MEL- The Rat Killer!

[bdahunter]

The first big commercial job I worked on as an apprentice carpenter was a retail mall in Toronto, Canada. This was back in the 70's and I was impressed with all of the heavy equipment and the experienced trades I was now working with and how everything was so much bigger and complicated than the houses I'd been working on up to this point in my career. This was also my first experience with unionized trades and I got along really well with most of them, especially the ironworkers. Ironworkers are those guys who walk around on steel I-beams hundreds of feet up in the air without any lifelines, they assemble the steel structure that makes up the skeleton of the building that the rest of the trades flesh out to make a finished building. Being an ironworker is not for the faint of heart and in Canada most of the guys in the trade are either Mohawks from the 6 Nations Indian Reserve or Newfies from the east coast of Canada, hardworking, hard drinking men with little fear but a great sense of humour.
I'd been on the job about 2 months and the ironworkers had adopted me because like them I worked hard, drank hard and could handle myself in a bar brawl. These guys were always playing practical jokes on the other trades and each other but especially on the foremen and supers. Anyone wearing a white hard hat with nicely polished boots had better keep their wits about them when the ironworkers were around or they would wind up the butt of one of these practical jokes.
Mel was the Toolpush on the job, essentially he ran the toolcrib and signed out the tools to the workers as needed and maintained the tools when they got damaged. Mel was like most Toolpushes, a bit of a tightass because that was his job but generally an affable kind of guy and we liked him even though he was somewhere between a foreman and a super in the construction site pecking order. Mel had one serious pet peeve and that's always a vulnerability if you have a bunch of practical jokers working with you, Mel HATED RATS! Now I'm not talking dislike I mean Hate! Mel just had to catch wind of a rat on the job site and he'd come out of the toolcrib swinging a long handled shovel at the run like a Crusader hunting Saracens in the Crusades. Mel was obsessed with eliminating every rat from the jobsite and if possible the planet, it bordered on a mania with the guy.
Now it didn't take the ironworkers long to figure out that the reason Mel wanted to kill all of the rats was because he was afraid of them. One of the foreman told us guys over coffee that a couple of years prior, Mel had reached into one of the cubbyholes in the toolcrib to get a drill and been bitten on the hand by a rat that had made a nest in the back of the cubby hole. From that day forth, Mel had a mania for killing rats, so this was our opportunity to have some fun!
FBI and Joe the Newf brought me into the conspiracy to play a Joke on Mel. FBI(fugging big indian) was the lead hand for the Mohawk crew of the ironworkers and a giant of a man, easily 6'8", with a huge barrel chest and a stare that would make you melt if he was angry and tough as nails to boot. FBI got into a bar scrap one night when we were out drinking together and beat the heck out of 4 guys all by himself. I never got to throw a single punch because he kept all the fun to himself, a little bit selfish I guess but it was fun watching FBI bounce those boys around the bar with one hand while he held on to the instigator in a vicelike headlock. Joe the Newf was a short stocky newfie with plenty of Irish twinkle in his blue eyes and a shock of black hair that was like a batt of fibreglass it was so thick, only 5'6" tall he ran the Newfie end of the ironworkers with an ironfist and was best mates with FBI. The only guy on the crew who could drink FBI under the table was Joe the Newf and we all joked that he had a wooden leg to hold all that Screech.(Screech is newfie white lightning that is good for starting your barbecue with as well as being rather tasty when mixed with ice and Coke) I certainly couldn't outdrink Joe and I wouldn't even think about taking on FBI in a dust up but for some reason they took a shine to me and I was included in the prank against Mel.
We dug up a dirty old mophead from somewhere on the site, black and rank it was, then we cut two pieces of reflective orange safety tape to make rat eyes that we stuck on the black mophead. Through the metal hook for the mophead we tied some some rebar tiewire and then we were ready except that we had to get Mel out of the toolcrib to set up the prank. Getting Mel out of the toolcrib was harder than we figured because as I said most toolpushes are tightasses and guard their toolcribs like pitbulls, Mel wouldn't even go to the Johnny on the Spot except at breaktime and lunch when he could lock down the toolcrib to prevent theft.
After a couple of days of trying to lure Mel out of the toolcrib without success we came up with a plan. I'd lure Mel out of with a false report of a big rat on the site and FBI and Joe would set up the prank while Mel was looking for the ficticious rat. I came running up to Mel early the next morning after the rush to collect tools was over, while FBI and Joe the Newf hid behind some form panels with the mophead rat.
"MEL!! There's a big rat caught in the lunchroom, grab your shovel, QUICK!" I screamed with as much urgency as I could manage.
Mel grabbed up his long handled shovel in a flash and was hot on my heels as I lead the way to the lunchroom and the evil rodent. FBI and Joe slipped into the toolcrib as soon as we were gone and wired up the mophead rat in one of the cubbyholes in the back of the toolcrib. This tool crib was a shipping container that was lined with hooks for heavy gear down one side and wooden cubbyhole boxes down the other, the whole 40' container being lit by two 60 watt bulbs so it was pretty dingy at the best of times but FBI reached up and backed off the bulb at the back of the container to make it even darker after they rigged up the 'Rat'. Joe the Newf stuffed the 'Rat' into the last cubbyhole at chest height and then fed the tiewire lead out of that cubby and back through the next one and then along behind the rest of the rack to the front of the tool crib. "Rat" in place and lights dimmed FBI and Joe were all set when Mel and I came back from our failed hunt to kill the big rat in the lunchroom.(it had gotten away by the time Mel got there)
As Mel and I walked up to the toolcrib (Mel a bit dejected because he hadn't been able to use his shovel on the rat) Joe piped up "Hey, Mel!" says Joe "a great big black rat just slipped into your toolcrib while we were waiting to get a couple of rolls of tiewire."
"WHAT!" says Mel "A Stinking Rat in MY Toolcrib!"
"How big was it, Joe?" I asked inquisitively.
"Oh he was some big" says Joe holding his hand 18" inches or so apart like a fisherman.
Mel's eyes bugged out at the size of the rat and he finally said "Nah, it can't be that big."
"That's the same one that was in the lunchroom Mel." I replied "I saw it with my own eyes and he's a big sucker and all Black!"
"That's right" says Joe "This one was Jet Black, justs the same."
FBI who had said nothing up until this point finally grunted his agreement to Joe's statement.
Mel had a dilemna on his hands now, this was a big @#$%& rat and it was in his toolcrib so it was his problem. Mel wasn't going to let this rat set up a home in his toolcrib though so he marched into the toolcrib with his shovel held high. "We'll give you a hand" said Joe and I, grabbing up a grub hoe and a corn broom; FBI stayed behind with the length of tiewire to "the rat" in his hand.
Joe and I made a big show of jamming the handles of our weapons into the cubby holes and around the rest of the gear while Mel lead the way, probing slower and slower as we moved into the back of the toolcrib and it got darker and darker. We could tell by Mel's posture that he was taut as a tripwire as we neared the back of the toolcrib, he was stooped over looking at the back corner of the floor with his shovel poised to strike at the rat he expected to find trapped in the corner, the gloom made it very hard to see. Just as Mel came abreast of the cubbyhole with 'the rat' in it Joe yelled out at the top of his lungs "THERE IT IS!!" which was the cue to FBI to yank on the tiewire. The Mophead Rat with the glow-in-the-dark orange eyes came rocketing out of its' hiding place in the cubbyhole and hit poor Mel square in the neck, then it bounced away into the next cubbyhole and rattled away behind the rest of the rack on its way home to FBI on the other end of the line.
BAAAH HAAA HAAA, WOOOO HOOO HA HA! We All Laughed. All of us excepted for Mel who stood stalk still, petrified with fear. FBI came charging down the toolcrib roaring that big powerful laugh of his and turned the light back on so we could better see Mel's expression, it wasn't what we were expecting.
Mel was as white as a sheet, all the blood was drained out of his face and hands, his hands held the shovel in a deathgrip and he was weaving on his feet like a drunk. Mel's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he started to keel over, we were just able to catch him before he crashed into the pile of equipment on the other side of the toolcrib. We dragged Mel's unconcious form to the front of the crib to get him some air and I broke open the First Aid Kit for some smelling salts. I finally found the bottle of smelling salts and passed it under Mel's nose a couple of times and Mel sputtered back to conciousness and started grasping around in a panic for his shovel so he could defend himself from the 'killer rat' that had attacked him. Joe assured him that the rat was 'gone now' and it was all okay. Mel had a red welt where the metal hook from the mophead had smacked into his neck and I wiped this down with antiseptic from the kit but otherwise he was all right. He was never far from his trusty shovel over the next week just in case the rat came back for another go at him.
Things hadn't worked out quite the way we planned and we considered ourselves lucky that we hadn't killed Mel from a heart attack. It was a great joke but we couldn't tell anybody so we kept it just between the three of us, FBI, Joe the Newf and Myself. Everytime the topic of rats came up we'd all break a smile and nobody else could figure out why, least of all, MEL!

Cheers,

Eric

[Deefburger]

I love your stories man! I really do!

Your a very talented writer. You should collect these posts in one place and publish a book sometime in the future. And when you do, I want to be the buyer of a signed first edition!

Story telling is an art, and you my friend are an artist!

[anne]

As usual.........Brilliant

[rip]

Good one bud ! My buddy's and I are allways doing stuff like that to each other.I like to drive down the road and wait for everyone to get comfortable,then slam on the brakes and scream oh shi...eeet ! Or just wait till there least expecting it then grab em and go BLAH !!! Once put a 4 foot black snake in my bud's toolbox then asked him if I could borrow a screwdriver....

[bdahunter]

Originally Posted by rip

Good one bud ! My buddy's and I are allways doing stuff like that to each other.I like to drive down the road and wait for everyone to get comfortable,then slam on the brakes and scream oh shi...eeet ! Or just wait till there least expecting it then grab em and go BLAH !!! Once put a 4 foot black snake in my bud's toolbox then asked him if I could borrow a screwdriver....

Some how I'm not surprised, Mate. It's getting harder to have any fun these days as political correctness creeps into the work place. My foreman Mike pied his superintendent in front of the whole crew on his last day at his previous company. The guys were all lined up in front and when the superintendent shook Mike's hand, Mike clamped on with one hand and pulled a cream pie from behind his back, POW Right in the Kisser. All the guys had their cell phones ready to capture the moment with the built in cameras that cellphone all come with now. Hillarious! The super was a real brown nosing jerk and had it coming.

Cheers Mate,

BDA

[bdahunter]

Originally Posted by Deefburger

I love your stories man! I really do!

Your a very talented writer. You should collect these posts in one place and publish a book sometime in the future. And when you do, I want to be the buyer of a signed first edition!

Story telling is an art, and you my friend are an artist!

Thank You for the compliment, Deef. I've always loved telling stories and my Princess has convinced me to start saving them for a collection of short stories. It may happen as a book sometime, who can say?

Cheers,

BDA

[bigbillinsc]

BD I sure hope mel doesnt read this... even after all these years he may HUNT YOU DOWN.

wish i had been there... TFF...

never let any one know your phobias.they can be used against ya.

happy huntin

[Deefburger]

When I worked for Litton in San Carlos, we used to mess with the cops' radar. We were a defense contractor, making radar for planes and missiles. The street we were on was a main feed to the Circle Star Theater just over the city line between San Carlos and Redwood City. And when ever there was a show, the Redwood City cops would be parked down the street on their side of the line, with their radar guns to pop people who were late for the show.

So, we decided one night to rig one of our High power fighter plane setups to run in the same freq band as the cops were using and feed their guns a stronger signal than the reflections from the cars. We could make them read anything we wanted! We could see them down the street in their car with the gun out the driverside window and reading the gun in their rear view mirror.
Then we'd switch on the radar for a moment and send 'em a 200MPH reading. The gun would disappear into the car for a minute, and them come back out again. An other shot, only this time 10MPH, The traffic is doing 35. Gun disappears into the car again. Now the cop gets out with it and points it down the street standing up.
50, 75, 100, 150! Wer're turning up the dial and he's lookin at the traffic, the gun, the traffic again, looking for the drag race that's comming at him, and all he sees are the regular traffic going to the show! He turns around and points it the other way and every thing is normal. Turns back in our direction and everthing is normal!
So he gets back into the car, stick the gun out the window again, and once again, Drag Race!
He jumps out this time, looking down the street again and can't see anything!
So he throws the radar gun into the trunk of his car and drives off!
Mission Accomplished!

Eventually they figured out what was going on, and one day the chief of police from Redwood City showed up at the plant to complain. But that same day some Bird Col. was inspecting the plant and He walked right up to the Chief and said, "If your boys want play with thier toys and and don't like MY boys playin with theirs, then I suggest you tell your boys to go play someplace else!"

I liked that guy!

[prizm-pal]

Thanks for the story Bda...still waiting for warm weather here...it is 35 deg with 30mph winds...about 5 deg wind chill factor...since I haven't been feeling the best just cant take the cold...goes right thru me! Talk soon mate! Chick!

[rip]

Originally Posted by bdahunter

Some how I'm not surprised, Mate. It's getting harder to have any fun these days as political correctness creeps into the work place. My foreman Mike pied his superintendent in front of the whole crew on his last day at his previous company. The guys were all lined up in front and when the superintendent shook Mike's hand, Mike clamped on with one hand and pulled a cream pie from behind his back, POW Right in the Kisser. All the guys had their cell phones ready to capture the moment with the built in cameras that cellphone all come with now. Hillarious! The super was a real brown nosing jerk and had it coming.

Cheers Mate,

BDA

I hear ya on the political correctness,My bud's and I never call each other by our proper names if ya know what I mean ! Now we have new owners of the co. I work for and we have to be all prim and proper like with copany shirts and all that. But we usually arent around any of the "big cheese's" for long as they stay back at the shop while we'r all out on the road.

I once worked for a crazy German guy.One day he left his camera in the break room,so we all lined up and showed the camera the moon then put it back.Couple days later I come to work and met up with one very irrate crazy German standin there chompin on a big ole cigar with the veins in his neck about to pop,and he says something like "well I see your not in the photo so what were YOU doing when this photo was taken " OOP"S BUSTED !