One fine day, Knuckles was hanging out with his old bros from the Chaotix. They were having a jaunty stroll through the park and were talking all about the latest fondue craze that had been sweeping the nation.

"Chocolate-covered strawberries are most excellent," said Espio, polishing his nose with an expensive satin handkerchief.

Vector shook his head. "Everyone knows that pretzels are where it is, boys!" he gargled in his crocodillian voice.

"I would rather consume crushed asphalt than indulge on such a boring meal," mumbled Charmy. "You gotta go the double-decker route and dip brownies into the choco fountain! Then you add a layer of honey for good measure."

Knuckles sighed. "You guys have got it all wrong," he said punching his spiked fists into the air as if he was the next Ali. "Grapes and chocolate are the best mix."

"That is completely disgusting," said Espio. "For that unholy suggestion, we now disown you from our circle, sir." With a snap of his chameleon ninja fingers, the trio teleported back home, leaving Knuckles alone in the centre of the park.

Knuckles noticed the people around him, giving him the most displeased of stares. It appeared that his fondue preferences were a stain of unrighteousness. He sat down on a bench and contemplated his error.

"Excuse me, Sonny," said an old lady with a cane and several broken legs. "Can you scoot over a bit so I may rest my weary life?"

"Take a hike, Grandma!" roared the red echidna. "Can't you see I'm going through a bit of a crisis?"

The old woman wept bitterly at the accusation and slowly disintegrated into the aether. Her very being had been desolated due to Knuckles's harsh criticisms of her aging brain.

Knuckles gasped. He had just committed a grand offence and now he was a wanted man. The police showed up just in time to cuff him.

"If you can't do the time, then don't do the crime..." seethed the officer. He then began to cry. His partner consoled him and held him near.

"What happened now?" groaned Knuckles.

The officer buddy glared at him. "Look at what you've done! See how my partner lacks arms due to a sandwich factory incident? You are so offensive in showing off your glorified perfections to the world! Don't you understand that some of us are not as fortunate?"

Knuckles put his head in his hands and wailed into the skies above. The sparrows with laryngitis were deeply moved by the outcry and hid their children in the alcoves where they would not be tormented by monotreme vocal cords.

"Why don't you just leave, evildoer?" growled the police officer.

Knuckles ran away as fast as he could. He tripped over a pineapple and it landed in some kid's birthday pizza. The child began to tear up. "That pizza was made by my mum right before she died of a toe-attack..." he whimpered. "Now look at what you've brought upon my young life, fiend!"

Knuckles screamed in horror of his own atrocious power. He quickly made it back to his home on Angel Island. He sat down next to the Master Emerald and made some emergency phone calls, begging forgiveness from the people he had wronged so dearly.

He received none.

Knuckles wept into his MyPillow and meditated on improving his behaviour. Mike Lindell heard about Knuckles's grievous actions and arrived just in time to take back his MyPillow. In addition to that, he banned Knuckles from using all pillows for life.

Just then, a little golden retriever hopped out from the bushes and ran up to Knuckles, licking his disgusting giant shoes.

A passerby named Caesar the Okapi noticed the young canine touching Knuckles's feet. Although the foot was not in motion, this exhibited behaviour was synonymous with a kick. Both The New York Times and IGN wrote an article about how Knuckles was a horrible person who even stooped so low as to kick puppies for mere sport.

MORAL: Eat fondue properly or forever be shamed.