Lord of the Flies
Thursday, April 25 :: 1:14 a.m. :: link

:: Living in a rural area has numerous advantages. One is free garbage processing. The only hitch is I must chauffeur the trash to the dump, where a cranky-tempered little man glares from the shadows of his tiny shack to oversee every bag and Popsicle stick tossed.

Twice per week for three years, when I removed the debris from the car, I smiled and waved at his mysterious presence and disdain. I never failed to greet him with a cordial "Hi" and exit spouting an exuberant "Thanks!" Once I threw in a "Cheerio, Squire" to brighten his day.

In return, nothing. In more than 300 visits, he not so much as grunted or nodded in my direction until I made it a point to wear my Bilbo Baggins feet. Now I can't shut him up.

:: Current mood: huge hoofed, if you catch my winks.
:: Current music: all Barry White, all the time.


Copyright ©2002 Mike Durrett. All rights reserved. I want a book deal, dammit.