question marked and bamboozled. "What do I have to do with anything?"
"Only everything,!," I say, "That's not a dead body on my couch, that's a sex doll. I have sex with it all the time and it stinks like meat because that what it's made of. Hotdogs, mostly."
"It looks like hotdogs," Tom the Cop says. "I've seen hotdogs before. That muscled lump of corpse must be hotdogs. But what are YOU doing here?" he says, pointing at the echidna while also glaring at him.
"Frizzle frizzle, bacon sizzle," Amy says to me, even though she's dead and I don't totally for sure believe that she's trying to sizzle my bacon.
"Does that look like a bag of hotdogs, Tom the Cop?"
"Yeah, it does, I think," Com the Top says. And he's Comming harder than you think he would, for someone with his name.
"I believe you," I say to Tom the Cop, and he says to me. "I believe you and we are good on our public record. You wouldn't believe that shit."
"Nobody would," Tom the Cop says, readjusting his body camera and removing the tape from over his badge number. "Nobody would ever! Not in a million years!"
"Something something something remember the alamo."
"That's your bag of sex hotdogs, right?" He says pointing at Amy disguised as Tails, and disguised as the last bag of hotdogs I was sleeping with.
"Yepp, that's mine." I say. Because I mean it. "I have sex with it all the time."
"That's good," he says gagging. "That smell won't go away. You're stuck with it."
"I'm okay with that and a lot of other things, like walks of life and substantial economic sustainability."
"That's good that you're into that," Tom the Cop says vomiting at the between my legs like I asked him to, if he needed to vomit. I smell it, and I'm not impressed.
The vomit wasn't expelled by anybody who wanted to be called god like I do. Not like I do.
Existence rolls in slower than it's supposed to and I watch the flesh and fur melt off my goddamn handbones.
It's like the meat and handflesh melted away, and I was horny because of it. But that flesh melted away, too, and all I was left with was the dongbone.
It was me like I'd never seen it before and I was disappointed, and kinda pissed off to be honest.
"You wouldn't believe in the gods I showed your shame to," says Knuck the Cuck. His words make me dizzy for some reason, like the credit card swept me, instead of what I usually do to it.
"I wouldn't!" I say to him, in logic. "I wouldn't have a goddamn nickel to give to your awful tribe if I wanted to."
Tom the Cop arrests Amy for loitering and there's something goddamn fishing about that.
I tell him to stop that, and even though I'm a hedgehog, he doesn't listen. We should give the police more money, so they can arrest people who aren't hedgehogs better, and let my sexdoll go.
There are cockroaches in her eyes using the fluod for babies don't understand what's happening when I shoo them away.
"It's a political awakening," I tell the filthe that subtracts itself from my girlfriend before she's arrested. "I've been getting into politics, lately. I've got the sprout of the bean in the lapel of my coat," I say.
I try to tell the bouncer that I'm just here because I've recently gotten into politics but he asks me to leave and I feel like I'm being censored.
"You're going to do a violence on me aren't you!" I say, meaning it. "You're going to do a goddamn violence on me like I did on all those goddamn dogs, right?"
It didn't turn out that they did a violence on me, but I might have done a good violence on them, in defense of myself.
I done pissed on their lawn.
Now, you might wanna buy about two hundred dollars of dried food on your property from The Goods. You see, the goods has all your needs taken care of sexually and logically, because emotion doesn't exist in my breed. You'll have to try another prostitute before sucking the energy out of my dingus, you understand?!
I think Tom the Cop had sex with the merchandise one or two times before we started recording what he was doing. It was okay, though, because he was on the right side of the law.
He asks me where to put it and I tell him I don't know, I only used to be homosexual. Not anymore. I point to the couch where he found it and I say that's pretty good.
I wonder where Knuck went, and who's Cucking him. But I forget what I'm doing. And seemingly more important than that, I forget why I'm doing i-