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October 18, 2007

Thursday

Today's theme is "suspension."

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David: Homeopath

Antonio the circus acrobat was lucky he wasn’t fired after the stunt he pulled.

It was the climax of the show, and he was dangling by his knees from the trapeze, swinging high above the center ring. His upside down juggling routine always brought down the house.

However, instead of his usual chainsaw, bowling ball, and live kitten, Antonio produced from his pouch a bottle of water and a silvery concoction, each in clear bottles. Dramatically, he mixed the two liquids high above the audience and presented the colloidal silver potion with a flourish.

He got benched for a month.

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Michele - Suspended Like Spirits Over Speeding Cars

They listened to traffic, legs dangling, feet swinging over the parkway.
“It would be so easy. Just climb and jump. An instant of pain and …..over.”
“Why would you want to?”
“To end this.”
”What?”
“The constant feeling of loneliness. The emptiness. The agony of being me.”
Ally stood up and leaned over the railing.
“Ally, we’re teenagers. We’re supposed to feel like that.”
“What if it doesn’t stop?” She climbed over, suspended herself over the blur of hurried traffic below.
”What if it does?”
She looked up.
“Yea, I guess.”
Melanie helped her to her feet.
“Ice cream?”
“Sure.”

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Ted: Goddamned Pre-Colombian Art

The gorge floor was, as these things tend to be, layered in terraces of sharp boulders and white water. The suspension bridge looked as old as the stones. Fuck that.

So I did a one handed Australian belay down one side then climbed the other side using a rope grabbing slide pinch.

Too gottdamned vivid, too full of junta soldiers.

Damn I needed a chopper, fast. The narco-troops and the federales were about to run into each other, and I did not want to be in the crossfire. Especially when the revolutionnes were about to triangle fuck both of them.

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Tanya: Untitled

Bernard kept his eyes on the terrain, white-knuckled. “It’s just like driving in the Gunbarrel. Nothing to get freaked about.”

He hated this trip in the best of conditions, and now the enclosed crawler was bouncing like a jackhammer. He’d check out the suspension later. The spikes digging into the rocky, barren surface should keep the ride much smoother.

“I’m in for a thrashing if I don’t get the transmitter fixed fast,” he muttered. More likely a deep six, really, and he knew it. The boss was closing the trap on Ed, and needed the data sent out, like, yesterday.

Read more from 's .

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Jim: Who Needs Six Flags?

Bobby Mills was a born entrepreneur.

For example, when the suspension finally gave out on his rusted F-150 pickup truck, Bobby could have just had the shocks and struts replaced. But he didn’t.

Instead, for a buck a ride, he loaded the neighborhood kids into the truck’s bed and drove them up and down old Millstone Road. The gravel made for a fun ride but all the potholes made it downright exciting: definitely worth a dollar. Bobby had to stop, though, after little Randy Thibodeaux flew out of the truck.

But Bobby made enough cash to pay for the repairs.

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