Stairway to Heaven with a broken neck
November 30, 2017
The other day I stopped in at my brother Brent’s place and noticed Calvin was riding around the kitchen on his 3-wheeler. I kiddingly mentioned he should ride it down the stairs. Marcus suddenly got interested and since he was bigger, carjacked Cal’s wheels from Cal.
When he headed for the stairs, I got concerned. I told them I was kidding. I could tell they weren’t. They were both ready for the ride I suddenly started thinking should be called the Stairway to Heaven.
Calvin started the countdown and got ready to push.
Suddenly I could see Marcus’s face pancaked on the solid-core door at the bottom of the steep carpeted cliff.
Suddenly I could see Brent and Kashann walking in the door just as the coroner pulled the sheet over Marcus’s flat face.
Suddenly I could see the newspaper headline:
“Old uncle eggs young nephew to commit suicide. Even though younger brother pushed, he will not be charged. However, multiple charges pending against Uncle Ben. Uncle’s bail set at 500 million dollars. Prosecutor Shawn Sant claims Uncle will never see the light of day again. Uncle whimpers ‘But Shawn, I thought we were friends.”
Suddenly I could see the mail lady delivering a certified letter to me from Brent, Kashann and their new lawyer called AC. I think AC stands for ambulance chaser.
I quickly tried shifting into my safety instructor mode. I ground some gears and rammed through a few layers of rust before finally finding the correct mode. It had been a while since I had ratcheted my transmission into that normally dormant and totally unfamiliar position.
“No!!!! Do not do that!!!!” Repeated ten times.
I then spent the next 10 minutes telling the uncomprehending lads why it was not a good idea. Over and over I stressed the danger. Then I went back down to work and stressed out all afternoon.
I knew the chances that they would obey my first command to ride down the stairs were about 90%. I knew the chances that they would obey my second command to NOT ride down the stairs were about 1%.
The other 9% were still up in the air, waiting to come down and crash into the downstairs solid-core door.
After work I went back up to the house. Brent and Kashann had gotten home. Calvin and Marcus were still breathing and Marcus didn’t look like a pancake. There were no coroners or newspaper reporters present. I was especially happy to see Shawn Sant was absent.
Maybe we’re still friends.