Treasure in the Trash.
All that's rubber is golden.
A stray dog howled. The sound of aluminum crashing into pavement rang throughout the deserted streets; a sign that the mongrel had decided this was his night to invade somebody’s trash can. All was dark except for several flickering neon bar signs, and everything was silent…at least until you reached the end of east Park Street. There, there was a fork in the road. Take a left and you’d be headed towards Oakland. Take a right, and you’d be greeted with a dead end.
Obviously, most chose to take a left towards the bigger and better parts of California. After all, why would they want to go right? The only attraction in that direction was Rodeo’s garbage dump. There aren’t many people that would choose to spend their free time anywhere near a dump, but every once in a while there’s an oddball citizen who prefers to meander around such a wasteland.
This wasteland was rather quiet, apart from an odd, little stray whistle, whistling in the wind, a cheery artifact considering the place it had been discarded in. A lone man was making it back to an old, tireless van, which was perched on top of a lot of rubbish. He had a box in his hand. He finally opened the door of his… home. Inside there were Christmas lights glowing softly, ignited by an old battery, and shelves of things that he had collected. He closed the door and started to go through the bag, revealing his "treasures" for the day.
The man pulled out a rubber duck and looked on the shelves for the other rubber ducks he had found. This one was classic yellow. He reached up and put it on there, next to a purple polka-dotted one, and went back to the box. He smiled slightly when he found a old lighter.
"Oooh," he muttered quietly and flicked it open, before lighting it and looking at the flame. This would be one of his special keepsakes, one of the few that would be stored under his old, holey mattress for safe keeping.
This man’s name was Billie Joe, though he had forgotten his identity years ago when he had been forced from his home. You could say that the solitary life he had spent in the dump, which had now been eight years, had driven him to the depths of insanity. It was odd to see a fully grown man acting like a child; amused, delighted, maybe even ecstatic over the prospect of a new toy. Secondhand toys at that. But it was a life that he had come to appreciate.
It was so simple.
Obviously, most chose to take a left towards the bigger and better parts of California. After all, why would they want to go right? The only attraction in that direction was Rodeo’s garbage dump. There aren’t many people that would choose to spend their free time anywhere near a dump, but every once in a while there’s an oddball citizen who prefers to meander around such a wasteland.
This wasteland was rather quiet, apart from an odd, little stray whistle, whistling in the wind, a cheery artifact considering the place it had been discarded in. A lone man was making it back to an old, tireless van, which was perched on top of a lot of rubbish. He had a box in his hand. He finally opened the door of his… home. Inside there were Christmas lights glowing softly, ignited by an old battery, and shelves of things that he had collected. He closed the door and started to go through the bag, revealing his "treasures" for the day.
The man pulled out a rubber duck and looked on the shelves for the other rubber ducks he had found. This one was classic yellow. He reached up and put it on there, next to a purple polka-dotted one, and went back to the box. He smiled slightly when he found a old lighter.
"Oooh," he muttered quietly and flicked it open, before lighting it and looking at the flame. This would be one of his special keepsakes, one of the few that would be stored under his old, holey mattress for safe keeping.
This man’s name was Billie Joe, though he had forgotten his identity years ago when he had been forced from his home. You could say that the solitary life he had spent in the dump, which had now been eight years, had driven him to the depths of insanity. It was odd to see a fully grown man acting like a child; amused, delighted, maybe even ecstatic over the prospect of a new toy. Secondhand toys at that. But it was a life that he had come to appreciate.
It was so simple.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is a new story by me (visions_of_blasphemy) and my friend (The Reverend Twitch.) We both wrote this chapter! Hope you like it.