On a steamy summer afternoon deep inside the dumpster behind a local restaurant, an impossible
conversation begins:
"Bags, bags everywhere. And yet I manage to slip outside where there is a bit more room." said an empty M&M wrapper. "How fortunate am I."
"It was easy for me." said a plastic straw. "Sometimes we poke our way through our plastic prison completely unnoticed. We straws put up a fight to the bitter end, you see."
"Oh, no. It's a giant cover up. The end is near!" exclaimed one broken china cup, desperately trying to locate her kin amongst the dark chaotic surroundings.
"Chill out." An untouched cigarette mistakenly thrown away, chimed in. "It's just an enormous mattress tossed on top of us. At least before he came along, we had a little sunshine coming through the crack in the lid."
"I wish I could move around, it's so stuffy in here." said an old, ragged dress. "I used to be free, flowing in the cool afternoon breeze. But now..."
"Get over it, will ya." interrupted an old toothbrush, it's bristles stained and bent. "Personally, I couldn't wait to get here. If I had to clean one more tooth, I would have lost it. Let me tell ya, the dude I was stuck with would not stop chewing his nasty tobacco."
"You just watch what you say about my cousin there." said the cigarette, clearly offended. "Better to be absorbed through a cheek than set on fire and puffed away."
Suddenly realizing where he was, a 1920 baseball card broke the conversation. "What...what am I doing here. I was minding my own business, proudly displayed in my owners collection and then, well just let me tell you, he found another card more valuable and I was suddenly chucked out. I don't deserve this. Look at my beauty, my colors. I..."
"Your beauty, your colors? Huh! What about me?" A stained cashmere sweater was taken aback. "I once walked the streets of Hollywood Hills and was seen by more people that you could ever hope to. What a card, you are."
A broken Budweiser bottle could not contain himself. "Sounds boring, if you ask me. At least I had a great evening, while it lasted. You obviously don't know the meaning of a good time. Hiccup."
"Well I, above everyone else, certainly do not belong here." exclaimed a crushed Coke can. "I was destined to be recycled, but apparently my owner can't read a simple sign, so I was tossed in here. I could have been reborn, perhaps as a Pepsi this time. But no, it's the crusher for all of us."
Then a deep voice erupted from above. "What is that retched smell?" The enormous mattress vibrated as it spoke.
"Psst." whispered a broken toilet resting comfortably nearby. "It's the stagnant cesspool of slime at the bottom of this rectangular tomb. The stench is dreadful. I can't imagine the conglomerate of substances down there."
"Hmm, big words for a toilet. How did you get so smart." the mattress boomed.
"My owner used to read to me every single day. Sometimes the newspaper, sometimes the Bible, whatever was available. I am very keen on current events, you know. But then I developed a crack one evening during a dinner party. One of his guests was, shall I say, rather portly. Well, a shift in the wrong direction and I was simply overcome by the weight. On well, I had a long sedentary life. No complaints here."
The cashmere sweater once again made her presence known. "Is that detergent I see down there? Hello...HELLO! Do you have anything left to spare? A drop or two will do."
Little did she realize that detergent cannot speak.
James Richardson
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