One person’s trash is another person’s…
He wasn’t supposed to find out.
Every Monday, was garbage day. Everyone in the neighborhood put out their garbage for the Sanitation trucks that came by to collect them. The problem was I didn’t want my parents to find out what I had in my garbage, so instead of adding it to our house garbage, I would sneak out early in the morning and put the contents I wanted to keep hidden from them in my neighbor’s garbage can. No one was the wiser. My parents didn’t know and my neighbor didn’t know. I mean, who goes out to check their garbage once it’s out on the street to see what’s in it. I never put my trash on the top. I always buried it somewhere deep within my neighbor’s can.
Of course, that was until today.
I was looking for the final project report that I was supposed to submit to my history teacher. I only had one copy. There was no backup. I looked everywhere for it. It should have been on my desk. There was a blank spot on the desk where it should have been. Then, I noticed on the floor right by the desk where the report should have been was an empty waste basket.
“You’ve got to be kidding!” I muttered out loud. Could it have fallen off of my desk into the garbage that I had recently put into my neighbor’s garbage can?
My mother heard me and wanted to know if there was a problem.
I answered pretty quickly, “No problem. Everything’s fine.”
What was I to do? If I didn’t hand in the report today, I would get a failing grade, which meant, at the least, summer school. What my parents would do to me if I failed, I didn’t even want to think about. I had to get the report back.
So off I went to my neighbor’s driveway. Lucky for me it was still early enough and the garbage hadn’t been picked up yet. I opened up the can and sorted through it until I found the bag that belonged to me. It was then that my neighbor, hearing a noise outside and believing that there was a dog or raccoon, digging through his garbage came out and saw me.
“What are you doing messing through my garbage?” he shouted at me.
I had to think quickly. “I..I..noticed that someone must have knocked your garbage can over so I was just picking it up and putting everything back in.” I hoped that excuse would suffice.
“Thank you,” was his reply, “That’s very kind of you.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
But then he said, “What’s that bag you have in your hand? It doesn’t look like one of mine.”
I stammered, “Right… this would be the one I was going to put in our garbage can when I noticed yours on the ground. I guess I never let go of it?”
My neighbor looked at me suspiciously, waited a moment, and then said, “Well then, you better go put it into your garbage can.”
“Good idea,” I responded, which is exactly what I did.
I waited a while and when I was sure he was back in his house, I retrieved my garbage and looked in it. The report was not there.
I put the bag back in our garbage can and went back inside the house. My father was standing in the living room. He had my report in his hand.
“Thanks for letting me read this report,” he said, “you should get a good grade. It was well written.”
Of course! That’s what I did with the report. I gave it to my dad. My life had been spared. All is well in Camelot.
My father then asked, “I was just looking out the window before you came in from outside. What was in the bag that you took from our neighbor’s garbage can?”
