Prelude: A Dollop of Fancy, Lad


The first in a series of misinformatized writings wherein Father Alexander documents the mythical origins of Fancy Lad Skateboards.

People hate Fancy Lad. He was born sometime in the 1650s at a time when European civilization was imploding. Fancy Lad just laughed. Joining the Royal Order of Jesters when he reached adulthood the rest of the Aristocracy shunned him, naturally. Carousing with jugglers, prostitutes and all manner of wicked motherfuckers Fancy Lad cried. When he first read of the Witch Trials of Loudun he became fascinated by reports that those possessed by Skatan were capable of impossible physical feats.

Being a natural seeker, Fancy Lad consulted a local alchemist where he learned the secret of transmuting a most potent brew. Thereafter, he made a point of traveling to distant lands, highly intoxicated and bawdy, spreading the doctrine of the Sacred Chao erstwhile learning the truth of the Feats of the Masters of Loudun. Persecuted endlessly, accused of everything from drunken lasciviousness to child sacrifice, he left behind pamphlets full of diagrams displaying the miracles of Nature. He was pursued relentlessly. Occasionally taken in by wayward monks and highwayman, by necessity, Fancy Lad was a master of disguise.

Death trailed him. Having been initiated into the Absurd Mysteries at age 27 he was subsequently hung, either 4 or 5 years later, somewhere in Romania. Fancy Lad was, at this point, renowned among Jesters, Jugglers, Monks, Drunkards and Prostitutes alike. His initials, FL, were found engraved on walls throughout the world by those that knew him or knew of him. Inventor, or at least progenitor, of the Triple Lindy his likeness appeared in many court paintings. Often taking the form of one Lecherous Member of the Crowd among many – the eternal Grey Man whose identity was known only to the elect of his day – Fancy Lad lived on. By virtue of his ingenuity, he was forgotten by time thereby rendering future generations incapable of rewriting his history and destroying this legacy.


All this changed in 2011, some 400 years after Fancy Lad’s death, when two freaks from Massachusetts sat in a dark basement with an antique Witch Board they purchased in a flea market earlier that day.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Fiske?” Big eyes his wild-eyed friend, voice wavering from consternation. He takes a sip of beer. Fiske smiles.

“Pour a little bit of that beer on the board, Big. For magickness.” Fiske rubs his hands together vigorously as Big pours out some beer on the board.

“Sweet Mother of God.” Big’s eyes pop out of his skull. The beer begins moving, of it’s own volition, free from gravity’s influence.


“I’ve never seen anything like it. Not even in the movies.” Fiske laughs the laugh of unbridled terror mixed with laudanum and good times. “Do you know what this means?”

Big stands up, and he paces like a madman. “Fancy Lad? That’s such a lame name for a skate company. It will never work. Why do we never get any of the good magick, Fiske? Why?”

Fiske rises to his feet suddenly, nearly passing out from the Whirlies, and shakes Big violently. “Quiet, Fool.” Big relaxes. “It can hear you.”

They both look down to the Witch Board on the dank concrete floor. A weird air enters the room.

“Fancy Lad.”
“Fancy Lad.”
“Fancy Lad.”
“Fancy Lad.”

This continued for 7 hours and 8 hours later Fancy Lad Skateboards was born.

More to come in the near future…

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