The Remarkably Twisted Rise of Rudy

In a town where clouds were made of dust,

And the sidewalks cracked with wanderlust,

Lived little Rudy, pale and thin—

A boy too odd to ever fit in.

His eyes were glassy, hair a mop,

He wore one shoe, forgot to stop

At red lights, rules, or common sense—

His brain was wired like a picket fence.

They called him weird, they called him mad,

They whispered tales of things he had:

A box of teeth, a lizard bride,

A crow that whispered from inside.

But Rudy grinned—a crooked smile,

Like someone plotting all the while.

He knew the world was bleak and bent,

But joy, he thought, was best misspent.

**He painted cats in polka dots,**

**He turned his grades to ransom plots.**

**He sold old socks as sacred charms,**

**And danced with goats on fire alarms.**

The townsfolk scoffed, “He’ll come to grief!”

“His brain’s been pickled like a beet leaf!”

But Rudy thrived on all their spite—

It made him sharper, fueled his fight.

One day the Mayor’s beard caught flame

(Rudy’s doing—he took the blame).

They jailed him near the county mill

With rats and ghosts and Old Man Bill.

Bill croaked, “You’re doomed, you little freak.”

Rudy smirked, “I’m just unique.”

And in the night he built a throne

From toilet parts and chicken bone.

He gave the rats a proper crown,

He made the ghost his royal clown.

They laughed so hard, they rattled cells—

A party echoing from hells.

By dawn, the sheriff lost his key,

The rats declared a mutiny.

They marched on town, led by their king—

Young Rudy, fierce and puzzling.

**He rode atop a trash can steed,**

**Wielding forks like swords of need.**

**The townsfolk hid, the windows shook,**

**Even the preacher dropped his book.**

But Rudy didn’t bring them harm—

He built a library from a barn.

He made a school for kids who bit,

And taught them how to harness wit.

He taught them how to question fate,

To laugh at rules but never hate.

“To be a freak,” he’d say, “takes guts—

The world is bland without our nuts.”

His legend grew both far and wide:

**“The boy who danced while cities died,”**

**“The rat king prophet of the night,”**

**“The jester with a rebel’s bite.”**

He’d walk through fire just for fun,

He’d wrestle storms and call them “son.”

Yet through it all, he stayed the same—

The kid too weird to win their game.

They built a statue in the square—

His grin was cracked, he lacked some hair.

But in his hand: a book, a flame—

A rat upon his shoulder, tame.

And underneath, the plaque read true:

**"Be like Rudy. Be a zoo.**

**Let madness mix with hope and heart.**

**The strangest souls make the best art."**

So when you're mocked for being you,

Or told your joy is much too blue,

Remember Rudy—bold and wild—

The freak, the king, the miracle child.