Karaoke Night (Sonic the Hedgehog)

CH1: Drink For Her

The following chapter is written from the point of view of Carbine, a human Sonic the Hedgehog fancharacter.

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I couldn’t believe I had let them drag me up here. I know I had told them I didn’t sing. I know I had said something to Stealth at least. But then, here we were. I was up here, behind this curtain, an acoustic guitar in my hands and my heart in tatters. We were up next, to sing for the enjoyment of the audience… and I needed a drink, but can you find anything to drink in a teahouse? Anything worthwhile, anyway?

“Next up is a guy who simply wants to be known as the Carbine. He’s here to sing for you a song about heartbreak. Give it up for the Carbine!”

The stagehand began pulling the cord on the curtain and revealing Stealth and I to the audience. I was holding that stupid guitar, and Stealth was behind me on the drums. Supposedly, he could cover drums and backup vocals, but I really didn’t want him to cover either. I didn’t want to be here.

“Woot! Go Carbine!”

There were several catcalls and whistles from the audience, and a microphone was set up before me. I adjusted the guitar in my lap, strummed a couple strings to check for tuning, and then leaned into the mic.

“I did not write this song… my buddy Stealth introduced me to a band called Jars of Clay, and this song belongs to them.” There… that should be all the warm up I need.

My left hand fit the frets on the guitar neck, and my right hand fingered the pick, ready to strike at any moment. Tonight… tonight, this would be my weapon. Who was the enemy? My broken heart.

Fare thee well…

Trade in all our words for tea and sympathy…

And wonder why we tried for things could never be…

Play our hearts’ lament like an unrehearsed symphony…

I began to sing, and began to play. As the room fell silent, I could hear my heart beat to the rhythm of my music. As each note fell, and as each word formed upon and expelled from my lips, I could almost hear her words.

“Carbine… we need to talk.”

She walked up to me, her ears hanging cutely in front of her. This was my dream girl, my one and only. She was called Cream, and in earlier years, she had been the talk of the town, going from door to door every day to help the needy with no regard to her own safety. This was how we had met.

I had been walking down the street when I spotted a thief trying to exit my neighbor’s house through a window while carrying their large screen television. I had run forward, removing my energy pistol from the holster on my belt, and began shouting for the man to stop. He didn’t listen, and instead ran out into the middle of the road and snatched up Cream as she was crossing. The young rabbit was so afraid she didn’t know where to turn when the man pulled a knife out of his pocket and pressed it up against her throat.

I had stopped and stood there, staring the man down, my gun pointed at his head. My finger stayed off the trigger in fear of provoking him into actually killing the young girl, but as I inched forward, he began to shake. Cream squirmed slightly and yelled, which startled the man and he dropped both the knife and Cream. I took my chance and fired my weapon, nailing him between the eyes. He died on the spot, but before he had even hit the ground, the young rabbit had run to me and had buried her face into my shirt, her arms wrapped around my midsection. She had been 12 at the time, same as I.