Prone: A Novel
By Kelly M. Logue
Copyright © 2015 Kelly M. Logue.
All rights reserved worldwide
THE ARTICLES OF FREEDOM
ARTICLE I: "Qu'est-ce que c'est?"
ARTICLE II: North to Alaska
ARTICLE III: “Same as it ever was...”
ARTICLE IV: The Conqueror
ARTICLE V: “And the days go by...”
ARTICLE VI: The High and the Mighty
ARTICLE VII: “Now she's starting to rise..."
ARTICLE VIII: True Grit
ARTICLE IX: “Once in a lifetime...”
ARTICLE X: The Greatest Story Ever Told
ARTICLE XI: “Run, run, run away...”
ARTICLE XII: Angel and the Badman
ARTICLE XIII: “Psycho Killer…”
ARTICLE XIV: She Wore a Yellow Ribbon
ARTICLE XV: “And She Was…”
ARTICLE XVI: The Alamo
END NOTES
“I’m not gonna hit ya… I’m not gonna hit ya…
The Hell I’m NOT!”
John Wayne
McLintock!
Article I: "Qu'est-ce que c'est?"
“Believe it or not,” the investigator said, “this innocent looking paper cup is responsible for more governmental fraud than all of Congress.”
Marion liked this man. Not that she had any great desire for the man himself. For one thing, he was at least 30 years her senior. Then there was the fact that his hair was thinning, and he was all but bald on top. He had combed over whatever hair remained in a failed attempt to hide his shame. He also had a gut that flopped over his slacks. That combined with the button down shirt he wore gave the man a clownish appearance. And, his breath, oh god, his breath smelled awful: a combination of stale cigarettes and onions.
Still despite herself, Marion liked this man, but damn if she could remember his name. That was the curse of the Morrison clan though: faulty memory.
It was her first day on the job, and the investigator had been brought in to give her a quick rundown on what Workers’ Compensation was all about. Marion had the sense that everything he had told her, and everything he was about to tell her, was well rehearsed. Still he told it in an entertaining way, and when he spoke he commanded attention.
“A lot of times we’ll get a call that someone slipped at work. The injured worker will claim they hurt their back. The first thing I ask the supervisor is: Did you see a paper cup? There is usually a long pause, and then the supervisor will admit that yeah they saw a cup. A lot of them will even go so far as to say they picked it up and threw it away. Then I know it’s a scam. See here’s how it works…”
The investigator paused to confirm that she was still listening. He needn’t have worried; Marion was a captive audience.
“Guy will wait until his break, see. He’ll stop by the breakroom and grab a paper cup from the coffee station. They use a paper cup because it's not likely to draw a lot of suspicion. Anyway, guy with cup in hand will go into the bathroom and piss in the cup. Then he’ll come out and walk to a place with a lot of foot traffic like a lobby or waiting area. He’ll wait until the coast is clear and then dump the piss out onto the floor. After that he’ll lie down next to the piss and wait for someone to find him. Usually doesn’t take long. When he’s discovered, that’s when the sob story starts. It’s some variation of “I don’t know what happened, must have slipped. Ow! My back!”
Marion giggled. The investigator smiled, and then continued.
“See, back injuries are notoriously difficult to disprove. An X-ray isn’t going to show you much unless you break a bone. Even if the doctor says there’s no evidence of bruising, the guy will just turn around and say he must have strained something in the fall. You know how I know to look for a cup?”
Marion shook her head.
“Human nature. Nine times out of ten folks won’t clean up after themselves. Why would they when somebody else will do it for them? The thought doesn’t even occur to most of these jokers to toss the cup in the trash before they lie down. They just toss the cup aside. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“What if it’s a woman?” Marion asked.
“Good question,” the investigator answered. “You see, it’s not so easy for a lady to pee in a cup. Nothing to aim with, you know.”
Marion giggled, again
“So, a woman will get their boyfriend or husband to piss in a thermos. Then she’ll smuggle the thermos in with their purse. After that the scam runs the same. She goes to bathroom with thermos in hand and pour the piss from the thermos into the cup. Then sploosh, pour the piss from cup onto the floor. The women are usually smart enough to hide the thermos back in their purse, but they’ll still toss the cup aside, just like everyone else.”
Marion grimaced.
“Yeah, it’s pretty disgusting.” The investigator said. “But all the scammer is thinking about is that sweet, sweet payout if they can get away with it.”
The investigator paused for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts, then he continued: “When it comes down to it, it’s a pretty stupid scam but the people who do it are the ones who think they are smarter than everybody else. The two most common places I see this scam are in hospitals and schools. It’s pretty rare for a doctor to pull this kind of thing. Mostly it’s nurses, teachers, and secretaries. Again, it’s those folks who think they’ve got a little more brains than everybody else around them.”
The investigator crushed the paper cup in his hand and tossed it aside.
“So here’s what you got to remember…” Marion could tell that the investigator was starting to run out steam. “People will try to get away with as much as they can, but they are often betrayed by human nature. And most importantly…”
“Always look for the paper cup.” Marion answered.
The investigator smiled.
The rest of the day was pretty much uneventful. Marion really had no idea what it was she was supposed to be doing, and in typical governmental fashion no one had bothered to tell her.
No one talked to her, which really wasn’t much of a surprise. It wasn’t like back home in the village. In the village everyone is family, regardless of what clan you belong too. Here, she was an Indian surrounded by strange pale faces. And despite being part of the Morrison clan, Marion wasn’t really one to put herself out there and ask a lot of questions. She had been taught different. What she had been taught growing up was it was best to remain invisible.
So, Marion sat at her desk and tried to look busy. She remembered something about a lunch break but couldn’t remember when that was, so she skipped lunch. She hated herself for not just asking someone, especially when her stomach began to growl in protest.
At some point Nature called but she held out for as long as humanly possible. When a screaming bladder could no longer be ignored, she got up and rushed to the bathroom, praying the entire time that no one would say anything.
Marion wished she could just go home, but that wasn’t the answer. She had to keep this job. She had lived in Glacier Mountain, Alaska for almost two years, now. And, deep down she really wanted to make it work. This was her first real job, her first grown up job, really. Before this, she had worked part time at some horrible retail job with the local pharmacy, and there was no way in hell she was ever going to do a job like that again. She’d kill herself, first.
When Marion started the trek back to her desk she saw a middle-aged blonde woman sitting at her desk. It took Marion a moment to realize that this was the woman who had hired her. Marion’s heart sank. This was it. She was going to be fired. Fired after only one day. Stupid Indian she cursed under her breath.
But today she reluctantly approached her desk.
The blonde woman looked up as Marion approached.
“Oh there you are.”
Shit, Marion thought, what was the woman’s name?
“Sorry, I couldn’t sit down with you sooner. I was in meetings all day.”
Marion hung her head low, expecting the worst. Her brown face suddenly went red.
“Did you go to lunch today?”
Marion shook her head.
“Grab your lunch and come with me.” The blonde woman said.
“Let me guess,” Gail said, “Frank told you all about the paper cup.”
Marion smiled. Gail led her downstairs to the breakroom. There were a couple of round tables with four or five chairs between them and a fridge in the corner, but otherwise the tiny room was bare.
“I bet he went on and on about that stupid paper cup but didn’t bother to tell you anything about the job or the work you are supposed to do.”
Marion reluctantly nodded. She didn’t want to get Frank in trouble. He had been nice to her.
“He did the same thing to me when I started here about ten years ago. Probably the
Accident Prone: A Novel Page 1