0101110101011R1 110B01010T100Z11 CRANK MOB PARK meet 9:30pm leave 10ish
07.12.08
The CRNAK M0B rejects present:
A ride a little like CRANK MOB, and
A lot like the end of the world,
Because when the world ends, it ends like this:
0101100010011010111110101010111100001001010
101001110110010ROBOTS010101000011110110101
0101100010011010111110101010111100001001010
Saturday, July 12, 2008
9:30 pm, leaving at 10ish
CRANK MOB PARK
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We ride a little faster, a little further, than CRANK MOB, and we'll head South, into some uncharted waters. Finish? Near the start. Wear tin foil.
The Holy Story of Duck:
QUACK came the FUNDER, and from the salty loins of CRANK MOB sprange a reject, a CRIMAmamaminal born of Less Angelopes. A duck, the Duck, in a stripy easter egg.
Duck's down was golden, apart from a burnt splotch on his back side, which upon close inspection read Duck, or under the glow of fireworks or neon, F.U.N. The other ducklings swooned in Duck's presence, for Duck was an androgynous masterpiece of SEX, a swarthy rooster and a ravishing swan in the body of cuddly chick. Duck was the best duck at everything, and could have anything a duck could desire.
Except Duck wanted none of it. Goslings and baby birdies did not interest Duck. Duck longed instead for the warm, wet, slippery embrace of steel, real steel, engulfing Duck's body. Thick, firm, heavy lead fill Duck's insides. Duck wore ROBOT jammies, Duck plastered Duck's bedroom walls with the latest robot BICYZ posters, and Duck struggled to imitate fax machines with his quacks.
The others didn't understand. They thought Duck perverse. So Duck pedaled into the night, his beady eyes glowing red as the machine within him woke. KWACK
BIKE DUCK ROBOT!
EFF YOU ENN!
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Midnight Ridazz(tm), Ridazz(tm) and Skull(tm) Reproduction without written permission prohibited.