Saturday, March 28, 2015

 

Colors of Injuries


He was hired in the factory for his ability to climb the highest
machines and perform the necessary adjustments and repairs.

If it were a tree, he'd beat an ape up it!

Pretty much a solo act, his life assumed a routine where he went
from huge machine to huge machine.

Until an airhose went crazy one fateful day and sent him pinballing
down the supportive fretwork of the largest monster there.

The foreman expected him to be dead, but he sprung up and did
stretching exercises. His face, however, remained purple and he
was bruised all over.

Thence the nickname, Bruise.

Bruise refused to go the infirmary back then. Indeed climbed
back up and secured the mad airhose.  Wiry as ever!

The foreman was so grateful that Bruise avoided the doctor, because his department had the worst safety record, that he kept nudging him up until he reached the top of his pay grade.

His fellow workers had insisted that he should sue, but Bruise never
did anything to divert him from his chosen mission.

Later, after an auto accident, he did find it convenient to sue, and
settle for a large amount. “Put you on the stand and no jury
would hand you less than a million!” his lawyer affirmed.

By some medical miracle or other, the bruises never faded and
always looked fresh.

He resembled a newly-tattooed man if all the tattoos were shades
of purple. The areas between the bruises got multi-hued.

His wife divorced him, becoming sick at the sight of it all.

But now, Glads has moved in. "I like the look of him in bed.
Sorta all colors!"

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