Garbage Day
By cdcooper
Garbage DayBy Christopher CooperDownstairs in the midnight hour they all meet in the dark of the kitchen. Their curmudgeon leader, Chiquita Roemaze, the half-eaten Ecuadorian banana, was addressing the un-recyclable trash. Chiquita was pacing on the counter top screaming, “What are we to do? ” Her husband, Clyde, the spent sanitary napkin, which had slithered down the baseboard from the master bath, echoed his wife’s complaint, “The trash master has failed in his duties. Something must be done.”While this disheartening revolutionary meeting was going on, my sweet wife poked me in the back, asking me if I had locked-up the house for the evening. I sat up, turned my head and made a flatulent noise. Then I slipped into my night footwear and wrapped myself in my robe. It was while I stumbling down the stairs that I was ambushed by agrarian mercenaries, lead by the rotten Lieutenant Cauliflower. He was the one who gave the order for the hot handed Jalapenos to tie my hands and feet by the use of dried rump roast cord.They drugged me and threw me on the slime covered kitchen floor. Roemaze swung the steam part of her peel, pointing to the garage saying in a growl, “Take him to the can and roll him to the curb.”Huddled in the darkness of the can, I heard the diesel engine of our garbage truck, the hydraulic plunger of trash compacting and I begin to pray, “Forgive me father for I have sinned.” Written August 18th, 2001 © on Aug 17 2001 04:19 PM PST 0 • 14
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"Garbage DayBy Christopher CooperDownstairs in the midnight hour they all meet in the dark of the kitchen. Their curmudgeon leader, Chiquita Roemaze, the half-eaten Ecuadorian banana, was addressing the un-recyclable trash. Chiquita was pacing on the counter top screaming, “What are we to do? ” Her husband, Clyde, the spent sanitary napkin, which had slithered down the baseboard from the master bath, echoed his wife’s complaint, “The trash master has failed in his duties. Something must be done.”While this disheartening revolutionary meeting was going on, my sweet wife poked me in the back, asking me if I had locked-up the house for the evening. I sat up, turned my head and made a flatulent noise. Then I slipped into my night footwear and wrapped myself in my robe. It was while I stumbling down the stairs that I was ambushed by agrarian mercenaries, lead by the rotten Lieutenant Cauliflower. He was the one who gave the order for the hot handed Jalapenos to tie my hands and feet by the use of dried rump roast cord.They drugged me and threw me on the slime covered kitchen floor. Roemaze swung the steam part of her peel, pointing to the garage saying in a growl, “Take him to the can and roll him to the curb.”Huddled in the darkness of the can, I heard the diesel engine of our garbage truck, the hydraulic plunger of trash compacting and I begin to pray, “Forgive me father for I have sinned.”..."