I certainly did not wish to make a claim so soon after becoming a member of Handyman’s Union Local 32. However, I was seriously injured on my most recent job, at a high-rise apartment, while working with my two associates, Moses “Moe” Howard and Lawrence Fine. In the interest of full disclosure, Moe is my brother and he helped get me into the union.
The incident began after Lawrence and I went to the address to repair a furnace. Several attempts to restart the fire were of no avail. So Lawrence decided to increase the amount of lighter fluid used on the kindling. I am afraid he miscalculated, for when I went to light the furnace a massive fireball shot out from it. Neither of us was burned, but my face was covered in soot. The massive explosion, however, shot the furnace into the air. The unit landed squarely on my stomach, pinning me to the floor. Thankfully, Lawrence, pushing it with his bare hands, was, after several attempts, able to free me.
Upon hearing the explosion, Moe left his project to help us with the furnace. He has always been known for his temper and his micromanaging, thus, not surprisingly, he became incensed with both Lawrence and me. After several hostile name-callings (including “lamebrain,” “numskull,” and “porcupine”), Moe dragged the blade of his handsaw across my skull. This action ruined the blade and bent the teeth in numerous directions. Angered by this, he then shoved a pair of pliers up my nose and jabbed Lawrence in the eyes with his fingers.
Have I made apologies for my brother’s behavior in the past? Why, certainly. He is my brother, after all, but in recent months he has become too much of a wise guy.
The nature of these injuries is due to the overwhelming pressure my associates and I were under. The owner of the penthouse was having a fancy party that evening and we had to work fast. When we explained to her the situation with the furnace, she was busy in the kitchen making pies with a French chef. As for the charge that we somehow started some sort of fight with these custard pies, I must say that I threw no foodstuffs at any person. In acting as a representative of the Handyman’s Union, I did my best to extricate myself from the situation. At one point, I avoided a flung pie by ducking, but the pie landed in the face of a gentleman who had just arrived at the party. This unwitting victim then proceeded to slap my two associates and me in the face (simultaneously, I might add).
The injuries incurred in this unfortunate incident are not my first work-related injuries. I have made other claims with other insurance companies. For example, I continue to suffer from muscle tremors stemming from electrical shocks from the faulty exercise equipment I solicited door to door. My hips are still sore from having my backside gored by a bull when I was employed as a matador. And, in non-work-related trauma, I am still seeing a therapist to help me deal with the psychological damage I sustained when I was trapped in an Egyptian tomb with the reanimated mummified corpse of a Pharaoh.
I must humbly request that the union’s insurance pay for my medical expenses. Also, I request to work with different associates, as I feel my current working relationships are strained. I am more than willing to relocate.