Job Safety
Jul. 15th, 2011 08:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hwrnmnbsolJob safety. How many times do I have to say it? Job safety job safety job safety! Times a hunnerd, squared! So important, but can I get that through the knob-knobs of my crews? Never in a million.
I mean, there we are, like only an hour inna the day, barely starting work on converting floor nine of the old giant tower on Main and Canal inna upscale condos, nice nice nice, and Skidder gets hurt. Booksy comes and gets me; yo Pippo, he sez, Skidder's got his tail docked. ZWOT? sez I, and we go and see. And there's Skidder, curled up onna floor, and most of his tail's been loppered. Beebee and Tucker were carrying the toolbox and Beebee dropped his end, POW, right on Skidder's tail. Snip, gone! I mean I felt sorry for the guy, sure-sure, but it's his own fault. We post rules on every job site: tie up your tail under your mesh-apron; tuck your ears inside your hardhat; wear goggles and muzzle-guard if you're gonna do hot work so you don't burn a snoot. Everybody gotta do it.
So important in any jobsite, but specially so in a giant tower. Huge old places, left behind wenna giants zapped each other. Sometimes the towers are crumbly bad, and usually we just tear those down. But those giants sure could build it solid, and sometimes those old towers are like mountains. The glass is all busted out, and the insideys have the mold and badness, but the bones of the buildings are stout stout stout. Perfect for rats to build in, even if them giants were, like, four times taller than us.
Of course, first you gotta get the giants out. That's where my crew comes in: Rooby and Pippo's Giant Remediation Service. Everybody thinks it's easy to get giants out of a tower but they wrong-wrong. Giants used to be just big, but then they hadda war and used some kinda weapon. It turn the giants into big black statues – heavy, indestructimous, not going nowheres.
Any old rat can move in a set up shop inna old building. It takes a special kinda rat to move the old owners out first.
Whole crew is gathered around Skidder, wasting time. I boot Tucker. "No more sky-larking!" I yell. "We gotta deadline here! Tucker, get bandage outta the toolbox and help a rat out, eh? Booksy, help Skidder downstairs and get him home."
"Nah, nah," sez Skidder, waving me off. "I wanna stay. Worky-work, gotta keep going. Got my tail docked, can't get pay docked too."
"Fine-fine," I sez. "Don't be a hero though. Oh and kay, let's get on this job." I unroll the plans on top of the tool box.
"We got five giants on this floor," I tell the crew. "Two here inna main office, one inna back bathroom. Then round the side we got one against the column and a halfa one inna vault. We got just today to get 'em all out and inna truck, or we don't get paid, not a single quibbit. Skidder, you feel up to tackling a halfa giant?"
"Ah, quit giving me the sponge-glove treatment," growls Skidder. He grabs his tool belt in one hand and his severed tail inna other and off he goes. Nobody sez Skidder ain't a tough-un.
"Beebee, Tucker," I sez, "get inna that john and see if you can knock that giant offa throne. Booksy, Prill; take the one by the column. Busco and Stook, you and me gonna see what we can do about these boys here." The crew splits up, chitting and grumbling. "Oh, and tuck tails up!" I yell. Some of 'em do, even.
Me and Busco and Stook check out the two giants. One's leaning gainsta wall, hands shielding his face. The other's lying onna floor. They're perfectly black, the surface kinda rough-rough and pitted, anda features justa tad distorty. The bomb what got 'em did for 'em quick; the lady onna floor is still screaming, her mouth open. I scuff around her with my boot; she's a bit fused inna floor. On top of that, giants are heavy, but rats got ways.
"Busco, go build me a ramp over by that window," I sez. "Stook, get yer prybars and let's pop-pop these two loose fromma ground. I'm gonna rig up a block and a tackle."
I grab me a climbing-hook and go uppa wall. Rats isn't big like giants, but we're climbing naturals. I scale the wall inna flash and pop up a ceiling tile. The cavity abovva ceiling is fulla dust and mold and burnt electricky stuff. I crawl acrossa ceiling tees until I get above the standing giant, then clip a block and a tackle to a steel beam. Those giants and their steel beams – strong strong strong. I thread a stout chain through one side and drop to the shoulder of the giant. I wrap the chain around his neck and clip it off.
"Gotta ramp built," sez Busco. He's got a nice long slope on it so we can roll the giants right up to the window edge.
"Oh and kay," I sez, "go bring up the skateboards. Stook, howzat girl coming up off the floor."
"She plenty stuck," grumbled Stook, leaning on his prybar. "Im'a hafta getta jackhammer."
"You do that," I sez. Prill comes skittering in.
"Ey Pippo," he sez, jerking a thumb behind him. "That giant onna column is a big, big problem. You better look."
"Scrodge," I reply. Only five stinking giants inna job; how many problems can there be? I follow Prill round to where his giant is. Booksy waits anxiously, chewing on his claws. I look the sitch over, and yeah – 'sbad.
This giant musta been falling when the bomb hit, and he held onna the column for balance, or maybe just to hug something because he was scared. His arms are almost all the way around the column, hugging it. Giant statues are indestructimous; if there's a tool that can break 'em, we haven't found it or made it. I climb up and over the giant from every angle.
I measure the distance between his hands. "Ain't no way to pull him off the column," I sez.
"We could cut out the column and spring him," suggests Booksy.
"Shaddap, Booksy," sez Prill in disgust. "Whatchoo think is holding this funking tower up?"
"We could support it temporary-like," Booksy replies stubbornly. "With a shoring pile may and be."
"Naw, that column holding up the whole tower, upper floors and all," I sez. I suck on my teeth. "I'ma gonna have to think on it a bit. You boys give this up and go see how Skidder's coming along. He's too dumb to take it easy-like."
I go back to the main room. Busco has the skateboards up from the truck. They just long boards with casters on 'em. Busco sets a couple by the woman and puts the rest onna floor in front of the man. I nod, satisfied.
"Oh and kay," I sez. "Let's boost some giants."
I climb up to the ceiling again and run the other end of the chain down to the woman on the floor. I thread it under one armpit and wrap-wrap her body with the chain, clipping it tight. Then I climb up onna man-giant's shoulders and brace my back against the wall, putting my feets on the back of his head. "Ready, boys?"I ask. "A-one. And a-two. And-a HEAVE!"
I push onna man-giant's head, rocking him forward. As he leans towards the floor, I slide down his back and push from lower on down. Pretty soon the giant passes the tipping point and topples. The chain takes up the slack, and the weight of the man lifts the woman-giant off the floor. I ride the man down to a soft landing, his hands and knees supported on some skateboards, which Busco and Stook position for me as the man comes towards the floor. That's one giant on casters.
The woman is clear of the floor by several feet, swinging crazily. Busco jumps on her back to stabilize her while Stook slides a couple of skateboards under her. When everybody's ready, I unclip the chain from around the man's neck and ride it up as the woman falls onto her skates. That's two, I think.
Tucker comes to get me. "Pippo, that fellow onna john won't come out so easy," he sez.
"Why not?!" I complain. "Cheez-o-man, how much scrodge do I got to put up with today??"
"Easy, Pippo," sez Tucker. "It's just that he was prolly reading a paper, see."
"Show me," I sigh, and we go and look. The giant's still perched onna pot with his arms spread wide. Maybe once there was a paper inna hands, but it's rotted away now. Just a stone giant left. Thing is, restroom stall door is really narrow. Beebee has a measure-measure out and shows me the dimensions.
"We can't turnim sideways," sez Beebee, "and there's nothing above him to hoistim on. I think we screwed, boss."
"No we ain't," I sez. "That's why I earn the big quibbit. Let's go see how Skidder's doing with his halfa guy."
Skidder's taking it easy, letting Booksy and Prill get his halfa giant onto the skateboards. This is another lady cut clean in half onna diagonal, butt to boobs. Easy to see why. That bomb went right through glass and concrete and steel, but the zap-zaps couldn't go through lead, and there's plenty of lead plates in that old vault door. Prolly this giant was half behind it when the bomb went off. The part not screened got statuefied; the part inside stayed meat. It rotted away a long long long time ago though.
"You gonna make it, Skidder?" I ask. He looks kinda pale; he macho, but he lost some blood when his tail got docked.
"I already did alla hard work," Skidder sez. "I'ma letting these youngerlings have a go." Prill rolls his eyes, and Booksy wipes sweaties off his brow. They has finished levering the halfa-girl onto skates.
"Bring 'er inna bathroom," I say. As they start heaving on her, I go back to the head and get up inna ceiling with another block and a tackle. When the half giant rolls onna tile floor, I drop down and wrap a chain on her. Then we start ratcheting her up til she halfway up to the ceiling.
"Pippo," sez Skidder wearily, "wouldja quit goofing around?"
"Ain't goofing," I sez. I clip another chain to the giant's wrist, then run back up into the ceiling and set another block and a tackle. I ratchet up on it, taking up the slack. You know when you push a little rat on a swing-swing, first you sometimes pullem back a ways to get a good bit of momentum? It's like that, only it's not a little rat, it's a halfa giant statue.
"Skidder," I sez, "you maybe ought to clear out the john now."
"Yeah, prolly," he concedes, and leads the rest of the crew out.
I release the chain on the statue's wrist. She swings down and BOOM! crashes into the toilet partition. Statue is heavy enough to do some major damage; the partition is almost leaning over and is cracked down the side. I sway up the statue and do it again. SMASH! This time the partition is totally gone, bits bits bits, easy to clear out the way so we can get the other statue off the pot.
"How it's done, boys," I sez, handing Skidder my block and a tackle. "How it's done."
"Pippo, you lazy so-and-so-and-so," shouts a shrill voice, "you ain't touched one giant at all!" It's Zusu, the architect.
"I can splain that," I sez, waving at my crew to keep working on getting the giants out.
"This better be good," Zusu grumps, following me to the fellow on the column.
I tell her what's ZWOT, and she looks the giant up and down. "Yeah, I guess I see the problem," she admits. "Whatchu think we should do?"
"I got an idea," I sez. "How about we frame it in? That giant's standing real close to the column. Just build the wall around him, like. You won't lose too much space, and he'll be behinda wall where's nobody can see him."
Zusu tilts her head, thinking. "It's kinda a dead space anyhow," she says. "Yeah, oh and kay. But guess what, I ain't paying you for five giants; only four! You ain't done no work here to earn your quibbit!"
So we had to have THAT argument, and one guess who lost it. (HINT: it was me.) Oh wells, they can't all be winner-winners chicken-dinners. I go back to see how the crew is doing.
All four giants are packed up on skateboards. The first one is already up on the ramp, poised to go outta window; the rest are queued up. Beebee has rigged the block and a tackle in the window frame so we can sway the giants down inna truck. We almost ready to be done.
"Oi," sez another rat inna yellow hardhat. It's Snurk, a foreman witha demolition crew.
"Ey Snurk," sez I, "what can we do ya out of?"
"Ey Pippo," sez Snurk, "need a favor. My boys got some concrete culvert downstairs that we gotta haul away, but it won't fit inna skid. Be much easier if we could bust it up. Can ya help out?"
I nod. "Sure," I sez. "Booksy, get downstairs and getta truck outta the way. Snurk, get your boys to set your culvert pieces right underra window. Let's go, boys."
As Beebee and Busco maneuver the first giant outta window, I see Booksy backing the truck away. The pieces of concrete pipe get rolled right below us.
"Right," I sez, "everybody stand clear. Beebee, drop that giant." He lets go the chain, and the indestructimous statue drops nine floors. There's a smash anda clatter, and then I hear a high-pitched squeal. It sound like Booksy. Too late, I remember he took his hardhat off when he left the tower. I close my eyes.
"Don't look, boss," sez Prill.
"I ain't looking," I reply.
I mean, there we are, like only an hour inna the day, barely starting work on converting floor nine of the old giant tower on Main and Canal inna upscale condos, nice nice nice, and Skidder gets hurt. Booksy comes and gets me; yo Pippo, he sez, Skidder's got his tail docked. ZWOT? sez I, and we go and see. And there's Skidder, curled up onna floor, and most of his tail's been loppered. Beebee and Tucker were carrying the toolbox and Beebee dropped his end, POW, right on Skidder's tail. Snip, gone! I mean I felt sorry for the guy, sure-sure, but it's his own fault. We post rules on every job site: tie up your tail under your mesh-apron; tuck your ears inside your hardhat; wear goggles and muzzle-guard if you're gonna do hot work so you don't burn a snoot. Everybody gotta do it.
So important in any jobsite, but specially so in a giant tower. Huge old places, left behind wenna giants zapped each other. Sometimes the towers are crumbly bad, and usually we just tear those down. But those giants sure could build it solid, and sometimes those old towers are like mountains. The glass is all busted out, and the insideys have the mold and badness, but the bones of the buildings are stout stout stout. Perfect for rats to build in, even if them giants were, like, four times taller than us.
Of course, first you gotta get the giants out. That's where my crew comes in: Rooby and Pippo's Giant Remediation Service. Everybody thinks it's easy to get giants out of a tower but they wrong-wrong. Giants used to be just big, but then they hadda war and used some kinda weapon. It turn the giants into big black statues – heavy, indestructimous, not going nowheres.
Any old rat can move in a set up shop inna old building. It takes a special kinda rat to move the old owners out first.
Whole crew is gathered around Skidder, wasting time. I boot Tucker. "No more sky-larking!" I yell. "We gotta deadline here! Tucker, get bandage outta the toolbox and help a rat out, eh? Booksy, help Skidder downstairs and get him home."
"Nah, nah," sez Skidder, waving me off. "I wanna stay. Worky-work, gotta keep going. Got my tail docked, can't get pay docked too."
"Fine-fine," I sez. "Don't be a hero though. Oh and kay, let's get on this job." I unroll the plans on top of the tool box.
"We got five giants on this floor," I tell the crew. "Two here inna main office, one inna back bathroom. Then round the side we got one against the column and a halfa one inna vault. We got just today to get 'em all out and inna truck, or we don't get paid, not a single quibbit. Skidder, you feel up to tackling a halfa giant?"
"Ah, quit giving me the sponge-glove treatment," growls Skidder. He grabs his tool belt in one hand and his severed tail inna other and off he goes. Nobody sez Skidder ain't a tough-un.
"Beebee, Tucker," I sez, "get inna that john and see if you can knock that giant offa throne. Booksy, Prill; take the one by the column. Busco and Stook, you and me gonna see what we can do about these boys here." The crew splits up, chitting and grumbling. "Oh, and tuck tails up!" I yell. Some of 'em do, even.
Me and Busco and Stook check out the two giants. One's leaning gainsta wall, hands shielding his face. The other's lying onna floor. They're perfectly black, the surface kinda rough-rough and pitted, anda features justa tad distorty. The bomb what got 'em did for 'em quick; the lady onna floor is still screaming, her mouth open. I scuff around her with my boot; she's a bit fused inna floor. On top of that, giants are heavy, but rats got ways.
"Busco, go build me a ramp over by that window," I sez. "Stook, get yer prybars and let's pop-pop these two loose fromma ground. I'm gonna rig up a block and a tackle."
I grab me a climbing-hook and go uppa wall. Rats isn't big like giants, but we're climbing naturals. I scale the wall inna flash and pop up a ceiling tile. The cavity abovva ceiling is fulla dust and mold and burnt electricky stuff. I crawl acrossa ceiling tees until I get above the standing giant, then clip a block and a tackle to a steel beam. Those giants and their steel beams – strong strong strong. I thread a stout chain through one side and drop to the shoulder of the giant. I wrap the chain around his neck and clip it off.
"Gotta ramp built," sez Busco. He's got a nice long slope on it so we can roll the giants right up to the window edge.
"Oh and kay," I sez, "go bring up the skateboards. Stook, howzat girl coming up off the floor."
"She plenty stuck," grumbled Stook, leaning on his prybar. "Im'a hafta getta jackhammer."
"You do that," I sez. Prill comes skittering in.
"Ey Pippo," he sez, jerking a thumb behind him. "That giant onna column is a big, big problem. You better look."
"Scrodge," I reply. Only five stinking giants inna job; how many problems can there be? I follow Prill round to where his giant is. Booksy waits anxiously, chewing on his claws. I look the sitch over, and yeah – 'sbad.
This giant musta been falling when the bomb hit, and he held onna the column for balance, or maybe just to hug something because he was scared. His arms are almost all the way around the column, hugging it. Giant statues are indestructimous; if there's a tool that can break 'em, we haven't found it or made it. I climb up and over the giant from every angle.
I measure the distance between his hands. "Ain't no way to pull him off the column," I sez.
"We could cut out the column and spring him," suggests Booksy.
"Shaddap, Booksy," sez Prill in disgust. "Whatchoo think is holding this funking tower up?"
"We could support it temporary-like," Booksy replies stubbornly. "With a shoring pile may and be."
"Naw, that column holding up the whole tower, upper floors and all," I sez. I suck on my teeth. "I'ma gonna have to think on it a bit. You boys give this up and go see how Skidder's coming along. He's too dumb to take it easy-like."
I go back to the main room. Busco has the skateboards up from the truck. They just long boards with casters on 'em. Busco sets a couple by the woman and puts the rest onna floor in front of the man. I nod, satisfied.
"Oh and kay," I sez. "Let's boost some giants."
I climb up to the ceiling again and run the other end of the chain down to the woman on the floor. I thread it under one armpit and wrap-wrap her body with the chain, clipping it tight. Then I climb up onna man-giant's shoulders and brace my back against the wall, putting my feets on the back of his head. "Ready, boys?"I ask. "A-one. And a-two. And-a HEAVE!"
I push onna man-giant's head, rocking him forward. As he leans towards the floor, I slide down his back and push from lower on down. Pretty soon the giant passes the tipping point and topples. The chain takes up the slack, and the weight of the man lifts the woman-giant off the floor. I ride the man down to a soft landing, his hands and knees supported on some skateboards, which Busco and Stook position for me as the man comes towards the floor. That's one giant on casters.
The woman is clear of the floor by several feet, swinging crazily. Busco jumps on her back to stabilize her while Stook slides a couple of skateboards under her. When everybody's ready, I unclip the chain from around the man's neck and ride it up as the woman falls onto her skates. That's two, I think.
Tucker comes to get me. "Pippo, that fellow onna john won't come out so easy," he sez.
"Why not?!" I complain. "Cheez-o-man, how much scrodge do I got to put up with today??"
"Easy, Pippo," sez Tucker. "It's just that he was prolly reading a paper, see."
"Show me," I sigh, and we go and look. The giant's still perched onna pot with his arms spread wide. Maybe once there was a paper inna hands, but it's rotted away now. Just a stone giant left. Thing is, restroom stall door is really narrow. Beebee has a measure-measure out and shows me the dimensions.
"We can't turnim sideways," sez Beebee, "and there's nothing above him to hoistim on. I think we screwed, boss."
"No we ain't," I sez. "That's why I earn the big quibbit. Let's go see how Skidder's doing with his halfa guy."
Skidder's taking it easy, letting Booksy and Prill get his halfa giant onto the skateboards. This is another lady cut clean in half onna diagonal, butt to boobs. Easy to see why. That bomb went right through glass and concrete and steel, but the zap-zaps couldn't go through lead, and there's plenty of lead plates in that old vault door. Prolly this giant was half behind it when the bomb went off. The part not screened got statuefied; the part inside stayed meat. It rotted away a long long long time ago though.
"You gonna make it, Skidder?" I ask. He looks kinda pale; he macho, but he lost some blood when his tail got docked.
"I already did alla hard work," Skidder sez. "I'ma letting these youngerlings have a go." Prill rolls his eyes, and Booksy wipes sweaties off his brow. They has finished levering the halfa-girl onto skates.
"Bring 'er inna bathroom," I say. As they start heaving on her, I go back to the head and get up inna ceiling with another block and a tackle. When the half giant rolls onna tile floor, I drop down and wrap a chain on her. Then we start ratcheting her up til she halfway up to the ceiling.
"Pippo," sez Skidder wearily, "wouldja quit goofing around?"
"Ain't goofing," I sez. I clip another chain to the giant's wrist, then run back up into the ceiling and set another block and a tackle. I ratchet up on it, taking up the slack. You know when you push a little rat on a swing-swing, first you sometimes pullem back a ways to get a good bit of momentum? It's like that, only it's not a little rat, it's a halfa giant statue.
"Skidder," I sez, "you maybe ought to clear out the john now."
"Yeah, prolly," he concedes, and leads the rest of the crew out.
I release the chain on the statue's wrist. She swings down and BOOM! crashes into the toilet partition. Statue is heavy enough to do some major damage; the partition is almost leaning over and is cracked down the side. I sway up the statue and do it again. SMASH! This time the partition is totally gone, bits bits bits, easy to clear out the way so we can get the other statue off the pot.
"How it's done, boys," I sez, handing Skidder my block and a tackle. "How it's done."
"Pippo, you lazy so-and-so-and-so," shouts a shrill voice, "you ain't touched one giant at all!" It's Zusu, the architect.
"I can splain that," I sez, waving at my crew to keep working on getting the giants out.
"This better be good," Zusu grumps, following me to the fellow on the column.
I tell her what's ZWOT, and she looks the giant up and down. "Yeah, I guess I see the problem," she admits. "Whatchu think we should do?"
"I got an idea," I sez. "How about we frame it in? That giant's standing real close to the column. Just build the wall around him, like. You won't lose too much space, and he'll be behinda wall where's nobody can see him."
Zusu tilts her head, thinking. "It's kinda a dead space anyhow," she says. "Yeah, oh and kay. But guess what, I ain't paying you for five giants; only four! You ain't done no work here to earn your quibbit!"
So we had to have THAT argument, and one guess who lost it. (HINT: it was me.) Oh wells, they can't all be winner-winners chicken-dinners. I go back to see how the crew is doing.
All four giants are packed up on skateboards. The first one is already up on the ramp, poised to go outta window; the rest are queued up. Beebee has rigged the block and a tackle in the window frame so we can sway the giants down inna truck. We almost ready to be done.
"Oi," sez another rat inna yellow hardhat. It's Snurk, a foreman witha demolition crew.
"Ey Snurk," sez I, "what can we do ya out of?"
"Ey Pippo," sez Snurk, "need a favor. My boys got some concrete culvert downstairs that we gotta haul away, but it won't fit inna skid. Be much easier if we could bust it up. Can ya help out?"
I nod. "Sure," I sez. "Booksy, get downstairs and getta truck outta the way. Snurk, get your boys to set your culvert pieces right underra window. Let's go, boys."
As Beebee and Busco maneuver the first giant outta window, I see Booksy backing the truck away. The pieces of concrete pipe get rolled right below us.
"Right," I sez, "everybody stand clear. Beebee, drop that giant." He lets go the chain, and the indestructimous statue drops nine floors. There's a smash anda clatter, and then I hear a high-pitched squeal. It sound like Booksy. Too late, I remember he took his hardhat off when he left the tower. I close my eyes.
"Don't look, boss," sez Prill.
"I ain't looking," I reply.
