Part III: It's All Alike

I yawned and stretched out. "Ah, good morning, sunshine," I murmured sleepily, "missed ya." One emerald orb opened and I looked upon the world once again. "So sad to be without my guitar," I mumbled as a yawn distorted my words.

I was pretty hungry right now. Mornings were tough for me. I was a summer birthday, a little crab. I think Tails wrote that on my birthday card this year. Wow. So, I'm a crab. What do you want with me? Crabs are cool. They taste good.

I shook my head back and forth rapidly, trying to focus my thoughts. I felt like scrambled eggs, all mashed up and messed together. But, that's what happens when you mix a superfast hedgehog with a whole lot of book smarts. I stretched again, listening to my stomach rumble. Thinking about eggs made me crave them.

I sighed, for I had no money. And there was no way I was going vegetarian. I huffed, staring wistfully at the ham in the window of the butcher shop within my line of sight. Juicy, succulent, tasty, honey-glazed…my mouth watered and I wet my lips, tiny tail wagging in spite of itself.

I was alerted by a guard yelling. "Hey! You! Get away from there!"

I jumped and moving like a seal towards water, peered over the side of my rooftop hideaway.

A skinny tiger male was standing in front of the butcher's shop, both arms raised above his head. A rather pathetic excuse for a ham lay in the dust at his feet. The clock chimed seven times. For seven AM or seven PM? I wondered. Holding a gun pointed at him was a white rabbit in the same olive-gray uniform the Doberman I'd seen yesterday had worn. He was holding another odd weapon, this one with a blue laser twisting around the pointed center.

The tiger mumbled something, his face ashamed. Some townsfolk were beginning to gather, some groaning and rubbing their stomachs. I was reminded of my own hunger by this display and inched downward until my belly rested against the shingles of the rooftop.

"I don't want to hear your excuses!" Snapped the white rabbit, female by her voice. It was utterly impossible to tell otherwise. Her boobs were nearly invisible! "You'll gather at the town square later this evening for your shooting."

The tiger winced and I assumed that "shooting" was not a popular sporting event. The white rabbit swept her gun around the assembly. "Well? What are you all standing around here for?! Scram!"

Everyone scrammed. The streets were quiet, except for a white paper, which tumbled down the sidewalk and caught against the measly ham. It fluttered in the breeze like a bird that can't quite get off the ground to fly.

The white rabbit smiled in satisfaction and hopped away down one of the various alleyways. I stared at the white paper wistfully. The white rabbit had said the shooting was to be this evening. But…what was it right now? Morning? Afternoon? Evening? I glanced up.

The sun wasn't in the middle of the sky. It might've been around eleven. So much for breakfast.

Making sure no one was around, I leapt agilely off the rooftop, landing on one of the moon-shaped cobblestones beneath my feet, and explored similar terrain, stretching my leg muscles to their limits until my heart sang against my chest, my breath became rushed, and my feet were pounding against the ground like the hearts of Siamese twins, part of one body.

After much searching, I found what I was looking for. By now, it was dark again. This time around, the dark made me feel more alert, probably because of what had happened last night. Day. Whatever.

I wondered what was up with this place as I stepped upon the moon clock again. It chimed just as I rested the tip of my sneaker upon it, signaling the half hour.

I'd been right before; it had been seven in the morning. I could tell because the numbers were bright red, signifying the sun. I laughed at my boundless knowledge and studied the stars above my head. No moon.

I thought that was odd, considering this was Moonshine Land. But, maybe this early in the morning, there was no moon. I humphed, completely confused and out of my element. As the clock's second hand ticked on, he sky began to get brighter, as if the sun was just coming up. This confounded me.

Feeling compelled to sit in the shade because of the summer heat I was suddenly very aware of, I crept to an alleyway just in time to watch another strange tourist attraction of Moonshine Land.

A thousand businesses came to life. Bakeries the city over opened their jingling doors wide open, children ran out of their houses, tripping over their own feet and toys so strange I had no time to even chew over what they could be. The town seemed to be at its noisiest now. I scratched my head, scaling a drainage pipe to get a better view of the commotion.

The smell of freshly baked bread hit me square in the chest like a huge bomb. Indeed, a bomb of flavor had thus exploded in my face as soon as I was close enough to see what was going on. The fresh smells of sourdough breads, cookies, pies, cakes, and all other manner of baked goods city-wide opened my strongest senses; taste and smell.

Oh! The smell of sourdough bread is an indescribable sweet, buttery, almost- oh do words fail to describe it!- grainy, but sugary and mouth-watering. I felt like the Christian deity Jesus when He was tempted by Satan! Only I, though I am a strong, durable hero, am not as strong and am unable to resist temptation.

My mouth watered indeed, my tongue licking my chops as my stomach began to complain within me. How I longed to lay back and pick my teeth with comfort! My ears were alerted to the reason I had climbed up here.

A chubby, jolly human baker in a square hat that rested flat upon his bald head wearing a flour-stained apron tied tightly around his jiggly belly stepped upon a crate of some sort and spoke rather loudly to his congregation with the zeal of a prophet.

"Fellow Moonshine Landers," he cried, "we have had enough of this rule where we cannot buy our children a loaf of bread!" Several of his followers dispersed as they heard what he was talking about. I myself was lost in the scents of sourdough bread and was barely paying attention. "The choice is yours, my friends!" He urged as the last of his "friends" hid away behind buildings, in alleyways, or even in their homes. "The time is now! Revolt! Rebel! Re-" But he had no time to finish.

I watched in horror as four black bears with thickly muscled arms grabbed him around his middle and held him still while a more agile cheetah grabbed his neck with both hands. A human man, tall with a gait that resembled a plate of jello though he was as skinny as a sapling, came forward and rested a greasy hand against the man's chest. "Pity, Othello," murmured the man in a dark voice that resembled the hiss of a snake. "You were so close to the line. Haven't I told you to be careful what you say in these streets?" The man turned away, closing his eyes. "Put him down, boys. He'll be there for the shooting later, eh, Othello?" And the grin of a madman crossed his face.

I stood, completely appalled. Not caring if I was seen, I hastened across rooftops, clearing my head and scanning for anything that could give me means to spread the word of rebellion.

It was time for me to stop sitting on my lazy hedgehog butt and get to work.