Flowers for Skid
written by Jon - april 6- 2004
Since its original publication, "Flowers for Skid Vicious" has been the subject of a wealth of critical acclaim. It chronicles the life of Bernie Rubber, a mentally retarded stunt driver/track designer who undergoes an operation which soon triples his I.Q. The book centers around Bernie's struggle with his newfound intelligence and sense of self.
Is the story of "Squealin'" Bernie Rubber a tragedy? Is it a happy? Or is it simply a book that would lead one's self to question the validity of life and consciousness, lie face down on the ground, and wait for death? Perhaps it is all of these things. Below is the story that has captured the hearts of millions worldwide.
progris riport 1
my name is bernie rubber. they call me "squealin bernie rubber." i have a job witch i like. the job is to desine tracks for rasing. here is a picshur of me that i got from the profesur.
i am a good drivor and, good at desining tracks! it is fun, and it is my job. this is a picshur of my best frend Skid Vishus.
skid is nise to me. sometimes he is sort of mean but he is always kidding arownd. skid is the best drivor in the world!!!! and the best frend in the world!!!! one time somebody told him "you are not the fastest" and Skid cut him in the wener.
skid alwase beats me.
ther are other frends also. but,
progris riport 2
do i start a new page? i forgot to finush the last riport. they said "bernie, when this is over you will be smartter!!! you will be abel to desine biger and beter tracks! you will spell beter!" that sownds very good but, i like the tracks i make now just fine! here is the track i made today
skid vishus saw it today! he said BERNIE YOU NUMSKILL THAT TRACK IS 40 FEET LONG. he said it was a nascar track, and nascar is for retarts. soon i will be to smarrt for nascar!
tommorow we get to rase on the track.
progris riport 3
i rased "HELEN WHEELS" today! she is a relly pretty lady.
so pretty that i forgot to turn!
i was sort of embbarased at that, but mostley i was bussy thinking about how prety her hair is. and she is very nise! i would be vary happy if she asked me to merry her.
she called me DARLING and gave me a hug. this mornning i woke up and my bed was all stikey! like i had sneezd out my pee-pee.
i told my best frend Skid about helen and he yeled at me! he said BERNIE DONT YOU GET NEAR THAT LADY SHE IS A HOAR. i said what is a hoar skid? and he gave me a wejy.
progris riport 4
call me crazey! but I feel like i'm getting a little smartter already. I finely found out how to make ramps! the problem is that every time i try to ramp off the ramps i blow up.
i found out later that its not a ramp. it is a
the profesur says i shoud right down words that i do not understand, and i do not now what a slalom is, so i wrote it down.
skid says maybe i would not crash so maney cars if i woud keep my hands on the wheel insted of
progris riport 5
today i did a bad thing.
i diden't mean too! i made a track for skid to rase on, becase hes such a good frend and nise to me. but i forgot to make the track not go into a bilding.
i was so exited about lerning to build brijes that i didnt think about if their was enougf room to jump over a bilding! skid was VERY mad. i told him what if they had made brijes in front of the world trade center, then maybe the airplans would have ramped and went across the oshean and killed osama ben ladin. then skid grabed my head and threw it into a rock.
maybe the profesur was wrong. i cant get any smarter.
progres report 6
i was wrong. i think i am getting smarter. last night i watched frasier and laughed.
Progress report 7
OK, now I know I'm getting smarter. Last night I watched Frasier and laughed, and it wasn't because I was trying to impress somebody.
Progress report 8
Yes! Yes! I'm getting more intelligent with every passing hour! Last night I watched Frasier and I didn't laugh, because I realized that Frasier isn't funny no matter how smart you are. I mean, the writers are all like OOH LET'S BREAK UP OUR STORY INTO LITTLE SEGMENTS WITH A WHITE-ON-BLACK FANCY-FONT TITLE! ISN'T THAT INTELLECTUALLY HILARIOUS?
Progress report 9
I can't wait to talk to Helen Wheels. Now that I'm smart enough to carry on a conversation that doesn't start with "you are pretty" and end with "looking at you makes me want to pee i gotta go to the bathroom bye", I think I might actually have a chance with her.
I talked to Skid yesterday. I told him everything. About how I underwent a surgical procedure that tripled my I.Q., and that soon I was going to make the best track ever, and that we were going to race it together. I expected him to get excited, but he started acting all pissed off. "What the hell, Skid?" I asked him. "What's the problem?" He wouldn't say. He couldn't look me in the eye.
"Tell me when you've made your track," he said.
Progress report 10
My first masterpiece is complete.
This track combines the thrill of speed with the necessity of restraint. With a length of nearly two miles, it offers plenty of racing time, without allowing for error. What starts in the top right corner with a series of chicanes and turns soon develops into an airborne saga of elevated asphalt, then through a death-defying wind tunnel, and culminating into a frenzied pair of vertical loops. This, friends, is the stage in which I will reverse history and fortunes, and prove my superiority to Skid Vicious. Tomorrow is the day.
Progress report 11
And what a day it has been.
Skid and I wordlessly strapped on our helmets and started our engines. We spent a long, appropriate moment staring each other down. It was not out of hate, but respect. Respect for the driver on the other lane, whom each of us felt was a mirror image, he of my future, I of his past. The light turned green, and our worlds were drowned in sound and fury.
I managed to beat Skid out the gate.
I managed to hold my lead for a while, but could not manage to extend it for some time. I finally lost him at the corkscrew. WHICH I MADE OUT OF WIRE MESH.
By the time I reached the elevated roadway, the race was already all but decided. I was confident in victory.
My confidence, however, did not take into account Skid's despicability. Knowing he could not win, he waited until I had to slow down after a straightaway to make a turn, then sideswiped me. Both cars burst into flames. The race was ruled a draw.
We stepped out of our burning wrecks. I was incredulous. "You'll understand soon enough," he told me before I could scream at him. "Soon enough..." His voice cracked, and he looked away, just as he had before. I don't understand it. I don't know why he won't tell me why he did it, or why he's not beating me like he always used to. It's beginning to haunt me.
Progress report 12
Helen and I have gotten to be pretty good friends. She told me today that she likes me more now, because these days she's more into intellectual guys. So to win her love, I have designed a track that exhibits the full extent of my newly acquired learnedness and sophistication.
I call it: "Dante's Inferno". I took the liberty of including the blueprint in my progress report, complete with numerical description.
|1. The Wood of Despair
2. Circle I: affected by melancholy
3. Circle II: Blown forever by wind (tilted roads)
4. Circle III: Lying in mud
5. Circle IV: Condemned to useless labor (stupid fucking corkscrews)
6. Circle V: The River Styx
7. Circle VI: Wall of the City of Dis
8. Circle VII: Black, tangled wood
9. Circle VIII: The Realm of Simple Fraud - turned upside down (aerial loop)
10. Circle IX: The Realm of Compound Fraud: Held in ice; three wings of Lucifer
This is, without doubt, my magnum opus. I have chronicled all nine circles of Hell in racetrack form. My fervent prayer is that she will take notice to the meticulously placed details, such as the inclusion of slaloms in Circle III (I like to call them the Slovenly Slaloms).
Progress report 13
Have I misunderstood?
Is intellect not all it is built up to be?
Why can I not understand the opposite sex?
I thought Helen was going to love it. I thought she was going to compliment me on my amazing literary punditry and creative vision, and invite me to fondle her boobs in a fit of raw passion. But all I got was a weird look
and a half-hearted, "neat". Does she not understand that this was my labor of love for her? I am deeply infatuated with her, and to be met with cold rejection carries with it the bitter sting of a thousand winter morns.
Progress report 14
I have just learned that Helen has hooked up with Smokin' Joe Stallin. God, I hate that asshole.
I just want to get this straight. I was stupid, and she wasn't interested because I wasn't smart. Now I'm a genius, and she shuns me for some communist meathead asshole. I heard she chose him over me because she liked the track he made for her better than the one I made.
I've decided that I do understand women after all. They're stupid and they don't know what they want.
progress report 15
i've decided that i'm way too smart for this world. i'm smart enough to realize that nothing matters and nobody cares. i'm officially labeling myself a nihilist. maybe if i don't give a fuck then helen will like me. i've decided to show everybody how much of a nihilist i am by typing in all lower case. oh, i'm sorry, you like capitalization? well ask me if i give a fuck. if you asked me i would say no, since i am a nihilist.
i made a new track today, because all the tracks i've made since getting smart have been way too pretentious and ugly. it's like, what was i thinking? did i think i was hot shit or something? for some reason i got the notion in my head that something mattered. i would say that this is the best track i've ever done, but in a nihilist's world there is no "best". there is only staying home on a cloudy day and lying still on the couch at awkward angles. in slow motion.
i call this track "race car track".
they won't let me race it because it doesn't loop around, it's just a straight line. fuck it, i don't care. it's not supposed to be raced. it's a representation of society's one-directional mindset, which will lead it nowhere. it's surrounded by buildings filled with automatons in business suits, suffering through the blinding numbness of a microprocessed age. but what do i care.
progress report 16
i am so over helen wheels. she can go off with her ken and live her barbie lifestyle, i don't even care. i met a girl today. i'm just going to use her for sex, since i am a nihilist. she digs me because she likes the track i made.
i'm gonna go listen to the deftones. life out
Progress report 17
I finally decided that nihilism was stupid, and ditched it. Intellect is such a troublesome thing. With it comes the major dilemma of deciding how one should view the world. Sometimes I wish I was like I was before. I was happy then. My love for Helen was simple. Naive, but simple, and perfect. Now that I know the score, nothing can make me as truly happy as I was. Now my love for her runs far deeper, but the scars of rejection just as deep.
I've decided to give my life meaning through some other means. Perhaps if I can find something that thrills me enough, I can make my life worth living. I just made a track with the biggest jump ever. Tomorrow I'm going to take the fastest car out and catch as much air as I possibly can.
Progress report 18
This morning I set out for the track. I pulled up to the starting line. There sat the idling F1 racer of Skid Vicious.
He cut off his engine, looked me in the eyes, and spoke.
"Bernie, there's something you don't know about me."
"You weren't the first to undergo that procedure, Bernie. I was. What I wanted to say before is that it doesn't last. You're the king of the road for a while, yeah. I was the best on the course. But not anymore. I'm telling you, it's not forever."
"But...no, that's not true!"
"It is, Bernie. I know this for a fact. It's happening to me now. Soon it will all be gone. For you as well."
It all registered. Somehow I knew he was right.
"This is the way I'm going out, Bernie. A legend chooses his time to go."
Skid started his engine before I could blubber out something stupid. He nodded toward me, then peeled out.
This track I made was different than the rest. Essentially, it was a mile-long elevated straightaway that ended in a ramp on a natural plateau. It was by far the highest, most deadly jump any of us had ever constructed. Skid streaked through it like a round through a shotgun barrel.
And before long, he was not driving. He was not ramping. He was not "getting air". He was flying.
That was the last I ever saw of Skid Vicious. The force of his car hitting the ground, no matter the angle, would have been similar to that of an egg dropped from an airplane. But no trace of him nor his Porsche March Indy has been recovered. The tales of him actually hopping the CPU-imposed fence and leaving the game's parameters are nothing but speculation, but even my genius-level sensibilities aren't enough to lead me to doubt that claim.
Skid was a loner, a gangster, a bully, a master of his craft, and most importantly of all, a dear friend.
progres report 19
skid was right. it's hapening. more rapidly then i would have imagined.
today i knew my time was short, so i visited helen wheels one final time. i profused my love to her. and she smiled, and we hugged.
that is all i wanted to see. they can take me. i can go now.
p.s. tell everyone i will miss them.
p.p.s. please put fresh flowers on skid's grave for me.
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