Jesus drives the train
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It was just another day in Sonicland, and everyone, and everything, was happy, smiling, good, and downright righteous with the lord.
However, there was a disturbance in the force - of god.
"Oh, why, oh, why!" Tails, age nine, admitted homosexual, lamented while beating himself in the head with a plank. He was hated by the world, you see, for his sexual orientation. "Why must I suffer so? What is wrong with sodomy, manlove, and cock worship?"
His parents didn't understand. How could they? They were the most christian parents on the planet, and didn't quite know what to make of the situation at hand! It was all so very wrong, and yet so very familiar - almost as if they themselves had, at one point in time, doubted their own path.
"Son," Tails senior had said, "have you tried not being gay?" Bible study didn't cure it, neither did ten hours alone with a crazy, nake- priest - a regular priest.
No, nothing worked.
"How did I sin? When did I sin? Why has god, Jesus, and all the angels in heaven seen to it that I must suffer, when my dear friends get to live happy lives, free from this curse?" eventually, the plank snapped under the strainful torture of abuse and wailing. Thus it was that Tails decided to sit his ass down, inside the confines of something that could very well be a room. There's no description, because only sinners and beggars need description to see things clearly.
Because his path wasn't narrow and straight, Tails put on some mood music, in this case Metallica. Although their lyrics had been branded heresy and unchristian by several generations of church-going people, Tails still preferred them over the soulless, boring, repetitive, and dumb stuff that someone cleverly had labeled 'christian metal'
"Oh, it's terrible!" he whined once more, for it was indeed something to whine about, over, and for. It's not easy being yourself, after all - it takes years of discipline, study, and self-denial to master 'being yourself.'
Priests know this. Priests are good doctors.
Tails let go of his misery when he realized he was being watched.
By Jesus!
Christ!
"Oh, god!" he shouted, then promptly fell out of his chair.
Jesus did not like this remark, and showed his displeasure by pulling out his trusty golden shotgun, leveling it against Tails' pimpin' stereo complex, then blowing it to pieces with two shells, packed full of diamond shards.
"Doncha be talkin' bout mah fatha, yo," to demonstrate his masculinity, Jesus kicked Tails in the groin, for no apparent reason. "Yall not a nigga, no, yall a wigga, an should be treated az such, yo!"
The savior reached a hand into his suede gear, retrieving a set of tickets, composed of pressed diamonds and nothing else. He threw one at Tails, an ct which opened up a nice forehead cut.
"We be going to heaven, wigga!" no less than two-thousand angels sang out in a divine choir. "Wez gonna be traveling on the highway to heaven, and yall be going with me, aight?"
And thus, after almost ten minutes of nothing but idiocy, Tails realized the error of his ways.
You can't save yourself if you don't believe in the lord of all, and when you behold him, you will know that you are dead, for no mortal can gaze upon His righteous shell of blessed divinity without passing into the afterlife.
"Thank you, Jesus," Tails sat up, his blue eyes now unclouded. "I have seen the error of my ways, and am ready to repent and better myself, for the good of all. I am a fag no more."
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VT2 - 2006