Kahloed Might Be a New Verb

This post is definitely a new addition to the canon of the best gruesome stories, and you know it is true and I am not lying, for real, because it happened to my sister's best friend at her old job in another state.

My sister used to work with her best friend at a large apartment complex in a city somewhere between Freezing Cold and Fucked Up, Ohio. Jess and I are cooling out at our parent's crib, getting ready to fight over the TV channel for old times' sake when she gets this phone call...

Apparently when her friend checked into work, the pool guy called her up and said, "Uh, you GOT to come see this mess at the pool." The friend replied "Look. I've seen it when people throw furniture in the pool and I've seen barf and beer cans all over that thing--just clean it up and let's open for business." To which the pool guy responded, "No, this is different and way way worse. Just get out here."

The pools of blood were big, for sure. Although they had been there under the pool fence long enough to begin clotting in large clumps like freshly mown wet grass, the puddles were deep and still wet and sticky on the surface. A patio chair had been pushed up to the edge of the fence, and on the other side, a large stone ashtray had been kicked over. Spilt sand from the ashtray absorbed a lot of the blood, leaving a lot more to puddle on the pavement. Bloody fingerprints were smeared all over the signage and fenceposts.

Here's two photos:





Once the cops got there, they started roping everything off with yellow Caution tape and documenting the scene with Polaroids. The weirdest thing was there were no trails of blood, or any evidence to indicate that the victims had done anything other than teleported away from the scene of the crime.

Several hours later, detectives contacted my sister's friend. They found someone at the hospital whose injuries fit the scene. Apparently a woman had been climbing the iron gate to the pool in a surge of hot drunken bravado. She had one foot on the patio chair, and the other foot on the large stone ashtray, groin purchased precariously over the spikes on the fence...when the ashtray tipped and she dropped, crotch-first onto the iron spikes, impaling herself.

Somehow she got out of there and into the hospital, having emergency surgery to replace the buckets of lost blood. Reproduction by natural means is no longer an option for this poor lady. We were talking to some lawyer friend over drinks last night, and wondering: what are the legal implications of this horrible accident? Like, can the woman sue the apartment complex? Can they sue her for trespassing? What responsibilities does each party have?

And remember readers: this is in America, where everybody sues everybody else for everything all day long. As a matter of fact, I have just filed a cease-and-desist order against my own sister to get her to stop watching the Gilmore Girls when there are Smallville reruns on...

posted by Jeff Simmermon @ 12:06 PM