Rock, Paper, Scissors, Mind

Here we are. The fate of the world is in my shoulders. This was not meant to be. The draw was inevitable, now we come to this, such a challenge. I see you, I know you, yet you are as unpredictable as we can be.

...

What are you looking at, fool? As if you can you read my hands through my eyes. You will not win this, you cannot win this. I’ve seen the way you carry yourself around, you think you're better than everyone else in the room. You believe everyone’s been placed on this world to kneel in front of you. You think you’re immortal, you think you’ll live forever, but you’re just young. You can’t draw anything but paper.

...

A rock, that’s what you are. You stand in my way, a rock you are. You are the rock, a brainless rock. You have to bend to the all mighty paper. Yet… you do know me. Will you set aside the rock? Can you trust the honed scissor to carry your victory? And if so, could I draw rock? Can I forget myself and play your round as the jester you are? Will it be my victory if I play as someone else, I wonder. I don’t know if I can see myself victorious playing as the man I have to defeat.

...

It takes a wolf to catch a wolf. Can paper be trusted? Will you try to defeat me with my own weapon? What are you still looking for, fool? I will not blink. I will dry my eyes out. Not only I will not blink, but I’ll wipe my eyes with your sorry paper when my scissors cut through it. COME ON! Draw first!

...

Are you as fast with your hands as I think you are with your eyes? Would you be fooled by the incoming rock shaping into scissors? You will try to copy my moves, I know. You want what I want, you want to be me, and you’ll play like I do. Yet you are rock. DRAW, YOU BOULDER!

...

The young grows impatient, as I expected. No more mind games. No more wandering. Time to play, time to Draw.

...

AHHH!! LET’S GO! YOU’LL DIE BY THE SMOTHERING OF PAPER. PEBBLES RUN THROUGH YOUR VEINS! YOU’LL DRAW ROCK.

...

Here it comes! The palm, the slope of the fingers. It’s paper! My rock is dying. But beneath every rock lies the edges of the scissors. Come on, let’s roll out the steel. I shall unsheathe my blades.

...

A trap. I should’ve known. But I’m quick enough, fast enough to turn this into a tie. I can’t clench all my fingers, but three I can. I will. Turn to scissors, come on! That’s it. It changed. I am scissors, again.

...

Scissors? Too fast, fool. I am still a rock. You were too fast, too clever, and that killed you. You die young, fool. I am rock, remember that. I live a rock, I die a rock. But you… you now die scissors, the enemy of your own weapon. You die a craven. You sold who you are, and now you’re crushed by youth, boulder, and shame alike.

...

No...

...

Yes... I win. Give me the donut.

buenochao!
—C.E. Caroli