The Deadly Disco
This time, it was lightening! In the middle of the pitch-black night, just before sunrise, blinding flashes of white penetrated the dumpster cracks. I imagined God yelling, “OHHH!” Encased in metal, watching nature’s strobe light, I was alone in my Disco of Death.
Queue the rain. I blindly scavenged for my empty containers. That’s right! By this time every object in that dumpster was MINE! The cups and cans filled slowly. I wedged them into the corners for future hydration.
It rained nearly all that early June day, which kept my tormenters at bay. My only contact was with a drenched Mole Cheek. Midday, he hastily hit me, square in the chest, with two black sacks.
FOOD AND DRY MATERIAL TO WRITE ON!
I was methodical when it came to unwrapping these grungy gifts of garbage goodies.
The downpour let up just before sunset. To be honest, I quite relished those serene moments of raindrops tapping soft melodies on the tin roof of my stench cocoon.
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