Fission Mailed

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Outside the window of the MxM Express trailer, the stoic were budding in the fine dew of Australia as the wind lacked a presence in the suburban community. Brilliantly shining from the opposing window of the stationary vehicle, it's clearly the afternoon. There's a brief tilt in the vessel as they cross the traffic light, being dragged along by the cab hooked to the front of it. It's almost as if you can see the humidity outside as a meager sum of fog has started to form...

If you have surround sound, you clearly garner that the voice that intrudes upon the frame comes from behind the camera. Delicate with a French accent, she speaks directly to us...

The White Mage:
"Greetings, ladies and gentlemen. I am Monsieur Ripplemagne's camerawoman and we're going to open a bit differently today. You see, Monsieur Ripplemagne does not know that we are going to be filming him, so we're going to sneak this into the next Feature Presentation. If you're keeping track, this is number thirteen. Lets go see what he is doing..."

With that, our view moves through the finely decorated trailer down to the butt end of the clunking metal contraption, where we see a bunch of projects Ripplemagne has been working on the last few days buckling against the momentum of the moving vehicle...

Finally, we come to a garden kept fairly stable near the window; of particular note is the sign sticking out of the one nearest to the door -- reading Apple Kid and resembling the same one in Super Nintendo's Earthbound. Lightly opening the door, we get a view inside...

There, we spot Ripplemagne lying on his bed, reclining with his left hand propped behind his head against the pillow and his right hand to his ear; a cell phone delicately sandwiched between his index finger and thumb and only the ear piece touching his skin. Uncharacteristically, we can see that the Ripplemagne's flowing champagne hair is clipped back out of his face, though it's not a bad look for him as he seems to resemble John Travolta in Grease with his hair slicked back....

Clad in red and brown pajama bottoms, a skin tight white tank top and black ankle socks, the lad seems to have gotten comfortable in his home...

Ripplemagne:
"No, I understand what you're saying. But it was inevitable when you review my grades..."

It's then that we can hear that the phone is on speaker as a woman's voice comes through. New York lavished with an understanding tone, she speaks to the eighteen year old prodigy...

???:
"That's not true."

Ripplemagne:
"When I was a freshman, I arrived at school with a sixty pound backpack and all of the ambition a young tool could want. My grades were the top in every single one of my classes and what happened? Out of the entire class roster, the administration singled out the one person who wanted to do well and decided to make me their test tube baby."

For once, he seems to be speaking in a monotone as opposed to when he's on camera. In his eyes, there's a dead streak in contrast to the lively look of his glistening blue-green eyes.

???:
"I understand. I'm not saying that the class changes, transportion and higher requirements were justified. But are you absolved of all of the blame?"

Ripplemagne:
"Of course not. When I was denied my ascent, I lost my motivation and my academic performance became the mirror image of what it was in elementary and middle school. At this point, I don't even think it's possible for me to graduate..."

???:
"Just do the work they give you and you won't have a problem sliding by."

Ripplemagne:
"Everything seems that simple, doesn't it? What you fail to grasp is the fact that I failed three classes for four marking periods straight. Regardless, if you haven't been watching, I'm eighteen and I've already been spot lighted in the main event of some well broad casted promotions. Chris and I are spot lighted in a major league promotion and I'm garnering fans quicker than Rosie O'Donnell garners an omelet."

???:
"You know I always watch your matches. I was there in your first match against that Omigo...?"

Ripplemagne:
"Enigma. Ma', do you ever get anyone's name right?"

Mom:
"I'm old!"

Ripplemagne:
"Well, stop being old!"

The two share a laugh as Ripplemagne licks his lips and shakes his head. Finally, her voice cuts the laughter...

Mom:
"Listen, I know you're successful here and I'm not taking that away from you. But is it what you want? I remember you telling me that you were going to be the first doctor in our family. When you told me that, I could see your face light up with pride and I knew you could do it."

Ripplemagne:
"When the outlet for intellectual pursuit is paved by the self-perpetuating regulation and pseudo-intellectual authoritarianism, it's not an option. Academia is not about how intelligent you are; it's about how much you're willing to sell out to appease some autocratic curriculum. Because a little paper has a bunch of fives and sixes next to my name, I'm deemed unfit for the white collar arena. If I can't rely on my mind to attain glory, then I will seize it with my fists..."

Mom:
"There's still a chance though."

Ripplemagne:
"Since I was seven, my dream has always been to be a professional wrestler. I remember watching Sting and the New World Order; D-Generation X and the Nation of Domination. It dominated my childhood and you know that. A clinical pathologist is what I may have wanted to be, but I'm living my dream."

As he says this, we can see his teeth clench down and his jaw contract as he momentarily closes his eyes and takes a deep breath...

Ripplemagne:
"I can't pass up this opportunity and if worst comes to worse, I can get my GED and attend community college. But academia is a business like any other, where your mental prowess is irrelevant. Where I am, my ascent is based on my ability..."

Mom:
"I just don't want you to get hurt. But you're eighteen now and I can't stop you, but please think about it."

Ripplemagne:
"Alright, ma'..."

Mom:
"I love you."

Ripplemagne:
"...I love you too. Later..."

Mom:
"Later."

As he clicks a button on his Verizon cell phone, he sinks back in his pillow, exhaling a deep breath and thinking to himself as the scene fades...

* * *

And now, for your feature presentation...

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Our scene reopens with a pleasantly cheerful smile on his face as he seems clad in his normal attire, though it all seems to be either olive green or beige in color as he's seen sprawling through some greenery in what appears to be a lagoon of some sort. A sword in hand, he slashes any vines that get in his way...

Ripplemagne:
"Crikey! Look! The rare orange-tailed Tangerina Orientalis and the common horny barfly, also known as the Sarasquito right ahead!"

Sporting a wilderness hat quite similar to Steve Irwin's, Ripplemagne plays the part of an Australian by imitating the accent to the best of his abilities. Ahead, we can see an incensed Miss Sarah, wringing out her auburn hair of some yellow-tinted liquid of average density. It seems that her hair is accompanied by soaked clothing as The Tang, nearby, holding a duffel bag over his shoulder...

Miss Sarah:
"Pickle juice!? Pickle juice!? He spilled pickle juice on me while I was sleeping and ran out in the lagoon!?"

The Tang:
"Maybe he wanted to see if you would pickleize like cucumbers..."

Miss Sarah:
"Just wait until I find him!"

From a safe distance, Ripplemagne turns back to the camera and seems to be standing with his knees bent and far apart, doing his best impression of Crocodile Dundee...

Ripplemagne:
"Amazing~! The horny barfly seems to be agitated over something. It's common in these creatures to develop aggression if they are not sexually stimulated on a regular basis. The orange-tail seems to submit to the venomous mosquito's raging aggression.

This is absolutely amazing. I can't believe we're getting this on camera! You may very well be witnessing the first documentary on these woesome creatures. Observe how the orange tail loafs around, unsure of his purpose in life. It is absolutely astounding how any creature could be so stupid."

As he goes to say something again, Miss Sarah sees him and nearly foams at the mouth, racing toward him...

Miss Sarah:
"You! C'mere!"

Ripplemagne:
"We have been spotted by the matriarch! We must flee or suffer the most lethal venom in all of Australia; a vagina monologue!"

With that, we see Ripplemagne bolt in the opposite direction as The White Mage can't keep up with Miss Sarah raging toward Ripplemagne in the distance. We are treated to a Ripplemagne superimposed Batman headroll as the scene shifts...

We reopen to Miss Sarah stamping over a rocky hill over to a a soft soiled road, where she can see... Ripplemagne with his head promptly planted into the soil and his body in a fetal position behind it.

Sucking her teeth, Miss Sarah strolls over to the quivering lad, rolling up her sleeve and sitting down next to him, rubbing her chin...

Miss Sarah:
"Rippie, what are you doing...?"

Ripplemagne:
"Go away! You cannot see me! I am invisible!"

His voice was muffled, but you could make out what he was saying just fine...

Miss Sarah:
"You're not an ostrich, Rippie, and I can see you just fine."

Ripplemagne:
"You should seek therapy, lady. Speaking to a mound of dirt with a rather voluptuous hiney is borderline schizophrenia."

Miss Sarah:
"Get the Hell out of the dirt before you smother!"

Ripplemagne:
"Nuh uh! I made a breathing hole!"

Miss Sarah:
"You're an imbecile. I don't even have to break your thumbs; you're just not getting any tonight..."

Shaking her head, she sighs and trots off as there's a delayed reaction on Ripplemagne's part...

Ripplemagne:
"I made that chocolate pudding pie too, Straylia! I demand my fair share! Straylia? T-Tang...? Guys? I... I think I'm stuck..."

We can see Ripplemagne clearly tug from the hole, but it seems that the dirt has layered around his jawline and stopped him from pulling out. We see him stand on his feet with his head in the ground, tugging with all of his might, but to no avail...

Ripplemagne:
"Guys! I can't get out! Ah! Snake! Snake~! Wait, no... that's a garter snake. Haha... Snake? Do you read me?! Snake! Snake~!

Oh, wait. Guys! Help me out! Agh! What the Hell is that thing?!"

We're treated to Ripplemagne's body flailing around in the dirt as he sees some creature approaching him, but he can't seem to make his way out. Just then, we fade...

Fin.

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