Post by Wizard on Jan 6, 2004 14:37:34 GMT -5
Tyler jumped from his desk. BRRRRINNNNG!
School was now out for Christmas Break. He was in a rush to try his new idea: mudboarding.
Tyler loved to skimboard. Wait for the wave to recede, toss the skimboard, run forward, hop on, and use the foot-high wave of the surf to get three or more feet of air and pull crazy stunts. He'd gotten a few bruises and cuts from the sport, but what sport wasn't a little dangerous? He sure didn't want to take up shuffleboard.
Tyler's problem was that skimboarding was too hard in the winter. Getting to the beach was impossible, as the road from his town to the beach crumbled away in mudslides in the winter, and the Pacific was just too darn cold anyway. But how to skimboard?
Tyler was hiking in the hills one day, and fell when his foot landed on a patch of mud. Problem is, he kept sliding. He slid all the way down the hill, the mud speeding his way.
By the time he finally stopped moving, Tyler had finished thinking out his best idea ever: mudboarding.
Why not skimboard down a hill? The one he had just fallen down was too rocky for his board to slide on without damage, but he knew of a grassy hill in a nearby park that, when wet, ought to give just the right amount of friction to make it controllable, but enough give to provide a ride.
Tyler had his board in his backpack, and dragged it to the top of the hill.
Same as the beach, he thought. Just toss, run, jump, and land.
Finally, after a little deliberation (he liked that word a lot more than "almost chickening out"), he tossed the skimboard down the hill, ran over, and landed in classic skimboarding stance---left foot forward, right foot backward, leaning just the tiniest bit to the left, knees bent.
It did give a ride. Tyler had never gone so fast on a skimboard before. About forty feet down the slope, he tried a turn, and found that it was just like snowboarding.
Cool, he thought. I can do this all day.
Then he was in the air. Glancing back in that slow motion that occurs only with car crashes, three-point buzzer-beaters, and the last bell of the last day of school, Tyler saw the small dirt protrusion that had launched him and skimboard together into the air.
Time sped up again. By the time he'd whipped his head back around, he was beginning to notice the tree branch in the way of his------
head.
Oh f***, his head hurt. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he barely saw a thing. For a moment he thought that he'd gone blind, and clutched at his face with cry. But his hands blocked the stars, and so---
Stars?
He brought his head up, and realized it was night.
Wow, he thought. I've been out for a while.
He put his hands down and stood up, still a little woozy. After feeling his head again and finding it wet, he realized he'd opened up a good-sized cut on his forehead. It didn't seem serious at all, though.
I'll just find the 'board and go home, he thought.
After regaining his bearings, Tyler followed the probable path of his board down the hill. After a few hundred yards, he'd reached the public theater at the bottom. No sign of the board. But part of the side of the stage looked a bit blacker than the rest, and...
Oh, crap.
What he'd thought was "a darker shade" was a hole through the side of the stage. The board must have been going so fast that it tore a hole through the side.
Oh, well. Might as well see what's under the stage...probably just maintenance stuff. Have to get my board, after all.
With that, Tyler crawled through the hole on his hands and knees. He got about four feet on the hard-packed dirt before he found the board. He turned around and started dragging it behind him, but was surprised to find his hand slipping off, empty.
What?
Another look and some experimental pulling revealed the board to be stuck in something. Tyler crept forward a bit to feel what. He reached down and felt something cold. It partially yielded to his touch---his hand penetrated slightly before it stopped. It felt wet, but his came away cold, but dry.
School was now out for Christmas Break. He was in a rush to try his new idea: mudboarding.
Tyler loved to skimboard. Wait for the wave to recede, toss the skimboard, run forward, hop on, and use the foot-high wave of the surf to get three or more feet of air and pull crazy stunts. He'd gotten a few bruises and cuts from the sport, but what sport wasn't a little dangerous? He sure didn't want to take up shuffleboard.
Tyler's problem was that skimboarding was too hard in the winter. Getting to the beach was impossible, as the road from his town to the beach crumbled away in mudslides in the winter, and the Pacific was just too darn cold anyway. But how to skimboard?
Tyler was hiking in the hills one day, and fell when his foot landed on a patch of mud. Problem is, he kept sliding. He slid all the way down the hill, the mud speeding his way.
By the time he finally stopped moving, Tyler had finished thinking out his best idea ever: mudboarding.
Why not skimboard down a hill? The one he had just fallen down was too rocky for his board to slide on without damage, but he knew of a grassy hill in a nearby park that, when wet, ought to give just the right amount of friction to make it controllable, but enough give to provide a ride.
Tyler had his board in his backpack, and dragged it to the top of the hill.
Same as the beach, he thought. Just toss, run, jump, and land.
Finally, after a little deliberation (he liked that word a lot more than "almost chickening out"), he tossed the skimboard down the hill, ran over, and landed in classic skimboarding stance---left foot forward, right foot backward, leaning just the tiniest bit to the left, knees bent.
It did give a ride. Tyler had never gone so fast on a skimboard before. About forty feet down the slope, he tried a turn, and found that it was just like snowboarding.
Cool, he thought. I can do this all day.
Then he was in the air. Glancing back in that slow motion that occurs only with car crashes, three-point buzzer-beaters, and the last bell of the last day of school, Tyler saw the small dirt protrusion that had launched him and skimboard together into the air.
Time sped up again. By the time he'd whipped his head back around, he was beginning to notice the tree branch in the way of his------
* * *
head.
Oh f***, his head hurt. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he barely saw a thing. For a moment he thought that he'd gone blind, and clutched at his face with cry. But his hands blocked the stars, and so---
Stars?
He brought his head up, and realized it was night.
Wow, he thought. I've been out for a while.
He put his hands down and stood up, still a little woozy. After feeling his head again and finding it wet, he realized he'd opened up a good-sized cut on his forehead. It didn't seem serious at all, though.
I'll just find the 'board and go home, he thought.
After regaining his bearings, Tyler followed the probable path of his board down the hill. After a few hundred yards, he'd reached the public theater at the bottom. No sign of the board. But part of the side of the stage looked a bit blacker than the rest, and...
Oh, crap.
What he'd thought was "a darker shade" was a hole through the side of the stage. The board must have been going so fast that it tore a hole through the side.
Oh, well. Might as well see what's under the stage...probably just maintenance stuff. Have to get my board, after all.
With that, Tyler crawled through the hole on his hands and knees. He got about four feet on the hard-packed dirt before he found the board. He turned around and started dragging it behind him, but was surprised to find his hand slipping off, empty.
What?
Another look and some experimental pulling revealed the board to be stuck in something. Tyler crept forward a bit to feel what. He reached down and felt something cold. It partially yielded to his touch---his hand penetrated slightly before it stopped. It felt wet, but his came away cold, but dry.
