29 January 2016

Alas, poor Trash Can; I knew him, Horatio.

UPDATE: Alternatively, I am but a fool with wool upon my eyes. The poor thing was just startled and hiding against the side of my car:

 Original Post:
Granted, it appeared next to my house one morning years ago as an orphan, but I gave it a home on my back porch and fed it regularly, set it out along the curb to be emptied as needed, and the one time I decide to use it as a marker for my shoveled out parking space, some inconsiderate boob wanders along and takes the plastic trash can I've been using for lo these years. Yes, I can buy another one easily enough, but I liked that beat up old molded plastic container with the cracked bottom. It was useful, it had character, I had made it my own. I searched up and down the street in shirt sleeves and slippers as soon as I noticed it missing, the snow flurrying around me. I hope, whomever you are, that you desperately needed that trash can to hold some precious thing, because any other reason for taking it makes you a monster.

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