Billy was bouncing of the walls with energy.

Billy was bouncing of the walls with energy. The pixie sticks he'd snorted had hurt like hell and caused a nosebleed but he was feeling them for sure now.

He knew he had the answer to the secret of jumping Massacre Canyon: ride faster! With powdered courage coursing through his veins Billy grabbed his BMX and shot off toward the

bum with an arched back (the ramp's proxy). But due to dastardly sublimation, the courage turned to gas and leaked from Billy's nose just as he approached the bum. His bike wobbled

because the tires were made out of giant Belgian waffles. When he rode the Carbo-motor bike it was to keep his eyes on the road because he was staring at the tasty wheels dreaming

of melted butter & maple syrup running all over them. The Carbo-motor bike had a carbo-frame too made out of churros. He began to salivate onto the frame causing it to sag ominousl

iciously. Edible exercise equipment may have been less overpriced, but it wasn't helping attract overeaters to lose weight. The honeyed bacon and french toast treadmill faced simil

as I wander, which is how I come up with my best ideas when I'm lost in the Sahara Desert. Aha! By George, I think I've got it! Stumbling over my camel's toe, I rushed back

and kept thinking to the thought that just hit me. Coming to the desert might just have been a good thing, after all. Now, I had it. Now, I knew the secret.

Luckily I was alone. This was the desert. Otherwise I might've been tempted to share my secret. Now it was just me on my bike, hitting the open road and hoping for a bright future.