XIX.
Vanellope and Ralph set out
from the mountain, race to find.
All of a sudden, Van complained
of nervousness; she'd butterflies.
"I've dreamed of this so very long;
I can't believe it now comes true, but—
I want to vomit; maybe burp;
why not them both? That's called a 'vurp'.
Ralph—what if all the gamers yon
don't like me? What will I do? I'm scared."
"Come on! They'll love you! That's for sure!
For one: you are adorable!"
She said the word: "Adorable."
"And you're a winner!" "Winner, yeah…"
"And there simply isn't anyone
who doesn't love an adorable winner!"
"Uh-huh…" "Look, if you're nervous, only
say: 'I must win Ralph his medal
back—else his life is ruined.'
Oh, and—have fun, by the way!"
"Okay," she said, and they set out.
She drove the kart; he rode in back.
Something came unto her then;
the kindness shown to her by Ralph
she felt should have some recompense.
She stopped the kart. "Wait! Just a sec!
I'll be right back!" and off she went—
back in the mountain she did run.
Her heart, it beat insistently;
new feelings came—or was it that
impulses generous did not come,
when all around were fell and mean.
Ralph had this carapace undone;
she had a friend—experience new.
Naturally, 'twas sweet to her;
the world, it finally seemed in tune.
"I've never had, in memory,
a one who cared so much for me.
I'll make a medal—just for him—
and joke with him: that just in case
I do not win—this medal may
assuage his pain." She set to work
inside her lair; a heart-shaped cookie
she had there. Inscribing it,
she laughed and smiled—"Ol' Ralph will get
a kick from this!"
Ralph watched her go. "Kids!", he grinned.
And then a voice called out: "Oh Ralph,
it's you!" Ralph turned around to see
King Candy edging near to him.
"You!" he roared; made to attack—
he'd tear this pipsqueak limb from limb—
the source of all their troubles.
"I come unarmed! I come in peace!"
"You little jerk, I care not what you
have to say—prepare to meet your
doom!" At this the king pulled something
from his waistcoat—'twas Ralph's medal!
"How—" "Do not mind that. Just take it.
All I ask is: hear me out."
Ralph sat down, and gazed at it.
"On what?" "Ralph, tell me, do you know
the hardest part of ruling here?
To do what's right, no matter what."
"What is your point?" "The point is, Ralph—
I need your help. Sad as it is,
Vanellope can simply not
be let to race."
Ralph exploded. "Why is it that
you're all against her? Tell me that!"
"We're not against—we do protect.
If little Van should win that race,
up on the roster she shall go.
Gamers then can race with her;
and when she glitches, being herself,
they'll think our game is broken.
Then out of order we shall go,
all of my subjects forced to flee.
But there's one person who cannot
escape when Litwak pulls the plug.
Vanellope, as she's a glitch,
will surely die—she cannot leave."
Knowing this last part was true
from Van herself, Ralph hung his head.
"You don't know that they will complain—
maybe they'll love her." "And if they don't?"
The king wound up, to punch again:
"I know it's tough—but heroes must
make the hard calls. She must not race,
but I can't make this clear to her;
to you, she'll listen. Can I count
on you to talk some sense to her?"
His spirit limp, Ralph nodded yes.
"Well done. I'll give you time alone."
Then he withdrew.
More depressed Ralph had not felt;
he'd had no friends, and now he must
give grave hurt to the only one
he'd ever had. His soul cried out:
"Oh wicked fate! To give her hope,
then take away! She will not take this
well at all; I dread her anger—
quite justified—and also mourn
with her inside, for fate so cruel
to give her life, then take away
a chance of being what she loves.
My spirit feels as dark as night.
But I must do this wicked task;
for if I don't, my friend may die.
Once done, I'm sure she'll hate me well;
I'm pinioned here, upon this wheel,
damned if I do—and if I don't!"