Trashcans

Sal hated Christmas. Not because he was a Scrooge, and he really liked to help others and always put his change in the kettle. What Sal hated was the days after the holiday. Sal worked on a garbage truck. And for a solid week afterwards, the streets would be lined with bins and bags, piles full of trash. The wrappings, paper and boxes were no problem even if they should have been set out next week to be recycled. No, it was all the old toys and furniture and kitchenware that had been replaced by gifts. It was all kept so the new things would be a surprise. And out it all went starting the day after Christmas. ...

Transcribed from actual conversations with a real scale-house attendant who works at the local landfill named Ramona. A realistic and hypothetical account of how my actual disposal could actually go if the local landfill accepted me as trash. I decided to write this story, featuring parts from real telephone conversations. It was only 10:30 am that Tuesday morning when I arrived at the local landfill, I had caught a ride with a man who had a trailer full of old kid’s clothing, old toys, and some left-over opened packs of unused vintage disposable diapers attached to a dually pick-up truck. ...

My Daddy is my hero. But before I explain that, I better tell you about me and how it all happened. I’m 18, but I’m small for my age, and not the smartest tool in the shed as I have overheard people saying about me. It’s related to my size, some kind of medical thing that makes me look and behave like I’m about 13, according to those silly tests they keep making me take. ...