Exams are over and done with, and now it's time to concentrate on the more important things in life, like writing nerdy fanfiction and...what's that you say? This story has a new cover image?! *Looks up* Well, milk my duds! This story does have a new cover image!
That right there, my friends, is the artistic sorcery of my good friend KoutaDragara, who is now the proud owner of my eternal love. And I'm the proud owner of a perfect, perfect, perfect drawing of my heroine, as well as a perfect cover for this story. I mean, just look at it! Isn't Nora a doll?! LOOK AT HER HAIR! LOOK AT HER EYES! GAH.
The poll on my profile page is still up and running, so for those of you who haven't voted, please do so. I want to know what parts of Brawl Nation my readers are most curious about, and so far most people want to know about the game's backstory. I'll do my best to write about everything, but getting outside opinions is really helpful to me. Please, please vote! It only takes a minute!
I'm a bit disappointed with how this chapter turned out. I rewrote the beginning twice, and debated with myself over how it should end. There were some jokes I had to cut out because they didn't fit in anywhere, and writing Ralph's character is so damn hard. He's like a freaking mood ring. He just switches from happy to pissed in seconds. I also feel like shit for making all of you wait so long for this half-assed thing. I've been following a bunch of other amazing WIR stories that update like every week, and then I think to myself, "Hmmm...I really should stop being a lazy butt and work on my story, shouldn't I?"
Well, I did (temporarily) stop being lazy, and this happened. Enjoy?
(An extra note: I really, really wanted to use the phrase "milk my duds." Don't judge me.)
Chapter Five: The Blind Woman's Tale
The Tapper barkeeper plonked a frothy mug of root beer onto Nora's table. "Drink's to your right, Miss Sparks."
"Thanks," she responded, eagerly reaching out for it. She'd gone ahead and ordered a drink for herself while waiting for Vanellope and Ralph to show up. Shouting at the Surge Protector and then getting electrocuted by him had made her desperately thirsty. The barkeeper watched with a curious gaze as she greedily downed half the glass without pausing for a breath. When she was finished she wiped her mouth clean with her forearm, not realizing that there was a napkin dispenser right next to her.
"Looks like someone's worked up a thirst," Tapper remarked. "Have a rough time in the arenas today?"
"Today's brawls were nothing compared to the hell the Surge Protector's putting me through," Nora replied.
The barkeeper huffed. "If I had a coin for every time I've heard someone complain about Surge, I'd be wealthier than Princess Peach. That man is just terrible at his job. His heart's in the right place, but he's a few amps short of a current."
"Oh, his electric currents are working just fine," Nora thought bitterly, bringing the mug back up to her lips. After another long swallow of root beer, she said, "Two of my friends are coming here to hang with me. He better not bother them while they're walking through the Station, or I'll make him sorry."
"I wouldn't recommend feuding with the Surge," Tapper advised her. "From what I've heard, his electric shocks hurt so bad that you'll scream like a banshee if you so much as touch his hand."
"Wanna bet, Barkeep? He shocked me today and I didn't make a sound. He can shock me a thousand times and he won't get a squeak out of me." The Brawler didn't speak those boisterous words out loud. Instead she just shrugged indifferently and finished off the rest of her soda.
"Care for another?" Tapper asked her as he reached for the empty glass mug. "Or would you prefer something stronger than root beer? A regular beer, perhaps?"
Nora shook her head. "I don't drink," she reminded him. She'd told him that once before, but he must have forgotten. "I'll wait until my friends get here. Then I'll probably go for another root beer."
Tapper shrugged. "Suit yourself, Miss Sparks. Holler if you need anything else."
"Will do," Nora replied, and he left her then, taking the empty, sticky mug with him. She was left alone on her bar stool with no one to talk to, at least until Vanellope and Ralph arrived. She reached into her backpack for her book, figuring that she could take advantage of this quiet time to get some reading done. The kid had said that it wouldn't take long to retrieve Ralph from Fix-It Felix Jr. and bring him to the bar, but Nora knew better. She spent a good part of her life memorizing routes and how long they took. Considering that Vanellope had to make her way through the crowd in the Game Central Station to wherever the Fix-It Felix Jr. entrance was, ride the train into Ralph's game, search for him, and then make the journey back with the big guy in tow, Nora guessed that it would be a good, solid thirty minutes before the empty seats at her table would be occupied.
She opened her book to the first page and smoothed her hand over it, relishing the familiarity of the bumps and holes and sighing happily. If the Surge Protector had taken this treasured volume away from her, she didn't know what she would have done. Poetry was one of the great solaces in her life, and one of her keen pleasures. Her late guardian Max had loved poems. He'd taught her to love poems too, another part of her person he'd shaped with the patience and determination of an artist.
With a touch of sadness and nostalgia, she remembered how after the day's training was done, he'd read aloud to her from the many volumes of poetry he'd bought from travellers and vendors or rescued from abandoned libraries. For hours on end he read her poems of love, poems of heartbreak, poems of war, and poems of death and grief. Some poems taught history lessons, some were silly and full of nonsense, some struck terror in one's heart, and some told stories of worlds that could only exist in one's imagination. Nora loved all of them, even the ones that made her want to weep. Every night she had happily drowned in a sea of beautiful words, sitting beside Max's feet and listening to his warm voice recite. There had been a gentle, scholarly side to the man who, as a soldier, had a reputation for being vicious and unpredictable. Nora was one of the few people who'd known that softer side of him.
When he hired a private tutor for her, he insisted on poetry being a major part of the curriculum. On her fourteenth birthday, he presented her with a stack of poetry books in braille, having used his connections to obtain them for her. Nora had shed tears of joy when she received those books. Years later, at age twenty-one, she still kept them all on a shelf right next to her bed, and the book the Surge Protector had attempted to confiscate had been her favourite since she was a girl.
"Does the Surge Protector ever read for fun?" Nora wondered. She guessed that he didn't. If he did, he might have understood what this book meant to her, how much of a loss it would be for her if he'd taken it away.
It was a collection of war poems, written by the mothers and wives of soldiers who'd died in wars fought long ago, decades before the Great Nuclear War that had made the world of Brawl Nation what it was now. Somehow the stories of these women had survived the apocalypse. Their pain and their passion throbbed beneath Nora's fingertips. One poem in particular pulled at her heartstrings, mostly because it hit so close to home. It was called "The Blind Woman's Tale," and it had haunted and fascinated her for years. It was about a blind woman who wanders through a field after a battle, searching for her son amidst the bodies of fallen soldiers. She calls out his name but can't hear him call back to her through the moans of the dying. Losing hope, the blind woman despairingly sings the lullaby she sang for her son when he was a child. The whole battlefield falls dead silent to listen to her, until her grown son starts weakly singing with her from where he lies close to death. She goes to him and two are reunited, but not for long. The soldier dies in his mother's arms, with her song on his lips, and his mother cries for him and for herself.
"What cruel God,
gave me a voice to soothe him,
to his last sleep,
and eyes that can't see him,
but only weep?"
There was a reason Nora had packed tissues before leaving Brawl Nation. If she teared up in Tapper she didn't want to have to use the scratchy bar napkins to wipe her eyes, even though she'd read "The Blind Woman's Tale" and all of the other poems a million times before and should have built up an immunity to them by now.
"I'll skip this one for now," Nora decided, as she passed over "The Blind Woman's Tale" and flipped the page to a different poem, one that didn't hurt quite so much. She found one that told a happier story, about a soldier who married his sweetheart the day he returned home from the war. They had many children and watched them all grow tall and strong, unlike the blind woman who couldn't see her son at all.
Some time passed, and Nora relaxed into her reading, forgetting about the Surge Protector and almost forgetting that Vanellope and Ralph would be arriving soon. She was reminded of the latter when her nose suddenly caught whiffs of a thick, sugary aroma and well as a sharp, masculine musk she remembered from the night before.
"Nooooora!" Vanellope's merry voice rang through the bar. "We're here!"
Nora raised her head and threw the friendliest of smiles in the direction of the voice. "Vanellope! Ralph! What's up, guys?"
Every ounce of confidence and bravery Ralph had mustered before entering the bar abandoned him as soon as he saw her sitting alone at one of the tables, with a book open in front of her. She was resting her cheek on her hand, looking completely at peace as the fingers of her other hand lightly danced across the pages. She was wearing those shiny sunglasses again, the ones he'd rescued from behind a potted plant just the night before, sparing them from an eventual fate in Tapper's Lost and Found box. There were two empty seats at her table. One next to her, and one right across from her. One of Vanellope, and one for him. Either way, he would be close to her for most of the night. He swallowed nervously.
Vanellope called out to her, announcing their arrival, and she lifted up her head as they approached the table. A kind, beautiful smile of recognition spread across her face. "Vanellope! Ralph! What's up, guys?"
She pulled the sunglasses off, putting those remarkable crystal eyes of hers on full display. Ralph's mouth went dry, and his heart started thumping fiercely in his chest. Her eyes really were like jewels, devoid of life but sparkling magnificently. The rest of her features captivated him as well. His eyes traced over her jawline, the smooth curves of her cheekbones, the shape of her smiling mouth, her ruffled green and blue bangs. His gaze then brushed over her slender white neck and collarbone before it (involuntarily) moved a little lower...
"Yo, earth to Ralph!" Vanellope cried. "Are the wheels still turning in that big meaty head of yours? Say hi to Nora!"
Ralph broke out of his trance and quickly shook his head. "Sorry, I was just..." He awkwardly smoothed back his hair, trying to recompose himself. This second meeting was already going badly. They hadn't even spoken to each other yet and he was already ogling her like a lovestruck teenage boy. He sighed and mentally kicked himself. "Hi Nora."
Nora laughed. "Hi Ralph. The kid's got ya trained like a dog, by the sounds of it! You speak right on command!"
"He also rolls over, plays dead, and fetches my newspaper for me," Vanellope said, grinning up at him.
"In your dreams, kid," Ralph said, glancing down at her with a mock glare. He then looked back up at the Brawler and almost got hypnotized again by her jewel eyes. He fought it off (though not without some effort) and gave a clumsy smile. "Sooooo, uh, how are you this fine Sunday evening, Nora?"
That sentence hadn't come out as smoothly as he would've liked. He'd accidentally made it sound too forward, too sleazy. Even Vanellope noticed it, and she giggled. Nora didn't seem to mind, though. "I'm very, very well," she replied with a playful tone. "And you?"
"Same. Very, very well," Ralph answered, wishing that his pounding heart would settle down. Her lovely face and her sunniness were doing this to him, filling him with all sorts of strange jitters and making him incapable of saying anything that wasn't painfully awkward. He took a few deep breaths and forced himself to relax. The Bad Guy reminded himself that he'd held a conversation with her just yesterday. He could do it again if he tried.
"You can do this, Ralph. She's not like all the others," his mind reminded him. "She's different. She's not judgemental." She hadn't judged him the night before. She'd accepted his help. She'd accepted him. She'd talked to him like he was a person, not a monster. She knew what it was like to be identified by one thing alone and forced to suffer because of it. He was a villain and she was handicapped. The rest of the arcade thought that there was nothing else worth noting about them, but they both knew that wasn't true. Yesterday he'd felt a mutual understanding between the two of them when they compared their crummy situations. He'd felt a connection, a plug between their two worlds. Had she felt it too? Programmers, he hoped so.
"Sorry we took so long," Vanellope told Nora as she climbed onto the bar stool next to the Brawler. "Ralph had to get himself allll dolled up for you before we left his game!"
Ralph's cheeks burned crimson with indignation. "I was not getting dolled up! I was—" He realized that he had raised his voice, and Nora was wearing a surprised expression. He quickly cleared his throat. "Nora, does washing your face and brushing your teeth count as getting yourself dolled up?"
"Hmmm...it depends. Did you use tooth polish?"
"He brushed his teeth three times," Vanellope informed Nora. "Be grateful for that. Normally his breath stinks to high heaven."
Ralph shot Vanellope the sharpest "I will kill you and make it look like an accident" glare imaginable. Vanellope responded by sticking her tongue out at him. Nora was blissfully unaware of this exchange. "Well, he brushed his teeth three more times than I did before I left home tonight. Ralph, aren't you gonna sit down?"
The empty seat across from Nora beckoned to him, and the Bad Guy decided that he could give his young friend a good scolding later. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on Ralph's side that night, and when he sat down on the bar stool he discovered too late that the screws at the bottom were loose. The stool tipped over and he tipped over with it, crying out with surprise as he crashed to the floor. The bar stools in Tapper were usually astoundedly durable, and characters as big as Ralph could sit comfortably on them as long as they were careful. But, of course, this one was broken.
"Why me?" Ralph thought, as he quickly scrambled to get himself back on his feet. Nora and Vanellope (who both had instantly leapt out of their own seats after he fell) tried to help him up, but he waved them away. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Just a little tumble, that's all."
"Geez, Captain Klutz, can't you go five minutes without injuring yourself?!" Vanellope exclaimed.
"Hey, I made it all the way here without—"
"Ralph, don't move!" Nora suddenly cried. "You're about to step on a screw!"
Ralph, who had been just about to take a step forward, froze and looked down. Sure enough, beneath his raised foot, there was a sharp, painful-looking loose screw from the overturned bar stool lying on the floor. His mouth dropped open. "How did you see that if—"
Instead of reaching down for it, Nora opened her palm and the screw flew right into her hand. She didn't even have to look at it. Ralph stared at her for a moment and then sighed. "Let me guess. You can control metal too, right?"
"Bingo," Nora replied, tossing the screw in the air and catching it. "Metal is just purified and refined earth, after all."
"That...is so COOL!" Vanellope cried, her eyes as wide as saucers. "How did you do that?!"
Nora smiled down at the child. "That was nothing. Watch this."
With a wave of her hand, the bar stool lifted itself upright, and the loose screw leaped out of her open palm and landed right into its empty hole, where it spun back into its place and secured itself tightly. Nora twirled her pointer fingers at the bar stool's base, and all of the other screws (the ones that hadn't fallen out) tightened up as well.
"Wooooooah," was all Vanellope could say as she watched the Brawler woman work her magic.
"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Ralph asked Nora, shaking his head incredulously. First yesterday's pot soil, and now this. This was just another reason why he needed this girl in his life. She fixed what he wrecked as brilliantly as Felix did, and she didn't even need to carry around a flashy hammer.
"Try sitting on it now," Nora commanded. Ralph did so, and the stool didn't budge. Both he and Vanellope broke into applause, and Nora did a mock little bow.
Tapper came over to their table then, confused and curious about the clapping. He'd been busy with a large group on the other side of his bar and had missed both Ralph's tumble and Nora's display of her powers. "Good evening, Ralph, Miss President. I didn't know you two were acquainted with Miss Sparks."
"Tapper, you need to hire this girl. She can clean your floors and fix your chairs," Ralph told him half-jokingly, pointing at Nora. She and Vanellope laughed as they climbed back onto their seats.
The barkeeper's mouth curved into amused little smile beneath his moustache. "Though it would be nice to have some help around here, I think Miss Sparks already has her hands full in Brawl Nation. So what can I get for you three?"
Nora repeated her order for a second root beer, and Vanellope asked for the same (with, in her words, "a buttload of foam"). Ralph ordered some cheese fries for the table as well as a beer for himself, and tried to persuade Nora to alter her order and have some of the strong stuff with him until Nora informed that she didn't drink.
"It actually has nothing to do with me being blind," she explained after Tapper left. "I just don't like the taste."
"It's not for everyone," Ralph assured her as his eyes began to wander over her features again, taking in even more details such as the light silvery tips of her eyelashes. "So what else are we going to find out about you tonight?"
"What do you want to know?" Nora answered, brushing her bangs off her forehead with her fingers. She missed one small strand of green hair that curled up above her left eyebrow and didn't make any move to push it away. Ralph contemplated brushing it aside himself, but then he noticed Vanellope slyly trying to reach for Nora's book. He gently swatted Vanellope's arm aside with his pointer finger, like a parent trying to keep his kid's sticky fingers out of the cookie jar.
"Kid, don't even think about it."
"I just wanna look at it!" Vanellope protested.
"That Nora's book, not yo—wait a minute." He'd been so distracted all evening that it hadn't even occurred to him that there was something odd about the fact that Nora, a blind person, owned a book. It had sat there the whole time and he'd barely glanced it. Nora herself was a much more interesting spectacle to behold than a mere book, but once Ralph took a good look at the open volume he realized that it was probably going to be another thing about the blind girl that was going to amaze him. It was like no other book he'd seen before (though, admittedly, he'd seen very few). There were no words, just tiny dots stretching across the pages, forming a sort of secret code that probably only Nora knew.
"She can look at it if she wants," Nora told him. "She helped me rescue it earlier."
"From the evil clutches of Surge McStupid," Vanellope added. She touched some of the dots with her fingertips. "What are these?"
"It's called braille," Nora explained. "The dots make up words that I can read with my fingers. Here, I'll show you."
She gently took Vanellope's hand in her own and guided it across the page, making the child's finger slowly trace over each little cluster of dots. "This is an A, this is a N, this is a D..."
"That's brilliant," Ralph remarked as he watched them. "Where'd you get a book like that?"
"My guardian Max found it for me," Nora answered. "Along with a bunch of other books. He was good at that. Finding things. He found me..."
Her face fell, and for a moment Ralph thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes. But then Tapper reappeared with their drinks and fries, and Nora quickly blinked away the wetness and smiled like she didn't have a care in the world. She also closed up the book, sealing away all the mysteries it contained, and slipped it into the brown backpack that lay on the floor. Ralph wanted to ask her about Max, and how exactly he'd found her, but Vanellope had different ideas about what they should talk about. After cramming a fistful of fries into her mouth, she demanded to know how Nora "kicked butt" in Brawl Nation.
"Well, before I can tell you about how amazingly awesome I am in my game, I'm going to have to explain the rules of the brawls. But I think you might find that really, really boring," Nora said teasingly.
Ralph chuckled. "By all means, bore us," he said light-heartedly.
"Yes! Tell us!" Vanellope cried. "Tell us how the fights work!"
Nora gave a mock exasperated sigh. "Oooh, alright, if you insist." She cleared her throat. "My game has six arenas, and eight fighters for the gamers to choose from. We're called Brawlers."
"Which ones are the bad ones?" Ralph asked right away, thinking about how popular combat games like Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat had their own factions of Good Guys and Bad Guys. A part of him was hoping that Nora was like him, a villain in her game but different in real life. He doubted it, though. She was too nice to be a Bad Guy in any way.
Nora looked confused. "What do you mean by bad ones?"
"Who are the villains?" Ralph repeated. "Who are the Bad Guys?"
"Oooh, that's what you meant!" Nora exclaimed, chuckling at her own misunderstanding of his question. "I think all the Brawlers have a touch of bad in their coding, including myself, but no one's a Bad Guy. Brawl Nation doesn't have a good vs. evil dynamic. You either win a brawl or you don't. It's a post-apocalyptic world. It's all about survival. At least that's what the pre-recorded announcer's voice says at the beginning of every game."
"So...there are no sides?" Ralph asked with a surprised tone. He was having difficulty grasping this concept. How could a game not have Bad Guys to defeat? What was the plot? What was the conflict? What was the point?
Nora shook her head. "No sides. In the arenas, you fight for yourself and no one else." She swiped two fingers across the rim of her mug and brought them to her lips to suck the root beer foam off.
"She has pretty fingers," Ralph thought distractedly. His stomach did a flip-flop at the way they fit perfectly between her pink lips. He stared at her petite hand for a few moments before he forcefully steered his concentration back to the conversation. "So...so you're all enemies? You and the other Brawlers, I mean?"
Nora pulled her fingers out of her mouth. "Enemies? Nah. Not even close. They're my buds."
Now it was Ralph's turn to be confused. "But you just said—"
"There's a big difference between gameplay and reality, Ralph," Nora told him. "You'd think that we were all enemies, the way we go at each other in the arenas, but it's all for show. Off work hours, they're the best friends I could ask for." She paused. "Man, those fries smell good. Kiddo, could you pass them over? I'm going to need some fuel if I'm gonna give you a full rundown of my game. There's a lot to get through. We might be here all night!"
The Brawl Nation train screeched as it came to a halt right in front of the game's entrance. The locomotive was a big, hulking marvel of black steel, with a noisy engine that roared like a prolonged battle cry. It had been designed by the programmers to look like something that had once been used to transport troops or prisoners during wartime but had later been claimed by the Brawl Nation characters as their own. It ran smoothly thanks to the careful maintainance of the Crowdies, who tooks turns doing mechanical checkups and acting as train conductor.
The first boxcar's double doors slid open and Lana Bladefury, Sheila Windblast, and Mitch Gears leapt out onto the platform. Sheila pulled the doors shut behind them and they tipped the Crowdie on conductor duty before stepping out into the bustling Game Central Station.
"Why are we out here?" Mitch complained. "There's beer back in our game. Lots of it."
"You can drink yourself blind after we find Sparks," Sheila told him. Then she paused. "I reeeally should've thought that through before saying it."
"Yup, you should have."
Sheila glared at Mitch. "I never spoke that sentence. Got it?"
"What sentence?" Mitch asked, grinning back at her cheekily.
"Guys, come on!" Lana shouted at them. She was already moving through the crowd, trying to find the Surge Protector or someone else who could tell them where Nora was. Earlier that evening, on her way out the door, Nora had shouted to Lana that she was going to Tapper's to hang out, but her roommate had been too distracted with the task of polishing her hundreds of knives to really listen to what Nora had said and replied with a absentminded "okay" without looking up from her work. Eventually, she snapped out of her polishing trance and realized that her blind best friend was missing. She searched around Brawl Nation until one of the Crowdies informed her that they'd spotted Nora heading towards the train. Lana had immediately headed straight for the station, recruiting Sheila and Mitch for her search party along the way, though Mitch had been more difficult to persuade than Sheila.
"Sparks can take care of herself. I don't see why we have to baby her. We should just leave her alone," he insisted as he and Sheila went after Lana. "Hey, let's go to Super Mario and watch the green-shelled Koopas walk off cliffs!"
"We're making sure she's alive, not babying her. There's a big fucking difference," Sheila snapped at him. "And you're the only one who finds that amusing, so shut your trap before I shut it for you."
Sheila wouldn't admit it out loud, but she also got a little nervous whenever Nora left Brawl Nation by herself, though she'd done it several times before and had always come back unharmed. Sheila knew that Nora was tough and self-reliant, but things still happened. She was also a bit uneasy about the fact that no one from Brawl Nation knew where exactly Nora was at the moment. "Hey, look. Bladefury found Blue Balls."
Blue Balls was Sheila's nickname for the Surge Protector, who was on a bench with his head sitting miserably in his hands, looking like he'd just found out that his worst enemy was sleeping with his mother. Lana had to clear her throat several times before getting his attention. When he looked up, he froze with fear, recognizing Lana and the two approaching young adults as characters from Nora's game.
"I-I, uh..." He swallowed hard. He had electrocuted their comrade not very long ago, and he prepared himself to face their fury. Instead, Lana's worried gaze met his, and he could tell from the look in her amber eyes that the news of his accidental abuse of Nora Sparks hadn't reached her yet. Sheila and Mitch didn't look angry with him either. Sheila looked irritated, and Mitch just looked bored.
"We're looking for Nora," Lana informed him, anxiously twirling a silky curl around her finger.
"You know, the one you nag every time she leaves Brawl Nation?" Sheila asked. "Yellow and white shirt? Green and blue hair? Ring any bells?"
"She's at Tapper's," the Protector said, swallowing hard and guiltily looking down at his shoes.
Lana let out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh, thank the programmers! I should have known!" She then paused. "Wait, was she by herself?"
"No. The Sugar Rush princess was with her."
"A princess?!" Mitch exclaimed. "Since when does Sparks know a princess?!"
"She mentioned meeting a President yesterday," Sheila spoke up. "And some guy who found her sunglasses for her. Rick or Ralph or something. I don't know. I wasn't paying attention."
"That's because you had your nose buried in a sketchbook," Lana snapped at her, not realizing the hypocrisy of that statement, considering how she had ignored Nora earlier in favour of her knives.
"Let's go to Tapper's and see what's what," Mitch suggested. He wanted to meet this princess (he was hoping that she'd be a hot royal babe like Princess Peach or Princess Zelda) and he wanted a beer, which Tapper could provide.
"Thanks for being helpful for a change," Sheila rudely told the Protector, right before she and her friends turned away from him to walk towards the bar.
Once they were gone, the Surge Protector sighed exhaustedly. He shook his head, silently cursing the programmers who'd made Brawl Nation and all of its intolerable inhabitants. How could a game with such obnoxious characters possibly be so popular?
End of Chapter
"Why would the programmers bother giving Nora all of these memories?!" you all cry out in confusion. "What's the point?!"
"It's called Rule of Drama," I respond. "And this is a fanfiction! Let those guys at Disney worry about all of that logic crap! I do what I want!"
By the way, has anyone else heard that they're working on a sequel? God, if they give Ralph a love interest (which they totally will), it's going to break my heart. Poor Nora. My poor precious baby...(I'm becoming a bit too emotionally attached to her).
Anyways, please review! And Merry Christmas!