The sun comes up as usual, ringing the invisible bells on every window. People hear the bell, even though it’s through the sight. I wake up too, wondering when I’ll have the energy to go out and buy thick black curtains for the windows. I want things to be living in the night even during the day sometimes, so I’ll have to muster up some energy soon.

I go out, and I see the trash cans are not empty. The recycle bin is full. The yard waste bin is full. And the trash is full too, judging from the smell. Let’s open it to make sure. Yes, it’s still full. What’s going on? Wasn’t trash supposed to be picked up several days ago? The trash is still here, sitting and looking at every passerby, wondering who will be nice enough to take them to their doom. Or maybe it’s happy that it gets to spend a few days outside before being kidnapped in big trucks and taken away.

It must be the trash strike at Taormina Industries. Those nice little strikes where everyone cries to get more money. Hmmm, many businesses also keep crying for more money, so I guess striking for money is an obvious solution to get more money from businesses who also cry for money money. It’s a win win, and a whine whine situation. The most loathed thing in most houses is not sitting on the streets in bins, waiting to be picked up. Like a priceless jewel that no one fantasizes about anymore. Or a date where everyone wants to get rid of the date, and there isn’t anyone out there who wants your date. Hmm, a date and a trash can. What a retarded example to try to strike up a resemblance. Doesn’t matter.

I see a dump truck on the road. But what route is he going to? What route? I don’t know. No one wants this trash anymore. A strike at a business like this and people who only want their trash to disappear get affected.

It’s ok. One day they’ll pick up the trash. One day. Hopefully. Maybe the trash needs a liason to help fetch a new owner. Or maybe we all need flamethrowers to burn the trash in our backyards. Who knows. At least the cats are hovering around the trash cans every night, like desperate people hovering around dumb young dates. Every house on every street has now 3 main things in common:

1. A house, obviously
2. Trees or some green yard
3. Trash cans of the exact same colors, quality, size and make, right in front

The cars are moving. The people are moving. The cats are moving. But the trash cans are not moving. They’re here to stay. Who knew people would be fighting over trash in one form or the other. It is the day the trash stood still.