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Michael knew Darius'd give up, a quick giggle for shits never last too long. Michael had watched Darius change his point of view to the piss poor skaters rolling around the place.

Darius pointed towards a particular hambeast who had as much trouble climbing up the ramp as he did riding down, just across the park.

"Jeezuz, is that the new character for Tony Hawk's hoveround racer?"

How did that fat fuck's board not break? Christ, no wonder everyone over there sucks at skating! They're stuck in this large lard-asses' fucking gravitational pull. Michael was inches away from exploding into laughter.

"Li-l-li-like, you can hear the fucking ramp creak every time he rolls down, holy shit!"

They were literally watching an adult Bobby Hill ride down a fucking ramp like he didn't weigh 300 pounds.

"Christ, more chins than a Chinese phone book, y'know, if he didn't weigh so fucking much, he could use his bing- his fucking-!" Michael was dying of laughter right now, he could barely finish his own joke. "He could- he- he could fuh-fucking use his bin-bingo wings as a fucking wing suit and go cliff jumping!" He had to say the second part as fast as possible, otherwise he'd never finish it.

This was quite common, once one target of ridicule leaves, another comes in it's place. There was never a dull moment when it came to shit like this. It didn't matter if there even was a dull moment, as the rest of it was so fucking funny it was worth it.
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A Magnet For Trouble · Desert Plains Skate Park