Life of Spike Murdoch

Chapter 1 - The New Girl

In the quiet, but harsh city of Rivermouth, where many bipedal furries, scalies and aquatic life come to settle down to be away from their troubles, comes to house a lot of unfortunate fellows who struggle with day to day life, either taking it easy for themselves, or just barely surviving. That's what a certain young man like Spike has going for him in the harshest ways possible.

Spike Murdoch, a 25-year-old anthropomorphic gray hedgehog, lounges in the quiet solace of his small rundown apartment. The distant murmur of the bustling city folk outside is a gentle reminder of the world that continues to spin without him. Sunlight filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow on the well-worn sofa. Spike's stomach growls, being a not-so-gentle nudge that it's time to start another day of coping. He stretches his arms in the air as the fabric of his favorite green t-shirt pulls over his messy quills. Throwing some water on his face, a sigh escapes his mouth as he eyeballs the mountain of bills stacked up quite high and the meager pile of coins and a few bucks saved from his last paycheck. Working as a cashier with minimum wage doesn't help his case much.

His parents' voices echo in the back of his mind, a cacophony of expectations and accusations from a past he's left behind. He tries not to remind himself of those awful years, and tries to trick himself into thinking that this is a better life than away from his old life. Spike stands up, the floorboards creaking under his feet, and ambles over to the fridge. It's almost empty, nearly saved for a questionable carton of milk and a half-eaten pizza box that's seen better days. He's got nothing else better to eat or drink at the moment. With a shrug, he grabs the cold pizza and a small cup of milk, as he chews thoughtfully, gazing out the window at the vibrant neighborhood below, pondering the mysteries of life and the quest for meaning in the unpredictable journey ahead. He then hears a familiar knock at the door, interrupting his mealtime.

Remmy Byron, a 24-year-old purple hedgehog, bursts into Spike's apartment with his usual boundless energy, a stark contrast to the quiet solitude he was previously enjoying. He's dressed in a neon-orange tank-top and baggy blue jeans. "Hey, Spikerooni!" he exclaims, a wide smile stretching across his face. He holds up a bag full of snacks. "I bought supplies for today's epic gaming marathon!" He tosses the bag onto the coffee table, which already holds a layer of dust from disuse. Spike can't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. Despite his tendency to be a bit of a mooch and a bit naïve, Remmy has a way of bringing joy to his otherwise mundane existence.

"Thanks, Rem," he replies, taking a swig of the questionable milk. "But I'm not sure how epic we're gonna get today. Bills are piling up, and I've got to figure out how to pay rent." He gestures to the stack of envelopes on the kitchen counter, each one seeming to stare at the poor hedgehog with accusatory glares.

Remmy's smile falters slightly, but he quickly recovers. "Ah, don't worry about it, man! We'll just play games, forget about all that boring adult stuff!" He pulls out a couple of game controllers from the bag and waves them around like they're magic wands. "Besides, you know what they say," he quips, "You can't spell 'fun' without 'F-U'!" Spike can't help but roll his eyes at his terrible pun, but his childlike optimism is somewhat infectious.

He sets the milk down and leans against the counter. "Remmy, I can't just ignore it forever. And I don't wanna keep asking you or Truck for help all the time." Spike knows his family isn't exactly swimming in cash either, but their support has been a lifeline during your tough times.

Remmy nods understandingly and sits down on the sofa, patting the cushion next to him. "Yeah, I get it, bro. But hey, maybe Truck can help out again?" He suggests, referring to Truck Stonewell, the burly crow who's been a good friend to Spike and Remmy since high school. "Remember how he used to scare off those bullies for us? He's got a good head on his shoulders, and I bet he's got some extra cash lying around." Spike looks over at the empty fridge and considers the pile of bills, realizing that maybe reaching out to Truck isn't the worst idea. Truck has a steady job at his garage shop, and always seems to manage his finances well, despite having a family to support. The thought of asking for help again brings a pang of guilt, but Spike's stomach growling is getting louder, and the rent isn't going anywhere.