In the Arizona desert, a Motorola W230 is ringing with the signature Hungarian Dance ringtone, drowning the halls of an empty holiday inn hotel, all rooms booked.... This was Shadow the Hedgehog's phone, he had a call from one of his many fixers. As he slid into his Chanel Pink Lace lingerie, readily available after a night of candid, supporting and fulfilling gay sex with his decades long romantic partner, Gerard Way, the lead singer of My Chemical Romance. He answered the phone huskily.
"Isn't this a bit homophobic? wow cool stereotype?" he asked into the reciever. But no one responded. In fact, the phone he held to his ear wasn't even so much a phone, as it was a small cactus. You see, Shadow the Hedgehog was completly, 100% off his rocker batshit fucking insane. Don't ask what specific condition he was suffering from. His mental illness was so severe and severe, that medical science didn't even have a term for it. There were several textbooks written about him. Basically, he had every single mental illness rolled into one big ugly ball of fuck. You name it, he had it. Okay? Don't worry about it. He's really crazy. And of course, this debilitating, crippling condition made him so fucking god damn cool. He took the cactus away from his ear, licked it sensually, and tossed it out the window of the golf cart he had stolen and was currently driving down the highway, wearing nothing but a lacy bra and a diaper. He took a long, smooth hit of his meth pipe before swerving erratically into a ditch for no reason. He got up, howled at the moon like a coyote, and began crawling on his stomach towards the city lights in the distance. "This is who I am," he muttered to himself like a crazy bastard. Let's just hope this guy never gets his hands on any firearms...End of Chapter 6
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