Thursday, March 27, 2008

The Dumpster Gods Must Be Crazy, Part 1 of 8



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Mix a little foolishness with your serious plans: it's lovely to be silly at the right moment.---Horace

The following story is purely nonfictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is their problem, not mine.


One a.m. I'm walking my foot patrol from Parking Lot B to Parking Lot C. I see legs sticking out of the towaway zone dumpster. It's a woman, draped over the front lip of the dumpster like a rag hanging on a towel rack.


The woman wasn't moving. She was bent at the waist, head first in the dumpster. All I could see of her was her gray miniskirt hiked above her mid-buttocks, her buttocks and her red thong panties peeking between her butt cheeks like a big red unblinking eye. Yep, she looked like a cyclops from that angle.


I'd like to tell you that my first reaction was something droll, like "Man, these people throw EVERYTHING away!" but it wasn't. My first reaction was fear, fear that whatever bugaboo monster or dumpster dumping serial killer that got HER was still lurking around close enough to get ME.

A scene from one of Alfred Hitchcock's horror movies flashed in my mind's eye: the one where the serial killer killed nude woman's body falls out of the moving potato truck.


My second reaction was fear, fear that somehow-- through some illogical chain of irrational circumstances--I'd get in trouble for this.


I stood frozen in my tracks for a couple of minutes. It may have been as long as five minutes. I just stood there, staring at the big red thong eye, it staring at me. There was no movement. I stepped closer and poked the left butt cheek with my index finger to see if . . . if the body moved. I've seen dead bodies up close before, but I've never poked one, so it was a quick poke accompanied by a quick step backward.


It didn't move.


I stood there a while longer, looking at the big red thong eye, and decided not to accept this dubious gift from the dumpster genie. What I would do, I decided, would be to finish the job,
to complete the disposal. She was half way in anyway, the top half. I would just grab the ankles and through leverage, toss the rest of her in. Wipe hands. Finish patrolling.

I reached down to grab the ankles when a chilling thought bolted up my spine: what if someone
saw me do this? What if someone just driving by on the street behind me looked over and saw the security guard dumping a woman's body in the dumpster?

That wouldn't be good. I guess I'd be pretty much done in by THAT eyewitness account. No
amount of explaining would undo THAT. Nope.

"That's the man, your honor," says the eyewitness, pointing to me, "Him, the defendant. He pushed the body into the dumpster. I SAW him!"


No, no, no, no, no. That won't do at all. I'll have to come up with something else, I thought, c'mon, kiddo, be bold. Be decisive.


So I grabbed a handful of ass and shook it 'til she twitched. I jumped back. A leg twitched
again. It's alive! It's alive!

END PART ONE


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