EVEL KNIEVEL'S LAST JUMP: 13 BUSES

When we watch videos of skateboarders doing incredible tricks like jumping on, up and down rails, stairs and ramps that reach into the sky or just cripple themselves in simple enough moves we have to remember what made it is so pertinent to relish such acts of madness.

This takes us back to a time when Jackass was not around to promote the idea of doing crazy ass stunts cool; before that we had Evil Knievel who said in the spirit of his legacy during a 1968 interview:

I don't care if they say, 'Look, kid, you're going to drive that thing off the edge of the Canyon and die,' I'm going to do it. I want to be the first. If they'd let me go to the moon, I'd crawl all the way to Cape Kennedy just to do it. I'd like to go to the moon, but I don't want to be the second man to go there.

And in the spirit of the great man, here is his last jump, even Evel knew when to call it a day and when you see him crash you think, how does he survive, how does he go through it with no fear? He announced it was his last jump after he got up from a paralyzed position on the ground near to the motorcycle, which nearly decapitated him and no wonder when so close to death, escaping the Grim Reaper's whiskers by mere centimeters.

Sex in the Suburbs 6: Girls Of My Dreams Part 2 (Enter the Friday)

It's late at night, it's late at night, it's Friday yeah Friday Friday Friday... the girl of my dreams, the girl on the billboard is far from me now, when I stare at period blood stain on the wall, all I can think of is cancer, down an alley running at me, anally penetrating me till my brains are an afterglow of burning red traffic light , siphoning the moonlight with red blotches of karma.

I pick up some meds on the way, my sister is in a good mood so she gives me a lot of them, she tells me the kids now call these things by nicknames such as school kippers and fruit horses. I get lucky with a girl who is hanging out outside the putrid Supermacs. She burbs into my tongue when I try French kiss her. The wear and tear of the night has pushed her red lipstick to her chin and all the way up to the North Pole of her forehead. Making her look like a clown who is wearing a reindeer costume. The thought of a clown reindeer makes me want to fuck her right there doggy style.

I bring the girl home, she undresses, I undresses, she whimpers, I whimpers, I turn the mirror around, she disappears, I turn the mirror again, she is back. I play the flute as a sexual mating call that tribes in Africa do. I learned the tune from one of those National Geographic channels. You always learn stuff from those channels, definitely worth the extra few euro .

A drunken, collapsed colony on the left side of my brain struggles to grasp the complexity of the condom thermoplastic, I am a couple of attempts away from saving a baby from surfacing on this earth, where the warmth of love is calcified by the coldness of our bodies, rubbing together like glaciers off the Atlantic drift. I straggle along the coast of her body, I feel like a heat waiting to unwrap globules of puss and melt her cortex.

Half my body feels like it has drifted from the prenatal spirit. Fuck I think-something feels weird, its almost like she didn't know how to fuck, then again drunk whores usually fuck badly, like if a pilot swallowed Charlie Sheen's penis and brain whole and stir fried them with a blot of mercury chutney and tried to fly over the Rocky mountains with one hand. Damn she looks hot, a bit like Rebecca Black.

She mumbles something about been 14 years old before laughing wickedly like she knows what this means, I tell her to shut the fuck up unless she wants me to fuck her mouth, she quickly changes her tone.  Fuck that Yeats married a 14 year old you- think I care slut I think while I am on top of her and inside of her all at the same time, it is exhilarating, talk more bitch, I say. I realize this dirty bitch turns me on, she calls me a cunt, and I feel as hard as an intrusive, felsic, igneous rock.

High intensity palpations in erogenous zones, little desire to live into daylight, fuck daylight. Is she done, has she got her god damn precious orgasm yet?  Fuck her I roll off and out of her, I don't care anymore, I've stopped enjoying it since I've come, so no longer will I dig my grave inside of her.

Graves, graves, Friday, fucking Friday, how much longer until God puts me out of this misery, maybe a molotov cocktail next Friday  instead of  the usual Mojito or Sex on the Beach, the Grim Reaper can fuck my butt hole until the beach runs red with my broken dreams.