When Human Monster and I first moved to this neighborhood, we were not aware of its strict garbage customs. I’d have to draw you a NASA-level schematic to describe the crazy location of our abode, but suffice it to say that there was no clear indication as to where our trash was supposed to go in order to get picked up by a actual waste disposal technician and not a pizza-box-starved flock of railway hobos. Common sense dictates that the curb might be a wise place to start, so that’s what we did – plopped our trash amidst a pile of bags that were already there, thereby creating a single gathering of garbage, one bag indistinguishable from another.
Here’s where it gets scary.
The next morning, our bags were sitting in front of our door. Never mind the fact that they had become ambulatory, gotten through a LOCKED GATE, and located our specific address, but the kicker is that none of the other IDENTICAL bags had come to the party – just ours. I’m surprised they didn’t ring the bell.
So in their honor, here’s a trash monster. I’ve been told he looks like the Yip-Yips from Sesame Street, which isn’t surprising, given that I was obsessed with them for most of my childhood.