ceiling fan
August 1995

I managed the country club pool, Dave took care of the adjacent snack bar. One night, after work, he was
climbing up on a counter to retrieve a small cereal box we had thrown into the ceiling fan and which had got
stuck up on a pipe. He shoulda ducked. The metal blade caught him above the ear; he bled a lot. Is it bad?
he asked. You don't need stitches, I said. The skin, a big chunk of it, was only partly detached, formed a little flap.

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