The mistake here is to give Sonic the Hedgehog a voice at all. On the Sega Genesis, many years ago, Sonic the Hedgehog jumped on metal pods and saved little animals. He ran in circles and through loops and over everything. He was fast, and wasn’t that enough for the alpha and omega of Sonic the Hedgehog?
In high school, I knew a kid who wore a cape to school. He was freckled, baby faced, short. The cape was reversible, as I recall. This was over ten years ago. He walked around high school like someone might actually challenge him to fight with a sword, or maybe a wizard was going to fling a spell in his face.
Years later, I saw him, working in Wal-Mart. They had taken his cape, that red and black reversible cape. He seemed even shorter.
Sometimes this world takes the simple perfect things away from us.
And so it seems my haberdashed acquaintance from high school is no longer allowed to be simply, an incredible dork, unashamed, and the swift blue hedgehog I remember from middle school is now a sassy mid-40’s white guy trying to sound cool, if the voice work on this game is any indication.
The lesson to be learned here, I think, is do not take the fundamental things away from us, and if those fundamentals are intact, do not add to them, especially do not add some shitty half-penny rock song repeating on every single board and in between missions, especially in a game that’s supposed to be based on the Arabian Nights fables.
Does everything on this earth that we use need to be given the spark of life, does every candy bar, jar of peanuts, stack of tires and moving service van need to be made into our likeness? Does every cereal need a talking bird to love it for us to feel the same way?
“Oh, I need a van to move my stuff in. But I need one that looks like me. And he needs to talk. And point with his bumper at low prices.”
All this thing needs is a word balloon announcing, “Put things up my rear end!”
“What happened to your bed frame and your television stand?”
“Well, I was moving and then the moving truck doubled over on itself and gained sentient thought, so they got crushed when it’s tires buckled underneath it and it started smiling. Now it sits outside my bedroom window at night and whispers secrets to me.”
I don’t like his thousand-mile stare, either. Meet my eyes, you grinning loon.
SM: Please finish the following sentence: “The days, they go by like…”
AA: The days, they go by like.. years as I wait for Time Warner to fix my Internet in my new apartment, as I slowly devolve into madness hoping I can steal a small nugget of Internet from the Wi-Fi network titled ‘sambar.’
SM: What’s in your pockets right now?
AA: Wallet, blackberry, tiny joke notebook, keys.
SM: When was the last time you noticed something important about a stranger?
AA: When I was at a Chic-fil-a in Tennessee, I noticed that a young girl still had a “M” sticker on her shirt, unknowingly informing everyone she was wearing a medium shirt. I told her she liked like a fool, and she took it off.
SM: What’s your plan to get out of potential trouble when you are walking the street late at night?
AA: I’ll grab all the bills I have in my wallet, and toss them in the air and while the hoodlums are grabbing the cash I’ll run for cover. I carry a shit ton of cash all the time, so when I toss those bills up, it’ll act as a makeshift “money smokescreen” that will easily allow me to escape the criminal scum.
SM: Please regale us with an anecdote.
AA: I went to return some pillows at Crate and Barrel, because they were down feather pillows, and the feathers kept pricking me outside the pillow. It was a totally valid reason to switch the pillows to their down alternative line. However, I got to the customer service rep and started lying. I was like “Hey, I’d like to return these pillows…yeah, my wife was complaining about the feathers pricking her, so NOW she wants me to come here and switch em out.” (I’m not married, but my imaginary wife is apparently “A HUGE NAG!” and I treat her terribly at home probably. I’m a terrible imaginary husband.) And then the Crate and Barrel dude goes “Heh, I know the type… hey what’s her ethnicity?” Being that the wife was imaginary, I took way too long a pause before saying… “Asian.” The guy said “Oh.” I was bummed. I wanted to know what ethnicity I could have said to get the sexist stereotype he had stored in his head.
SM: What’s the most important item in your refrigerator?
AA: The only thing I own in my fridge right now is milk, so it’s most important by default.
SM: If you could shrink anything down to keychain size, what would be tethered to your keys?
AA: A tiny Chic-fil-a that I could expand to full normal size whenever I felt like eating Chic-Fil-A. For those not in the know, Chic-Fil-A is a kickass fast food chain specializing in chicken sandwiches and nuggets. They are predominantly located in the south and have yet to expand to LA or NY, where I spend most of my time. So, having it in that keychain version would kick ass. Although, it would make a very hard life for my employees, one minute being trapped in a keychain sized Chic-Fil-A, and the next second a full normal sized one. I guess they are trapped in the Chic-Fil-A anyway, so unless the expanding/shrinking process was painful, it would all be the same to them. Wait, I wouldn’t want to trap and enslave the Chic-Fil-A employees for eternity, so maybe its just some machine that lets me have Chic-Fil-A food whenever I want. I may have run a little too wild with this, given how crazy and “anything goes” my answer has gotten. I have the ability to break so many rules of reality and existence in this answer and all I’m getting out of it is some chicken. I should just switch my answer to “an everlasting supply of love and happiness” (which would include the Chic-fil-A anyway, as it is essential to my happiness).
SM: If you overheard your opponents talking about how they had to be careful because you had a regular hand and an “awesome” hand, what kind of hand would they be describing?
AA: I was a bit confused by this question, but after consulting dictionary.com, I now understand you mean hand under the definition of “talent or skill.” My regular hand is probably my knowledge of science and mathematics. My awesome hand is foosball. I fucking dominate in foosball. (I went to a high school for kids advanced in Science and Mathematics, but spent most of time dominating people in foosball.)
SM: Where do you think you’re going after this life?
AA: I would like to be reincarnated as Bear Ghrylls, host of TV’s “Man vs. Wild.”
SM: What’s your worst publicly acceptable habit?
AA: I’m afraid it’s the constant checking of Blackberry and I always leave my fly open, by accident, not on purpose.
SM: Please compose a haiku or short poem.
I am late for lunch.
I must leave now, so sorry.
Sorry, haiku sucked.