Some of my family stories are true to the letter, while others have been stretched yet maintain that kernel that started it in the first place. The following was told to me by my brother, as his son had told him.
Late fall was coming on, with blast of premature snow. Nathan Peck was a Chicago city engineer who
worked with all departments. Nathan has a gift, one of many. He makes friends, tells awesome stories, and
plays the most unimaginable practical jokes on any vulnerable person.
The saran wrap across the toilet seat? Amateurs.
Change out the black and white keys of the keyboard? Smirk.
Collecting all the chairs from the waiting room and stacking
them in the CEO’s office? Hmph.
In one freezing November in Chicago, Nathan received a call
from one of the field workers who reported something that caused Nathan to race
out the office and squeal out the parking lot.
When he arrived, the guys pointed to the frozen specimen of a five-foot
alligator, sticking out a drainage pipe. They wrapped orange cord under and around
the frozen carnivore, and it took all eight men to dislodge the swamp dweller
from the ice.
