Beginning in 2001, I was a writer for TransWorld Stance magazine. It was their attempt at doing a "Maxim" or "GQ" for skaters. To be honest, it was ahead of the times. I mainly did celebrity interviews, CD and book reviews and various little columns. I grew up skating with Tim O'Connor, and one of the best parts beginning in the mid-90s was hearing all his stories from hanging out with pro skaters while he was coming up. We all looked up to Tim and we loved hearing all his tales and skate gossip whenever he came back from trips.
So I pitched and began working on a "Storytime with Tim" column for them. I would just sit with Tim at a McDonalds or something, super late at night after long sessions, eating and listening to these stories while my cassette recorder captured the gold. Unfortunately the mag folded shortly after I began working on these and and they never saw the light of day.
This one tale of Tom Penny watching his own clip from the Welcome to Hell friends section made it out into the internet ether many years ago when I posted it on this blog back in 2005. And somehow, just yesterday, 16 years later, after a @CultOfTom IG post of the same kickflip, it was requested that I repost it.
So here is the excerpt from the Tom Penny "Story time with Tim," with a bonus Bam Margera story for the culture. Enjoy - Brink
"That was sick!"
One time I was staying with Gershon Mosley and we are going all over California with him. I meet up with Muska, and ended up staying there at his house, and he lived there with Tom Penny. I was there for a month—freeloading with nowhere to go.
Then Bam comes along, I forget where the hell he came from. And Tom was with us—everyone else was gone. We were all just stuck there. And Tom would just wake up and drink this Irish cream stuff ... Bailey’s I think. Wake up drinking it, go to sleep drinking it, “Goodnight Timmy Tims.” Smoke a spliff, eat a bag of chips, drink a Corona and go skate.
One day we were watching the old Toy Machine video and he has a trick in the friends section—he kickflips over this rail. So Tom goes “Oh that was sick!” And somebody was like “That was you, Tom!” So he goes “Oh, even sicker! Right on!” He had no idea it was himself. It was amazing.
Then this other day me and Bam and Tom are at the house, and Tom has no liquor, no weed—drinks nothing, smokes nothing. All of the sudden, this dude is sparked with energy. He is just like Tony Little—he has that much energy. Like some guy who has taken vitamins his whole life and has had nothing but sunshine and happy days. He starts cleaning his room, all singing out loud, “Tom’s gonna clean his room laaaa, Tom’s gonna clean his room!”
Me and Bam were like, “What the fuck?” So Tom starts taking all this stuff out of his closet, he has shitloads of shirts. Every single shirt has a beer stain on it—liquor stain on every single shirt that he took out. And he was giving stuff to me and Bam. We were hardly even sponsored at that point, so we were like, “Sure, give it to me!” Bam’s like, taking tons of shirts and everything else with all the beer stains on it. Tom is putting in a bag, and singing “Look at all this shit, la da da. I’m gonna get rid off it, doo dee doo.”
Then he’s like, “I’m gonna burn it, on the beach!” So we are like, “Right on, let’s do this! This will be sick!”
So we take this shitload of gear, so much stuff. His room was insane, just, clothing everywhere—so much cotton. We load it in a bag, take it to the beach, and then we light it on fire—just threw some fuel on it, lit it, and then it blows up. Just a big, gigantic combustion—a gigantic inferno.
So all of a sudden there’s this helicopter that just happened to be flying by. It is dumb high, it has no idea there is this burning fire on the beach. So Tom starts running and yelling “Oh my God, they’re after us!” and he like dives behind a rock. I was like “What are you doing? That helicopter has no idea you are burning t-shirts down here.” So then we look up and see all these people who had houses on the beach start looking out their windows, watching us and the fire so we just ran away.
A couple years ago, I rode for Zoo York. I was 18. It was me, Bam Margera, Mike Maldonado, and Joe Hiddleson, this filmer.
We went to Rhode Island and Boston, we were just filming. Then we went to the first X Games, or maybe it was the second—the one in Newport, Rhode Island. It all sucked—the whole trip was just, whatever. So we are driving home on these back ass roads, the middle of nowhere, just thick ass foliage. Chlorophyll galore.
Its mad quiet in the car. Me and Bam are in the back. Mike is in the front and Joe is driving. Me and Bam are just messing around and Bam sticks his ass up by the back of Joe’s head and lets out a little fizzle fart [Tim makes a farting noise]. So me and Bam are just giggling like, “Tee hee hee, you farted on Joe.” All the windows were closed the whole time except Joe’s. It was open not even a centimeter—a half of a centimeter if that is even a measurement. Real miniscule.
So all of a sudden Joe is like “FUCK!” And me and Bam were like “Uh oohhhh he got mad at the fart, giggle giggle.” We weren’t saying anything though. And Joe is like “FUCK! FUCK!” So we are like “What man? What?” And Joe is like “Just FUCKIN FUCK!!!!!!” So we are like “Okay, whatever man.”
Then we realized that Joe is holding his neck the whole time. We were like, “What the hell happened to his neck?”
Somehow … a bird shit at such a perfect time, while it was perched on a tree limb or flying—whatever it was doing it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t take away from the amazing accuracy of the shit. It shits, and we are driving 50 mph I would say. And somehow the shit plummets from the sky, goes through this little crack in the window, and just splatters on this guy’s neck. It gets on nobody but him. Somehow it is all over him—it’s all dribbling down his neck, all on his eyebrows. He has like one green and white eyebrow with just bird shit. And then it was splattered all over the dashboard and stuff. Everywhere was just complete shit everywhere. Just juicy bird-eaten digested worms, ya know? And we all just started cracking up. He’s just still yelling “FUCK!”
I was laughing so hard that I was ready to vomit, I couldn’t control myself. Joe has to pull over the car because me and Bam were laughing so hard. Bam starts cracking up. I’m drinking a Yoo Hoo in the back seat and Bam’s like “Waaahhhhhh” because he can’t hold his piss in anymore. So he grabs my Yoo Hoo bottle, whips his dick out, and starts pissing in my Yoo Hoo in the back seat and I start cracking up even harder.
Me and Bam straight up laughed for seriously, five hours straight. The rest of the ride home. I have never laughed that hard in my life. Seriously five hours straight.