Episode 7- “Dumpster Diving”

On today's episode:  A flashback to a story he'd forgotten about.  A tragic tale of young employment and how it led to garbage bathing. [cue flashback-y music, blurry screen effect]

He was a young boy dealing with the hideous hurdles of the Graduated Licensing Hysteria enforced upon all young people of Michigan like a macabre rite of passage.  After realizing that he was legal to drive to work and back ONLY provided it was NOT after 12 and NO ONE was in the car with him, he was ready to make some money for hisself.  After all, he was no triflin' fool. 

All his friends worked at the local McDonald's.  Therefore, it only seemed right for him to do the same.  He was now beginning his Junior year in High School, and walked in to see the Drum Major of the band from when he was a freshman working 'management'!  "Bonnie", he said, "I didn't know you were so high up here."  "I don't know what the hell I'm doing still working here" she said dryly.  The young boy questioned turning in the application he had spent so much time writing carefully, but ne'ertheless handed the paper to her.  "Cool, someone'll call you soon.  We're desperate right now."  "Perfect, I'm always the one for desperation," he thought. 

Later, Bonnie called him for an 'interview.'  He went in to see Bonnie when he realized Bonnie was not the same Bonnie.  This Bonnie was an actual troll.  Just like the kind you see in a Billy Goat story or some shit like that.  He counted 4 teeth and 37 'thank you's'.  [Later, the boy found out that whenever anyone asked her anything, she always answered thank you.  "Bonnie, I need some help mopping this spoiled milk shit off the floor!" "Thank you!"  "Bonnie, I need some more singles!"  "Thank you!"  "Bonnie, you're an inhumane slave driver and I need an effing break alfrickingready!"  "Thank You!"

He was all set to work.  Days ran by and he perfected his drive-thru technique, he was complemented for being courteous and friendly, even when we lost control of an empty bag during a wind storm that was consequently sucked out the drive-thru window and directly into the face of the jeep-driving customer.  He was the king of that place, man.  The frigging king.  He would make the best Hot Apple Pie McFlurry's just for his coworkers and everything.  Even Chicken Nugget Sandwiches. 

Then, one torpid* day, the boy went to work to find that the place had been over-staffed.  As this was common, he expected manager Connie, also cleverly nicknamed as Connie The Pirate, to send him home.  But instead, Connie informed him that he "must take down the ceiling tiles and clean them, arrrrrrr".  The parrot on Connie's shoulder concurred.  He was later to find out that the only way to clean ceiling tiles (as he was told by management anyway) and get them REALLY clean was to use the vacuum cleaner.  Now, he was no whiz with vacuum cleaners, but he figured it was worth a shot anyway.  Sparks flew like the gol darned 4th of JU-ly.  The hoover needed a new filter, OF COURSE. 

New filter installed using only Vietnamese instructions.  No problem . Ceiling tile one cleaned.  Sparks again.  The boy, happy not to be on damned fire, consulted the pirate.  "ARRRRR, must be the filter.  Return to me the filter at once, or I shall ballast you with my rampant scurvy!"  Eeewww.  The filter made it into a bag in the garbage.  The boy,  whilst retrieving some McGloves [no shit.  Everything there was Mc something.  McSoap, McBroom.  It said it on the DAMN BOX.  McCebollas Desacadas.]  When he returned to fish the box out the damn garbage, the garbage was gone.  Fricking AMY who always wanted to take the garbage out so she could smoke on the way took the damned garbage and as it turns out, the boy's dignity along with it. 

The manager was not pleased.  "Arrrr, if ye do not retrieve yonder (pirates say yonder?) box to me, thou'st willst not be able to return it to yonder Menards."  (did I say pirate?  Apparently I meant mediaeval.  Oh well.  whatthehellever.  deal.) "You've got to be joking, right" the boy actually said back.  "No, to the dumpster for you!  You can take the [Mc]Broom and the [Mc]Pleather Jacket we use for cold days in ye drive-thru, but be back at once!"

It began to rain.  And not just raindrops, it began to rain sadness, desolution, and forlornness.  The boy trudged out to the dumpster, realized he could not see in without mounting the damn thing, and slithered on top of the monstrosity.  He opened the hatch, peered in to the what seemed like an actual physical TON of garbage all in identical garbage bags to find the certain bag that contained a tiny empty box.  As he was sticking the [Mc]Garbage around with his McBroom, suddenly the worst of times struck our young hero.  Gravity called and the boy slipped, hurdling his already depressed and changed-forever body into the olfactive mountain of crap. 

He laid there for a second, pondering life.  "Where do we go from here" he asked hisself, to no reply.  Some shit happened and he ended up not in the dumpster, though it didn't really matter after that.  Life would never ever EVER be the same.  Well, it sorta would.  Ehh. 

Later on, however, while retelling this story, the boy remembered that he found 10 dollars on the way back in from the dumpster, as if the banks of humour were thanking him for his deposit. 

*I don't want to necessarily jump on the footnote bandwagon, but I wanted to point out that I used my word-of-the-day.  Step off. 

Published in: on 24 May 2006 at 8*15 pm  Comments (1)  

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  1. great story man, great story. I was a Whopper Keeper at Burger King so I can totally empathize…no one can really understand unless they’ve worked at a grease-slingin’, big beef conglomerate. Utter demoralizing, humiliating hell!

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