T-to-the-A

Trash Riot

In The Daily Drool on November 1, 2009 at 11:09 am

Dear Garbage Picker,

 

I know you have to do your dirty work in the wee hours of the morning- the seedy underworld of Recycling Hunters is choc full of competition; City Recycling trucks, other bottle hunters in dirty vans, the homeless – But I write to you today in the hopes that you can learn to SHUT THE HELL UP!

Oops.  I lost my temper there for a moment.

You see, it’s just that my bedroom sits right atop your pillaging grounds, and while it ain’t no penthouse view, that little alley you’re rustling around is right outside my window.  SO, when you roll up at 5 a.m. with your chatter (you’ve got partners and that’s clever business), your “Ding…Ding…Ding” keys-in-the-ignition-and-the-door-open-because-you-might-need-to-make-a-fast-get-away (natives can get restless!  Why I heard day-old garbage has been known to grow feet and claws in some states), and your GODDAMN CLUNKING AND BANGING (whoops, there goes that temper again!), well I get a little upset.

Because, although I myself am bordering on bankruptcy, I do NOT have to be up at 5 a.m.

So, when you come pulling up with your (sometimes you have music?!  WTF?!) LOUDNESS that early, well it makes me think that you don’t care.  You don’t care that you are mucking about in alley-views that inevitably harbor (normally-peaceful) sleeping inhabitants.  It makes me think that you have become a little too focused on that all-glowing recycling prize.

So tomorrow morning when I yell out the window at you to SHUT THE HELL UP AND TAKE THE GD KEYS OUT OF THE IGNITION, YOU DAMN IDIOT  you’ll at least understand why I am so upset.  Because, I’m not a sweet person at 5 a.m.  No matter how empathetic I may be to your financial distress.  And you have lost perspective.  You need reminding that while the world may be your aluminum oyster, that’s my garbage your raiding and I’m not feeling very appreciated.  And if I had something heavy (a choice glass bottle perhaps) to fling from my window at your intrusive self, I would, because you have lost your bottle-picking-ways.

Stealth.  Honor.  Silence.  These are your origins.

Get back on track, grasshopper, and ye shall be fruitful.  Stray farther and ye shall be… full of fruit.

The rotten kind.

Raining down on you from Almayo Alley.

Sincerely,

Me

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