Pulling A Nail Part II

I had no desire to be where I was, but once on the roof I had no chance of turning back. With the eyes of my peers glued to my every move, I recognized the limits of my own free will and my inability to back down from the task at hand. Sure, I could have told my coach there was no way I was going up that ladder, but the pressures of high school masculinity dictated otherwise.
Fighting the temptation to scream for help and cling to the ladder until the fire department rescued me like a kitten, I pressed my toes against the slippery top rung and stretched my hammer as far as I could. With my hips thrust against the metal rung, I begged for a quick death in the event I fall, which was growing more and more likely as my self confidence shrunk to that of a paraplegic tandem entered in a potato sack race. As my classmates urged me on through the whistling winds, I finally secured a hold on the nail with the back portion of my hammer. I wiggled and strained for it to loosen, but to no avail. It could have been cemented in for all I knew because the cylindrical piece of metal refused to budge. I struggled to regain a tactical approach to remove the nail, but the cold weather forced a chill into my bones that shook the very ladder I stood on.
With my hammer briefly secured on the nail, I was well past the point of no return. I had one chance left to pull the nail before the group would retreat back to the warmth of the building and the spectacle would be lost, as would my fame. With all of my might, I half reached, half jumped, to improve the angle of the hammer so that I might generate enough leverage to pull the little bugger out. In one downward swipe, my feet reconnected with the slippery rung as my arm simultaneously torqued the nail from the roof. The hammer flew behind me over my head, still in my grasp, but the rusty nail fell to the ground. My body recoiled from the abrupt landing on such a narrow surface and I lost my footing. With all my weight moving backwards, I failed to regain my initial hold on the top of the ladder. Hammer in hand, I clawed and squeezed to regain a hold with my left, but my efforts were futile. As the silver rungs of the ladder flew past my face, images of my family crying at my funeral flooded my mind. I saw memories of my childhood flicker in and out of my eyes as gravity had its way with me.
To be continued...