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Dumpster's Domain

Updated on January 3, 2017
Dean Traylor profile image

Dean Traylor is a freelance writer and teacher. He is a former journalist who has worked on various community and college publications.

He had no love for them. But they were his get-rich ticket to get off the streets for good.
He had no love for them. But they were his get-rich ticket to get off the streets for good. | Source

“Hey, come over here,” a quiet, yet forceful, voice commanded.

“Say what?” Marcus replied, agitated that some bum would dare speak to him that condescending tone.

He swung around only to find a single - and unusually clean - dumpster in the littered alley.

“Come over here," the voice said with a subtle sense of urgency and warmth mixed in for good measure.

Damn junkie hiding there, Marcus thought. The city was full of them.

He had no love for them. But they were his get-rich ticket to get off the streets for good.

He knew what he wanted: “Yeah, I got some candy.”

He expected to hear the usual “junkie cry” for joy. But there was no reply.

“I said I have some candy,” Marcus reiterated, waiving the bag around for anyone to see.

He shook his head. Maybe it was some dumb rich druggie from the hills acting cute. He had seen those types one too many times. Yeah, I’ll play, he thought. He needed the money and they usually brought plenty of it
He shook his head. Maybe it was some dumb rich druggie from the hills acting cute. He had seen those types one too many times. Yeah, I’ll play, he thought. He needed the money and they usually brought plenty of it | Source

Again, there was no reply. He reached for his .44 (Anger management was never Marcus’ forte; especially when it came to indecisive dopers). He gripped the handle, ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice and give this junkie a good scare.

“Candy?” the voice finally said.

“Yeah,” Marcus said, relaxing his grip on the gun. “I got your candy. That’s what you want, right?”

“I just want to talk,” the voice replied. “Then, maybe something sweet afterward.“

Marcus jumped back. He realized the voice came from the dumpster. And it knew him.

He shook his head. Maybe it was some dumb rich druggie from the hills acting cute. He had seen those types one too many times. Yeah, I’ll play, he thought. He needed the money and they usually brought plenty of it.

He ventured into the alley when the voice said: “Over by the dumpster.”

He obliged. However, when he reached it, he didn’t see anyone.

“You know, Marcus,” the voice said.

Marcus jumped back. He realized the voice came from the dumpster. And, it knew him.

“I know what type of person you are. You want off the streets, but you add to its misery.”

Shock and anger mixed within Marcus. Somebody in the dumpster was playing him for a fool. He whipped out the .44. Screw the scare tactics, he thought. This is for real! He aimed the gun and held his arm as steady as possible.

"Come on, man!" he yelled. "Get your butt out of there, now!"

The moment passed and the mysterious person within the dumpsters was coming out. Marcus' rage was beyond repair. He increased his pressure on the trigger, almost ready to fire with one light pull, This time, Marcus wasn't going to hesitate. He was going to teach this person a hard lesson.

Marcus didn't have to wait too long. Suddenly, three tentacles burst forth from the bin, snatched Marcus and reeled him in. The lid slammed shut.

The dumpster rocked as Marcus muffled cry seeped from the dumpster.

A moment later, the cries died, the dumpster stopped rocking. All was normal again...except for one thing: Marcus finally got his wish of getting off the streets for good.

Suddenly, three tentacles burst forth from the bin, snatched Marcus and reeled him in. The lid slammed shut.
Suddenly, three tentacles burst forth from the bin, snatched Marcus and reeled him in. The lid slammed shut. | Source

© 2015 Dean Traylor

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