Dirt Bike Armada is a 1988 action comedy starring Alfie Schultz as Donny “Kickstand” Harris. The film was directed by Reginald Crowley (fresh off his Golden Globes-nominated miniseries, Another Blackout in Electric City) and features Lowell Armingham (Brain Lasers), Heather DeLaney (Operation: Vigilante U.S.A. II), Tim Conway (The Apple Dumpling Gang) as the mischievous Mr. Humbert, and Mr. T as himself.
The Devil went down to Ayrshire…He was looking for a soul to steal.
He walked along the River Ayr passed the Auld Kirk and headed towards The Auld Brig. He had a snigger at the dead people and came upon a park bench where a Gentleman Of The Road sat.
Continue reading “The Devil Went Down To Ayrshire By Hugh Cron – Adult Content”
“Thank you all for coming.”
Like I had a choice boss. You can fill the meeting invite up with all the pleasantries and corporate wank-speak you want, the real message says “Attend or be fired” so here I am.
“I’ve brought Dawkins in from marketing. He’s going to take us through our latest product launch. Real out-of-the-box thinking. Went live…this time last week eh Dawkins?”
The man in the pastel suit nods his sculpted head. He smiles a perfect, retina-scorching smile and fiddles with a laptop smaller than my phone.
Toffee-Head Tom was born to Caramel Jeannie and Jammy-Dodger Rodger. He wasn’t an attractive child and had no friends as such. In those days he was classed as special; now-a-days he would have had a list of names.
He lived happily with his parents. They would only eat pudding if the previous meal had included potatoes.
They spent their Sundays reading excerpts from the Pears’ Cyclopedia and drinking Rainbow Sherbet.
It was still December, but Reggie had a bug up his ass about the high school reunion in June. He didn’t seem the type to me, to organise something so mundane. But he was on the line, breathing heavily, while I examined an ancient list of guests to our long ago graduation party. How the list came into my possession remains a mystery.
She had initially thought him a good enough guy, someone she could see dating, perhaps with long-term potential. Sure, they had drank too much and had sex on their first date, but it wasn’t like he drank too much and then masturbated while she watched in horror. No, she was a willing, although inebriated, partner in the act. An adult capable of her own decisions. And she thought his reply to her question of what is left if we have sex on the first night was incredible. Everything, he had said. Of course, later, when he had moved into her apartment four months into their relationship, that seemed a little fast in retrospect. But she hadn’t said no, and the decision had made at least financial sense. The rent at her apartment was a fraction of what he had been paying. Now they would be splitting her fraction. A bed monkey, and cheaper rent. She could overlook small issues, focusing instead on the big picture. Besides, she loved him. They were both adults, and could make their own adult decisions. And, importantly, he had two kids from his previous marriage, so he would understand her struggles raising her own son as a single parent. Then there was the fact that he had an actual career, a teacher in fact, he drove a new truck, and, she thought, they made a nice fit.
I had been in hell a week by this point. It looked a lot like Belfast. I knew it was hell because I couldn’t find any of my favourite bars and it was the 12th of July every day. The streets were awash with track-suited skinheads and chippie wrappers, and smelt of dark orange piss. I died the same age as Bukowski, seventy-three years-old. He had wanted to go at eighty making it with an eighteen year-old, I was just happy making it beyond fifty. It was a rare landmark for the men in my family.
Continue reading “Ultra-Belfast by Dave Louden – Adult Content”
“Mr. Peta. A broad’s waitin’ for ya.”
“The red dress with blonde hair? Yea? Did you offer her somethin’ to drink? I got a feeling she’s gonna need it.”
I acted surprised when I saw her. The news coverage pretty much summed up what the meeting would be about. Socialite inherited fortune after bloody breakfast accident.
“Hello Mr. Peta.”
“It’s Mr. Peter.”
“The secretary-”
“She can’t speak. What can I do you for?”
I sat down and shoved old newspapers with half-finished crossword puzzles to the side. I didn’t want her to know I couldn’t finish what I had started. I offered her a glass of bourbon smokier than a factory working ballet dancer.
A young man or an old boy depending on your view point, called Vernon, was in his last year of high school when something out of the ordinary happened, but to fully explain the situation one needs to understand the back story.
Vernon went to an IT-oriented high school even though he had never been interested in computers. Since most of the classmates were geeks, Vernon knew he had to become the cool guy in the class; it was and still is Swedish law. However Vernon had no experience in being cool.
“MR BELL!!”
“THAT’LL BE ME!!!”
The security guard walked over. Neil watched as the guard’s belly swayed from side to side. He couldn’t help himself as he began to gag.
Why the fuck do I imagine so many ugly people shagging?
“Have you a problem?”
Neil hit at his chest.
“No, not at all, I just have an attack of the dry boak.”
The guard pulled at the back of his trousers, “No, I don’t mean that, I mean your outburst.”
“MR BELL, I AM WAITING!!?”
“Oh, you mean like that?”
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