There was a warm, grape-filled pie that Sonic had meticulously made with his own burnt fingers, scratching the dough just right with his thick gloved fingertips, putting it in the oven just right, the pie coming out (somewhat) evenly baked. Sonic was proud of his recent creation, that he even believed he was a god of baking, one who could make anything out of scratch, even the very first pie that was made with apples back in Adam and Eve's day. A sinful apple pie. He thought of that and smiled, his large wide-toothed smirk.
He heard the door open, revealing a red echidna wearing a hunter's cap, and a plaid tweed jacket. He was rustling with the snow, the flakes dripping off his body. He had always hated winter, and always wanted to hibernate like the mammal he was originally supposed to be until God's fingers slipped.
He sighed, feeling the warmth inside the home. He smelled a pie, but he could also smell the scent of carbonized pie crusts, as Sonic's fingers, like God's, were also slipping, making the pies come out black like graphite.
The pencil couldn't sketch the pie correctly. It was full of charcoal, the shading inexact. A black and white picture, ruined by Sonic's negligence. He wanted the pies to be something special, and he only made one, only one pie had come out of the oven somewhat perfect, its inaccuracy a delight to all the still-life abstract fans, and he sighed, the same breath that came from Knuckles, coming from him.
"I'm sorry Knux…I wanted to make you a really good pie. I actually grabbed a lot of grapes, tried to make a pie out of it, as grapes are your favorite fruit and everything…and it just, didn't come out right. I really tried though, you can say I tried to make you happy…"
Knuckles laughed. Sonic hid his face, ashamed of his failures, but Knuckles had actually thought it was funny that his friend didn't know that grapes couldn't be cooked in the oven anyways. They would become raisins, as if the oven was the sun itself, drying them of their moisture.
A raisin pie, while the entire crust broke off and laid in flakes in the tin. It was a failure, but as Knuckles taught him of how to make his grandmother's blackberry pie, he also laughed, realizing his mistake, as very amateur and foolish it was, it was also silly, yet another misery he had committed that soon became nothing but a humorous joke, yet another step to becoming that god that would create the universe while he made an apple pie.
They made the dough from scratch, a universe being born. They made the crust, the many planets forming ridges and hills in that galaxy. Then the blackberries, the life on the planets that made life so beautiful, so delicious, then they baked it in the sun, watching everything form before their godlike eyes…
And they soon ate that universe, as another had died away, disappeared, and many years later, they made a new one, one better than ever. And this time, Sonic tried to make his fingers not slip. Not as much, anyways.