Why I Murdered My Wife

“Sonic”, that’s what they used to call me at school. Not on account of my speed, non-existent, or my tendency to curl into a ball, that was once, but because I was obsessed with the hedgehog of the same name.

My youth was filled with Sonic the Hedgehog and SEGA. There was nothing those Japanese gods could create that I wouldn’t love. In my pre-teen years, Sonic adorned my duvet, the posters on my walls, my lunch box and even the clothes I wore. It wasn’t long before my haircut became as spikey as my attitude.

In secondary school, my collection games decorated by SEGA and Sonic grew along with my obsession. Etched into my rucksack, and by extension my memory, were all important dates. None that I would be quizzed on in the Leaving Cert but ones important to me.

“Sonic the Hedgehog (16 bit) – 1991 – Mega Drive
Sonic the Hedgehog (8 bit) – 1991 – Game Gear…”

It went on as I became a billboard for SEGA and their most successful franchise.

I left school and my childhood home, leaving behind my posters but bringing with me my Game Gear, Mega Drive and Sonic. Sonic did not come up in conversation with my peers and outwardly my interest dwindled, but internally it burned brighter than ever.

Friday night sessions would roll over into Mondays and Tuesdays, as I quickly burned through any sick leave allowance. Bleary-eyed, I would return to work dying to relay my latest conquest on “Sonic the Hedgehog 4” but knowing deaf ears were all it would invite.

My head was filled with Sonic and my body was begging to share the passion. Three Sonic tattoos and enough Sonic boxer shorts to last me two weeks, revealed my true colours to anyone lucky enough to experience my partially disrobed self.

Speaking of luck, I didn’t have much success chasing Tails, but one evening that changed and I was 1UP. We married and while she knew Sonic was close to my heart, about 3 inches, she showed more interest in me than my hero… and that was fine.

Game over arrived one Christmas. We had been together for a number of years and for some reason this year the usual monotony of gift giving had been replaced by some excitement on her part. I shared that excitement, presuming I was in for a treat. Try treachery.

I ripped apart the wrapping paper to reveal a SUPER NINTENDO CLASSIC MINI?!

SEGA may have sold out to Nintendo, but I wasn’t about to.

My final words before her game ended? “SEGA bye Tails!”