Having recently been made aware of the plight of his Child Princess, our orange-turbaned hero and his ever faithful flying mount, Barder, took to the skies.
In an attempt to rescue said damsel in distress, OT (Orange Turban) switched gears into Turbo, and toggled to nitrous. This pushed Barder's stamina and endurance to his limits.
As a myriad of snowflake shaped paper cutouts exploded out of his rear end, the G-force began getting significant. They had finally broken the sound barrier when the duo began to lose altitude. Barder telepathically communicated to OT that he was getting tired, and needed to eat something to regain his lost energy. So OT kicked it down a notch, something he was often very reluctant to do, in any situation.
Barder landed with a thud on an asphalt road, where a few tandem snowflake cutouts were still erupting from his hindquarters. It was precisely at this moment that a mysterious individual snapped a picture of the duo.
Yeah, I don't really know where I was going with this story.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
The Edge of a Rim?
It was late in the evening, and Nate Seven was returning home after the most important transaction of his life.
A vested man of 6'2'', he walked through the turnstile.
His eyes were deeply etched with sleepless nights, yet for a man deprived of such a necessity, he seemed to be somewhat alert still, if not somewhat distant.
In his hands, he carried a pair of rims, which had been recently acquired through uncertain circumstances. However, these were rims of a special sort, a special stock. At the very least to those involved in the business of rim collecting.
These special, vital rims would help Nate, this lonely man, earn the love of his father. His father, Rodney, being a self-proclaimed rim collector and connoisseur, had always been totally dedicated to his hobby since the death of his wife and Nate's mother a year after his birth.
One could say though, that Nate's father had a nearly over-zealous passion and love for his hobby. It was precisely for this reason that Nate never truly earned his father's love or respect, because it was hard to compete with bicycle rims. Especially chrome bike rims.
Excited thoughts raced through Nate's mind as he passed through the train station and through the turnstile, for tomorrow he would give his father the hard-earned, one-of-a-kind rims, and perhaps, buy himself just a small place in his heart.
Perhaps.
A vested man of 6'2'', he walked through the turnstile.
His eyes were deeply etched with sleepless nights, yet for a man deprived of such a necessity, he seemed to be somewhat alert still, if not somewhat distant.
In his hands, he carried a pair of rims, which had been recently acquired through uncertain circumstances. However, these were rims of a special sort, a special stock. At the very least to those involved in the business of rim collecting.
These special, vital rims would help Nate, this lonely man, earn the love of his father. His father, Rodney, being a self-proclaimed rim collector and connoisseur, had always been totally dedicated to his hobby since the death of his wife and Nate's mother a year after his birth.
One could say though, that Nate's father had a nearly over-zealous passion and love for his hobby. It was precisely for this reason that Nate never truly earned his father's love or respect, because it was hard to compete with bicycle rims. Especially chrome bike rims.
Excited thoughts raced through Nate's mind as he passed through the train station and through the turnstile, for tomorrow he would give his father the hard-earned, one-of-a-kind rims, and perhaps, buy himself just a small place in his heart.
Perhaps.
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