DragonOfTheAerie
Vala
BTW, if you're not gonna write Bom Junka Wow Wow...I am!
The low grumble of the garbage truck pulling up my street...
To anyone else, it was probably just another unnoticed noise, like the tornado sirens they sound every Wednesday afternoon, a test to make sure they still work.
But lately, I've lived for Wednesday mornings, when the trash collection came by. No, not because I'm excited to wheel my bins out at 6am and wave to the clean-cut, suited businessman next door while I'm in my threadbare pink robe and a pair of bunny slippers.
I wait for eight o'clock, when with unfailing timeliness, the garbage truck pulls past my house at a crawl, the big lettering on the side announcing that Rumpke Wast Management is on the scene to take care of my trash needs. And the fellow with the close-cropped beard and black stocking cap jumps off the back platform and comes to my curb.
Just keep walking, I always think, watching from my window. My driveway won't bite you. Nor will my door, if you choose to go that far. Me? I might bite. I've been waiting months to do it, and perhaps if I think it really loud, you might look up and think the same thing? Come bite me, honey. I'm begging you.
But he doesn't look up, and he doesn't come up the drive. Instead, he turns over my garbage can and leaves it with lid open, and jumps back on the truck, scooting off to do the same for the businessman next door...who isn't even home.
One time, I left a sofa on the curb. I suppose I could have donated it to Goodwill, but it seemed a small sacrifice at the time. I wrestled the old leather-clad monster to the curb with the help of my sister, who insisted I should simply re-home the outdated piece of furniture that still looked serviceable. I told her to shut up about it, already, in a tone I later regretted.
And I didn't call Rumpke ahead of time, to announce the large item pickup. Instead, I hovered by the window in a silk blouse the same color blue as my eyes, and waited. Waiting for the grumble. Waiting for him to appear.
Waiting for the perfect opportunity to rush out the door with a cup of coffee I'd raced to Starbucks for. Waiting for an opportunity to fly from the front door and apologize for the inconvenience of the sofa in my lawn. To tell him just how thankful I was. And to enjoy every moment of the muscles I imagined bulged passionately under that brown coat with the reflective tape on the sleeves...
Yeah...I'm inspired by your muses, too, Heliotrope!!!!
Oh my gosh, this is perfect. XD. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Write this, I would read the hell out of it