XII.
As Felix and Calhoun did speed
to find Ralph and th'infernal bug,
we shift our view in 'Sugar Rush';
since go-kart racing was the game,
the starting line was prime terrain.
The stands full of race fans did roar,
"Race, race!", was their refrain.
The racers slowly edged their karts
to starting row, then disembarked;
all of them children of the type
we earlier met, tormenting Ralph—
which one was also on the scene,
but in the shadows, sight unseen;
she skulked in cover—hooded too—
armed with the medal she had snatched
from our poor Ralph (now sticky green).
A doleful voice was heard to call
above the sounds of revelry:
"Citizens of 'Sugar Rush',
all hail now rightful ruler ours:
King Candy." Now all raised a shout—
and then a manic king jumped out;
cross-eyed, tongue out, called to all
most genially then: "Have some candy!"
Throwing fistfuls of the same—
like Mardi Gras in all but name—
the wacky monarch jumped about,
spreading mirth where'er he looked.
"Thank you, faithful Sour Bill,
for your rousing welcome; and many thanks
to the day's racers—splendid work!
But now the working day is done.
We fifteen racers now shall vie
in private for the sacred right
to be tomorrow's nine for gamers
one and all, when Litwak opens
once again. Now, rules there are,
as you all know: this competition—
known ás the 'Random Roster Race'—
has a small fee: one golden coin
from races won in gaming hours.
And I claim right of the first toss!"
And with this did the game's small king—
no larger than a child himself—
toss a gold coin into the air. It
bounced upon some springboards, then
went straight into a golden cup
atop the stately starting line.
One by one, the children followed
their monarch's lead, and tossed upon
the springboards their own coins of gold.
Each racer had a candy name,
but more than this, each of their karts
looked like confections—most wond'rous, this.
A brash blonde one named Taffyta
was strawberry-themed; her kart of red,
would taste of berry if consumed.
A boy, named Rancis, Reese's themed,
his kart was brown. Candlehead
had cake for theme—her hat did sport
a single candle, burning bright.
Others followed, in a line—
and as they paid, their name was called
aloud, and cheered; thence to their karts,
they went to stand—and quiet, wait.
Out of the shadows, our medal's thief—
joined end of line, and wished for luck.
She kissed the medal once, and then
tossed in the air the golden disc.
Upon the edge of winner's cup
it teetered—looking up, she prayed:
"Oh please, oh please— fall the right way!"
At last it did—her name rang out:
"Vanellope von Schweetz!" it was.
She jumped for joy, now in the race;
pushed back her hood, leapt into space.
Th'assembled crowd, however, sat
in silence, while the king called out:
"The glitch! She has defied our ban;
clap her in irons, at the quick!"
Thé king's men upon her moved—
but she moved faster, for the nonce.
Not far away, a green thing moved—
none other than our Ralph, enraged.
The ceremonies he had heard,
and moved thereon; he figured here
he'd find the brat, who'd medal stole.
As the king's security
moved on the fleet Vanellope,
Ralph did appear. He saw the thief
and called out, "Stop! You medal snatcher,
you will pay, for your fell treatment
of me today!" Terrified,
she changed her course. He followed—and
gendarmerie did scatter too—
so too the crowd. She tried to hide
beneath the stands—but Ralph upset them
with his hands; she fled for life
this monster green. He would have caught her
if not a cupcake he'd upset
on him did land—he could not move.
Van laughed at him and ran away;
then, in moments, up there ran
king's men. "She went that way!" cried Ralph;
but moving not, they tasered him
and rolled him off towards a castle
on a hill—home of the king.