Aces High Bulletin Board
General Forums => The O' Club => Topic started by: JB88 on April 13, 2005, 05:41:48 PM
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Isn't it funny when bad things happen to good people?
My brother "Buttless" and I have a mutual friend named Brian. You may remember him from our Chuck-e-cheese bash. Brian is an instructor at our flight school and a pretty cool guy. Most of the time we like having him around because he is like a walking cartoon with an attitude, but we really like him because he is one of those guys who can walk up to a girl and point to his crotch and say "This thing isn't going to suck itself" and get away with it. Every man has a superpower, and that's his.
Brian and my brother like to ride mountain bikes together, and they meet up at my parents' house to ride and go off jumps and do olley grinds or whatever people do on bikes.
There. Now you have the background. On Tuesday, Brian called my brother to let him know he would be at the house in a few minutes. I wasn't there, so I'll have to guess at the dialogue…
Buttless- Hello?
Brian- What's happenin' studmuffinbag?
Buttless- Not much, just got a new coloring book.
Brian- Cool. Whatcha' coloring?
Buttless- Kitten in a basket. It's pretty badass.
Brian- Awesome. You want to go riding?
Buttless- Sure. Can I make the motorcycle noises this time?
Brian- I guess so, but they'd better sound good. Last time everybody thought you were just screaming, and that's why those older boys beat us up.
Buttless- I'll do good.
Brian- I'm pulling into your driveway. Get your **** together and meet me outside.
Buttless- Okay. Just let me find my white crayon so I can do the whiskers.
Brian- Okay, I love you.
Buttless- I love you too.
Brian- Bye.
Buttless- Bye.
Brian- …
Buttless- You hang up first.
Brian- No, you hang up.
Buttless- I hung up first last time.
Brina- nuh-uh. Just hang up.
Buttless- You hang up.
Brian- Okay, on the count of three.
So my brother is walking around the house getting his helmet and goggles and speedsuit together, filling up his water bottle, taking his sweet time according to Brian's later testimony. Meanwhile, Brian unloads his bike and proceeds to warm up by riding around in circles and popping wheelies in my parents' driveway. His bike has these fancy pedals that have little clips that hook into other clips that are built into your shoes. They are called "clipless pedals" because people who make bike parts are filthy liars.
Anyway, he's doing mad wheelies with his feet attached to his bike when he over-rotates and falls backwards. Where normally you would land on your feet, his stayed attached to the pedals and tried to catch himself with his arms, one of which snapped on impact with the ground.
Artist's rendering
Now our hero is lying in the driveway unable to move due to intense pain from a broken radiliba or whatever, his phone is in his truck at the other end of the driveway (if you've seen my parents' driveway, this is not a distance one would travel with bone snappage), and he doesn't know how long it's going to take my brother to finish drawing the whiskers on Butterscotch.
So he waits.
Ten minutes later, my dad comes rolling up in his cool Chrysler Minivan and sees Brian halfway sitting up in the middle of the driveway. First he honked at him to see if he'd move, but he didn't. So he gets out and asks him to get out of the way before he runs over him.
It wasn't the first time our father had come home to one (or several) of our friends lying in a heap on the driveway.
Finally he asked what was wrong.
"I broke my effing arm, Scotty."
Here's where Utili-dad springs into action. My dad was a boy scout for like 90 years and got the hairy beaver merit badge or whatever they call it before becoming a man scout and inventing fire. He can tie knots that will make a bear go to sleep, kill a tiger with a toothpick and a nickel, and has an emergency parachute kit that consists of a silkworm and two knitting needles.
Dad goes into the house and begins fashioning a sling out of an old bedsheet, whittles a splint out of my mom's dining room table, prepares a tincture to dull the pain from beet root and fish food, and ties a noose just in case none of it works and he has to put him down. This takes him about thirty seconds.
Just as my dad runs inside through the garage, my brother comes around the house from the basement with his bike and sees Brian lying in the driveway next to his bike and my dad's minivan parked just feet away with the driver's door open. Now Buttless thinks my dad ran over his friend, got scared and ran into the woods to decide what to do with the body. Then dad comes out and slings up Brian's arm. They took him to the hospital where the doctor predictably said that that was the best sling he had ever seen made by a human.
Brian also found out that his helmet may have saved his empty skull. As a rule, he never wears a helmet when he rides. That day was the first day I have ever heard of him wearing one, and it sustained some pretty good damage when his melon hit the pavement. The doc said it could have caused brain damage and a bunch of feeding tube controversy. So let that be a lesson, kids: Don't do wheelies with your feet welded to the pedals.
I called him later that night to wish him a speedy recovery and make fun of him.
"Yeah, you fly airplanes all day long like captain dangerpuss, and then you die doing wheelies in my parents' driveway. How lame would that epitaph look on your tombstone? Brian Crapston. 1979-2005. Died doing a wheelie on a bicycle."
So get well soon Brian. I hope that wasn't your sex arm, and when I come to sign your cast, I'm bringing my airbrush and a stencil of a unicorn.
fin.
source (http://porktornado.diaryland.com/)
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Originally posted by JB88
So my brother is walking around the house getting his helmet and goggles and speedsuit together, filling up his water bottle, taking his sweet time according to Brian's later testimony. Meanwhile, Brian unloads his bike and proceeds to warm up by riding around in circles and popping wheelies in my parents' driveway. His bike has these fancy pedals that have little clips that hook into other clips that are built into your shoes. They are called "clipless pedals" because people who make bike parts are filthy liars.
Almost spit up my coffee on this one... I've been looking at clipless pedals for the past few days. :D :aok
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I dont get it, are they gay or something?
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no...he was being a smartass. giving them chit...like we do here.
hello? (tap tap tap) is this thing on?
;)
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That was a good read! one of your better posts 88.
I like people that right with such sarcasm.
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Oh ok I get it now.