The day before or of trash day is always a junk feast if you know where to go. I don’t go to the rich ‘hoods. They all have perfectly tailored rooms with new furnishings that smell of Restoration Hardware and Pottery Barn. I go to the neighborhoods whose Home Owner’s Associations can’t elect a President because no one wants to volunteer because they work 2 jobs, to the streets where teen couples fight in the streets and men work on their trucks in a group, where there are houses with 13 yard statues of Jesus and Athena intermingled so much so that you begin to feel they were once a couple. The house with a toilet refashioned into a mailbox stand or planter is where I’ll be.
Today was a day to drive by on may way home from work. I spotted a great (but big like a bear) chair frame. I stopped and let my convertible top down. (I know, I got NO BUSINESS not having a SUV for this stuff anymore). I heaved this monster above my head and gruntedly got it falling into the direction of the void in my now open car. I failed. Just as it was overhead I felt the weight shift and it came down hard on the bottom of my neck on my back. I head a crunch and got nauseated knowing I was hurt bad. Just then a lady in a sheer housecoat (and not a stitch else) came running out of her house to help with 2 cigarettes in her mouth! Turns out the crunch was my fake pearls crunching with the chair’s impact. She started rubbing my neck and was drunker than Cooter Brown. I could see her completely as her housecoat was truly meant only as a whisper for the boudoir. What made matters worse is that she started picking up pearls and got all staggery and what not. Her neighbors came out, as she was now on all fours and wearing that joke of a cloak while I stood by stunned. I thanked her and helped her up. She sweetly gave me the 3 pearls she had worked so hard to retrieve and offered me one of her half smoked ciggys still in her mouth. She took one out and insisted I take it. I mean INSISTED. I took it, held it like it was a piece of dogshit and gave it right back to her. She said, “Why Thanks, Hun…I do like to smoke!”
I booked it to my car door, jumped in and sped off as the neighbors waved at me and my chair.