This morning we found a newborn baby by the green glass recycling bin. Rajeed brought it into the cob shack and asked the Big Cheese what we should do. Just then Susan came running in claiming that it was her baby and that this is why she had been on a leave of absence for the last 4 months. Gypsy Rose, the book exchange matron who had closely followed Susan in, shouted that no … it was her child! She had delivered it last night after her eighth pint of Sneaky Pete and had forgotten where she had put it. Both then started screaming at each other and grabbing at the poor waif. Cheesey shouted for them to go stand by the Exercycle. He then sat back stroking the gray stubble on his chin. After a few moments he sagely proposed that we take the machette and cut the baby in two … and then give each claimant one-half.
At this point Lardass, shaking his head and smiling slyly, proposed, “Why can’t we just do a DNA test?”
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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
