X.
On Ralph sped. From "Hero's Duty"
to Game Central he careened.
Blind to his path—the cy-bug stayed
upon his face—the speeding craft
zoomed here and there, bounced round and round,
until another cord it found.
Straight down the path the duo sped,
broke into sunlight—flew through air.
Ralph got the cy-bug off his face,
but this helped not: it grew instead!
Then, flying wildly into cloud,
the engine stalled: they would crash-land.
Through forests brightly colored they
sped on the ground at breakneck speed.
At last the craft came to full stop—
but further mishap then did strike:
the pilot's seat ejected high.
Ralph and bug were thrown in air.
Ralph safely landed on the ground;
the bug fell in a swamp—seemed drowned.
With great relief Ralph mopped his brow.
"Where am I now?" He looked around.
At once he saw the name writ large,
in taffy lake: 'twas "Sugar Rush".
This game, he had seen from the roof
of Niceland, when he was held high
before his falls. "Oh no!—it is that
candy go-kart racing game
hard by the Whack-A-Mole.
I've gotta get out of this place and—"
but suddenly became aware:
his medal was no longer there!
"Oh no! My medal! It is gone!
I've gotta find it at all cost;
to've had, and lost, would only fuel
the Nicelanders' demeanor cruel."
Desperately he looked around,
then—miracle!—he saw a gleam
high in a red-and-white striped tree
a score of paces distant.
The tree itself was rooted in
a pool of sticky greenish stuff.
To reach the base, Ralph had to jump
'cross candy gumdrops—leaps like this
were not his strength. But motivation
saw him through, to trunk of tree—
then he began to climb.
"Okay", he thought, "I'll simply get
the medal and be on my way.
This detour has been not so bad—
I'll even have a tale or two."
"Hi, mister!" called a child's voice.
Ralph had not seen a soul before,
but now near him, on a tree branch,
there was a small girl—unperturbed.
This sudden guest took Ralph aback.
"Oh my gosh—you scared me, kid."
How was it that this tiny sprite
had in a flash above him come?
"What is your name?" the girl inquired.
"Uh, Wreck-it Ralph", he did reply.
"You do not come from here", said she;
"Well, no—at least not technically."
Ralph desired no delay
to get the medal and return
to Fix-it Felix.—He must this tyke
get out of here, for children were
a wild card—who knew what trouble
she might cause? And so he lied:
"The Candy Tree Department has this
whole place cordoned off: we are
doing trimming work today—
in truth, it's best you're off."
At this the child did not blanch—
"Who's we? I see no others 'round."
"Just me today." "Oh—royal 'we'—
I get it", she said dubiously.
"Are you a hobo?" she then asked.
"Hobo? No—but I am busy—
you'd better go." "What's that you say?
Your breath so smells, my ears went numb."
Ralph's temper rose. "I've tried to be
as pleasant—"
"I've tried to be as pleasant", she mocked.
"You mimic me?" "You mimic me?"
"Now that's just rude—" "Now that's just rude—"
"I'll speak no more." "I'll speak no more
uh, I wouldn't grab that branch t'were me—"
Ralph listened not: "I'm from the Candy
Tree Department, and I know
my way around—" but in a flash,
the branch on which Ralph was suspended
turned to air! And Ralph did fall
a score of feet. "A-doi", the girl
said mirthfully—"a double-stripe's
a prank, you see." Ralph fumed.
"Why are your hands so strangely large?"
continued she, tormenting him.
"I cannot say—why are you such a
royal pain?"—She then looked up.
She gasped. "Sweet mother of monkey milk—
a golden coin!" "You little imp—
that's mine! Don't even think about—"
"I'll race you!" "I need not race—it's mine!"
And to the top of that tall tree
the duo raced—first she, then he.
The struggle, it raged back and forth—
first her, then him—and sometimes both.
But at the last she bested him;
stood with the medal on the ground
while poor Ralph clung onto a branch.
Exulted she, "the winner!"
"Look", said he, "I haven't played it
straight with you—I do not call the
Candy Tree Department home—"
She mocked him: "Lying to a child?
Shame on you, Ralph! You should know better!"
"Please hear me out—this is the truth—
that medal's mine, it is my pass
to better life—I'm desperate—"
But she rejoined: "Well, now it's mine.
My ticket too—so long, big chump."
She gamboled off. He hollered out:
"I'll find you, brat! You mark my words!"
"Double-stripe!" she called, and with
those words, the branch he clung on—
disappeared. Into the taffy
he was dropped—then moments later,
re-emerged: a monster from a
green lagoon. "Nowhere to hide!"
he roared in pain; and stumbled off,
the hero's medal to regain.