YOU CAN FLOAT ON AIR, YOU CAN RIDE THIS AIR CAR, around your HOME ... around your school ...
It floats on air, powered by a vacuum cleaner ...
It floats on air, powered by an electric motor ...
This technology arrives very soon, and when it does watch the BOOM.
A revolutionary skit, childhood dreams pitted against a fuse, a phantom, an idea that was LIT.
If it needed electric power? Or some kind of magical SPRITE? They'd tell you, right? They'd include those words, amazing.
Only TURDS would lie to those innocent cheeks cleaving to deception as things get bleak.
Infinite energy drive, what a time to be alive.
IT LIFTS 200 POUNDS! THIS FUCKER LIFTS 200 POUNDS!
Or perhaps, like the BRITS, clever lawyers like to split, words and clauses, serve their bosses, telling you truth:
"You want to build this thing? You're going to need bling ... You'll need to steal 200 BRITISH POUNDS STERLING ..."
That's HUNDREDS of DOLLARS today ... Thousands ... Sure BUCK, you can have a hovercraft it won't suck, go and build it you miserable fuck.
You will fly around, all over town, your woman will wear a gown, the old men will frown ...
IT'S YOUR BOYS' LIFE HOVERCRAFT! It's your key to future bliss! This one time offer so surprising, you don't dare miss.
For PLANS AND PHOTOS? - send $4.95 ... For love and HEROES, give us your coin. Your loins will flare, you'll kill a bear, your daddy WILL SWEAR to never take the ATARI away ...
PITFALL PETE. PITFALL PETE. STRUGGLE SO SWEET. IN A JUNGLE SO WET. You can bet mother fucker, good old Pete, wished he had a hovercraft, to beat bricks back home, to beat his meat.
You can float on air. It lifts 200 pounds. They'll never hear a sound, when you sneak up on their BOY'S LIFE LIES.
The skies turn dark, but you still have time, for plans and photos, send four ninety five.
FREE INVENTORS CALENDAR! It's fun. It's free. With order ...
Low COST, EASY TO BUILD, YOU CAN'T BE KILLED, YOU WON'T BE DESTROYED, YOUR LIFE WILL IMPROVE, one day you'll find YOUR GROOVE ... Am I right Pete?
You still swinging Pete?
You still alive?
Or do you live with UNCLE CLIVE, in HELL ...
Does that ring a bell?
We're going to Hell.
YOU CAN FLOAT ON AIR, cremate your care, your BOYS' LIFE gone.
With that wind, abandon like fire, those dread sins, that die with the liar.
