We had a cookout today at the dump. The place was mobbed. I made the mistake of extending the invitation to all my illigitimate children. I had forgotton how many of the little bastards there were. Cripes I should bottle this stuff and sell it for big bucks.
I feel like kicking myself when I think of all of the unpaid squirts that have gone down the drain. At least during college, I made serious coin donating my love juice to the sperm bank.
The ATM down there is a pretty spooky thing too. You don't just stick your card in to do deposits, if you know what I mean.
We grilled those big italian sausages at the cookout, which I knew all of my former lovers would crave.
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Bring us your soggy crackers and crumpled paper yearning to be composted, your old cardboard and plastic bottles huddling in your garage. This is the dump; its not just our job, it is who we are: Dumpsterguys
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