Of Skates And Men
By Brian Brannon
B
jorn sat forward, remembering all that had been, all that
was. He missed it. But he knew the ticking of time was
as sure and irreversible as the thunderbolts of Thor. He
recalled sitting inside the stomach of the great roaring
sky creature which had carried him from the city of Phoenix,
named after a mighty bird born of fire, to the old Texas town of
El Paso, which rests near the Rio Grande.
Bjorn's ride on the winged dragon was provided by Locals
Only, a skateboard and clothing merchant in El Paso. He was
grateful for this free trip, it gave him the chance to explore,
pillage and conquer new skate terrain. His full name was Bjorn
the Pillager, for the way he ravaged and spoiled coping and curbs
with harsh and long grinds on his bare trucks. He had been
invited to feast and skateboard (two of his three favorite things)
during a picnic sponsored by Locals Only.
"I'm tired of these contests of the weak where riders who do
not subscribe to the Viking style win with terrible tricks instead
of manly moves," he thought. "Perhaps this feast will involve
real riding and camaraderie instead of the usual rules and
regulations topped with cowardly snaking sessions."
From the sky of lightning, the great bird deposited him with
a roar of thunder onto the city of El Paso to meet his destiny.
He disboarded the giant eagle, immediately recognizing his guide
as a fellow Viking wearing worn garments and a blond crop.
They shook hands heartily, as is the Viking way.
His guide and fellow was named as Leif the Aloof but was
called Dino. Leif suggested a night of merrymaking in the town
48
Jaime The Horrible at Three Fountains
of "Wah-zoo" or Juarez, Mexico, where the ale was cheap and
the women were plenty.
"Ahhh, a sure system to sustain the Scandanavian spirit,"
Bjorn thought. "Onward! Let us party through the night like
Men!" he proclaimed.
The two went off in search of wine and good times. No sooner
had they reached cruising speed did the long of the arm of the
law reach out and pull them over. Leif smiled and said, "Dude
and brother, if they take me in, you can walk to my dwelling-
place. It's just down this way and then that."
"See, I have 14 unpaid tickets in Texas alone which I have
neglected," he said as he pulled over. Bjorn chuckled. The cop
was straight to the point, Leif answered in simple "Yes sirs
and "No sirs." Before you could recite the name of Thor's winged
stallion they were off again, laughing. Leif lived the life of a true
Viking, enjoying all that was given and ignoring alien orders
from authoritarians seeking to curb and control the risks and
pleasures that are one's birthright.
In Juarez they were given many offers of rides, women and
donkey shows but they hardly had the time to bicker with street
vendors-they were out to make merry.
The Viking way is one of gluttony in all things. This is similar
to the American way, but the Vikings do it with style. Bohemia
was in order this night and Bjorn took enjoyment in selecting
Led Zepplin's "Over the Hills" and Sweet's "Ballroom Blitz" on
the box of juke. The bar was dark and underground: just the
kind of place to dance on tables while slinging food and singing
the songs of one's forefathers.
However, this place held no Scandanavian seesters or brothers,
so once again they traveled into the night. They traversed the
bridge that crosses the River Grand, which separates the country
of capitalism, pollution, disease and poverty, where everyone
speaks Spanish, from the country of capitalism, pollution,
disease and a little less poverty, where everyone speaks English.
They saw a few who had tipped too many tall ones and needed
help in walking.
Back at the Abode of Leif, they looked over his ride, a way
low pickup with a sweet new paint job. When Leif started up
the engine of his other machine, a G.T.O, the smell of smoke
pervaded the air and flames of fire were discovered emanating
from the carburetor. "Hmmm, he must have done something to
offend the gods," Bjorn thought.
Bjorn was introduced to Leif's matriarch who offered him all
the comforts of home. "Methinks I will fall into a deep and
deserved slumber," Bjorn pronounced. He fell asleep with dreams
of roving the streets on his great and true skateboard, "Marthissa,"
with bands of fellow Vikings in search of the perfect pool, which
can only be found in Valhalla, the hall of the slain, where men
of valor are taken by the Valkyries of Odin if they die with their
skates at their feet. Only those who die riding are privileged
enough to enter the great gates of skate.
Talk of a "perfect ramp" in Phoenix had reached Bjorn's ears,
but he always laughed loudly and spat on the ground. No ramp
is perfect because it is only a copy of a pool and cannot offer the
round carveable and solid walls of a pool, unless it is made with
the great hammer of Thor.
In the morning Bjorn was taken to breakfast by Terrance the
Terrible. They devoured eggs and cakes while discussing dirt
eaters.
At the Locals Only trading place, Bjorn was met by the editor
of Mengele Report, a keen 'zine named after the Aryan Nazi
Josef Mengele, of Auschwitz. Bjorn notes the Nazis had said
they were only following orders without question. Today, people
still follow orders and accept laws, news and statistics without
questions. Vikings follow no orders.
Meanwhile, the urge to skate burned in Bjorn's bones. The
concrete of El Paso's famed ditches called. After he had hung
for awhile in Locals Only well-stocked pro shop, Bjorn was
rescued and dispatched by Leif and his friend Dave the Daring,
They arrived at the ditch where the picnic would be held. It
was known as Three Fountains, and was long, smooth, clean,
downhill and grindable-Bjorn's kind of ditch. The three threw
moves left and right as if in a dance. The Gods must have been.
watching, for soon great clouds overcame them and a howling
wind blew up the canyon. Rain soon fell and Bjorn thought this
must be the Gods pissing on them because they could not come
down and skate this wonderful ditch.
On the way back, Bjorn saw the tall tower of Asarco, another
monument to waste and pollution done in the name of the dollar.
It is the tallest thing in El Paso and it spews the wastes of the
copper smelter into the air, causing such things as lung cancer
and acid rain. Vikings rape and pillage ditches, Bjorn thought,
but these capitalists rape Mother Nature herself. Her wrath is
the greatest of all women. How much longer can she be violated
automobiles and trains and planes, before she strikes back?
If no one else cares, soon no one else will be around to care,
he predicted.
Bjorn spotted swirling clouds in the sky and hoped Odin would
send down a tornado to destroy the tower of Asarco. Instead,
hail rained from the heavens, causing Leif to fear for his new
paint job. Soon they became as big as gobstoppers and near as
big as golf balls, flooding the streets. "Nature is swift and sure,"
Bjorn said to himself.
A pizza was ordered, compliments of Locals Only, from a place
down the street instead of the Domino's around the corner, for
fear of what its bakers would do to it, due to their hate of skate....
Later, they found themselves at the House of Jaime (pro-
nounced Hy-me) where a multitude of miscellaneous street.
ramps rested in the backyard. They included a long three foot
high 4 pipe with a round corner and plastic coping, a five foot
high 4 pipe and four foot high % pipe, all positioned so they
by such structures, and the endless numbers of smaller polluting Board for the boarders, a feast of franks and hearty draughts of brown nectar.