It was another of those sunny Sunday mornings where there was more light than heat. Bill was outside roasting rats over a small campfire. He had a bandage on his hand where he had cut himself shaving. I was at the desk, reading the paper. The news was disturbing. Nothing stays fixed in this world. And there is little hope for improvement in the next one.
"What time is it?" George had looked up from his crossword puzzle and was looking in the direction of my wristwatch. I glanced at it.
"Nine oh five am. Why? You got an appointment." I was being sarcastic. None of us had anywhere to go on Sunday mornings. That is why we gathered at the Dump. Like the old men have done for ages, sitting on benches in the village square, with no place else to go. Watching the world go by.
George prides himself on his lack of adornments. He doesn't wear rings or bracelets and no watch. We think of him as being "chronographically challenged." He probably thinks of me as a bit of a dandy. Me with my gold wedding band, Seiklo wristwatch, and wearing my Mensa pin on my baseball hat. (Ok,ok, I found the Mensa pin at one of the recycle areas , if you must know the whole truth.)
Rajeed walked in from outside carrying a bag of Trail Mix bars. Some of the smoke from Bill's campfire drifted in with him. He shook his head.
"What's with the rat cooking?" he hooked a thumb in Bill's direction.
"Oh, Bill read Gordon Liddy's memoirs. He's determined to conquer his inner fears." I said dismissively. Bill is such a jumble of fucked-up-ness that any moron could predict that the rat cure was not going to help much.
"Hey, who's up for a St Andrews Day snack?" Rajeed was still trying to get rid of Trail Mix bars that he had leftover from Hallowe'en. Lardass, who had been dozing in the corner suddenly perked-up.
"Hey!" He said cheerfully munching on the granola treat, "What's this about St Andrew's day?"
Rajeed smiled showing his perfect white teeth. "A festival day in my native land," he intoned wistfully.
"Yeah, they celebrate the miracle of the Trail Mix bars!" I joked.
Everyone knew Rajeed was born in Canada. "What's with this 'native land' crap?" we jeered.
"I know, he invented bacon rinds - the Canadian National Food!" Lardass was into it now.

Rajeed could see that it was useless to try to explain anything serious to us at this point, so he trudged off with his bag of treats to the take and leave area.
"What time is is now?" George inquired.