They were leaving it again. The neighbors, I suspected were leaving their liquor bottles and trash all over. Not wanting anymore trouble with them I took the long trip back and got a few garbage bags to take to the dump. After huffing and puffing i grabbed my flashlight as well.
Walking through the rocks, it seemed my shoes were already starting to crease at the soles and give out. Collecting most of the mess was not easy in the dark, little cig butts and bottle caps are things you have to squint to see. So then I reckon this was more than I should have taken on. Living outside a city can be a big pain but that's the price you pay for a quiet life. Though the bag gets heavier the further you go, you can't just drag it. Then it tears and you got yourself a bigger mess.
Once I reach the main road it's only 2 miles. I walk more than that in a day but when you carry junk it always feels like more. I hear hootin' and hollerin' in the distance. They drink and party and let loose and leave me with all the litter. But they're big roudy men with trash talkin' ladies and I don't want trouble. Being a lone woman is hard sometimes. You gotta fend for yourself.
I see headlights and that's not too common but you just move to the side if the road. The truck is slowing down and inching next to me. Oh hell.
"Hi Miss! Where ya heading?", he asks.
"Oh hiya. I'm just going to the dump.", I reply.
"You want a lift?", he wants to know and I look over. Nice looking man. Pretty blue eyes and a short beard. But I shake my head no.
"Oh come on. It's not safe. "
I shake my head again and hope he gives up and drives off.
"That big bag looks heavy.", he grins so I give in. I give him a smile and put the bag in the cab. He leans over and opens the door and I hop up and in.
"You not scared, walkin' all alone?", he laughs. I shut off my light and smile.
"I don't get scared of much.", I say.
So this guy likes to talk. Blah blah my name is Ronnie and blah blah how pretty I am. I keep smiling because it's a short ways but mister chatterbox there just keeps talking.
Once we get there, he stops. The dump is just that. A big ole hole! We throw our crap in there and some days they burn it. It stinks! I hop down and off and walk a ways to throw the bag. He's still there and still grinning. I waive him off but he's got something shiny in his hand. He's waiving a blade around and saying GET IN, GET IN!
So I don't have much choice, do I? I get in and he wants me to say where I live. I tell him. While he drives, I think about my shabby little tin can of a home. There's not much to see. A bed and two chairs. Sometimes, I play a small radio. That's nice.
We drive by and those folks are still yelling and drinking. He tells me not to make any noise. So I don't. We get to my place and he grabs me by the hair. Now that I see him up close he is not handsome. He tells me to turn on a light and take my clothes off. I turn on my lantern then around. He never really had a chance.
My own clothes are wet in kerosine. He watched me catch fire and I snatched the blade out of his hand and hit his temple with the handle. His eyes were all wide. I jumped out my door into my big mud puddle. Not classy but it did the trick.
Being dirty is a bad feeling and I got mad and gave him a few extra kicks for that. Even after I got my hammer and hit him he got loose on me a couple of times. Tried to run off to his truck.
Well, who can blame him? He's a big guy and I'm a small girl so it only makes sense. But now this gone too far. Talking Ronnie likes his blades. This is a man who holds a grudge.
So now I have an even bigger mess. That's all life is, you know. Piles of litter and trash. Sometimes you pick up another folk trash and other times they clean up your mess. I better quit talking to myself.