The Garbage Truck Story Intro and STORY

(This parenthesis was added after the whole post was written: the following is "The Garbage Truck Story Intro")

In what may seem like heaps of ages, I have not seen the garbage truck taking the garbage from the garbage cans, which are in the garbage compartment, out in the front of my house.

The other night I saw it.

Well, it was not night, it was dark, but it was 4:fifty-something AM. What was I doing up at that time? Well, I happened to wake up because I was very thirsty. I think I was dreaming that I was in the Grand Theft Auto game again, killing a lot of people, and it must have been very exhausting... So I woke up and hear these heavy thumps. Bung, bung! "What the hell". I go to the kitchen, drink my water, and as I do, I peer through the curtains, and there they are: the garbage people, picking up the trash with the horrendous garbage truck eating it... It is so early! Why do they do this so early? I think it was Monday or Tuesday... Are garbage people ashamed of what they're doing? They must get pretty good money. Are they hiding in the darkness? Or do they do it so early as to protect us, mortals, from the horrificatios of the garbage truck?

I remember seeing this truck every week when I was in High School. Nasty little shit. A huge platform comes out of the dark, sticky, fetid, putrid bowels of the truck, and it covers the trash bags, and sweeps them up into its unholy, unwordy (unmentionable), endless place inside. That place must be bottomless, seriously. How does it keep so much rubbish in? When do people know that the truck has had enough for one morning?

(this parenthesis was added after the whole post was written: The following is the unedited STORY: "The Garbage Truck", enjoy)

The men whistle at each other giving commands in the silence of the coming sunrise. They cling to the edges of the truck; heavily gloved hands. The truck thumps once more, as if belching, as if swallowing, as if food was passing thru its esophagus, as if it were chewing. Then men don't mind this. As they feed the metal beast. The flies buzz around its mouth. The hinges cringe, and echoes through the windows of unsuspecting neighbors. The men are used to the unruly stench coming from the truck's mouth, which clunks heavily in its entrails, a dark echo of an endless pit; one of the men whistles andthe driver gets the animal moving along the dimly lit sidewalks of the suburb. The men hang on its sides, as if it were a trolley, they're on their way to make the truck puke, at a confined, secluded place as to spare the people who sleep from the nastiness that comes from their carelessness.

The end

Hmm. I got inspired there. I shall title that (of course): The garbage truck.

Oh, almost forgot, I drank my water and went back to sleep. How anticlimactic.