Mom called me last night and gravely informed me that Jake was injured. "What? How? Is he okay?" I think I stopped breathing for a moment.
Then Mom blithey says that Jake whacked himself in the head with a crowbar.
Funny, Mom, really funny.
Apparently, my brother was driving the fork lift, things weren't going well, he got out and somehow a crowbar figured into the equation...Mom's story gets fuzzy here...And he ended up smacking the crowbar right into his forehead. Ten stitchs and he'll have a nasty scar in the middle of his forehead.
"I asked him if he passed out and he said no," Mom said. I don't belive him. Ten stitchs...that means it was a nasty gash and he lost a lot of blood. Jake must be too embaressed to say he fainted. I mean, hitting yourself in the head with a heavy iron tool is pretty embaressing on it's own.
Last year (or ther abouts) Jake broke a cheek bone in a similar situation with a crowbar. Yup, pretty embaressing.
I don't know what it is with Jake and crowbars but he should be banned from using them.
All this story really proves is that my mom has a broken sense of humor.
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