Chronicles of the Bull Frog

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The scene opens up with Ripplemagne is standing in a lockerroom, still in his ring gear from an earlier match with a towel thrown over his neck. This is, clearly, the scene that went down at Show III right before his second match for the night. A sigh escapes his lips as he leans back against a nearby table, thinking to himself. Just then, the hapless Joe Jobber crosses through and stops by Ripplemagne...

Joe Jobber:
"Good showing. It's a shame time ran out; that match was yours."

Ripplemagne:
"C'est la vie, mon ami."

Joe Jobber:
"Well, I have to prepare for my match. I'll catch you later."

Joe Jobber walks off as Ripplemagne takes a swig of a nearby Sync berry-cherry Vitamin Water. Just then, Ripplemagne is approached by the man he put in the Sandman's Serenade at Show II, The Black Mage...

Black Mage:
"Heeey! I know you! You're that guy that Krychek has a picture of and keeps throwing darts at. He really, really hates you."

Ripplemagne:
"Ah, Vivi, how be you?"

Black Mage:
"Oh my God! YOU KNOW MY NAME!"

Ripplemagne:
"The Ripplemagne is magic; he used Detect... ega. Detega. So, the Ripplemagne was reviewing some of Rury's material and the Ripplemagne was doused with a cloud of inspiration! So, the Ripplemagne traveled to the deepest wretches of Gaia... Terra... and such... and brought back his own magician! Allow Ripplemagne to introduce you to his new cameraman... The White Mage!"

At that moment, a brown haired woman stepped forward wearing White Mage garb and carrying an oak staff. She was quite beautiful and had a very French look to her...

Black Mage:
"Th...the white mage? Am...am I being replaced?"

The Black Mage begins to tear up as Ripplemagne raises an eyebrow, turning to the White Mage, who stands proudly...

Ripplemagne:
"...Replaced? Do you actually... uh... do anything?"

It seems that this makes the Black Mage crack as he runs off with his hands over his face, crying. The camera stagnates on Ripplemagne and the White Mage...

Ripplemagne:
"Was it something I said...?"

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And now, for your feature presentation...

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We're treated to a very different scene this week on Your Feature Presentation (it has been given a name!) as we're opened up in a very bright room. The overhead lights exude a glorious white light over its matching walls and tiled floor. The seemingly spotless room glistens as view of the background is very defined in the shot; several tables set along the edges of the wall and a baby blue curtain closed in the doorway. There's a calm, Heaven-like air to the room as we gather...

It looks to be a spa of some sort. But we're centered in on a spa table fixed at the attraction to the room. There lies a rather slender, but gallant man on the teal table top, his majestic face lying atop his folded forearms. Clearly oiled down, his abnormally defined back muscles were propped up and were definitely a subject for inspection.

Around his thin, feminine waist was several layers of white bandaging which went down into his light blue, acid washed , bootcut jeans. Just then, a young girl with soft features stepped into frame.

Silken auburn hair with what looks like natural blonde highlights and green eyes, she is, clearly, of astounding aesthetic conditioning. It looked like she spent hours on her appearance each day, grooming and coating herself in every respect. In the angelic lighting, there was harmony.

But then there was her attire. Her visage conveyed allure and sex appeal in the highest regard. A detached, white collar wrapped around her neck with a black tie extending from it. A business suit of sorts with a skirt barely able to cover the base of her posterior.

There was an instant when the young girl extended a proud smile and placed her slender fingers on the man's defined back, her long red nails gently coercing the nerve endings on the surface of his skin as she leaned forward over him. The girl flicked her hair as she began to press her palms into the muscles in his back, extending her finger tips outward to stimulate his nerves and loosen up the muscles...

???:
"How does that feel?"

There was a pause for a moment as the man stayed glued to her caressing finger tips, but soon enough he turned and opened his eyes. The girl's voice was resoundingly Australian in accent...

Ripplemagne:
"As much as I dig the attention, bonny, blunt trauma to my hip isn't exactly going to be cured by your insatiable lust for the Ripplemagne's rippling... ripples..."

???:
"I doubt that."

Ripplemagne:
"Do ya' now, Miss Sarah?"

Miss Sarah:
"Well, I did say so. I'm more than confident that I can cure any ailment you may be facing after your... exhilarating showing on Sunday."

Ripplemagne:
"So, does that mean that you will massage the Ripplemagne's sphincter?"

Miss Sarah:
"What?!"

Sarah seemed mortified by the inquiry as Ripplemagne pressed his body up from the bench and sat up to face the camera, his hands mounting his body up as we caught view of a ripple in his chest muscles. We can clearly see that his jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped as the taping goes deep into his pants to firmly stagnate it.

Ripplemagne:
"Because that would totally rock the body that rocks the party."

Miss Sarah:
"Keep up the victories and I'll do anything you want."

Ripplemagne:
"Mm... sounds reasonable. Well, first, I want you to tongue my bung, while you juggle my balls in one hand and play with my asshole with the other. But don't stick your finger in..."

Ripplemagne urges the last point with a very overexaggerated expression to imply 'no' as Miss Sarah raises an eyebrow...

Ripplemagne:
"Then I wanna pinky you, while I stick it in your friend's fucking brown, while Silent Bob watches and fucking spanks it in a dixie cup. After that, I want to smell your titties for awhile and you can pull my nutsack over my dick, so it looks like a bull frog."

Miss Sarah seems quite off put and a little confused at first as Ripplemagne flails his hands around, flamboyantly, describing this uh... situation.

Ripplemagne:
"Then I want you to fucking flick my nuts, while your friend spanks me off in the same dixie cup that Silent Bob jizzed in. Then we throw the dixie cup out..."

Miss Sarah:
"You were up all night, memorizing those lines, weren't you?"

Ripplemagne:
"More or less."

Miss Sarah:
"By the way, I was reviewing your approval rating and it seems after your showing last week, you're building some more support. Particularly, in the States. Unofficially, they're even marketing you as the top babyface of this tour..."

Ripplemagne:
"The Ripplemagne is no such babyface! His face is rigid! Rugged! Coarse! Manly! Hardened!"

The camera zooms in to show that Ripplemagne, indeed, has a baby face with no such rigidness. Suddenly, a French accent cut the scene...

The White Mage:
"Monsieur Ripplemagne, you do have a babyface though. 'Tis one of the qualities that is marketed fo--"

Ripplemagne:
"Silence! Only those of us who hail from an actual country may speak!"

The White Mage:
"But, Monsieur Ripplemagne, France is a country..."

Ripplemagne:
"Hardly. The Ripplemagne demands that all wimmenz -- especially xenophobic wimmenz -- to keep their faces shut on Your Feature Presentation -- it has a name!"

Miss Sarah:
"You do know what xenophobia is, right?"

Ripplemagne:
"'Course I do."

Miss Sarah:
"...Well...?"

Ripplemagne:
"Well, what?!"

Miss Sarah:
"What does it mean?"

Ripplemagne:
"Oh, you wanted to know now?"

Miss Sarah:
"It would help."

Ripplemagne:
"Bahahahaha! You have a vagina!"

Miss Sarah:
"Would you prefer I didn't?"

Ripplemagne:
"A little..."

Miss Sarah:
"What?! WHAT?!"

Ripplemagne:
"And until you do, you are simply my valet with panties that have an extreme dislike for you..."

Miss Sarah:
"I'm your manager -- not your valet. I suck at driving."

There was silence in the room as Ripplemagne just stared at Miss Sarah with a confounded look on his face, obviously mind boggled that she didn't know what a valet was...

The White Mage:
"...Miss Sarah... I believe Monsieur Ripplemagne was using the word in the respect that it's used for a female who accompanies a male wrestler to the ring..."

Ripplemagne:
"Except without the accompanying me to the ring bit..."

Miss Sarah:
"So... your manager, then..."

Ripplemagne:
"Gawsh! What is with this fascination with semantics!? The Ripple-- OH!"

Everyone in the room jumped as Ripplemagne was getting up and snapped back upon looking across the room.

Miss Sarah:
"What?! What happened?!"

Ripplemagne:
"Oh, nothing. I saw myself in the mirror and thought you might have set me up for a game show where I'm attacked by some really pretty guy."

There was an irritated look on Miss Sarah's face, but she fought back a grin as she stepped to the side...

Miss Sarah:
"I'm going to get some coffee. I'll get you some tea; how would you like it?"

Ripplemagne:
"In a cup...?"

Not even bothering, Miss Sarah walked out of the room very solemnly as Ripplemagne plopped back onto the table, thinking to himself...

Ripplemagne:
"Hm... Attack of the Pretty People. Has a certain ring to it, no? The Ripplemagne will have to remember to make a game show of such sorts. Ah, yes! The pulchritudinous Ripplemagne's keen, fastidious eye is beholdin' it! He's beholdin' it! And... he lost it."

There was a pause as Ripplemagne leaned back in the seat in a model-esque pose, but taking the pressure off of his hip...

Ripplemagne:
"You know, folks, the Ripplemagne must reinforce a point he made with Jamie Irish a couple of weeks ago. On the plane ride from Canadia to Inglind, the Ripplemagne watched the movie, 'Mask'. For the entire first half of the movie, the Ripplemagne was diligently trying to determine whether the mother was 'good' or 'bad'. There were quite a lot of traits of Rusty that reminded Ripplemagne of his own Ripplemommy. But then she was coated with the scent of putrid things along the lines of... narcotics."

The daunting explanation of the touching film, Mask, was rather serious, but Ripplemagne was rather intrigued and voluminous with his tone...

Ripplemagne:
"But then the Ripplemagne began to consider how simple minded such perceptions on such a complex matter were. The Patriarch of Pretty was entirely dismembering the element of our most rooted concept -- the map is not the territory.

You see, instead of analyzing Rusty for who she was, the Ripplemagne was trying to categorize her into 'good' and 'bad', which there is often a fine line between in movies. Quite typically, a writer will imbue one character with all offensive qualities to make the viewer or reader categorize and get a preconceived notion of who that character is. The problem is that we're looking at the individual as one dimensional..."

Rubbing his hip where Sai Eros hit the Deep Black Fist, Ripplemagne thinks to himself with a pretentious look on his face...

Ripplemagne:
"Much like the character that our wondrous acquaintance, Rury, attempts to establish, writers often do the very same instead of allowing the reader to understand the motive and psychology of our villain, we simply pass them off as born into evil and disregard the essence of good writing... the ecstasy of art; depth. For this reason, the Ripplemagne cannot and will not address himself as a face or a heel..."

Finally, Miss Sarah came back in with her coffee and Ripplemagne's tea and placed it on the table as Ripplemagne saluted to the camera...

Ripplemagne:
"And with that. We're signing off. I'm Ripplemagne..."

Miss Sarah:
"And I am Miss Sarah."

The White Mage:
"And I'm the White Mage!"

Ripplemagne:
"No one asked you, wimmenz! Gah! There is far too much estrogen on Your Feature Presentation..."

Miss Sarah is seen laughing as Ripplemagne plops back onto the table and the scene fades, but only to pull up a definition at the end...

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Sexism
1. attitudes or behavior based on traditional stereotypes of sexual roles.
2. discrimination or devaluation based on a person's sex, as in restricted job opportunities; esp., such discrimination directed against women.

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