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(This is a follow-up letter to a bricklayer's accident report requesting worker's compensation.)
Dear Sir,
I am writing in response to your request for additional information in Block #3 of the accident reporting form. I put 'Poor Planning' as the cause of my accident. You asked for a fuller explanation and I trust the following details will be sufficient.
I am a bricklayer by trade. On the day of the accident, I was working alone on the roof of a new six-story building. When I completed my work, I found I had some bricks left over which, when weighed later, were found to weigh 240 pounds. Rather than carry the bricks down by hand, I decided to lower them in a barrel by using a pulley which was attached to the side of the building at the sixth floor.
Securing the rope at ground level, I went up to the roof, swung the barrel out and loaded the bricks into it. Then I went down and untied the rope, holding it tightly to insure a slow descent of the 240 pounds of bricks. You will note on the accident reporting form that my weight is 135 pounds. Due to my surprise at being jerked off the ground so suddenly, I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless to say, I proceeded at a rapid rate up the side of the building.
In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel which was now proceeding downward at an equally impressive speed. This explains the fractured skull, minor abrasions and the broken collarbone, as listed in Section 3, accident reporting form.
Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley which I mentioned in Paragraph 2 of this correspondence. Fortunately by this time I had regained my presence of mind and was able to hold tightly to the rope, in spite of the excruciating pain I was now beginning to experience.
At approximately the same time, however, the barrel of bricks hit the ground-and the bottom broke out of the barrel. Now devoid of the weight of the bricks, the barrel weighed approximately 50 pounds. I refer you again to my weight. As you might imagine, I began a rapid descent down the side of the building. In the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel coming up. This accounts for the two fractured ankles, broken tooth and severe lacerations of my legs and lower body.
Here my luck began to change slightly. The encounter with the barrel seemed to slow me enough to lessen my injuries when I fell into the pile of bricks and fortunately only three vertebrae were cracked. I am sorry to report, however, as I lay there on the pile of bricks, in pain, unable to move and watching the empty barrel six stories above me, I again lost my composure and presence of mind and let go of the rope. And I lay there watching the empty barrel begin its journey back onto me.
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Bronze Rat Story |
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A tourist wandered into a back-alley antique shop in San Francisco's Chinatown. Picking through the objects on display he discovers a detailed, life-sized bronze sculpture of a rat. The sculpture is so interesting and unique that he picks it up and asks the shop owner what it costs.
'Twelve dollars for the rat, sir,' says the shop owner, 'and a thousand dollars more for the story behind it.'
'You can keep the story, old man,' he replies, 'but I'll take the rat.'
The transaction complete, the tourist leaves the store with the bronze rat under his arm. As he crosses the street in front of the store, two live rats emerge from a sewer drain and fall into step behind him. Nervously looking over his shoulder, he begins to walk faster, but every time he passes another sewer drain, more rats come out and follow him. By the time he's walked two blocks, at least a hundred rats are at his heels, and people begin to point and shout. He walks even faster, and soon breaks into a trot as multitudes of rats swarm from sewers, basements, vacant lots, and abandoned cars. Rats by the thousands are at his heels, and as he sees the waterfront at the bottom of the hill, he panics and starts to run full tilt.
No matter how fast he runs, the rats keep up, squealing hideously, now not just thousands but millions, so that by the time he comes rushing up to the water's edge a trail of rats twelve city blocks long is behind him. Making a mighty leap, he jumps up onto a light post, grasping it with one arm while he hurls the bronze rat into San Francisco Bay with the other, as far as he can heave it. Pulling his legs up and clinging to the light post, he watches in amazement as the seething tide of rats surges over the breakwater into the sea, where they drown.
Shaken and mumbling, he makes his way back to the antique shop.
'Ah, so you've come back for the rest of the story,' says the owner.
'No,' says the tourist, 'I was wondering if you have a bronze lawyer.'
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Did you hear that car? It reminds me of something that happened 2 years ago at this very campground.
We were sitting around our campfire pretty much like this, but the night was a bit colder and quieter. Suddenly, I heard a car racing down the road over that way followed by a terrible squeeling of tires and a horrendous crash.
I and another adult jumped up, grabbed our flashlights, and ran out to the road to see if anyone needed help. The road out there is very straight for about 2 miles and then takes a sharp corner right by the camp. On that corner, we spotted a car rolled over and smashed against a big oak tree.
Inside the car were four high school kids, all dead. There was nothing we could do so we ran back to the campmaster's cabin and called 911. We then went back to the scene to wait for the ambulance.
When we got there, there was no car, no bodies, nothing except two long tire marks on the road right to where the car had crashed.
Just then, an old man came walking down the road with his dog. He has a farm just on the other side of the road and he had heard the crash also, but he wasn't surprised to see no car. He explained that 25 years ago, the local high school football team had two star players and was favored to win the state championship. Those two boys never gave up - they practiced year round and had made a pact that they would never stop until they were champions.
The night they won their homecoming game, the two boys and their girlfriends were on their way to the big dance after a celebration party. Going too fast, they wrecked and all four of them were killed right over there.
Every year since then, on the night of homecoming, their ghosts relive the terrible crash. They refuse to give up and admit that they are dead. Sometimes, you can even see them wandering through the woods trying to find their way to the dance. Or, you can hear their low groans as they walk through the night.
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