See why critics are raving...

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There's a howling sound as we open up to a black screen, puzzled over what to expect from a segment titled "See why critics are raving", the second ever Royal Ordinance of Wrestling broadcast. The scene begins to open up with what sounds like a very low, haunting organ filled the audio with clamor. The volume is obnoxiously loud, causing great anxiety among the viewers.

The scene strolls to the side as we see a woman's face as she steps forward, her features obstructed by the angle and murky setting. Suddenly, a voice over takes over in a narrative tone...

Somewhere between science and superstition...

...There is another world.

Just then, the same woman, now walking through a completely blackened room, armed only with a torch that can barely illuminate her own demeanor, paused, grabbing her chest with a hearty gasp. It's then that we realize that this is the theatrical trailer for the 1973 movie, The Exorcist. The screen blacks out again...

A world... of starkness...

We're treated to the sounds of what we can only make an educated guess to be poltergeists and the paranormal as the chirping lavishes itself in the heat of a candid thumping sound. As abrupt as it began, a violent, blood-curdling shriek is heard. But it sounds again as another scene opens, a woman running up a flight of steps in a furnished home, the banister wrapping around from the steps and mounting itself overhead.

In a hurry, the woman, wearing what seems to be a blue evening gown, rushes to the colorless, wooden door and pauses if for a brief second. Perhaps she was fiddling with the door, but it's irrelevant as she pushes the door open in a panic...

Soon enough, we're treated to the features of the woman as we pan in to see her jaw drop. Curly brown hair cropped just below her ears, wide eyes and mediocre features. It's very well possible that the scene was reenacted or digitally remastered as the quality seems crisp and in high definition as opposed to the original.

If so, the producers did a swell job in staying true to the visage of the original actress. In fact, just about everything seemed meticulously breached to perfection. It was fairly remarkable as such a thing is very uncommon...

A venomous, vehement moaning sound is heard off-screen as the woman seems in awe at what she beholds...

Nobody expected it...

The scene now changes over to the same woman with her palm to her face, accompanied by two men in suits. The setting is gloomy, but we can make out a prominent mustache with a pompadour on the man to the left as well as a receding hairline pinned onto the scrawny man in the center. Without analyzing the two scenes side by side, one would never know that the scene was reenacted...

The center man steps forward, muttering something, but before any action can be taken, he is ambushed from a sneering entity that strikes him from off-camera. The sharp scenes snap by quickly as we can only see the woman from before screaming at the top of her lungs...

Nobody believed it...

Several more scenes go by as the majority contain men in suits and brief still-frames of some fairly haunting images. It was amazing how even the narrator sounded true to the original trailer...

And nothing... could stop it...

It seems a few scenes are skipped as we pan over to a fairly recent event with the up and coming rookie superstar, Ripplemagne, in the ring with Guitar Hero from the Action Wrestling League held up on his back in a crucifix position, setting him up to Deify...

The one hope...

...The only hope...

The Ripplemagne

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The camera pans right into a black screen, where text appears...

* * *

And now, for your feature presentation...

* * *

Finally, we open to a scene where a young woman with auburn hair is spread out across a standard sized mattress, her hands folded over he abdominal area and her left ankle crossing over her left. It seemed that she was rather fatigued by the positioning of her shoulders in correlation to the rest of her body, but then again, she seemed to be sleeping as her eyelids were draped over her normally glistening green eyes.

Her creamy white skin was accentuated in the embrace of the overhead lightning as her sugary, plump lips seemed almost puckered between her long jawline. Eyelashes feathered out and coated with mascara, she was beautiful. From our horizontal angle of the girl, we see what looks like a motocross course in the form of a human body. A skin tight white t-shirt jerking her breasts in paved the way for a twisting path should one shrink down to microscopic size and try to motor up the uh... "course".

There were several bracelets on her left wrist, though we couldn't see if any were on her right. Around her waist was a black studded belt, but the ends of her shirt covered the vast majority of her strap, preventing a thorough, detailed overview. But they were laced through the hoops of a thick, cashmere skirt patterned in crimson and ebony, caught off probably just below the end of her buttocks from the back.

It seemed that there was a rouge-colored blazer of some sort folded and laid over the bottom of this skirt, though. From here, we can clearly see her knees buckle together and arching up to bring her whole legs up a few inches from the mattress by the center. But admiration is limited as her knees from above the knee down are covered by long white stockings which extend down off screen. Though, that in of itself, may cater to the needs of other fetishists.

Snoozing fairly silently, we can only hear her soft breaths, but the scene is broken as a figure monotonously towers up from behind the mattress over the woman, a haughty grin on his face... with rather piercing blue-green eyes that cut through the lenses of the camera... not literally, of course.

There is a black trench coat which seems to hang and support form his shoulders and flap up by the collar, "popping". An ecstasy about him, he gently thrusts his head to the side, billowing his hair to the side with the momentum.

There is a gorgeous look about him as he raises his white-linen gloved hand into view, his thumb gallantly caressing the flat edge of his middle finger as his index finger gently points upward, but stops at an obtuse angle. We can, clearly, see a Royal Ordinance of Wrestling t-shirt hugging every curve of the young lad's rippling torso beneath his trench coat, provoking an intrigued response. His amber hair moves rather flamboyantly around his three-point facial structure.

With such a thing neck and wrists, one wouldn't even expect such a boy to be involved in professional wrestling, but here he stands, soothingly bringing the aforementioned index finger to his lips to signify that he wishes for silence...

Just then, another voice with a French accent can be heard from off screen, whispering something as if to reassure some point...

The White Mage:
"Rolling."

The events of the actual feature presentation reviewed only go by in about six seconds as the boy cracks a rather defined smirk, his perky pink lips delicately smugging to the left side of his face as he knees over the sleeping beauty and puts his shielded, feminine hand to her auburn hair, trying to hold back a giggle. After a moment of fiddling with a strand of her sleepless, wavy hair, he gathered a fair sum of it and twists it until it's needle-esque and raises it to her face, trying to hold back his laughter...

After the brief dawdling period, he gently presses the stand of hair into the girl's nostril and titters it around as her neck sways from side to side, her nose twitching as though she were auditioning to star in Bewitched. As her sleeping shell rests, the lad titters to himself as she raises her hand and slaps herself right in the nose, but doesn't awake.

Finally, after bothering his resting manager, Ripplemagne looks up at the camera and fixes his coat with a professional swagger before speaking...

Ripplemagne:
"Behold! Genuflect! For the Royal inauguration of the magnificent Ripplemagne into an ordinance of... I suppose I should say Royal, but that would be redundant, wouldn't it? Mm... what a quandary. Well, eff. My grandeur entrance is ruined yet again."

The camera edges sideways as Ripplemagne turns and begins to pace, pondering to himself, obviously having not rehearsed anything before speaking. But after a few seconds, he turns in radical hysteria...

Ripplemagne:
"Aha!"

...?

The White Mage:
"...What?"

Ripplemagne:
"I mismatched my socks today."

The camera pans downward to show Ripplemagne's mismatched sneakers, which he doesn't seem to mind, but he rolls up his light blue, 1969 bootcut jeans to reveal a black ankle sock and a... glow in the dark Spongebob sock...?

The White Mage:
"So?"

Ripplemagne:
"Aha!"

...?

The White Mage:
"...What now?"

Ripplemagne:
"I am pretty."

The sound of The White Mage, Ripplemagne's personal camerawoman, facepalming herself can be heard from out-of-sight...

Ripplemagne:
"Seriously. Just look at me. I am a gorgeous creature."

With a pretentious show of vanity, Ripplemagne pulls out a frilly pink mirror and holds it before his face as he dips his finger tips through his hair, fixated on his own visage as he blows kisses at the mirror and performs an... air bite at the camera?

The White Mage:
"You carry a mirror with you?"

Ripplemagne:
"Who's to say? The Ripplemagne carries lots of miscellaneous items and doohickeys around with him. Oh! Oh! Observe this contraption! This... this... mechanism!"

There's an awkwardness surrounding the scene as Ripplemagne dips into his trench coat pocket which seems... rather large. After fiddling around for a moment, he pulls out...

The White Mage:
"A yo-yo?"

Ripplemagne:
"Isn't it neat!? Look, look, look!"

The camera maintains a steady view as he swings it down and sends it back up with a childish smile on his face, obviously very entertained by the simplistic nature of the device.

Ripplemagne:
"It's not just any yo-yo! When you flick it down... it comes back up to your hand! It totally defies gravity and kicks its ass like Hillary does to Bill in the Clinton household! There is no stopping this win of a contraption! It is a sign of how far we have come in society!"

The White Mage:
"Um... Ripplemagne, all yo-yos do that..."

Ripplemagne:
"Ah! But can any yo-yo do this?"

With a bombastic smile, he drops the yo-yo once again... much like he did before as it swings back up as he throws an arm up, proud of his accomplishment. But then it goes back down... and doesn't come up.

The White Mage:
"Yes, I believe they can."

Ripplemagne:
"I have been duped!"

Almost like he was throwing a tantrum, Ripplemagne throws the yo-yo with all of his might off camera, which precedes a rather loud crashing sound and an "oshit" look on Ripplemagne's face and a blaming pointing at the sleeping girl...

Ripplemagne:
"It was her! It was all her! She... she made me do it! With sorcery... and such.

...I'll pay for it."

The lad's shoulders slump down as he looks over to hear a voice from the other room...

Random Masculine Voice:
"Fool!"

Upon hearing that, Ripplemagne begins to burst out with laughter, pointing at the camera... or the White Mage who was behind it...

Ripplemagne:
"Ahahahaha! He called you a fool."

The White Mage:
"Actually, I think he was talking to-- oh, what's the use?"

With that, the man storms into the room with a bitter look on his face as he confronts Ripplemagne, chastising him about the dangers of throwing yo-yos in public and how he could put an eye out, but his voice is drowned out by Ripplemagne, who... begins to sing "Gee, Officer Krupke" from West Side Story...

Man:
"Do you realize how dangerous it is to throw random objects in a production studio such as this?! Don't you care that someone might get hurt?!"

Ripplemagne:
"Dear, kindly, Sergeant Krupke..
You got-ta understand.
It's just our bringin' up-ke...
That gets us out of hand.
Our mothers all are junkies,
Our fathers all are drunks.
Golly, Moses, naturally, we're punks!"

It seems that Ripplemagne adjusts his standing pose and bombastic theatrics based on which part he's singing, playing every role all by himself...

Man:
"What are you talking about? Are you listening to me?!"

Ripplemagne:
"Gee, Officer Krupke, we're very upset...
We never had the love that ev'ry child ought-a get.
We ain't no delinquents,
We're misunderstood.
Deep down inside us, there is good! "

Taking up the entire cast at this point, he begins to merrily skip around the room, continuing to sing and ignore the concerned man...

Lets call him Jeff:
"Hey! Come back here! Stop this at once! I will have you arrested for disorderly conduct!"

Ripplemagne:
"There is good!

There is good, there is good,
There is untapped good!
Like inside, the worst of us is good! "

Now taking another individuals role, he jumps to a serious, upright pose with his finger waving in the air, but his hand on his heart as if to exclaim a heartfelt message...

Jeff:
"...What's he doing?"

Ripplemagne:
"That's a touchin', good story!"

He switches back to Riff, waving his hand out and shouting out to the Heavens as the man seems bewildered.

Jeff:
"Stop this at once!"

Ripplemagne:
"Let me tell it to the world!"

And with that, he jumps back as if someone threw him and lands in a desk chair as it rolls across the room, hitting a wall. With that, he kips up and turns to the chair, speaking to it with a stern look on his face...

Jeff:
"I want your legal information right now!"

Ripplemagne:
"Just tell it to the judge!"

Hopping around the room like Daffy Duck, he eventually settles back into Riff's role, on his knees as if pleading a case.

Jeff:
"What is the number of your attorney!?"

Ripplemagne:
"Dear, kindly, Judge, your Honor...
My parents treat me rough.
With all their marijuana,
They won't give me a puff.
They didn't wanna have me...
But somehow I was had.
Leapin' lizards! That's why I'm so bad!"

Next, he becomes the judge, getting in the face of the man in the room, exclaiming all of his motions in a rather brutish manner, but in a very dweeby voice.

Jeff:
"Stop! Get away from me, kook!"

Ripplemagne:
"Officer Krupke, you're really a square!
This boy don't need a judge; he needs an analyst's care!
It's just his neurosis that oughta be curbed.
He's psychologically disturbed! "

Finally, he gets out of the man's face and proceeds to skip around the room once again, but this time with a mongoloid impression...

Jeff:
"You can tell it to the judge, crack pot! Maybe you need an analyst after all!"

Ripplemagne:
"I'm disturbed!

We're disturbed, we're disturbed,
We're the most disturbed.
Like we're psychologically disturbed. "

Our good friend, Jeff, seems to be the one who is disturbed by Ripplemagne's performance as hes' breathing heavy and wondering if this psychopath is going to kill him. Ripplemagne, on the other hand, takes the roll of the judge again, standing on the mattress that Miss Sarah is laying on, standing over her with great authority...

Jeff:
"Listen... uh... hey... stop ignoring me! Shut up and listen!"

Ripplemagne:
"In the opinion on this court, this child is depraved on account he ain't had a normal home."

Quickly, Ripplemagne drops to his knees and back into a pleading position...

Ripplemagne:
"Hey, I'm depraved on account I'm deprived!"

With that, Ripplemagne slaps himself and jumps back to his feet to judge position once again...

Ripplemagne:
"So take him to a headshrinker."

Showing great finesse, Ripplemagne backflips off the table and hand spring by the door as the man is trying to leave, plastering himself against the doorway...

Jeff:
"Listen, pal! I'll call the cops!"

Ripplemagne:
"My daddy beats my mommy...
My mommy clobbers me!
My grandpa is a commie...
My grandma pushes tea!
My sister wears a mustache...
My brother wears a dress!
Goodness gracious! That's why I'm a mess! "

With his pretentious display, he spins around, causing his coat tails to slap the man in the face before he leaps forward and into the man's face once again...

Jeff:
"I've had about all I'm going to take, you!"

Ripplemagne:
"Yes!
Officer Krupke, you're really a slob.
This boy don't need a doctor; just a good, honest job.
Society's played him a terrible trick..
And, sociologically, he's sick!"

The man finally backs off quietly as Ripplemagne begins to prance around the room again...

Ripplemagne:
"I am sick!

We are sick, we are sick!
We are sick, sick, sick!
Like we're, sociologically, sick! "

True to the movie, Ripplemagne jumps up into a handstand and leaps on his palms, kicking his legs up to the center of the room and lying down, but continuing. He sits up when playing the doctor and lays down when playing Riff...

Ripplemagne:
"In my opinion, this child--"

It's just then that he notices that Jeff is fleeing and he bursts to his feet and runs after him, but only to the doorway...

Ripplemagne:
"Hey! Wait!"

Turning with a glum look on his face, he takes his index finger and points to the bottom of his eye and moves it down vertically, to pantomime crying...

Ripplemagne:
"He didn't say goodbye..."

The White Mage:
"You really watch that movie far too much..."

Ripplemagne:
"You can never watch West Side Story too much!"

The White Mage:
"I think twelve times in one day is a bit extreme..."

Ripplemagne:
"Oh, shut up! That was only the one time!"

After a moment, Ripplemagne turned to see the girl from earlier awake and gawking at the eccentric showing of the quirky lad...

Ripplemagne:
"'Morning, sunshine!"

Miss Sarah:
"So, I see you're wasting film again."

Ripplemagne:
"When has the Ripplemagne ever wasted film?! What you are witnessing now is the grandiose captivation of audiences worldwide with an artisan's touch, which may turn a mere, mundane twig into an Omi no Yari."

Miss Sarah:
"So, I guess the reward system I set in place for when you actually discuss relevant topics has no boundaries on you...?"

Ripplemagne:
"...What is this reward system you speak of?! The Ripplemagne knows of no such established system!"

A sigh escapes the model-esque girl's lips as she tugs him by his coat and whispers something into his ear...

Ripplemagne:
"Hm... a system of that sort requires great contemplation and thought.

...I'm done. The Ripplemagne will concede to this reward system, but requires an addendum! He requires a bag of beef jerky and a carton of nachos... for uh... prosperity and... such."

Miss Sarah:
"Whatever. The Royal Ordinance of Wrestling signed you among one of their pioneers. Your opponent for the first show is Joe Morgan..."

Ripplemagne:
"Doesn't he play baseball? And isn't he retired?"

Miss Sarah:
"Er... the other Joe Morgan..."

Ripplemagne:
"The actor? I'm wrestling Troy!? Oh, that is totally made of epic!"

Miss Sarah:
"...Not the same Joe Morgan."

Ripplemagne:
"Pegleg? The Mexicano Mafia boss...? What does the Don... o... have to do with professional wrestling?"

Miss Sarah:
"Nothing! He's not even alive anymore!"

Ripplemagne:
"Then what the fuck?! The politician?! The Baseball manager?"

Miss Sarah:
"No! The wrestler!"

Ripplemagne:
"...The musician?"

Miss Sarah:
"Ah! Forget it! Ignore your opponent; you'll probably stun him with your 'dazzling' eccentricities anyway. But there was a signee that I thought you might be interested in. Do you have anything to say about... say... Chris Cage!?"

Ripplemagne:
"Si. He's Canadian. That's a perfected formula for failure and mediocrity. It's even listed upon the Ripplemagne's terms of Ripplemizing in a federation -- Canada sucks. It is item number four of and seven-hundred and ninety-four. Oh, yes. The Ripplemagne has added another one.

Item number seven-hundred and ninety-four... West Side Story DVDs must be provided to the Ripplemagne at his beckon call."

Miss Sarah:
"...Well, that's about all the time we have for this edition of Your Feature Presentation this week. Join us next time when we see how many toenail clippings Ripplemagne has kept in his storage bin over his lifetime!"

Ripplemagne:
"There are three-thousand and eighty-seven!"

Miss Sarah:
"Oh, that's nice! Spoil our next show before it even begins. We could have made a very entertaining broadcast out of that and you ruined it in two, point six seconds."

Ripplemagne:
"Now, it's time for so long! But we'll sing just one more song! Thanks for doing your par--"

Miss Sarah:
"Cut the feed, Whitie..."

And with that, the screen faded to black as Ripplemagne was singing the goodbye song from Blue's Clues...

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