Just let me start off by saying...you know those little grey balls on the bottom of the vibe box that are supposed to be feet? never ever abuse that privelidge..you dont know how easily those balls can dissapear from your life.
Get this. I was walking up the hill from my local flicks home entertainment supply center one day. Youre probably wondering why i didnt go to blockbuster. well you see... it all started in july of 99. I went in to rent a movie for my old VHS system, and the guy at the front desk was having a bad day so he was really giving me a hard time on that perticular eve, so i finally decided that i had had enough of his shinanigans. I picked up a toy story 2 stand and proceeded to throw it through the air towards his face. I had to pay a small fine and i was not allowed to be a member of blockbuster from thenceforth.
Personally i have never seen toy story 2, it never really tickled my fancies. Although i do believe that the 3d animation that those guys pulled off was pioneering and remarkable. I would have liked to meet a pioneer, i wonder what kind of shoes he or she would have worn... would they have skated the board? indoubidably...
So as i was walking home from flicks, i reached the old turn off to peat drive, down where that park is, right on the corner, it was of course new at the time... I enjoyed visiting that park, a lot of good hack sessions up there with my buds. I personally enjoy the park that you can reach when you drive up the clarwood road, its on your left. Even more good hack sessions up in that parking lot. One of my favourite places to skate is a empty parking lot with a box, rail or two.... i dont really prefer surfaces that are too smooth because the board is a lot more touchy i suppose, of course you cant really get a good run in when youre on a too bumpy surface either.
The parking lot at superstore is a pretty nice one to skate around in late at night, when there arent too many cars... Cars have the nastiest habit of getting in the way of skateboarding, especially when conducted my grumpy old men... ive had quite a few close calls of old ppl trying to run me over and let me tell you.... its a good thing the senior citizens home is right behind my house or they wouldnt have gotten the knee breaking that they deserved! Rest assured i gave those old folks the pummelling of their lives.
Ok so i looked into the park and i saw the strangest thing, a broom seemed to be floating about haphazardly. i could not see the whole broom because the lower half was hidden by a bench. Youre probably thinking that i could see through the cracks of the boards on the bench. but alas, it was too dim a day to be able to tell what lay beyond the bench without taking a closer look. ....Take a closer look is exactly what i did.
Throwing myself over the bench i came face to face with an unbelievably small midget who was dressed in tights and a jean jacket. The fat little man asked me for some change, he began to inquire as to why i was sitting motionless, dumbfounded. Snapping out of the trance i quickly proceeded to flick a toonie his way. He caught it with his top-hat and placed it back on his head. I stood back and watched as he continued a lively dance with the broom.
Normally i dont carry too much change on me, i use most of it up buying sand and dirt for my collections, but seeing as how i was on my way home from Flicks, i had a pocket full. It was no small pocket, might i add, not like some of those pockets you see on pants today, these were grade :A quality honkin pockets, you could fit a baby pig in each one, alive and kicking.
Seeing this midget dance, i got the idea that i should aquire him as a personal servant. He seemed quite perturbed at the propsition and assumed what seemed to be some sort of fighting stance. Mimicking him, i took the stance as well. The half pint leaped through the air at pant-soiling speeds, broom stick flailing every which way.
When the battle was over, he had gotten in a few good blows, but the one boot i gave him to the head had him down long enough for me to throw him in a nearby garbage bag and tie it securely. Throwing it over my shoulder i continued to my abode and watched the movie.
I now keep the bag tied securely in my basement and am starving him until he agrees to be my servant. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Canadian dream.
Which brings me to my final area of discussion. In my many dealings with fat men, by far the fattest and most irritable has been Fraser Lockerbie. This man has much to say about nothing, which im sure that you will all discover while continuing your read. Do not take anything this man says personally, he is bitter because he has been raped by one too many fat midget men. By starving this midget in my possesion i hope to right some of the wrongs that have been caused by midget-kind.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my life story.
-John Sollows, Esquire
Remarking the rigid rods in my grasp, and a rather large plastic popcorn bowl further down the counter, i decided to put the two together, in the desperate hope of creating an activity to pass the time. I got more than i had bargained for. For, instead of creating merely a passtime, I had given birth to the beginning of some sort of hybrid, super sport. The sport slightly resembled that of the ever elusive "mini football field goal game", save of course the the giant fork like structure.
The advantage of this sport was clear as day; the accessibility and cheapness made possible for any child 6 and over to enjoy the art that is pastapalooza.
Let me continue on how i made the discovery. I positioned myself and the remaining pasta at one end of the counter, the bowl at the other. It took several tries and wasted sticks, but i managed to all but perfect the wrist action required for a steady flick of pasta portion. Putting my devellopped hand-eye coordination to the test, i fired consecutive shots into the bowl. However, the novelty soon wore off. I decided for a change in obstacles and objectives.
Keeping my ammunition, i replaced the deep plastic popcorn bowl with a flatter, longer pan. Procceeding to paint lines on the pan, causing the division into sections. each section was marked with a different number, representing a score. The further the section was from point of projection, the higher the score. The new objective was as follows: Launch any given portion of pasta as far as possible without clearing the pan's far side. If the far side was breached, automatic disqualification, no if ands or buts.
I practised my flicking action monotonously for hours, no food or drink or even bathroom break. I believe to be a true guru one must sacrifice for that which one is intending to master. As i sat there, i began to nod, drifting into a trance like state where i was visited by a bald chinese man with a funny goatie who claimed to be Confucius. The man continually lectured me for what seemed to be ages, i exited this dream with what seemed to be a greater spiritual awareness. Continuing my game i realised that during the time of my dream the pasta portions had been arranged in some sort of pattern. I took this as a sign to go skateboarding.
The shadowy trees floated by as i cruised down the road on my skate, not paying attention to that which surrounded me. I had not noticed the looks shot my way from snickering children and priests. I continued to a near by 5 set that i had previously enjoyed and started to pull some small, simple tricks off of it. After a good 10 minutes i noticed a crowd growing around me. The lack of space resulted in my bail on a very awkward trick, which in turn led to the grinding of my bare ass on the pavement.
This came equally as a shock to myself, for it was then that i noticed i had been skating in the nude, and that bald chinese man was nothing but a con artist who successfully cheated me out of my favorite pair of ripped up jeans and wife beater.
It was horrible, everyone laughing, and the priests, the priests were the worst. Whether it was there spiritual enlightenment, or that funky white collar they wear, they seemed to be more arrogant than anyone else. This incident reminded me of a time back around 1984, in Topeka.
I guess the moral of this story is, never trust a man claming to be Confucius, or perhaps, if you live near an Abby, bring a lead pipe incase you encounter any priests.
-John Sollows, Esquire.
Withdrawing my former statement, I have chosen to reveal the mans name. His full name is Archibald Frankburt McDoobie, but that title being tiresome, his comrades resorted to calling him Edward, or Bill for short.
The rooster went with bill wherever he decided to venture, sometimes the rooster would get to pick where to go. Henceforth i shall refer to the rooster as "cock", to offer more variety to my story. Bill and his cock went to the market, Bill and his cock went to the movies, Bill and his cock went to the carnival. Bill loved his cock dearly, and rest assured, the feeling was mutual.
Everywhere that the pair went there were legions of children with desperate hopes of petting Bill's cock. Bill wanted every child to know the joy that was his rooster, but he knew that given the amount of young folk present at any perticular moment, not all of them would get a chance.
Bill had an undeniable drinking problem, he used to go to zoos completely plastered and watch monkeys swing on their branches. His cock noticed the constant entoxicated visits to the zoo, and the fascination with the monkeys. The cock was very jealous.
One day the cock decided to do something about Bills bizarre fetish. He took a crowbar to the zoo an d systematically beat the primates to a pulp. Bill cried of this. In a drunken rage, he took a 2x4 with a rusty nail embedded in it and ate rooster for a month.
The moral of the story is that if you have aunncontrollable fetish with monkey sex, never own a jealous cock. Also, if you are a rooster, never trust a drunk with a nailed 2x4.
-John Sollows, Esquire