For about a month now this piece of asshole flotsam has been welcoming visitors to my neighborhood.
We live in one of the newer subdivisions in our little town. The neighborhood is less than five years old. The house we live in is about about to celebrate its third birthday.
There, at the entrance to this little slice of suburban heaven, a smashed and broken beer bottle has been laying in the street. It’s been an entire frickin’ month.
We happen to live at the farthest possible corner away from the entrance. So, for a month now, I’ve been making a wide arc when I turn on my final leg for home.
“Surely,” I thought, “someone will finally step up to plate and pick that motherfucker up.”
I decided to watch and wait. A science experiment was born.
From time to time, we find garbage in the streets. Yes, right here in civilized modern America. A certain percentage of us have evolved no further than, “Me done with this. Me drop on ground.”
Cigarette butts, used Taco Bell memorabilia, soda cans and other assorted accoutrements of modern existence have been found at the foot of our drive. And, you’ll never guess what we do. Never.
We pick it up. Even though it wasn’t our garbage. We call this wholly unselfish act of citizenship “being a good neighbor.”
So we watched and waited. Would the people who live closest to the beer bottle step up to the plate? After waiting an entire month we were forced to admit, no, they won’t. Their stubbornness and assholiness apparently knows no bounds.
How about any of our other neighbors? There are about 50 houses here in the subs. Would any of them step up? How about the nice elderly lady who likes to chat when I walk to the store? How about the City fireman who lives on the corner? How about the state police trooper at the end of the cul-de-sac who parks his patrol car in his garage? How about the people who have garage sales every month? Or the nice couple that takes their dog out – in a baby stroller – every single night and walks right by that beer bottle?
Nope. None of them. Not a single soul ever stepped up. These are the people I live with. There are my neighbors.
Today the science experiment finally came to an end. My wife and I took unprecedented and extreme measures. Steps had to be taken.
We picked up that motherfucking hazardous garbage!
We did it. We! The socially and advanced elite. We like to refer to ourselves as people having brains.
My wife did put the kibosh on my original plan. You see, in my world, I would have relocated the trash to the end of the driveway of the house closest to the scene. It would have been a gentle reminder from the rest of the neighborhood. A little love tap to the tires that said, “Hey, asshole. You let the rest of us down.”
Alas, my wife wouldn’t let me send that message. Score another good dead for us in the meaningless Book of Karma.