Child's Play
* * *
Fact of the Day.
* * *
Atheism is a religion whether you like it or not.
Atheism
-noun
1. the doctrine or belief that there is no God.
2. disbelief in the existence of a supreme being or beings.
Religion:
–noun
1. a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, esp. when considered as the creation of a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs.
2. a specific fundamental set of beliefs and practices generally agreed upon by a number of persons or sects: the Christian religion; the Buddhist religion.
3. the body of persons adhering to a particular set of beliefs and practices: a world council of religions.
4. the life or state of a monk, nun, etc.: to enter religion.
5. the practice of religious beliefs; ritual observance of faith.
6. something one believes in and follows devotedly; a point or matter of ethics or conscience: to make a religion of fighting prejudice.
7. religions, Archaic. religious rites.
* * *
And now, for your feature presentation... as seen on TV...
* * *
It was a feast as people swarmed around rides and concession stands, clamoring the fair. There was music and games and even entertainers as we stagnate on a frame of the sign at the entrance which reads 'I Went to the Karnevil and Bought the T-Shirt' just below the carnival name 'y so srs', which is our first clue as to what's going on here. The scene fades, but is spliced with more images of the carnival before finally mellowing on the rotary of the Merry-Go-Round as we can see two grown men atop the stallions along the children.
The first is a champagne haired man in a white tanktop and faded 1969 jeans. There, his finger is extended far into the air as he looks at though he's galloping into war. Besides him is a curly brown haired man in an orange t-shirt and parachute pants, clasping to the bar as if for dear life. In his left hand is a wad of cotton candy, but he seems afraid to take a bite of it...
Ripplemagne:
"Hey, Tong... Tong... Tong! Answer me, Tong!"
Regaining his composure, the curly haired lad straightens his spine to look over at the magnificent Ripplemagne, where he takes a deep breath and faces his fear of moving horses... and strange music. Glaring over at Ripplemagne, The Tang frantically shouts at his womb-to-tomb...
The Tang:
"It's Thong! I mean... Tang!"
Ripplemagne:
"Hey, Wang..."
The Tang:
"What?!"
Ripplemagne:
"Did you catch the latest Klown segment?"
The Tang:
"You mean the brutally generic gimmick tediously slabbed with typical jargon like 'we are there to simply cause as much pain and agony on all who would dare oppose us'?"
Ripplemagne:
"The very same! Apparently, our friend in make up was offended by our subtle chaffing of him last week and took the oh-so delectable recourse in spouting some very unfriendly things about the magnificent one. Oh... and you too, I guess..."
The Tang:
"Some people just can't take a joke. Hey! What's that supposed to mean!?"
Ripplemagne:
"Apparently, Mr. Myxlplik is under the impression that we, the mighty Matinée ex Machina, are attempting to bully him through our delicious broadcasts."
The Tang giggles at the word 'delicious' after having watched Kurt Laker's recent broadcast...
Ripplemagne:
"And not only that! Apparently, 'they' -- and we all know that 'Jason' is no different than Pierre in regards to voiceovers -- also deem the fact that we are a tag team as 'unfair'."
The Tang:
"You mean Pierre isn't real?!"
Ripplemagne:
"Who complains about the conditions of a match anyway? That's like whining because your opponent for the week has competed in more matches than you. But Orangeade, we must begin to try and analyze this witless emo kid."
The Tang:
"But no one can understand emo kids! They're just so emo!"
Ripplemagne:
"And they're never short of breath in reminding you of that. Either way, it's perfectly natural to take fight or flight when one is intimidated. Thus, the Ripplemagne must conclude that the lad -- whose gimmick is so overused that Jester Smiles and Slambo the Clown are even starting to look rather mundane -- is, indeed, scared witless of the Stigmata."
The Tang:
"Of all of the rookies coming in with us, I was hoping we weren't the only ones with a little bit of style. Did you watch Paradox's broadcast? Completely ripped The Tang off!"
"Luckily he can't rip off my dazzling Samberg-esque good looks."
With that, we can see The Tang curiously wink at the camera. Weird. As the two men circle around the center rotating go-'round, Tang suddenly hops off and lands on his feet, brushing the dust from his knees, ignoring Ripplemagne who is screaming at him that only he may speak in the third person. Looking back at the circling horses, he shudders while looking at the ground below to notice a very tattered, decrepit book. In the background, we can see Ripplemagne, who is quite content pretending to be struck by a knight's lance atop the stallion.
The Tang:
"Hm. What's this... 'Big Book of Voodoo'? What's this all about, mate?"
Flipping through the faded pages, The Tang stumbles upon a single page that remains in perfect condition. At the top of the page reads a name written in red font, 'C.L.R.' Rather precariously, he scans over the page and then looks back up to jump in fright at the sight of Ripplemagne, standing in front of him before rearing over the book...
Ripplemagne:
"Eh? 'Ade due damballa. Give me the power, I beg of you. Leveau mercier du bois chaloitte. Secoise entienne mais pois de morte. Morteisma lieu de vocuier de mieu vochette. Endenlieu pour du boisette damballa! Endenlieu pour du boisette damballa! Endenlieu pour du boisette damballa!'
Amadou Diallo?! What is this flamboyant, profane nonsense you have laid your grotesque, Canadian eyes upon?!"
The Tang:
"Looks like some kind of mumbo jumbo gibberish. Nyeh. Probably some second rate, generically lame and undoubtedly boring character's belonging. Might even be from an old 90s movie."
Promptly, The Tang tosses the raggedy book over his shoulder as it lands inside a nearby garbage can. It appears as though The Tang has seized a kazoo from one of the vendors and holds it up like the holy grail. The two gather to one another, giggling, but as The Tang blows into it... it doesn't make a sound.
The Tang:
"It won't blow! It's broked!"
Ripplemagne:
"Ou! Ou! Blow into it and I'll make the sound."
Ecstatic at this notion, The Tang gets wide eyed and huffs and puffs into the kazoo. With that, Ripplemagne flaps his lips and makes his best impression of a kazoo. The two laugh together...
The Tang:
"Ha, ha! Do it again!"
With that, The Tang huffs and puffs again, but this time, the sound that Ripplemagne makes is that of a singing voice...
Ripplemagne:
"Pet land discounts! For the best care a pet can get!"
The Tang:
"Hm... odd doohickey. Must be more of that voodoo."
Shrugging, the two make their way towards the strongman's hammer game. Chin held high, Ripplemagne walks over accordingly snatching the oversized novelty hammer from the game marshall.
Ripplemagne:
"Fear not, believers! The magnificent one is here to prove the might of Valhalla to you wretches in the form. Have at thee!"
With all his might he lifts the hammer upward above his head and brings it down with incredible force, nailing the target. The piece of wood is launched up, and up, and up, and up... but merely reaches the "LOL UR GHEY" category about three quarters up. Jaw dropped, Ripplemagne snarls as The Tang pushes him aside, snagging the hammer for himself with a smile.
The Tang:
"Oh, oh, oh! My turn! My turn! Me next!"
As The Tang lifts the hammer up above his head, sweat misting from his hair, eyes twitching frantically, lips tightening with tension and his body shaking he's just about to release his swing. But just then, a woman wearing a pink t-shirt that reads 'Moar Liek Critical AccLAME' crosses the area. Wide eyed and riddled with a quizzical look, The Tang drops the mallet and moves towards her with his tongue out and what might just be hearts in his eyes. The hammer falls on the target and the wood plummets up, striking the bell on top.
Karny:
"We have a winn-a! We have a winn-a!"
Ripplemagne:
"Lies! Slander! Deceit! Heresy! Blasphemy! Shenanigans! The Ripplemagne has been Jew'd! He has been yarmulke'd! He has been hoodwinked, bamboozled, and synagogued!"
As Ripplemagne is overheard shouting other words at the karny, who is trying to hand him his friend's prize in the form of a giant plush orange juice box, The Tang has followed the woman to a concession stand. Leaning against the counter, The Tang studies her, eying an ice cream cone in her hand as he seemingly doubles over, clasping his stomach in pain...
The Tang:
"Oh, I don't feel so good..."
The woman looks over puzzled and somewhat worried...
Woman:
"Aw. Are you okay?"
The Tang:
"N-no... o-ow... I feel like there's an elephant in my stomach and is trying to get out..."
Woman:
"What?"
The Tang:
"Oh, no, see? I think his trunk is already out!"
At that point, the woman releases her right palm across The Tang's grinning face as he chuckles, watching as she walks away in a hurry.
The Tang:
"Call me!"
As he lowers his head, a hand gallantly lands on his right shoulder and pats him better. Turning his head he see Ripplemagne licking an ice cream cone similar to the woman's, The Tang tilts his head and licks his lips...
Ripplemagne:
"Don't worry, lad. You'll get 'er next time."
The Tang:
"Wh-where did you get the money for that ice cream cone?"
Ripplemagne:
"Huh? Oh, this? I didn't pay for it. It was hers. The amazing Ripplemagne nailed her after she left you here."
The Tang:
"But... it just happened. Like only twenty seconds ago?"
Ripplemagne:
"Oh, the Ripplemagne knows. He is just, simply, that good."
And with that, the view fades to The Tang just frowning as Ripplemagne takes another lick of the cone...
Fin.
* * *
Fact of the Day.
* * *
Atheism is a religion whether you like it or not.
Atheism
-noun
1. the doctrine or belief that there is no God.
2. disbelief in the existence of a supreme being or beings.
Religion:
–noun
1. a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, esp. when considered as the creation of a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs.
2. a specific fundamental set of beliefs and practices generally agreed upon by a number of persons or sects: the Christian religion; the Buddhist religion.
3. the body of persons adhering to a particular set of beliefs and practices: a world council of religions.
4. the life or state of a monk, nun, etc.: to enter religion.
5. the practice of religious beliefs; ritual observance of faith.
6. something one believes in and follows devotedly; a point or matter of ethics or conscience: to make a religion of fighting prejudice.
7. religions, Archaic. religious rites.
* * *
And now, for your feature presentation... as seen on TV...
* * *
It was a feast as people swarmed around rides and concession stands, clamoring the fair. There was music and games and even entertainers as we stagnate on a frame of the sign at the entrance which reads 'I Went to the Karnevil and Bought the T-Shirt' just below the carnival name 'y so srs', which is our first clue as to what's going on here. The scene fades, but is spliced with more images of the carnival before finally mellowing on the rotary of the Merry-Go-Round as we can see two grown men atop the stallions along the children.
The first is a champagne haired man in a white tanktop and faded 1969 jeans. There, his finger is extended far into the air as he looks at though he's galloping into war. Besides him is a curly brown haired man in an orange t-shirt and parachute pants, clasping to the bar as if for dear life. In his left hand is a wad of cotton candy, but he seems afraid to take a bite of it...
Ripplemagne:
"Hey, Tong... Tong... Tong! Answer me, Tong!"
Regaining his composure, the curly haired lad straightens his spine to look over at the magnificent Ripplemagne, where he takes a deep breath and faces his fear of moving horses... and strange music. Glaring over at Ripplemagne, The Tang frantically shouts at his womb-to-tomb...
The Tang:
"It's Thong! I mean... Tang!"
Ripplemagne:
"Hey, Wang..."
The Tang:
"What?!"
Ripplemagne:
"Did you catch the latest Klown segment?"
The Tang:
"You mean the brutally generic gimmick tediously slabbed with typical jargon like 'we are there to simply cause as much pain and agony on all who would dare oppose us'?"
Ripplemagne:
"The very same! Apparently, our friend in make up was offended by our subtle chaffing of him last week and took the oh-so delectable recourse in spouting some very unfriendly things about the magnificent one. Oh... and you too, I guess..."
The Tang:
"Some people just can't take a joke. Hey! What's that supposed to mean!?"
Ripplemagne:
"Apparently, Mr. Myxlplik is under the impression that we, the mighty Matinée ex Machina, are attempting to bully him through our delicious broadcasts."
The Tang giggles at the word 'delicious' after having watched Kurt Laker's recent broadcast...
Ripplemagne:
"And not only that! Apparently, 'they' -- and we all know that 'Jason' is no different than Pierre in regards to voiceovers -- also deem the fact that we are a tag team as 'unfair'."
The Tang:
"You mean Pierre isn't real?!"
Ripplemagne:
"Who complains about the conditions of a match anyway? That's like whining because your opponent for the week has competed in more matches than you. But Orangeade, we must begin to try and analyze this witless emo kid."
The Tang:
"But no one can understand emo kids! They're just so emo!"
Ripplemagne:
"And they're never short of breath in reminding you of that. Either way, it's perfectly natural to take fight or flight when one is intimidated. Thus, the Ripplemagne must conclude that the lad -- whose gimmick is so overused that Jester Smiles and Slambo the Clown are even starting to look rather mundane -- is, indeed, scared witless of the Stigmata."
The Tang:
"Of all of the rookies coming in with us, I was hoping we weren't the only ones with a little bit of style. Did you watch Paradox's broadcast? Completely ripped The Tang off!"
"Luckily he can't rip off my dazzling Samberg-esque good looks."
With that, we can see The Tang curiously wink at the camera. Weird. As the two men circle around the center rotating go-'round, Tang suddenly hops off and lands on his feet, brushing the dust from his knees, ignoring Ripplemagne who is screaming at him that only he may speak in the third person. Looking back at the circling horses, he shudders while looking at the ground below to notice a very tattered, decrepit book. In the background, we can see Ripplemagne, who is quite content pretending to be struck by a knight's lance atop the stallion.
The Tang:
"Hm. What's this... 'Big Book of Voodoo'? What's this all about, mate?"
Flipping through the faded pages, The Tang stumbles upon a single page that remains in perfect condition. At the top of the page reads a name written in red font, 'C.L.R.' Rather precariously, he scans over the page and then looks back up to jump in fright at the sight of Ripplemagne, standing in front of him before rearing over the book...
Ripplemagne:
"Eh? 'Ade due damballa. Give me the power, I beg of you. Leveau mercier du bois chaloitte. Secoise entienne mais pois de morte. Morteisma lieu de vocuier de mieu vochette. Endenlieu pour du boisette damballa! Endenlieu pour du boisette damballa! Endenlieu pour du boisette damballa!'
Amadou Diallo?! What is this flamboyant, profane nonsense you have laid your grotesque, Canadian eyes upon?!"
The Tang:
"Looks like some kind of mumbo jumbo gibberish. Nyeh. Probably some second rate, generically lame and undoubtedly boring character's belonging. Might even be from an old 90s movie."
Promptly, The Tang tosses the raggedy book over his shoulder as it lands inside a nearby garbage can. It appears as though The Tang has seized a kazoo from one of the vendors and holds it up like the holy grail. The two gather to one another, giggling, but as The Tang blows into it... it doesn't make a sound.
The Tang:
"It won't blow! It's broked!"
Ripplemagne:
"Ou! Ou! Blow into it and I'll make the sound."
Ecstatic at this notion, The Tang gets wide eyed and huffs and puffs into the kazoo. With that, Ripplemagne flaps his lips and makes his best impression of a kazoo. The two laugh together...
The Tang:
"Ha, ha! Do it again!"
With that, The Tang huffs and puffs again, but this time, the sound that Ripplemagne makes is that of a singing voice...
Ripplemagne:
"Pet land discounts! For the best care a pet can get!"
The Tang:
"Hm... odd doohickey. Must be more of that voodoo."
Shrugging, the two make their way towards the strongman's hammer game. Chin held high, Ripplemagne walks over accordingly snatching the oversized novelty hammer from the game marshall.
Ripplemagne:
"Fear not, believers! The magnificent one is here to prove the might of Valhalla to you wretches in the form. Have at thee!"
With all his might he lifts the hammer upward above his head and brings it down with incredible force, nailing the target. The piece of wood is launched up, and up, and up, and up... but merely reaches the "LOL UR GHEY" category about three quarters up. Jaw dropped, Ripplemagne snarls as The Tang pushes him aside, snagging the hammer for himself with a smile.
The Tang:
"Oh, oh, oh! My turn! My turn! Me next!"
As The Tang lifts the hammer up above his head, sweat misting from his hair, eyes twitching frantically, lips tightening with tension and his body shaking he's just about to release his swing. But just then, a woman wearing a pink t-shirt that reads 'Moar Liek Critical AccLAME' crosses the area. Wide eyed and riddled with a quizzical look, The Tang drops the mallet and moves towards her with his tongue out and what might just be hearts in his eyes. The hammer falls on the target and the wood plummets up, striking the bell on top.
Karny:
"We have a winn-a! We have a winn-a!"
Ripplemagne:
"Lies! Slander! Deceit! Heresy! Blasphemy! Shenanigans! The Ripplemagne has been Jew'd! He has been yarmulke'd! He has been hoodwinked, bamboozled, and synagogued!"
As Ripplemagne is overheard shouting other words at the karny, who is trying to hand him his friend's prize in the form of a giant plush orange juice box, The Tang has followed the woman to a concession stand. Leaning against the counter, The Tang studies her, eying an ice cream cone in her hand as he seemingly doubles over, clasping his stomach in pain...
The Tang:
"Oh, I don't feel so good..."
The woman looks over puzzled and somewhat worried...
Woman:
"Aw. Are you okay?"
The Tang:
"N-no... o-ow... I feel like there's an elephant in my stomach and is trying to get out..."
Woman:
"What?"
The Tang:
"Oh, no, see? I think his trunk is already out!"
At that point, the woman releases her right palm across The Tang's grinning face as he chuckles, watching as she walks away in a hurry.
The Tang:
"Call me!"
As he lowers his head, a hand gallantly lands on his right shoulder and pats him better. Turning his head he see Ripplemagne licking an ice cream cone similar to the woman's, The Tang tilts his head and licks his lips...
Ripplemagne:
"Don't worry, lad. You'll get 'er next time."
The Tang:
"Wh-where did you get the money for that ice cream cone?"
Ripplemagne:
"Huh? Oh, this? I didn't pay for it. It was hers. The amazing Ripplemagne nailed her after she left you here."
The Tang:
"But... it just happened. Like only twenty seconds ago?"
Ripplemagne:
"Oh, the Ripplemagne knows. He is just, simply, that good."
And with that, the view fades to The Tang just frowning as Ripplemagne takes another lick of the cone...
Fin.
* * *
