Edward Capriolo ISSUE 4

This was another issue I thought was not going to make it, but I have to report on this incredible series of events. As this is issue four I made it to a four-part story

 

The Curse of the Mangled Hand

Part One- Do the twist

 

            Well as you know I have spent a lot of time skateboarding. For a while my friend was letting me use his board, but after a bit he hooked me up with an older deck he had. We hit all the phat White Plains skate spots in his station wagon or the “Shagin wagon” as he likes to call it, of course I don’t think many girls have been in it but that’s another story for another issue.

 

            So here we are skating at Post Road elementary school. You have me, trying to Ollie for the first time, and my boy is doing the ill-matic tricks. He is doing the pop-shuv-its, the 50-50 grinds, and the Ollie with the manual landing. Of course I look like a little kid taking his first steps with all these other veterans around me looking like professional skateboarders, so I do the only thing I can I pick up the camera and film to avoid embarrassment.

 

So my friend is trying to do a run where he Ollies up a curve and then kick flips off a set of stairs, but this nasty crack at the bottom of the stairs stopped him once, twice. So he goes to do it the third times and takes a fall. Part of skateboarding is falling. This fall did not look to bad, but when you replay the tape you can clearly see his ankle buckle during the fall.

    

So my friend was hobbling around and I was calling him Hip Hop. He was even skating a little bit, and only complained of his shoe feeling really tight. So we finally get back and take a look at his ankle. It seems like something as big as a baseball was on it, no wait that’s swelling. Well it turns out that my friend got taken to the emergency room and was diagnosed with a horribly sprained ankle. He was in immense pain and did not sleep the first night. He was hip-hop for a few more days but quickly got back into the action.

 

Part 2 I believe I can fly

 

So its Wednesday, I am in school and I like going to the open gym every now and then to showcase my basketball skills. Marvin comes with me to pay testament to my greatness, but he can’t play because you need shorts. So he is on the sideline watching. No I hate to describe the events this way, but this is what happened.

 

Here I am one skinny white guy that DOES have some jumping ability on the court with about 8 black guys playing a game of 21. For those of you who don’t know the game its one on one on one on one… So I am up there, and I am doing well. I was a bit rusty ill admit but when someone won the game with 21 points I had second high with 16. You can take what happened next right to the reverend Al Sharpton himself.

 

After the 21 it was decided to run a full court game. Of the 11 guys who were on the court whom do you think did not get picked? The white man. Me. So I did the only respectable thing. I called next and waited on the sideline, for the next game.

 

So you know I came out on the floor with a vengeance, you know that skull busting shit. Well not skull busting, but I had something to prove. So a couple points were scored back and forth. Suddenly the other team got out on a break away. Most days I would have let them get the points, but not that day. I came running like a bat out of hell after this guy trying to pin his lay up against the backboard.

 

Of course, he did something I did not expect. He did this little hesitation two-step jump, when I thought he was going to take the lay up in stride. If you would like to picture what happened imaging that guy on the mighty ducks that could skate fast but did not know how to stop. Somehow after a midair collision I got horizontal to the floor and came down hard on my wrist. It did not hurt right away, but the pain started creeping in and in 10 minutes I could not sign my name on the insurance paper in the nurses’ office.

 

That first night I was downing those aspirin man. After a while I just gave up trying to go to sleep and went for the all night ICQ-athon. Though typing with one hand was not that fun. Arge.

 

Part 3 The Kick Heard Round the Net

 

I am not writing parts 3 and 4 from first hand knowledge, just folk tails of events I have heard. Now most of you know about the infamous WCC Physics /Calc study sessions. For those of you who do not know it basically works like this, we have a pretty tight knit group of computer nerds at WCC. All of us are lazy to the bone.

 

In physics our crew takes the left side of the room. See I am not one to fall asleep in class, I joke around. The rest of us do a combination of the two. Since we sleep and joke through every physics class we need to come on the weekends to figure out what we missed, or to study for the next test I am going to fail.

 

Like most study sessions this one was going horrible so everyone packed up and decided to take it to Jay’s house. Well it sounds like jay has the phatty crib and unlike my house there are times when his parents are not home. So Floyd and Marvin decide that this would be a great time to test their martial arts skills in a battle. Anyway Floyd and Marvin are defiantly not Laurence Fishburn and Keano Reeves. To make a long story shot Floyd executed what Marvin called a “bitch kick” and jammed a bunch of his fingers, and sprained his wrist.

 

Now let me tell you this kid Marvin is a trooper. He is online chatting to me telling me he is meditating to help with the pain. I told him to take aspirin. “I don’t have any,” he says. What a trooper! So I bring in aspirin for him the next day. For all of you that have never sprained or broke something let me tell you it sucks especially when it is your writing hand. It feels really weird you think things to yourself like “What am I going to do if my hand is messed up?” Bad karma.

Part 4-Borislav is Knight Rider

 

For those of you who have not seen Boris’ car I am going to let you know. Its phat, Pretty Hot And Tempting. This is a classic Honda (82 according to archeologists). Its so old it looks like a Jaguar or a Delorian from back to the future.

 

One day I left me lights on which I am prone to doing very often. Who comes to save me you ask? Boris in the Honda Knight Rider, that’s who. I open the hood to my classic crown Victoria LTD, or as some call it the “Boat” or the “Taxi Cab” car, while Boris pops open the hood to his Dream machine.

Boris: Holy Crap 5 liters!

Hey what can I say? The crown vic. has the massive v8 engine. I have never floored it, but I have gassed it while going up some big hills and let me tell you that Boat has a mean engine. It was a perfect contrast to Boris’s engine. You know how Honda engines are. I remember my civic, it seemed like the engine was like 5 feet back from the front fender it was so small. After my accident the engine was actually 5 feet back from the fender, but that’s another story for another issue. Anyway Boris pulled through and got my car jumped. But I said to him, Boris I would not let anyone drive your Car, its bad karma.

 

So anyway I am online tonight and I get the awful news. It seems like Boris was letting someone drive his car. Two people were sitting on the back Civil and Marvin. Now the person driving the car is in the parking lot doing a fair amount of speed 30 or so. They take a turn sending Marvin off the side on to the pavement. You know what he landed on don’t you? His wrist. When it rains it pours.

 

Unfortunately Marvin was not able to spread the curse of he mangled hand to someone else like my friend and I were able to do. I feel absolutely horrible for him and I was afraid to write this issue, as this is fresh news and a somewhat touchy subject. Eventually though everyone will get over it. More importantly then everyone’s feelings is its close to the Sunday night deadline and without this story issue 4 would have never been made.