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This was my last chance to pop a wheelie

  • This was my last chance to pop a wheelie on my motorcycle before the big Vegas show. Celine Dion

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  • did her gang signs to the crowd as I vaulted over the thrust stage on my dirtbike. The stunt ran smoothy until Dion hit the high note in "My Heart Will Go On." Ironically,

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  • My bike slammed into a monster truck, the velocity and sudden stop caused my heart to go on to the back of a

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  • n Arabian pony and gallop away. Or that's how it felt. What I didn't realize then, that this was exactly what happened. There I lay on the tarmac, my heart had galloped away towar

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  • d the horizon, leaving a rather disgusting, bloody hole in my chest. Then an airplane rolled right over me on its way to the gate. I laid there, my body broken, pondering how I'd

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  • paint landscapes with my mouth now that I was quadriplegic. The bloody hole in my chest was sending me into shock. A pack of wolves were circling and heavy snow started to fall

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  • on the horizon. "There is something I want to show you," said a man brandishing a VHS cartridge. Cronenberg approached and shoved the tape into my wound. The wolves began to speak.

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  • The wolves were having a cordial dinner conversation in Canadian. I couldn't understand the words. I couldn't understand why Cronenberg wanted me to see, or how my wound played VHS

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  • it was then the the veil of ignorance shrouding my memories tore away and the words of my father came back bringing clarity. "Smell the glove, sonny boy." I nodded with purpose.

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  • Then I slammed the glove with all my might into the face of my nemesis, who represented everyone who'd ever tormented me, all those who lied & hurt me. I raised my arms in victory!

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