The Trash

The Trash

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“I assure you, Sir, this is not a joke,” Randel said, in his most authoritative voice.

“So, you really work here, and you expect me to show you some identification to get in?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“But this is the Town Dump.”

“The Rendale Department of Public Works, Rubbish and Recycling Center, actually.”

“....and... I have rubbish.”

“And, I need to see your identification to be sure you live in the Town of Rendale.”

“And if I didn’t?

“Then you would need to go to the Department of Public Works, Rubbish and Recycling Center in your own town, or to a public center that charges a fee.”

“I don’t suppose you’d make an exception, I’m really in a hurry and this bag of trash stinks. I could pay you, under the table! I work nearby and they don’t have a dumpster and it’s a small office and this bag of trash stinks! I have to work there all day by myself! I’ll give you fifty bucks just to stick it in one of those trash bins! Fifty bucks! I won’t tell anyone! I just need to get back to work, and this bag stinks!”

“Well... I guess it wouldn’t hurt. One trash bag in the trash. It does smell pretty bad, I can smell it from here. You’ll have to put it in yourself.”

“No problem! I have gloves and everything!”

Later when the police were asking about the body found in the trash bag in the dumpster Randel assured them he never touched it. Promising himself to stop playing with people, he fervently hoped the police didn’t ask any more pertinent questions, especially since he had only been in the office that day fixing the water cooler. Plus, he’d already spent the fifty bucks.