The Other Ralph

    Schizophrenia? Schizophrenia! Ralph, remembering nothing whatsoever of his life before his encounter with the Gnomes, was now suffering from a serious case of multiple-personality disorder. Was he Scared now, or Cold, or perhaps Very Lost? Suffice it to say that he was feeling quite a bit of each.

    At this moment, though, Ralph, madly stumbling around the forest, was being closely watched by a toadstool. The reader may question the significance of the toadstool, but to enable the Trick Ending of this story to work, it is only perhaps possible to divulge the fact that the toadstool was actually a very very sick shade of purple-green. But Ralph, lost in his scaredness and coldness, does not see this hideous object that will soon play such an important role in his life. He stumbles around a bit more and finally flops onto the forest floor in despair.

    "Woe is me!" he cries in a voice of hopelessness, for the realization of his desperate state finally dawns on him in great splendour. (tada) There he was, in clothes so unlike the bright and garish colours he is so used to, plagued with schizophrenia, coldness, scaredness and lostness, and if that was not enough, he had lost his fettucine garland. The agony of it all!

    The toadstool sat watching him and slowly turned into a sicker shade of bile green with orange spots.

    Not content in letting this poor lost tragic soul continue into its depths of misery, the toadstool pondered upon the meaning for its existence and hurriedly decided that it was sent to this earthly plane for much, much more than to lounge around forest floors, surely it had a greater role in life! It had to aid its fellow living creature, it had to assist in others' times of tumult, it had to...

    The toadstool spontaneously combusted. Ralph stared on and continued wincing in horrendous pain.
 
    Ralph had not always been like this though, he had once stood proudly in the finest gardens of the Princess.  But now, desolate and nondescript, the world he knew was utterly and irrecoverably lost.  He should never have listened to those little creatures, telling him that the life of a gnome was more than just standing around.  In the midst of his inner turmoil, he was suddenly inundated by the smell of roasting mushroom. Harking back to the time when he saw his royal monarch's friend Mario suddenly strengthened by consumption of a mushroom, he decided to attempt to eat it.

    He stepped gingerly towards the odiferous carbonated mass of fungi, carefully and pinched his sensitive gnomy nose to protect his delicate turbinators and smell receptors. However, he took  no more than just One little step before his fat gnomish toe crushed an ant. 
    Now this ant was very special because it was a messenger ant. (To the general public, messenger ants do not merely parry back and forth carrying dumb messages like: 'the Queen's rather horny so get more male ants.. or Pump up the royal jelly from the captured bees!'  Rather, they do more, such as increasing the variability of the ant gene pool by covertly copulating).
    See, unknown to the Queen.. the monarchy's actually been reduced to something like that of Queen E's good family. They're just stage puppets for a great show and all. (Hey, even ants need entertainment right?) But I digress.  Anyway, this ant happened to be carrying a very vital bit of news back to its nest....
    Though scientists go on and on about pheromones and smell and whatnot, the crux of the entire thing is that ants do have a postal system infinitely more convoluted and inefficient than that of our beloved US of A.
    And even the postmen of that great country only have to fear sleet and snow and gloom of night, whereas the ants have to worry about being reduced to two dimensions, such as what just happened to our poor messenger .

    And hung from a little bag around his neck was a pouch of Lilliputian proportions , within which resided this message . . . "We regret to inform you that you did NOT win the reader's digest sweepstakes this time but you will be eligible for our next ... "
    Was that vital to you? Perhaps not, but let us examine things from the queen's perspective: she sits in a chamber all day, laying thousands and thousands of eggs without sex so i suppose she is a little starved for excitement don't you think?

     Pausing for a moment to scrape off the remnant of our poor departed messenger, Ralph continued his journey . . .He literally bumped into a girl who was skipping down the forest path.

     "Hey! watch where you're going!" He yelled. This was a peculiar girl. She was dressed in a cute little red frock and wore that cape with the hood thing. On her name tag, it said 'I am Elmira. Beware'

     "Oh you cute little man!" She screamed, and proceeded to hug him and squeeze him and dress him up in a red suit. This being Chinese NEw Year and all.
 
    "Hey, watch it, cutie pie!" cried Ralph.
    "SEXUAL HARASSMENT!" cried the cutie pie. She proceeded to call her lawyer.

    "Excuse me Elmira, are you mad?" a confused Ralph asked. "Now, what did I do wrong??"
    "You bumped into my boobies you obscene pervert!! And look! You're all dressed up in red like me! Obviously you've been following me, fantasizing about me and meaning to take advantage of me! And today you've purposely waited here and knocked into me! You're disgusting! I'm going to sue you for a million bucks! Hmph~!" screamed Elmira and turned her nose up in a huff.

    But Ralph was one who came prepared for everything. He whipped a flame-thrower from his trousers and hollered aka Tina Arena, "I want you to burn! Burn for me baby!" and fired Elmira up.
 
    And then he woke up. "Bizarre dream..." Ralph thought as he swung out of his bed. He glanced at his alarm clock, and moaned.
    "Oh, not again!  This is the third time this week I'm late for work!" After a rather hectic ten minutes, Ralph was on his way out of the house. He rushed out of the driveway.  He rushed along the pavement.  He rushed across the street.  He rushed into a cutie pie.
    "Hey, watch it, cutie pie!" cried Ralph.
    "SEXUAL HARASSMENT!" cried the cutie pie. She proceeded to call her lawyer.

    As she did so, Ralph felt this strange feeling.  "This seems familiar..." Just then, he noticed that the cutie pie was non other than his arch-rival at work, Elmira. And then he realized.  He had dreamt this.  All of it.  In a moment, he thought numbly, Elmira is going to recognize me..

("I recognize you," she accused, stabbing a finger in his face.)

..and she's going to laugh..

("You're in so much trouble now!"  she screeched.)

..and I'm going to say..

("Why'd anyone want to harass you,"  Ralph leered.  Elmira dealt him a neat backhander.)

..and she'll hit me and threaten to get me fired..

("I'll get you fired!")

..and now, Ralph thought, comes the very bad part...
 
    Before it could happen however; he woke up. "Bizarre dream..." he thought as he swung out of his bed. Brushed his teeth, still sweating nervously. He glanced at his alarm clock, and moaned.
    "Oh, not again!  This is the third time this week I'm late for work!" He tried to stop the words from coming out of his mouth, as the dread realization hit him.
 
    He dreamt this .. countless times.

    Helpless, the concious/subconcious (?!) part of his brain that was screaming its neurons off could only remain numb as he moved with clockwork accuracy to the nightmare. Over and over and over again.

    After a rather hectic ten minutes, Ralph was on his way out of the house. He rushed out of the driveway.  He rushed along the pavement.  He rushed across the street.  He rushed into a cutie pie..
    Damnit. He was trapped.. he knew this had to go on and on and on, until he broke the cyclic spell the dream had on him. Fate bore on him inexorably as his mouth opened and shut ; clockwork. This would go on, of course.
 
    Impotent; powerless; furious at himself; he thrust the last remnants of his will at her, breaking the last bonds reality(?) fate(?) mind (?) had on him. The quark had ridden. The moon had spoken past all of us. The message was staring at him full in the face, heedless of all that was to come. Come to me..

    He tore away at her, ripping her face to shreds with anger as a red haze overcame him, again and again and again.. this was how he'd show his mind, his reality-binding artefact! How _dare_ they/him/world/amnesia take him down like this?! He'd break his own out of this, this damned web that held him! Screaming, he collapsed into the red horizon, into the blood of his murdered wife; the Hercules he had always transpired to be; the blood of Duncan; the Lady he had always wanted to be too.. and a hundred other personalities he was and always denied. He acknowledged them with a polite brief nod of his head, ever the Chivalrous, sworn in to protect and defend.

    Satisfied, he walked out of his nightmare, with his head up, shoulders back, ever proud and arrogant, as he was led by two burly knights; into the chariot. Blazing chariot.

    Idly, a bystander watched, as the blood seeped into the ground and the ambulance bearing the grisly remains roared away. The heavy black policeman was reading the grinning blood-splattered madman his rights. Not that he should have any, his reasoning and condemning mind answered. Fully Satisfied, he Turned and Walked Away.

 

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