it was around 8.19am when the God of Garbage revealed himself to me. i was in the greenhouse, having a coffee and a smoke, when the bin in the corner stood up.
he wasn't tall. maybe a head and shoulders shorter than me. he was made up of dirty napkins, crusts of bread, and a Coke can. he was wearing a bin bag. his voice was normal, but i couldn't place the accent.
i said, "Hello." he replied, "Can I pinch one of your fags?" so i rolled up a ciggy for him and he sat down across from me.
he asked, "What are you writing?" i told him it was my journal. "A diary?" he said, "I keep one too." he seemed pleased that we had something in common.
he sucked on his cigarette and ate the butt when he was done. then he reached into the ashtray and started munching on the rest of the debris.
i rolled him another smoke.
"Thanks," he said, "I hate all this fresh air."
he finished that one same as the last. then he waved goodbye and climbed back into the trash.
