Don't Play Sonic
"Put it down. Not for sale," the yard sale owner told me. "Then why do you have it out?" I asked, holding a gray-colored cartridge of Sonic 1 for the Genesis that smelled like stale piss from the 90s. "It's a long story." the man said before yanking the cartridge out of my manly hands. "What, did you use it as a urinal?"
"You aren't ready for the truth. No more questions. You will not buy."
"Excuse me, but do you know who you're talking to? I'm the one who paves the asphalt so you have a road to drive on. I don't appreciate you telling me what not to spend my money on. I hear enough of it from my wife as it is."
The man looked away and chucked the cartridge in a dusty worn-out box with a Sega Genesis in it. "No. Last time."
I marched behind the table and whipped out something large from my pants. My wallet. I jerked a hundred-dollar bill out and threw it at the guy. "It's all I have, sorry." I grabbed the box and stormed off to my car parked on the curb. The man chuckled. "Don't play it," he said as I drove off.
I know I could download Sonic 1 for free on my phone, but I needed to show that hard-ass a lesson: never tell Walton Williams what to do with his money. Who the hell does he think he is telling me not to play a game I purchased with a Benjamin? The nerve of that man. He can suck my big, fat--
"Home from work so early?" my wife said as she strolled into the kitchen carrying groceries. "Lunch break. I went to a yard sale," I said with my head behind the CRT. "Honey, you know we can't spend money on that stuff right now. We still need to get Timmy's school supplies, gas for the week, and at least $100 for your great-aunt's funeral. How much did you pay?"
I sighed. "Dear, can't you see I'm busy?"
I heard her walk over to the kitchen table where my wallet is. I lifted my head from behind the TV after an uncomfortably long silence.
"Walton... Where's the hundred?"
I darted my eyes back and forth, intimidated by the mean scowl on her face. My wife marched toward me and gave me a look only the Devil would be proud of. "Return this junk and get the money back now!"
"Uh dear, I think Wilmer pissed on your heels again. I smelled it when I walked through the door earlier." "Great." my wife said as she stomped to the back of the house. With her gone, I finally got the Genesis (or "Mega Drive" if you have bad teeth) hooked up. I stared at the ominous gray-colored cartridge as I shoved the game in the console's slot. I'm playing the game and there's nothing that bastard from the yard sale can do to stop me. I reached to power the console on, but my wife stopped me.
"Wilmer did not piss on my heels. He pissed on your shoes."
I scurried to the back and threw my white (now piss-yellow) shoes in the washer. I commanded Wilmer to stay in the backyard. "If you're gonna piss on anything, piss on the tomato plant!"
Upon returning to the living room, my wife began unhooking the Genesis. "Brenda, please!" I said as she yanked chords out of the wall. "Dear, I... think The Real House Wives is on and you're missing it!" But she kept unhooking stuff. A desperate man, I pulled out my phone and pretended to take a call.
"Oh my god... No! Oh that's terrible. Is, is she gonna make it?" My wife stopped and turned to face me, her eyebrows raised. "Oh... oh okay. I'll let her know." I hung up the phone. "Brenda, your mother had a stroke again. She's in the hospital. It's bad."
My wife gasped and rushed to her purse, tears swelling in her eyes. "I can't believe this... I thought she was getting better!" she whimpered, hurrying out the door.
With that problem out the way, I now have the game to myself. I flipped the power switch on the Genesis and picked up the control. I grinned as the famous title screen appeared. Just as I pressed start, a knock on the door. This better be something important, like girl scout cookies.
"Hi, would you be interested in joining the Church of Babacock?"
"The baba-what?" "
"Sir, please. If I don't get enough signatures my parents will force me to eat soap out of my grandpa's ass again."
I asked for proof, so he opened his mouth and I leaned forward. "Uagh! Yep, smells like soap mixed with grandfather's hairy ass alright." I signed the clipboard and tried shutting the door, but the cult victim held it open. He asked to use our bathroom. I let the poor fellow in because I knew he had a rough day. "The bathroom is up your ass and to the left." I picked up the controller and pressed start on the title screen. The familiar Green Hill theme rang out of the speakers as the Act 1 title card appeared, filling me with a warm sense of nostalgia. I haven't felt this warm inside since my ex-mother-in-law passed away. Soon as I pressed forward on the d-pad, my wife came storming in.
"Walt, she did not have a stroke."
"Wonderful! That's great ne--"
"She has pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis."
Brenda pouted away after saying she needed to lay down. "Okay, Sonic. No more distractions. It's just you, me, and the soothing sound of--"
"Get the hell out!"
Oh shit, the cult guy!
The Babacock's Witness kid coward near the toilet as my wife assaulted his senses with her hair product spray. "Brenda, stop! He was forced to eat his grandfather's ass!" I held her back as she thrashed her arms around. "Get out, get out!" she screamed. The cult victim scurried out of the house, leaving behind a bar of soap with what a presume is his grandpa's named carved in it.
After regaining her composure, she said something every husband will hear sooner or later. "I want you out of the house."
"Dear, please! I still haven't had a chance to play Sonic. I think it's you who needs to get out of the house."
She gave me a cold-stone stare. "Walton. Out," she said, pointing towards the door. My wife is relentless today. She's playing chess while I'm playing checkers. I need to out smart her. "I can't. You need me. The water heater is out. You don't know how to fix it. I do,"
"I'll call a maintenance guy, then."
"You do that, I kill the maintenance guy."
"You would never...!"
"Oh yeah? Try me."
My wife is so used to bossing me around I know she's surprised I'm fighting back. She can't tell me what to do. No one can.
I returned to the living room to attend my gaming, feeling good about winning that argument. "Sorry, Sonic. Nothing can stop us now." I said to the TV. But like my sex life on a Monday night, my personal time with Sonic was short-lived. As I gained top speed at the start of Green Hill, the TV shut off. The breaker box must've blown a fuse. I growled and threw the control out the open window, followed by a dog whimpering. Sorry, Wilmer. I hurried down to the basement, only to see my wife holding a pair of pliers.
"Walt, it's either us or Sonic."
"Brenda, I am not leaving my house, and that's final!" She just hates that I'm fighting back against her control freak nature. I won't let her win.
Next thing I know I'm standing outside with Sega Genesis and CRT on the curb, followed by the front door slamming shut. I grabbed my things and marched over to my friend's house across the street. He let me in after I told him how horrible my wife has been treating me. "She doesn't want me playing Sonic. Not even the man who sold me the game."
"Shit, bro. That's tough. Wanna hit this?" Michael said as he took a puff. I hooked everything up and sat on the couch, staring at the title screen. Let's hope the sky doesn't fall when I press start. Soon as I did, the sun exploded and killed all life in the universe.
Just kidding, nothing happened. Until Michael spoke.
"Holy shit man, one of the homeless guys is in your car!"
"Asssss!" I yelled while rushing out the door. "It's a coloring book, it's a coloring book!" the old homeless man said while smearing a mysterious fecalized substance on my white car seats. Michael handed me a broom and I shooed the homeless man out of my car.
"God strike me dead, the universe doesn't want me to play Sonic!"
Michael just stood there smoking his blunt. "Sonic's like the fastest thing alive, man. He could totally sexually assault you and you wouldn't even know it."
I got in my car and subtly flipped off Michael as I backed out of his driveway. Gotta clean out the brown "Crayola" stains. Maybe I should go back to the house and use grandpa's ass soap to clean it with.
Homeless people shot up with heroin on the sidewalk as I turned the corner to the car wash. One guy had blue and tan skin, which reminded me of Sonic. In fact, I wish Sonic would take care of the homeless population by spindashing through them. And by that I mean spindashing through their hearts to get them clean and off the streets. Sonic is a swell guy after all.
After I finished scrubbing the seats, I saw a church up ahead the road. I think I need to have a talk with God. I'm too lazy to go in, so I'll just pray from the parking lot. "Father, forgive me for I know not what I do. But why, why must you forsake me from that blue hedgehog?" I clinched my teeth and slammed my fists on the steering wheel after not getting an answer. The seller, my wife, and now God himself won't let me play a 30-year-old game for children. This would be the part where I swallow my pride and move on with my life, but I do too much work for this city to be treated this way. I'm gonna play-through Sonic 1 with the copy I bought and no one will stop me!
Ready to flip the bird to the sky, I noticed a black van coming upon me. I gazed at it with squinted eyes through the rear-view mirror as it pulled up to my driver's side window. "You committed the cardinal sin, no gods before Babacock!" a man in a black hood said. "What the hell are you talking abou--" Oh gosh, that paper I signed means I'm technically a member of an insane cult. "Suck my baba-cock!" I shouted as I peeled out of the church parking lot.
I floored the gas pedal, going way above the speed limit. The Babacock worshipers trailed behind, swerving in the wrong lane and nearly getting hit by an ice cream truck. "Gotta go fast." I said as I cut the corner to the homeless area. Steering wheel clinched, I swerved around all the druggies tweaking out in the middle of the road at 80 MPH. The black van behind nearly tipped over as it made a ridiculous sharp turn to the homeless corner. As it sped forward, a tweaker crawled out of a manhole and the Babacocksuckers struck the poor man. Their vehicle spun out of control and struck the light pole where Wilmer lost his virginity. "Ah yeah, this is happenin'!"
I pulled into Michael's driveway and rushed into his house. "Mike! You won't believe it, I ju--" I paused when I noticed the Genesis was missing. "Oh hey. Yeah, your wife came over and she was like totally pissed. She took your Atari-thingy or whatever." I balled my hands into fists and asked why he let her in. "I've told you before. Older chicks scare me. They remind me of my mother." My ears rang, tuning out whatever the hell Michael rambled about. I stormed out of his house and darted across the street to my place.
I burst through the front door and called for Brenda's name while I glanced around the living room. I stomped over to the big drawers and pulled them out hard. I chucked every object inside behind me that wasn't the Genesis. Scented candles? Nope. Mad Libs 18+ edition? Nope. The unopened expired Adderall I got her four Christmases ago? Nope.
"Where's the damn Sega?!"
I checked under the couch cushions, under the sink, eBay listings in the past hour for a Sega Genesis, and behind the water heater which I have yet to fix. But it's nowhere in sight. I walked by a mirror and saw my face redder than the tomato my wife packed me for lunch. I rolled my fingers into a fist and punched the mirror. I hate tomatoes.
"Walton!" The devil's voice rang out.
I ran to the living room, nearly tripping on all the junk I emptied on the floor. My wife stood there with her hands over her head, staring at our destroyed living room.
"Don't you dare blame me. You caused this! Now where's the damn Genesis?" My eyebrows raised when I saw our son standing next to her. "Oh, Timmy... I'm so sorry. All I wanted to do was play with Sonic."
"Is Sonic gonna be okay?" Timmy asked. "Yes. Sonic will be a-ok--" I stopped when I felt something cold and sharp graze the back of my neck.
"Walt, I want you out of the house and never to come back."
I slowly stood up and turned to face Brenda, who now held a kitchen knife. "You put that down. I use that knife to cut onions!" I reached for the knife and gripped her hand tightly as she tried budging away.
"Fuck you, Walt!"
She pulled away once more and I lost my grip. The edge of the knifes pierced my middle finger, making it bleed. So I did the only thing I could do: flip her a bloody bird. Brenda tossed the knife down and went to confront our crying son. A lump in my throat formed as I stared at my horrified family cowering in the middle of our destroyed home.
Look what this stupid game made me... It turned me into a subdominant beta male who let his wife walk all over him. If anymore interruptions happen between me and Sonic, I'm afraid soon it will make me allow Brenda to have a bull named Chad. That's not an environment I want my son to grow up in. I'm gonna take this bull by the horns and find the Genesis before these interruptions further tear our family apart!
I ran out the front door and checked if my wife hid it under the trashcan. But the only thing there is the ugly sweater I got her five Christmases ago. I really need to stop buying her gifts. I stood up and the scent of stale piss filled my nostrils. The Genesis box! I yanked it out of the trashcan and tossed it in the passenger seat of my car. Before I could leave town and start a new life, a knock rattled my driver-side window. "Dude, check it out! I like, joined this totally rad cult that's looking for this bar of soap. Have you seen it?" I screamed and floored it out of my driveway.
I drove many miles through the sweltering Nevada heat. Eventually I pulled into an abandoned gas station in the middle of the desert, the first man-made structure I've seen in hours. I'll do the deed here. I grabbed the box and walked to the side of the gas station, wiping the copious amounts of sweat off my forehead. "Please God, please..." I prayed as I plugged the CRT into a wall socket. I pressed the power button, and somehow, it turned on. "Wooooh! Yeah babyyyy, that's what I'm talkin' about!"
My fingers twitching with excitement, I shoved the game cart in the Genesis and powered it on. I pressed start on the title screen and Act 1 began. I moved Sonic forward and jumped into the Motobug. I chuckled as I progressed through the level. I'm gonna finish the first act of Sonic 1 and there will be nothing, not a thing, to get in the way of it! With the goal post sign in sight, I eagerly prepared to jump into the big ring at the end. Until the screen went dark.
My smiled faded. "No, no, don't do this to me!" I smacked the CRT and tugged on the chords. "Dammit!" Suddenly, I heard what sounded like a grown man doing number 1 on my precious Sonic game cartridge I spent $100 on. I looked to my left and... Saw exactly that. I screamed and snatched the wet cartridge off the hot ground, which now smelled like fresh piss. My mouth dropped to the ground when I looked up. "Yes, I use it as a urinal. I told you not to play it," the man who owned the yard sale said. My mouth stood agape as he walked off into the sunset and faded from view. I grabbed a dirty rag off the ground and wiped the piss off the cartridge. I scurried to the Genesis and shoved the game in. I powered it on... and nothing. The game ceased to work.
The evening sun beamed on me without a cloud in the sky. I stared at the Genesis for so long my hands, eyes, and anal sphincter became sunburned. I got up and walked to my trunk to grab a water from the 16-pack I bought earlier in the week. But to my dismay... the heat had evaporated all the water in them. Not a lick of H2O left in the bottles. I slammed the trunk and got in the car, which at this point felt like a baking oven. I should leave Wilmer in here one of these days. I turned the key and... Yep. It won't start. Never mind what I said. I got out and slumped against the back tire. I stared at the sun with my bare eyes, thinking about how I never got to the bonus stage in Sonic 1.
This is all my wife's fault.
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