Ralph the Central Park Unicorn

“Taxi! Hey, taxi!”

Richard Samson stepped out precariously into the road, waving his hand over his head in an attempt to hail the flashing yellow forms of the cabs zooming by him. He suddenly stepped out precariously close to one of the passing taxi cabs. The cabbie blared his horn and shouted an obscenity out his window as the hurried businessman clipped his right mirror with his briefcase.

Richard cursed and jumped back onto the sidewalk as his black briefcase rebounded off the side of the taxi like rubber, flinging into a nearby puddle of water. His flustered, mustached face looked back in the direction of the fleeing taxi cab. At the last second before it rounded the corner, the cabbie’s hairy arm rose from the window, pronouncing his unceremonious farewell with a middle finger pointed in Richard’s direction.

He rubbed his veiny temples, muttering disdainful words about his job, New York City traffic, the colorful and wonderful cabby that had nearly taken his arm off, and other things that annoyed him in that moment. He gave a grimace as his nimble fingers grasped the handle of his fallen briefcase. He spastically shook the excess mucky water from its leather surface like a dog shaking water out of its fur.

Richard took a deep breath and saw ever more taxis passing by him like a yellow bull rush, obviously oblivious to this working man’s need to hitch a ride home. Across from him, on the other side of the street, something else caught his eye amid the rushing traffic and various street vendors boisterously soliciting their wares.

In front of the entrance to Central Park, a horse-drawn carriage was situated. The carriage was currently immobile even as people and cars passed on either side of it. The horse –a regal snowy white stallion- was situated at the carriage’s head, stamping its hooves on the asphalt and throwing its mane of hair back.

Richard shrugged, eagerly gathering his dripping wet briefcase and scrambling out into the street in the direction of the horse carriage. Despite the tandem of horns and the near-collisions he faced in the hornets’ nest of traffic, he eventually made his way over to the timeless, old-fashioned transport.

As he approached the carriage, he stepped up into the back as the white horse greeted him by cocking its head to one side and snorting.

“Thanks for the ride. I need to get to seventy-fifth street-,” Richard cut himself off as when he looked to the back of the carriage, he saw that his driver was heavily dozed off in the back seat.

Richard rolled his eyes and grabbed his suitcase again to either try to hail another cab or walk his way home. Just as he was leaving the immobile carriage, he was interrupted by another voice.

“Hey bud…I can getcha where ya need to go. But you’re gonna have to do something for me. I’m having a bit of a problem here,” the masculine voice spoke out in his vicinity.

Richard spun around, thinking that the carriage driver was speaking to him, but saw that he was still passed out cold in the back seat.

“Up here, at the front of the carriage, genius,” the voice said again.

Richard looked up and saw only the white horse. He slowly approached the steed, still looking around for the source of the voice.

“Put your head near the horse’s face,” the voice said again.

Richard, as if in a trance, stepped near the front of the horse and put his head near it so that his ear was near its mouth.

“I’m a talking god damn horse!” the voice suddenly hissed into his ear.

Richard bounded back in shock and fell right on the ground, dropping his briefcase into yet another puddle of water like clockwork.

Richard’s heart was thumping like a war-drum in his chest.

Surely that voice couldn’t have come from the horse? Someone is obviously screwing with me right now.

He looked up at the stallion intently, waiting for another set of words to be said.

Just as Richard put his head close to the horse’s muzzle, the animal’s lips began moving.

“You gonna kiss me or are you going to get in the freakin carriage?” the horse’s mouth moved perfectly with the words uttered.

Richard’s breath caught in his throat and stars literally danced around his vision. He found himself struggling to say something but only drooled and sputtered like an infant.

“Ya ya, I can talk…that’s just won-der-ful. Now that that is sorted out, do you have any cash on you, bud?” the horse asked the near-comatose man before him.

Richard was still sputtering as if trying to reconcile what he was seeing and hearing. The horse rolled his eyes and rudely stamped his hoof onto the pavement.

“HEY, focus. Do you have any cash?!” the horse practically yelled at him.

Richard jolted back and dumbly nodded his head.

The horse breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Now, do me a favor and go buy one of those ugly ass hats from that street vendor there,” he raggedly ordered.

Richard found his ability to speak again and croaked out, “W-, why?”

“Cause…I’ve got a little something goin on on top of my head here and I don’t want the whole damned world to know about it,” he replied.

The white animal lowered its head down to Richard’s eye level. Richard’s eyes grew like saucers as he saw that a pointy spire was seemingly materializing out of thin air on top of the horse’s head.

“You’re a…un…uni…” Richard struggled.

“Un, un, un,” the sarcastic horse imitated him. “A unicorn, yes. Now go buy the hat and put it on my head to cover this damn thing up, shit-for-brains!”

Richard scowled but reluctantly went over to purchase the hat from the nearby street vendor table. A few moments later, he ran back toward the white mythical creature with a tall green St. Patrick’s Day top hat. Before anyone around them could take notice of the obvious difference between horse and unicorn, Richard’s slipped the green hat over the unicorn’s head, completely hiding the horn from the unsuspecting public around them.

“Phew, that was a close one. That shit usually only happens at night,” the unicorn chuckled. “So...you scratched my back now I’ll scratch yours, bud. Where you off to?”

Richard wiped a face mask of sweat from his demeanor, replying, “Seventy-fifth street.”

“Ah, that’s cakewalk. I’ll getcha there in a few minutes. Hop on,” the wise-cracking unicorn offered.

Richard gulped but slowly shirked himself into the back seat of the carriage even as the driver continued to remain in an insentient stupor.

Instead of taking a slow ride of merriment like these carriages usually did, the unicorn snorted and immediately broke into a trot that rivaled race horses. The unicorn’s pace was fast enough that he was riding alongside the zooming taxis besides them.

Amid the whipping of wind and the blaring horns of nearby traffic, the unicorn shouted out to its passenger, “What’s your name, smart guy?!”

Richard held on for dear life as the carriage nearly collided with a hot dog vendor.

“Richard…Samson!” he yelled back to the unicorn.

“Well alright, Richard Samson. The name’s Ralph,” the unicorn replied.

Richard couldn’t help but break out laughing at this. “Ralph?! You’re a talking unicorn named Ralph and you spend your time carting people around Central Park?”

“Ohh…I gots a wise guy in my carriage, eh? Well forgive me if I’m not off in magical lands amongst fairy princesses and gnomes! I’m just trying to make an honest living here, Richard! I don’t tell you how to live your life!” the unicorn retorted snidely.  

Richard’s eyebrows rose and he fell back against the seat behind him as the unicorn sped him through central park.

“Geez…this is worse than a cab ride,” Richard muttered under his breath.