Poor Mr. Rupen

I was wandering aimlessly through my favorite thinking spot when I stumbled upon Mr. Rupen. A chubby man approaching his late sixties. He had groomed white hair and an unfortunate receding hairline. He wore big plaid pants held up with suspenders, a small controlled beard and circular bifocals. He stared down at me from a tall ladder. He was alone, picking bananas in his vast amazing property. With rosy red cheeks and an unfamiliar teethy smile he told me I was trespassing on private property and would have to leave immediately! Without hearing his harsh demands I pulled my large headphones off my ears. I waved and greeted my familiar neighbor, "Good afternoon Mr. Rupen!" No immediate reply... Something seemed different, I could see it in his eyes. He was pissed! See, I have lived four houses down from Mr. Rupen for the past six years. He never had a problem with my leisurely strolls through his magical and inviting garden. But there was a different vibe I felt from him on this day. "Goddamn-it boyo! Get away from me!" He yelled. Suddenly, he pulled a small handgun from his pocket and fired it multiple times up at the sky. Unprepared for such a notion I fell down in a confused terror! Shaking and scrambling to get up on my feet I watched him climb down the ladder. Bending down towards me he placed the barrel of the gun carefully between my eyes. I laid there frozen in fear as his face got closer and closer to mine. His breath was absolutely dreadful. He had a few gold teeth and some chew packed in the corner of his cheek. Just inches away from me he unleashed a horrifying statement out of nowhere. "It's all there, black and white, clear as crystal! You stole fizzy lifting drinks! You bumped into the ceiling which now has to be washed and sterilized! So you get nothing! You lose! Good day sir!" Before I could put any understanding to what he just said I jumped up on my feet and raced for home. Slamming the door in a rush behind me I thought about what he said. It just didn't make any sense! But those words, they sounded familiar, like I had heard them before. The police came and Mr. Rupen was nowhere to be found. His car was missing and only a frail Mrs. Rupen was home to shed some light on the confusion. Apparently, Mr. Rupen Had been working on his amazing garden for the past thirty plus years! "Well that's no surprise to anyone," an officer said. "He is very well known and loved in this community, what would cause such an unseen and dangerous incident?" Mr. Rupen's goal was to expand and continue to grow the garden until it was a landmark. A world wide respected representation of beauty and wonder for all to come and admire. It was already a solid four or five acres and there wasn't any other property around that he could expand with. The trees had covered the sky and a whole ecosystem of life had been increasingly growing. Many diverse creatures reside in his massive jungle of a garden. It was becoming unsafe and widely disproved by the neighboring houses. The city had given him a date by which he had to cut back the garden to a much smaller 'safer' size. Unable to accept the reality that his dream will never be what he had envisioned, He grew cold and bitter. Mrs. Rupen added that today was especially hard, it marked the date that the late Gene Wilder had passed away-Mr. Rupen's idol. "That was the only thing he had mentioned all day" she said. It all started to make sense to me. Mr. Rupen however was still missing, we were becoming increasingly worried. Almost three whole days passed until I finally noticed his old car sputter down my street. It had an incredibly loud rumble as it chattered throughout the neighborhood. I watched from my window as he pulled up to his house. Quickly, I ran down from my room and out the door. Keeping my distance I carefully crept into some bushes across the street from his yard. I watched him slowly look around his property as he stood out from the vehicle. He was almost completely naked, scratched and frazzled. The cops received word from a concerned neighbor that he had arrived home, and they raced to the residence. It was apparent that he had become more delusional from the stress of his crumbling dream. At the station a witness told the policemen they saw Mr. Rupen running wild through the Keukenhof Gardens. With his clothes torn to shreds, he came across a massive sculpture. It stood a towering fifteen feet high, boldly positioned in the middle of the garden. Brown and curved into a coil, it resembled a giant dog turd-a well known icon in this particular garden. He climbed his way to the top of the sculpture and released his pain and anguish with a shrieking cry. I felt empathy for the man, he had finally cracked. The stress of his overwhelming troubles were too much for him. He is still waiting for a court hearing, and I already said I won't press charges. The cold lifeless walls of a cell would be the end of him. I met with Mrs. Rupen after things settled down. "Just as he carefully nurtured his precious garden for all these years, he will grow from this. He still has me you know" she said. His garden has been cut down to a third of it's original size, it must kill him inside. I don't walk through his property anymore, but I do see him around from time to time. He keeps to himself, leaves home only to get the mail. A quiet unhappy man, poor Mr. Rupen.

Keukenhof Gardens, Nederlands

The famous Poo Sculpture in the Keukenhof Gardens, Nederlands

-Retrospective Fred