"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh... ah ah! Ehhh oh ah ha! Ehhh oh-"
"Will you please just shut up all ready?!" cried the forest in exasperation.
And by the Rats of Raool did it have reason for exasperation. Dearest old Sir Ra the Third was tromping and tripping his way through the wickedly wooded woods, snagging his delicate chain mail (which he had thought was going to be main chail when he packed it for the trip to Rayma's castle, but soon realized it was actually the much more fragile chain mail) on spindly twigs floating in the air.
Now, you must know that a Sir such as Ra cannot go tromping and tripping through a wickedly wooded wood without theme music. Alas, there were no lovely minstrels around to serenade him (or the audience, eagerly awaiting what would become of his journey), and he found that it was necessary to provide the music himself.
Ra froze, the ever-present outrage bursting onto his currently turquoise face. "How dare you please shut me up already?!"
Sighing, the forest let a huge breath of wind sweep through its trees, knocking a few houses down a few years away. Ra stumbled a bit.
"Honestly," moaned the forest gloomily, "someone had to do it."
"You bet your buttons someone had to do it," muttered the audience.
Ra narrowed his eyes. "I heard that, you bubbling bananas of babaloons!"
A loud crinkly, crackly noise sounded over the loud speakers (which, by the way, were located in every single bathroom in all of Raool). "SIR RA! WE DO NOT TOLERATE OFFENSIVE INSULTS SUCH AS THAT!" ANNOUNCED THE ANNOUNCER STERNLY.
Panicked, Ra fell to his knees. "NOOOOOO! Please don't disqualify me! I want to show everyone how mean and annoying I am... PLEASE!!!!"
"HMMMMM..." THE ANNOUNCER HMMMED AS IF GIVING THE PLEA SERIOUS THOUGHT.
The audience whispered amongst themselves.
"I say we let him stay as long as he scrubs his toothbrush with Brussel sprouts every night!" yelled a sprightly old fellow by the name of Atticus Finch.
"Yes... yes..." mumbled Severus Snape from his seat by his old pal James Potter. "Or we could do something much more interesting like cutting off his cuticles!"
"Fry his underwear in donut frosting!"
"Feed him yummy turnips!"
"Stab him in the red radish!"
"ENOUGH!" ENOUGHED THE ANNOUNCER IN ITS LOVELY DISEMBODIED VOICE.
Ra cowered in his usual courageous cower on the forest floor.
The forest sighed once more. Sir Ra's show of bravery was quite...
"Pitiful?" supplied Rayan as sprinted through a patch of prickly ysiad bushes.
"Thank you," the forest grumbled dully.
"Anytime."
Ra, with his talons clutching his head in terror, began to whimper like a pink gumball. (You know, the kind where you put a quarter in the machine and it goes WHEEE WHEE and LOOPITY LOOP until it pops out of the little hole.)
"AWW, SHUT UP!" THE DISEMBODIED VOICE GROWLED.
Immediately, Ra zipped his lips, placing the key shakily into his pocket. His eyes, however, remained wide with fear.
The audience, having just zipped their own loud mouths, remained silent.
"THANK YOU," THE ANNOUNCER SIGHED. "TV SHOWS THESE DAYS... PEOPLE JUST LOSE THEIR HEADS ALL THE TIME..."
"How would you know?" the bad-attituded snail snapped in perfect unison with the irritated forest. "You don't even have a head!"
"FAIR POINT, MY FRIEND, FAIR POINT... AND THAT WAS PERFECTLY SYNCED SPEAKING BY DA WAY!" THE POOR DISEMBODIED VOICE CLAPPED A WEE BIT WARILY.
"Aye, it 'twas, lads!"
Everyone associated with the TV show froze. Even Rayma, stretched luxuriously out in her completely uncomfortable cage with all the comforts of home, stopped her lazing at the sound of the Irish voice.
"SAY WHA?" THE DISEMBODIED VOICE WAS SPEECHLESS.
Ra peeked out from under his fingers.
"EEEEK!" he screeched, ducking under the safety of his tiny hands once more.
"Ahh, lad," the Irish voice grew louder as a tiny man leapt down from a tree from where he'd been watching the exchange, "I is nothin' ta be afraid uf!"
The audience stared at each other in puzzlement. Ra cowered further down to the ground. Rayan ignored the distraction, intent on finding his true love. Rayma looked on in interest at the newcomer, admiring his perfectly styled devil horns curling around his watery red hair. The queen and the lady's maid enjoyed a toasted cheese sandwich at a nearby tea shop in the middle of the three thousand mile-wide forest.
For the Irish fellow was truly a sight to behold; about three feet tall, he wore the traditional Irish wear (in case you don't know, this attire includes; purple, five inch, platform heels, tight-fitting, yellow skinny jeans, a flowery, tropical tunic (preferably an orangish blue color), and the afore-mentioned red hair and devil horns). His eyes glowed a fearsome blue color (so boring in comparison to the ever-changing colors of Raoolian eyes), and their shade surpisingly caught the pink eyes of dearest Rayma. (Unfortunately, they also caught the eye of a Rhapsodian green sea crab; a bad thing if you don't want to marry an eighty-foot crustacean.)
"Why hellooo there," meowed Rayma as she gazed at him (how she was able to see him, no one has concluded yet, even after five hundred years of research).
Slowly, each member of the audience shifted their stares from the new hunksicle to the admiring face of the princess. Then they looked back at the hunk. Mischievous grins began to creep up their faces.
"You seen' what I'm seen'?" Dumbledore asked Atticus telepathically.
"Yuppydoopsters!" cried Atticus via the same communication.
The disembodied voice watched the audience as their thoughts appeared. "HMMM..." HE THOUGHT TO HIMSELF.
Ra lifted his head a tiny bit to stare at the Irish fellow. He took in the beautiful looks, the stylish attire, and shook his head with a smirk.
"For a moment there," the Sir said snootily as he leapt to his feet, "I was worried that you were actually attractive or something, and that Rayma would like you... Thankfully, you're as ugly as a Raoolian toaster!"
The zippers unzipped themselves from the audience's mouths as they opened them in surprise.
"Ooooh! BURN!!!" cried the audience in perfect unison with the disembodied voice.
Taking a deep breath, the Irish man looked Ra straight in the eye. (Now if you don't know Ra very well, you're probably assuming that he looked right back, dreaming dreams of ham slices mixed with pastrami and cheese on a toasted Italian bun. But, if you do know him as well as you probably should after struggling through this short memoir of his existence, you're most definitely assuming correctly on what he's doing; diving under a nearby, leafy plant to hide in terror.)
"Sir, for I is assumin' yer a Sir by yer cowardly nature, I have a few things to say to ye," the Irish man spoke lowly and calmly (as all Irishmen do, you should know, following the stereotype).
The audience repressed another round of 'OOOH! BURN!'s as the disembodied voice gave them a warning glare.
Ra gulped, wiping the cheesecake sauce dripping down his forehead and into his eyes. (His sweat did taste rather lovely, you should know.)
"First uf all," began the Irish man, "the wri'er of this here story may stop calling me 'de Irish man', for me name is Herbert!"
Flinching at the sound of Herbert's voice, Ra ducked even lower.
"And second, I'll have ye know that I is quite the lady's man! Oh, and FYI (though ye probably have no clue what 'tat means), yer girl, that good ol Rayma lass, is quite infatuated wid' me!"
"Tis an outrage!" screeched Ra, momentarily forgetting his terror in his fury.
Rayan, however, heard nothing, and kept along on his journey a few miles away. Nothing would stop him from getting to his dearest Rayma.
The Iri- erm- Herbert chuckled a wee bit at Ra's reaction. "Yes Siree she is!"
The audience watched with intense interest as the disembodied voice opened his mouth to enter the conversation. "WELL, YOU SEE, THE IRISH M- UH- HERBERT, WE WERE JUST ABOUT TO DISQUALIFY THIS HERE RA FOR SPEAKIN' POORLY TO THE AUDIENCE!"
Herbert (There! Ya happy now Herbert?!) chortled joyously. "Interestin'... very interestin'..."
"AND," CONTINUED THE VOICE, "HE WAS NOT ONLY RUDE TO THE AUDIENCE, BUT TO YE, AND TO THE FOREST!"
Ra swallowed a large lump of coal sliding in his throat. "Uhh... he he..."
The Irish- oh darn! Herbert silenced him with a fierce, icy look.
"AND," THE VOICE CONTINUED EVEN MORE, "HE ACTUALLY GAVE A POISONOUS SERUM TO OUR VERY OWN DEAREST RAY RAY (RAYAN THE KNIGHT IF YOU HAD NO CLUE WHO DAT WAS) TO MAKE THE DEAR BOY FORGET HE WAS TRYING TO SAVE RAYMA!"
Herbert perked up at the mention of Rayan's name. "Who is dis Rayun you talkin' 'bout?"
"OH, NO ONE REALLY," THE ANNOUNCER ANNOUNCED CASUALLY, "JUST RAYMA'S OTHER TRUE LOVE..."
Herbert's eyes narrowed and widened at the same time. "I see."
Furious, Ra opened his mouth to say that he was Rayma's one and only love, but a large, venomous butterfly happened to fly into his mouth at that exact moment, and he ended up choking and coughing instead.
"YEAH," THE ANNOUNCER SIGHED," IT'S COMPLICATED."
"Tell me," ordered Herbertman (isn't that a nice compromise?).
And so the disembodied voice explained THE AMAZE CHASE to Herbertman, with the audience interjecting every so often to add in details. Herbertman listened in interest, with Ra still choking to death in the leafy plant.
Finally, when the tale was taled out, Herbertman spoke. "I do think ye should keep this here Ra in this here Chase."
A gasp of surprise swung around the audience. Ra stopped choking.
"Say-"
"SHUT UP!!!!!!" cried the audience, for they were truly excited that the Rayan/Rayma/ Ra love dodecagon was continuing on, and they didn't want a stupid Sir to interrupt the detes.
The disembodied voice's face flashed a sign of interest. "I see, Herbertman. And why do you think this?"
Herbertman grinned, showing off his cute, little, bloody fangs. "Cause it tis so much more fun with this here idiot messin' stuff up and bein' rude and such! And... cause I is gonna join this here Chase, and I can't wait tu see da look on that Sir's silly little face (and goodie-two shoes Ray Ray's as well, for that matter) when I steal his little lass!"
This time, the disembodied voice could do nothing as the audience exploded with interest.
"YES!"
"HERBERTMAN! HERBERTMAN!"
"HE'S OUR VAN! HERBERTMAN!"
The cheers continued for a few hours (by which time Rayan was plunging through a mysterious, swampy bog to reach his destination), with Ra screaming in anguish at the thought, and Herbertman grinning triumphantly at being called a van.
"ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT!" GROWLED THE VOICE FINALLY. "THAT'S ENOUGH, FOLKS."
It quieted down till just a few unfortunate souls were left cheering, and they, of course, were politely catapulted away into oblivion for the sake of the rest of the audience's experience.
"HERBERTMAN," THE ANNOUNCER LOOKED DOWN UPON THE CONTROVERSIAL VAN, "I HAVE THOUGHT THROUGH YOUR OFFER A WEE BIT..."
All toes awaited eagerly to hear his response.
"AND," THE VOICE SIGHED DEEPLY, THEN SMILED A WIDE SMILE, "I WANT YA TO JOIN THE AMAZE CHASE FOR THIS AMAZE EPISODE!!!!"
Every single thing (living or dead, animate or inanimate) began to roar wildly. HERBERTMAN HAD JOINED THE CHASE!
Herbertman himself just stood there, quietly congratulating himself and staring down poor Ra. Miles away, Rayan froze in his tracks, hearing the trembling roar.
"Rayma!" he yelled, knowing for sure that something bad had happened to his dearest lady.
He began to sprint away, desperate to find her.
"Hold on to your corpses! I mean, horses!"
Meanwhile, the roaring had not only startled the knight, but also a rabid pack of wild Ramen noodles. They had been munching on their favorite treat (lamas of course) in the wilds of the Marinara desert, when suddenly, they heard the earth-shattering noise.
"HE HEY!" they squealed to one another.
"HE HEY!"
Terror overtook the pack, and the took off wildly through the desert. Unfortunately, this particular desert is quite close to the woods where our dearest Ra and Rayan were a searching for the princess, and the noodles found their way through the trees, busting through and stampeding all around.
Ra was the first to feel the earth trembling. "Uh... guys?"
But no one heard him. They were too busy celebrating.
Panic plunged its way through Ra's heart. "GUYS!!!!!!"
The noodles charged towards the cheering area, heading straight towards dear ol Ra Ra.
"Uh oh." Was all he could say before they leapt onto him, scratching and clawing.
"My hiney! OHHHH MY HINEY!" he screeched in agony.
However, everyone was way too interested in cheering, and took no notice of his pain. It wasn't until the noodles leapt away, half an hour later, that Herbertman noticed Ra writhing in pain on the ground, his chain mail sporting a teeny tiny hole on the hiney section.
"Look every un!" he grinned mockingly.
The audience quieted down, taking time to glance at poor Ra.
Herbertman stepped towards the Sir. "Ra's got un ouchie on is hiney!"
Laughter burst out as they noticed the tiny hole in the fabric.
"Let's throw im somewhere!" suggested Frodo, a lovely little hobbit.
Herbertman leaned on his knees, screeching and laughing till tears ran like soup down his blue cheeks. "Good idear!"
"Nooooo! Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase!" pleaded Ra, afraid that his newly done manicure would be chipped.
"There ain't no mercy on villains such as ye, Ra Ra!" Herbertman yelled in a fake stern tone.
The old Irish man (What?! It sounds better than saying Herbertman every time!) took a few steps closer to the Sir. Lifting his leg back slowly, he summoned all the power inside him and WHAM! He kicked Ra hard in the hiney.
"Don't kick Ra's raw butt....!!!" Ra screeched as he was catapulted high into the air and far away.
Coincidentally, Rayan was trudging along in the exact spot where Ra landed roughly on a pile of soft pillow grass.
"Ahhh," Rayan paused briefly to glance at Ra, "trying to stop me from reaching dearest Rayma again, are we?"
Ra whimpered softly.
"What's that, man?" asked Rayan in genuine concern as he heard the tiny sound.
Ra moaned. "Don't kick raw butt..."
Determination soared through Rayan as he thought Ra had said 'Ra butt' instead of the raw Ra kind. "You bet I will, my friend.
"Rayma will have to suffer no longer! I shall kick the Ra butt!"