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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Death / Heartbreak / Loss
- Published: 06/11/2012
Andy was obsessed with numbers. It had nothing to do with his job; he worked at a car wash. But dates, times, ratios, percentages, they were all he ever thought about. He would get up at exactly seven thirty every morning; he would leave for work at exactly eight. He knew exactly how much time it took to get to his work; he had taken a day off and drove back and forth from his work to his apartment, then rounded the numbers. One time he had missed his departure time by less than five minutes, so he called in sick that day. He didn’t favor even or odd numbers as some people do. But being late for something was his biggest fear, even above his fear of bath tubs (he knew the chances of dying in one are: 1 in a million) his fear of dogs (chances of being killed by one: 1 in 700,000), or even his fear of cars (chances of being killed in a car crash: 1 in 5,000).
This day started like any other. He got out of bed at exactly eight o’clock on the third ring of the alarm clock, like he always did. He got dressed and cut up his bagel for breakfast; he had to cut it up since it was the top most likely bread item to choke on. He left for work exactly on time, and driving in his car (a #1 top safety pick) would have made it to work right on time. But less than ten minutes from his house he ran into dead traffic. Within sight he could see what was causing the backed up traffic, a plane crash. The traffic wasn’t moving an inch, and he had to be on time. So he got out of his car and began to walk. He walked along a ditch, as quickly as he could. Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks. In the ditch, slivering towards him, was a cobra. He backed away before breaking into a run. He ran past house after house. Then he began to scream as scolding hot water rushed onto him. Apparently a pipe had broken and he was now being burned by near boiling water spouting from the ground. His clothes were melted to his burned skin, he had to get help. He crawled away from the deadly water, and looked around. There was nobody in sight. He began to crawl to the nearest house, a fancy modern house, the lawn filled with tropical plants. The cool grass felt good on his scorched skin but he still grimaced with the pain of the burns as he made his way to the house. The door of the house got closer as he used the last of his strength on the painful journey. The door was fifteen feet away… now ten… five… CLUNK. A coconut had fallen from the tallest tree in the yard; it hit Andy in the head, split his skull, and killed him instantly. The chances of coconuts killing people are miniscule. And, as Andy would have liked to know, the chances of dying because of backed up traffic from a plane crash, running from a snake into boiling water, and having a coconut fall on you were one in 300 million.
300,000,000(Ben Winters)
Andy was obsessed with numbers. It had nothing to do with his job; he worked at a car wash. But dates, times, ratios, percentages, they were all he ever thought about. He would get up at exactly seven thirty every morning; he would leave for work at exactly eight. He knew exactly how much time it took to get to his work; he had taken a day off and drove back and forth from his work to his apartment, then rounded the numbers. One time he had missed his departure time by less than five minutes, so he called in sick that day. He didn’t favor even or odd numbers as some people do. But being late for something was his biggest fear, even above his fear of bath tubs (he knew the chances of dying in one are: 1 in a million) his fear of dogs (chances of being killed by one: 1 in 700,000), or even his fear of cars (chances of being killed in a car crash: 1 in 5,000).
This day started like any other. He got out of bed at exactly eight o’clock on the third ring of the alarm clock, like he always did. He got dressed and cut up his bagel for breakfast; he had to cut it up since it was the top most likely bread item to choke on. He left for work exactly on time, and driving in his car (a #1 top safety pick) would have made it to work right on time. But less than ten minutes from his house he ran into dead traffic. Within sight he could see what was causing the backed up traffic, a plane crash. The traffic wasn’t moving an inch, and he had to be on time. So he got out of his car and began to walk. He walked along a ditch, as quickly as he could. Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks. In the ditch, slivering towards him, was a cobra. He backed away before breaking into a run. He ran past house after house. Then he began to scream as scolding hot water rushed onto him. Apparently a pipe had broken and he was now being burned by near boiling water spouting from the ground. His clothes were melted to his burned skin, he had to get help. He crawled away from the deadly water, and looked around. There was nobody in sight. He began to crawl to the nearest house, a fancy modern house, the lawn filled with tropical plants. The cool grass felt good on his scorched skin but he still grimaced with the pain of the burns as he made his way to the house. The door of the house got closer as he used the last of his strength on the painful journey. The door was fifteen feet away… now ten… five… CLUNK. A coconut had fallen from the tallest tree in the yard; it hit Andy in the head, split his skull, and killed him instantly. The chances of coconuts killing people are miniscule. And, as Andy would have liked to know, the chances of dying because of backed up traffic from a plane crash, running from a snake into boiling water, and having a coconut fall on you were one in 300 million.
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