Your brother recently out grew his bicycle. Your father has asked you to write an advertisement for the bicycle. Can you write it out?

You’ve ridden bikes before. Now try the bike that rides you!

For sale: one gently-used bike, screams with the souls of the damned.

It whispers. It chitters in the night. Its tentacles writhe, longing for the caress of living flesh. It knows where you want to go, and how to get there. It folds space around itself to take you where you need to be.

DO NOT chain this bike up. It may sometimes appear to be a few feet from where you left it. Pretend you don’t notice. Pay no attention to the pool of dark liquid that sometimes appears under the front wheel. It is not blood, of that I assure you, but rather something far worse. You’re better off not knowing. This bike must feed. Inflate the tires to 40 psi.

My brother has outgrown it, or so the psychiatrists say, so he’s getting a new Schwinn for his birthday, but it’s a surprise so please don’t tell him. Or the bike.

Keep small animals and cold iron away from this bike. Lubricate the chain with dry lube. $125 plus a blood sacrifice (a drop will do). Not recommended for non-Euclidean terrain.