This is the prompt:
It’s garbage day and you put your trash on the curb, but when you return home from work, it’s still there (though everyone else’s garbage has been taken away). The next week, it happens again–and again the following week. Why is the trash collector snubbing you? Write a scene explaining why he’s skipping your garbage and how you figured it out.
And here is my story:
I knew he was no ordinary garbage man. An evil, horrible man like that with such a grotesque expression on his face easily suggested his picture in the dictionary under "goblin" or "ogre." A man so malignant to others that he often caused them to blow a blood vessel or cause an instantaneous nose bleed. No ordinary man, indeed. At least, not to me.
I'm a simple person. I live halfway down the block on Cherry Street amid the wonderful houses that resemble Full House's type of city. I'm pretty decent about making sure my waste doesn't go straight to the environment, so I didn't quite understand how he could shun me so. Several days a week, I would peer out my window like a recluse/hermit watching the people with whom he refuses to associate. The garbage man would appear, take the neighbor's garbage, take one look at my garbage can, and drive away, giving me a shrewd stare from his beady little eyes until he reached the next house. This war between the garbage collector and I was unbeknownst to me, until I saw him purposely drive away from my garbage. As I'm sure, his motivations come from that evil little imagination of his. He probably imagines me as a cruel lord from a distant land trying to steal his ring. Yes, I know that sounds a little Lord of the Rings-ish, but he truly reminds me of Golem in uniform.
One day, I decided to confront him about it. I was tired of sneaking my garbage over to the dumpster at work or asking the neighbors to include it with theirs. As usual, he came around the corner, and from a distance, I could see his impeccably black eyes staring at me in their usual scoffing manner. Slowly, he reached each house, and, finally, he came to the neighbors' house. I was waiting for him in my nice fluffy bathrobe with the morning paper in my hand.
"Nice to see you again, Ron," I said to him with a smirk.
"Uh... Yeah... Nice to see you too."
"How long has it been? At least a few weeks now, since I last talked to you."
"Yeah. It's been pretty hectic," he replied in his gravelly voice. I could just hear him in my mind saying, "Those hobbits are tricksy, precious." Fortunately, I'm relatively sure he couldn't read my mind.
"It has been several weeks. Well, I've got to go now. Lots of trash to pick up." He gave me his evil stare and climbed back up into his truck. Hunched over the wheel, he shifted the truck into gear and totally bypassed my house. Lazy, good-for-nothing...! Excuse my purposely invisible language.
The next week I confronted him again. Again, he made small talk and left my filthy garbage waiting on the street. Finally, I decided to take action.
While he was picking up the trash at a house farther down the lane, I snuck up behind his truck. He was preoccupied with dumping the garbage into the truck, so I climbed into the truck and stole his favorite charm: the bobbing hula girl that sat on his dashboard. I quickly made my escape right before he got back in the truck and snuck back to my house like the Grinch on Christmas. It wasn't long before he suspected me. While I waited to talk to him one day, he came driving around the corner like a speed racer on crack. He slid the car into a parked position and came marching up to where I was standing with an impetulent glare on his face.
"What did you do with Rita?"
"Oh, nothing. She is just hanging out with LeRoy." (My dog.)
"Give her back to me now!" He was breathing heavily.
"Only if you promise to tell me why you have been avoiding my garbage. There is nothing wrong with it so far as I can tell." I stared back at him with my lip pouted.
He immediately shied away. "It's nothing. Just give me Rita back!" he said in a shaky voice.
"If you tell me first, I'll give you Rita."
"If you give me Rita first, I'll tell you."
"How about we trade? While I'm giving you back Rita, you can say what it is that is bothering you about my garbage. Deal?"
"Fine. Deal," he said with exasperation.
"Okay. One... Two... Three!"
"IT'S YOUR GARBAGE BAGS!" he blurted out.
"What?"
"I don't like how you tie your garbage bags."
"Yet you seem to pick up everyone else's. Doesn't everyone tie them differently?"
He paused for a moment. "Well, yes, they do, but your knots are particularly annoying. I don't like them one bit."
Suddenly, I started laughing. It developed into hysterical laughter, crying involved.
"What is so funny?" Ron asked curiously.
I replied between fits of laughter, "It's just that... isn't it... a little... STRANGE that you... are a garbage collector... and you're obsessive compulsive?"
He stared at me for a few seconds as it sunk in, and he began to laugh too. "I guess you're right."
We had a good laugh together, and he showed me how he wanted me to tie my garbage bags, and we've been good friends ever since.
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