GateGate

Lardass came stomping through the door of the cobb shack that we call the office. George and Rajeed, the new guy, were already on break snuggled up to the Franklin for warmth.
George was doing yesterday's Times Puzzle humming The Pensylvania Polka. Rajeed had scoffed down the last Krispy Kreme; he wiped the donut crumbs off his beard with a guilty look, not making eye contact with his Lardness.
"Hey you fucks!" yelled Lardass. "You ate all the donuts."
George didn't look up. "You were late. We thought you were skipping break for a change."
Rajeed stammered. "I am very sorry to eat your donut, Sahib. DFM made me eat it."
Lardass scowled at me, then he broke into a wide grin.
"Well, on a different day, I might be pissed. But come out here and I'll show you why I was late."
We followed him out. The sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky but the cold north wind was enough to turn your head around. We squinted at the sight that LA was pointing to - a huge orange pile of cloth and metal. A mountain of orange.
It had been dark when I and the others arrived and we never noticed it. Except George.
"I saw it when I came in. I figured you knew..."
"No I didn't see it. Where did all this stuff come from?" I wondered.
Then it hit me. New Yawk!
It was that dumpfuck Christo trying to get rid of 7500 useless pieces of orange cloth and metal frames. And that bastard didn't even have a dump sticker.