Saws and Klowns and Artillery, Oh My!

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Fact of the Day.

Ho
-noun
-slang
A prostitute.

Hoe
–noun
1. a long-handled implement having a thin, flat blade, usually, set transversely, used to break up the surface of the ground, destroy weeds, etc.
2. any of various implements of similar form, as for mixing plaster or mortar.
–verb
3. to dig, scrape, weed, cultivate, etc., with a hoe.

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And now, for your feature presentation... as seen on T.V....

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We open the feed with only static as a voice intercedes...

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???:
"Whe-Where the Hell am I!?"

???:
"Hello, Tang. I want to play a game."

The static fades as our view is engulfed by that of a sinister puppet, turning it's large, pale white face towards us. Looking at us with its beady red and black eyes, as if staring directly into your soul, its mouth drops and raises as it speaks. But our camera soon pans back to that of a completely empty, cement room with a chair placed in the middle, a man confined to it by leather straps around his wrists, ankles and neck. In addition, we can, clearly, see barbed wire wrapped around and around his sweating forehead, matting his curly-q brown hair.

Fairly masculine in features, he sits with a puzzled look on his face, clad in an orange t-shirt featuring the words "What's In Your Wonderball?" We can discern that he is wearing black parachute jeans and monochrome sneakers.

The Tang:
"Hey, I know you, there, on that little television set in the corner! You're that Chucky ripoff, right?! That guy who had his heart sent into that of a doll. Some bogus hocus pocus bullshit? Aren't you in Global Extreme Wrestling with me now...?"

Eerie Puppet:
"You've taken your life for granted. Allowing yourself to be a slave to the finer things in life; taking for granted what you had placed in front of you on a silver platter--"

The Tang:
"Platter!? Oh! Is this one of those surprise, 'all you can eat' buffet things!? Where's the food!?"

Eerie Puppet:
"No longer will you take for granted what other people are not fortunate enough to share with you. You are strapped into a high voltage electric chair by straps and barbed wire. On both sides of the chairs, two front legs are the buttons that will release your strapped binds. However... risk losing what you use the most to take everything you own into consideration. At the end of thirty seconds, when this tape is finished, your barbed wire binds will be pulled back and you will lose... everything..."

The Tang: "Am I on Punk'd...? Haha... where's Ashton...? I want his autograph! No, really! Come on out, guys! You got me! Haha. Guys? Guys?"

Eerie Puppet:
"Live or die, Tang. Make your choice..."

The Tang:
"Oh shi--"

Suddenly, a time-plotted clock is shown on the monitor, ticking away as Tang's eyes widen. Frantically, he tries to slide his hands down to the buttons, but the barbed wire begins to slowly lacerate into his wrists. Writhing in pain and screaming, he finally gives up as the timer hits 10 remaining seconds.

The Tang: "Ah, fuck. Ripplemagne was right. I didn't get laid once before I died."

???:
"Cut! Cut! Cut!"

As the ten seconds just end, the monitor turns off and people walk in front of the seated Tang; one being an average sized man, wearing a baseball cap that reads "DIRECTOR", a jersey and a pair of jeans. The other is the growing name that is the magnificent Ripplemagne, himself, clad in his typical attire; a black trench coat, a maroon t-shirt and faded boot-cut jeans. With his champagne hair artistically cast to the side of his face, Ripplemagne sighs, stepping forward and rubbing his chin with his white linen gloved hand...

The Tang:
"Oh, hey, Ripp'! Thank God you're here! That puppet tried to kill me!"

Ripplemagne:
"Williams, once again, you're acting in a movie. This was one of the scenes. If the Ripplemagne's memory serves him correctly... he told you eighteen times before the retake!"

The Tang:
"You... di-- Oh! I remember now!"

Obviously a bit flustered, Ripplemagne facepalms himself and storms off stage...

Director:
"Tang, you're in the pivotal scene of 'SAW 9 And A Half And Three Quarters: This Franchise Never Freaking Ends'! You have to stop playing stupid!"

Ripplemagne:
"Unfortunately for the Ripplemagne's sanity, he's not playing..."

Director:
"Tang, try to be more... discouraged that your life is literally about to end!"

Ripplemagne:
"Wait. Tang? I thought your name was Victor Gang?"

The Tang:
"No! It's Tang! We've been over this!"

Ripplemagne:
"Fang?"

The Tang:
"Tang!"

Ripplemagne:
"Boomerang?"

The Tang:
"Tang!"

Ripplemagne:
"Wang?"

The Tang:
"...In Chaps! Er... I mean Tang!"

Ripplemagne:
"Tang?"

The Tang:
"No, damn it! It's Tang! Tang! Tang! T-A-N-G!"

Ripplemagne:
"Well, why didn't you just say so?"

Director:
"Are you two done playing 'Who's More Retarded' yet?"

Ripplemagne:
"The magnanimous Ripplemagne begs your damndable, swine-loving pardon. There is deep offense taken in categorizing the magnificent one on the imbecilic level of The Tango!"

The Tang:
"None taken over here."

Ripplemagne:
"In fact! The Ripplemagne is an entire notch less stupid than The Tang! Or wait... is it more? No, I think it's less. No, I'm pretty sure it's more..."

At this point, the Director is left shaking his head, angrily, before waving the scene off, calling the day at an end for shooting. Two stage hands run onto the set and release The Tang from the trap setup and wipe the fake blood from his wrists before trailing off. The two, thereafter, reacquaint on camera.

As they exit the filming studio, they are met with a brown, wavy haired girl wearing a plaid mini-skirt and a black tank top with a mesh shirt over it. Her green eyes, particularly, standing out, we can see that she is, clearly, holding a domesticated Savannah cat in her arms. Those familiar with Your Feature Presentation easily identify her as Miss Sarah...

Miss Sarah:
"Boys! Took you long enough. I have something new from G--"

The Tang:
"Unit!? 50 Cent messaged us!? Oh my God! Ripplemagne! He got my fan mail!"

As the two share ecstatic expressions, they leap high in the air, slapping a high five before Miss Sarah steps between them, obviously demure in stature compared to them. As Tang is left snarling from the break up, Ripplemagne is seen tittering to himself...

Miss Sarah:
"No, you dolt. G.E.W."

The Tang:
"What? No, you're a Jew!"

As Miss Sarah's head drops, the amazingly quiet Ripplemagne slaps her on the back of the shoulder, gently, with a grin spread over his face.

Ripplemagne:
"Tell us, bonny, what words have we from the Land of the Juden? Have they escaped that desert yet? Are they warring with the Ninjas yet?"

Miss Sarah:
"For the seventeenth time this week, Muslims and Ninjas are not one in the same! But... you two have got your first match. It seems after the rather grandeur entrance you two made at Extreme Extravaganza, the hype for a Matinée ex Machina versus Hell Hounds match is off the charts. And not only the fans are looking forward to it, but management, as well. There's going to be a lot of pressure on you two to live up to the talk going on right now; many are hoping that your 'deus ex machina' is just that for the tag team division of professional wrestling."

The Tang:
"Hell Hounds?"

Ripplemagne:
"Odin's chamber! Our debeauty is against the likes of the ferocious Cerberus?! E-gads, Tang! Do you know what this means!?"

The Tang:
"No chance of Kratos fighting a three-headed dog in the next God of War game?"

Ripplemagne:
"Well, that, but also... my arch-nemesis, Loki, has somehow found a way to communicate with the Greek Gods in an alliance against the forces of Asgard!"

As Ripplemagne's multi-tone vocals captivates the group, Tang bombastically gasps, while lightly pressing one hand against his mouth and the other pointing at Ripplemagne, who is now posing with one extended index finger in the air and two great big eyes.

Miss Sarah:
"Vengeance and Napalm, you losers. You're facing the Vengeance and Napalm, The Hell Hounds."

The Tang:
"Well, that doesn't sound very exciting..."

Ripplemagne:
"Dang, blast it, Straylia! Figures Australia would be the host of such a mundane match..."

Miss Sarah:
"Hey!"

Ripplemagne:
"To the Henmobile! We must correct this injustice!"

Miss Sarah:
"The Hen isn't even in this promotion!"

Ripplemagne:
"Then to the Baby Copter! You happy? Does that sound any better?! You made me sound like a pedophile, dang blast it! Now, people are suspicious! Blasted Jason Hartnell and his accusations; blowing up my spot. Now, I can't touch The Tang's nephew witho- I mean... jerk!"

Miss Sarah:
"I believe he said you looked like a serial killer too."

Ripplemagne:
"Well, that goes without saying. Perhaps you've heard of me? Jack the Ripplemagne? Obby. Which is, precisely, why Kangaroo country should accommodate us with a more fulfilling endeavor; perhaps a forty mile swim in Box Jellyfish infested waters? A handicap match against fourteen Taipan snakes? Or even a few hundred Salt Water Crocodiles! This is blasphemy!"

Miss Sarah:
"Um... Rippie... I--"

Ripplemagne:
"Well, the Ripplemagne demands compensation for this insult! He requires the continents finest Kangaroos, whom he will rule over as their Kangaroo King! They will, in turn... give the Ripplemagne rides in their pouch at his leisure. Huzzah!"

Miss Sarah:
"...I'll see what I can work out. In the meantim--"

Ripplemagne:
"Oh! The Ripplemagne's mind just hatched a brilliant idea! Pie eating contest! Away with thee, Straylia... set it up."

Miss Sarah:
"P-Pie... eating...?"

Ripplemagne:
"You heard me, wimmenz!"

Miss Sarah:
"We can't make your debut match be a pie eating contest..."

The Tang:
"Yeah! Have you seen these two guys, man!? They're fucking fat! Like, 'I'm the Juggernaut, bitch', kind of fat! Like, 'Get in mah belleh', kind of fat. Like, 'Hi, I'm Rosie O'Donnell', kind of fat!"

Ripplemagne:
"Blast. He has a point. But Rosie O'Donnell, dude? That's taking it too far. Nothing is that morbidly disgusting!"

Our three heroes have now made it to the parking lot of the studio by this time and begin walking toward the front gates to exit...

Ripplemagne:
"Vagina monologue! Before me is not our limousine! What is this blasphemy!?"

Miss Sarah:
"Well, our limo had to go in for cleaning since Mufasa's hair got all over the seats."

The Tang:
"It's not his fault! Ripplemagne was the one who went at him with an electric shaver!"

Ripplemagne:
"And the Ripplemagne makes no apologies about it! It shouldn't have hissed at his majesty. But rest assure, by the end of this Australian excursion, the Ripplemagne will prove that that abomination is, indeed, Cousin It!"

As Mufasa hisses at Ripplemagne, the young lad glares at the feline and hisses much louder than it, causing it to bow its neck in a fight or flight fashion...

Miss Sarah:
"Well, the fact of the matter is that it's good for you two to walk a little more. Get some exercise. Walk to the hotel..."

Ripplemagne:
"Us...?"

The Tang:
"Walk...?"

Ripplemagne:
"To...?"

The Tang:
"The hotel...!?"

Both men, now, stop at the sidewalk and turn eye to eye giving each other a cold, hard stare before turning and throwing their fingers in Sarah's face with vivacious motions and explosive expressions.

The Tang:
"Traitor!"

Ripplemagne:
"Heretic!"

The Tang:
"Harlot!"

Ripplemagne:
"Blasphemer!"

The Tang:
"Hacker!"

Ripplemagne:
"Concubine!"

The Tang:
"Oh! Good one! Up top!"

Both men seem to turn, simultaneously, and jump into the air, pounding chests before turning back in the same pose as they were gasping.

The Tang:
"How dare you assume we can walk anywhere ourselves! That is insulting to my culture!"

Miss Sarah:
"But you're only Canadi--"

The Tang:
"Silence!"

Ripplemagne:
"Wahaha. Well said, young grasshopper."

The Tang:
"Thank you, humbly, Sensei."

Just then, we can see Tang bow as if out of a martial arts movie along with the sarcastic Ripplemagne reciprocating.

Ripplemagne:
"I am outraged. For this, wimmenz, herald us a taxi! And no showing leg this time! That is considered cheating!"

Visibly annoyed by the method she had to go about retrieving transportation, Miss Sarah groans and walks to the side of the road. After a moment, she begins trying to whistle for a taxi to which she gets no response.

The Tang:
"Pst. When do you think her pea-sized, female brain will turn on and realize that this isn't New York and that she has to call for your taxis and not try to flag them down?"

Ripplemagne:
"Ten bucks -- American, not that fake Canadian stuff you guys try to pass off as a currency -- says she tries to hijack a bus before it dawns on her."

The Tang:
"I'll take that wager and raise you her attempting to give the bus driver a BJ in order to take it."

The two begin to chuckle as she continues to try to flag down a taxi to no avail. The scene shifts as we see a Batman: Animated Adventures headroll with Ripplemagne and The Tang's heads superimposed where it would normally be Batman and Robin...

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* * *

Before we can even see anything, the first thing we're introduced to is the sound of Ripplemagne's soft, charming, New York-accent coated voice...

Ripplemagne:
"You know, it seems that the popular thing to do in professional wrestling is to take the Ripplemagne's name and attempt to do the impossible; make a funny out of it. Admittedly, Nipplemagne is hysterical, but after the first sixteen thumb-shoving coa coa puffs soiled the funny... it became Nipplering and Nipplemagnets -- neither of which rhyme or sound remotely similar!"

At this point, Ripplemagne is seen sitting on a lawn chair outside of a rather snazzy hotel as The Tang is curled in a fetal position on a swinging bench, which is, obviously, frightening him as he screams for the Harlem Globe Trotters to come save him. Miss Sarah and Mufasa are nowhere to be seen as Ripplemagne is clad in only the aforementioned maroon t-shirt and jeans...

Ripplemagne:
"And the Ripplemagne is quite certain that the hose tugging, exhaust pipe thrusting cafones became aware of it. So, what's the next best thing we can do? Rippletits...

Taking a course devoid of any sensibility, we will take the word 'ripple', browse the dictionary and attach any word we can to it. As such, the Ripplemagne has decided to join this band wagon...

As such, the Ripplemagne has devised... Ripplefuck! Ripplenugget! Rippledick! Ripplenipple! Ripplebadonkadonk! Ripple-pipple-banana-fanna-fo-pipple-fee-fie-fo-fipple! Rippletickle! How much Ripple could a Ripple ripple if a Ripple could ripple ripple?"

It doesn't seem like Ripplemagne is intent on stopping as The Tang, finally, goes flying off of the swing and slides to the feet of Ripplemagne before staring up with a dazed look...

The Tang:
"Isn't it pronounced rip-leh? Why are you saying rip-uhl?"

Ripplemagne:
"Because the pronunciation goes over everyone else's head, so perhaps the Ripplemagne is wrong."

The Tang:
"...lul wut?"

Ripplemagne:
"Whoa. I must be contracting the swine flu.

The Tang:
"Oh shi-- Are you sure it's just not chicken pox!?"

Ripplemagne:
"The Ripplemagne does not make mistakes, my faithful Canuckian vagabound!"

The Tang:
"It's uh... Canadian--"

Ripplemagne:
"And The Ripplemagne does not care! See how that works? Now, quit distracting him as the magnificent, nipple attracting, birdo slaying Ripplemagne continues his tirade! Now, where was I!? Blast! The Ripplemagne has forgotten what convoluted complaints he was making!"

The Tang:
"Something about tits."

At the mere mentioning of the third word in that sentence, the two share a sophomoric giggle...

Ripplemagne:
"Ah, yes! The Ripplemagne remembers now. Word play -- especially non-sensical ones, such as the obvious satire of Mr. Sadstick -- require very few prerequisites, barring a Kindergarten education. For example, my lovely assistant is a prime example--"

The Tang:
"Did this bit twice before."

Ripplemagne:
"And, yet, it never gets old...

Digress, digress. You see, this lack of innovation and 'witty' wordplay remains the solitary manner for which one can even begin to try and insult the glorious Ripplemagne. It's almost more insulting to know this than, actually, getting insulted! In fact, the Ripplemagne is pleading with his serfs to end this self-perpetuating jargon and amuse the Ripplemagne! In fact, we are holding a sweepstake! Or is it a contest? A raffle? Whatever it is, the winner gets some kind of uh... doohickey. Aha! Tang, remove your shirt; it is, now, the prize to be won."

The Tang:
"But... this is one of my favorite shirts..."

Ripplemagne:
"I'll buy you another! Your shirt, please!"

The Tang:
"But... I don't wanna~!"

Upon this request, The Tang's bass, suddenly, devolves to a higher pitch and whiny echo as Ripplemagne remains with his arm outstretched and his slender hand open with his head effeminateky turned from his hand, waiting for The Tang to supply the goods...

Ripplemagne:
"Needle dick! Supply thy accessory! It is Ripplemagnian rule number eighty-five that he does not say 'please' for more than one request. Exceptions are allowed if the end result is annoyance on party b.

The Tang:
"...God damn it."

Submissively, Tang begins to pull the shirt he is wearing over his head, standing up as he does so. However, it proves to be more difficult than one could believe as the camera looks at Ripplemagne and then back at Tang, who has, somehow, now, found his head through the right arm hole, his right arm through the bottom, a leg stretched up through the left arm hole and his left arm through the head hole. Amazed, Ripplemagne stands up and moves towards Tang who is hopping on one foot, trying to keep balance, and just stares.

Ripplemagne:
"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire! How did you even manage such a feat!"

The Tang:
"...I have Sarah help me change my clothes in the mornings..."

Ripplemagne:
"Tang, in the screening process for my tag team partner, may we have neglected to review you I.E.P. and check if you are... 'special'?"

The Tang:
"Mom always did say there was something funny about me."

Ripplemagne:
"I think there's a plethora of funny to be found in you gene pool, but c'est la vie. Now, have at thy shirt, foo'!"

The Tang:
"I'm having at thy as hard as I can here! It's harder than it looks!"

Nonchalantly, Ripplemagne steps away from Tang for about three paces to continue his tirade...

Ripplemagne:
"As far as the Royal Ordinance of Wrestling goes, the Ripplemagne's pretty pink contract expired after the first Monday Night Supremacy and, even then, the Ripplemagne could not compete at Spring Breakout due to Evil Hens, Good Hens, Evil Ripplemagnes and the endless stream of doppelgangers plaguing that infernal company. So, as far as the booking goes, the Ripplemagne has no intention of competing at Supremacy, so should there be a Caden Constantine versus Ripplemagne contest on that night, confirmation on the conspiracy is veri--"

The Tang:
"Almost got it, Ripp'!"

Ripplemagne:
"Never... and I mean never... cut the Ripplemagne off again! Do you know what happened to the last vulture who cut the Ripplemagne off!? The Ripplemagne, repeatedly, called him Canadian! That's what!"

The Tang:
"Oh, whoops! Sorry! Continue on! Stupid shirt! Why! Won't! You! Come! off! Whoa~!"

A sudden crashing noise is heard and the sound of a rolling can along pavement which can only be presumed to be a trash can. Not dissimilar to the reaction of an elementary school teacher, Ripplemagne bows his head and shakes it as the forlorn echo of Tang is heard.

The Tang:
"Please tell me the old bag was already pulled out! Ew~! It wasn't! I-It's everywhere~!"

Ripplemagne:
"As the Ripplemagne was saying before he was, so rudely, interrupted, he has no contractual obligation to compete at Supremacy as he did not sign a long term deal. Following word from the ever promiscuous Miss Sarah, the same can also be confirmed for another superstar on the roster, who was banned from the main event and replaced by a doppelganger -- known as Neutral Hen -- to compete against the exceedingly tiring Jason Hartnell. The ever Canadian Chris Cage..."

We can see Ripplemagne click a switch in his pocket as boos are heard when, suddenly, we hear the sound of running feet across pavement and, then ,the sound of heavy breathing to the right of the camera. We pull back and see Tang doubled over, panting, and, now, shirtless. Sapped of energy, he drops the completely shredded shirt in Ripplemagne's loosely hands, who stares at it, briefly, and opens his hands away from each other, letting the pieces fall to the ground into about fifty pieces. Mouth wide open and, slightly, whimpering, The Tang follows the pieces to the ground with his eyes. The pieces, then, proceed to blow away in the wind as The Tang looks traumatized...

The Tang:
"M-... M-M-M-My shirt! One of my favorite shirts, Ripplemagne! Why did you do that for!?"

Ripplemagne:
"The fantastical Ripplemagne came to the conclusion that nobody would want, no less attempt to win, a Canadian's favorite shirt. Such has the value of that of that garbage that was so eloquently confined around your derrière. You should be ashamed of yourself, Canadia. You know, the Police were probably alerted of your delinquent excursion in the alley over there and are on their way as of this very moment. You're probably even going to be arrested. Haha... I wonder whose girlfriend you'll be..."

The Tang:
"Arrested!? But it was an accident! I didn't mean to knock it over! I'll be right back! I'll go clean it up!"

Frantically, The Tang suddenly runs off as Ripplemagne theatrically clears his throat and opens his mouth to speak again...

Ripplemagne:
"So, the always humble Ripplemagne came across former -- aha haha -- Jewish World Champion, James Magnum. Hm... shouldn't the Jewish World Champion just be the Isreali Champion? Though, if you consider their penny chasing ways, it's fair to say that the judens have attained a foothold over the world. Intriguing allusion, whoever-the-Hell-owns-the-company...

Anyway, the former -- aha haha -- champion and the Ripplemagne crossed paths with one another during the Extreme Extravaganza -- which was, no doubt, extreme, solely, due to the presence of Matinée ex Machina -- in a backstage confrontation. Fortunately for you lucky vieweres, cameras caught up with the fantastic encounter. View it now!"

Suddenly, the screen blacks and opens to the Extreme Extravaganza backstage area's mess hall, where we can see James Magnu-- Wait. That's not James Magnum! It would seem that Ripplemagne hired a stunt double for this 'scene'. Despite the colored zits on the man's face and the pair of tight whities he's wearing over his pants, the actor isn't that terrible. Nevertheless, we see Ripplemagne join him on-screen...

Ripplemagne:
"Good evening, dear James Magnum. Could I, the humble Ripplemagne, trouble you for an autograph?"

'James Magnum':
"Duh~! Stupid New Yorkers and yer... duh... stupid!"

Ripplemagne:
"That didn't very well answer the question, now, did it?"

'James Magnum':
"Big, dumb doo doo head!"

Ripplemagne:
"Well, that's just not a very pleasant thing to say..."

'James Magnum':
"Hurgh~! You are move out of way, chump! You are not is in same league as I!"

Ripplemagne:
"Correct the Ripplemagne if he is wrong -- he isnt' -- but was it not just you, shaking your tail feathers with archetypal professional wrestling self-hype about how you were de mang and how you elevated everyone else, encouraging them to give it their all? Paesan', if you're going to toot your own flute -- shut up, it rhymes -- then at least be consistent!"

The scene returns to Ripplemagne, who flails his arms around and with animated expressions, speaks directly to the camera. At this point, Miss Sarah has stepped out on the white wooden porch of the hotel...

Ripplemagne:
"And if that is not verbatim, may the Ripplemagne be stricken by lightning!"

As Ripplemagne exclaims this notion, Miss Sarah takes three steps to the side, getting away from Ripplemagne, who is not, actually stricken by lightning. At this point, The Tang who has returned licking a large, color swirled lollipop.

Ripplemagne:
"Wiggy, isn't it?"

The Tang:
"All done picking up the trash, Ripp'."

Ripplemagne:
"Canadia! Where did you ascertain that sucker!?"

The Tang:
"Huh? O-Oh, this thing? I found it on the ground, near the trash can I tipped over. Cool, huh!?"

In that instant, Ripplemagne's face goes from that of curiosity to pure disgust as The Tang takes a massive lick, streaking down the length of his trash candy.

Ripplemagne:
"Only a Canadian."

The last thing we see before the frame ends is The Tang staring at the camera, eagerly tonuing the colster of filthy candy.

This broadcast has been brought to you by your friends at Matinée ex Machina...

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