Garbage Men

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Jul 11, 2018, 4:00:46 AM7/11/18
Garbage Men

Chapter One

Stan. He was a hell of a guy. Liked having sex with all the hot ladies on the garbage route. In at 4 in the morning, out at 11. 3 babies usually each year so far. 12 years of service to Langfire City GD, 41 children. All bastards. Stan was that kind of guy.

Shirlie. Straight laced. Born again. What she saw in Stan was God Only Knows. He proposed 4 weeks into the shift they worked together. She said yes.

'You know, Jim. I'm soon to be a married man,' said Stan.

'Shirlie is insane,' said Jim.

'Shirlie she's not,' replied Stan.

'Bad joke. $5 penalty for bad jokes, bud. Pay the man,' said Jim.

Stan leafed out a 5 dollar note and put it in the 'Mr Rude Coinbox' they shared for bad jokes.

'I think I could be a dad. You know. Cut out for it.'

Jim glared at Stan. 'Yep, buddy. That you might be.'

'Yep. They could call me dad. It would be good.'

'Will you introduce them to the bastards?' asked Jim. 'You have a 10 year old now, you know.'

'Langfire city is full of bastards. These ones will be special. Legit.'

'Knowing their old man,' said Jim, and trailed off, as they came up to the next set of garbage and recycling bins.

'And what the hell is that supposed to mean?' asked Stan.

'Well, like father like son. I'm sure they'll have bastards of their own. Hardly care, if they have your genes.'

Stan looked at Jim, and looked at the road.

'Just empty the fucking bins,' said Jim annoyed.

He knew his rep was shit.

The End of Chapter One

Chapter Two

'Mum's pregnant,' said Shirlie.

'Love to meet her,' said Stan.

'Oh, you might have. She's on your old route. Before I started.'

'Really,' said Stan.

'25 Cresswell circuit,' said Shirlie, as they pulled up to the next garbage bins.

Stan almost swore. '25? Blonde lady. Mid 40s?'

'That's her,' said Shirlie.

'Isn't she single?' asked Stan nervously.

'Happily married for 25 years,' said Shirlie. 'Why?'

'Uh, nothing,' said Stan.

Later on the Catholic priest said his sins were challenging for Jesus to forgive.

'You probably shouldn't marry Shirlie. You have her mother pregnant. It's an abomination of sorts, my child.'

'I love Shirlie. It's too late anyway. We fooled around, and she's up the duff.'

'Then the blood of Jesus has some challenging work,' sighed Father McCoy and forgave the sins once more of Stan McDirt.

The End of Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Dangling little Jack on his kneee, Stan McDirt wasn't really nervous. Shirlie's mum was nursing little James, and Shirlie's mum's husband was in his armchair, looking at the two kids.

'Such a striking resemblance,' commented Mr Jones, Shirlie's dad.

'Yep, Artie. They are definitely your offspring,' replied Stan.

'Oh, I think they take much more after mum,' said Shirlie.

'Yes. I think so to,' said Mrs Jones, and gave Stan a long, hard stare.

'They'll grow up practically brothers, I would think,' said Mr Jones.

'Like their blood,' said Mrs Jones, again eyeing Stan McDirt.

Stan took out a cigarette, and lit up. 'You know. Maybe they both could be garbage men. Langfire City pays the best wages in Australia. For its Garbage workers. Read it in work report.'

'Fascinating,' said Mr Jones. 'I'm sure garbage work is great, Stan, but they are both destined for things greater. They'll rule the world one day.'

'I'm sure they will,' said Mrs Jones, who stood, glared once more at Stan, handed young James to her husband, and left the room.

'Yep. Garbology. We deal with all sorts of shit,' said Stan. 'Literally,' he chuckled.

'It's fascinating that Shirlie ended up in such a job,' commented Mr Jones. 'I mean, she has a degree in Mathematics, and we were expecting great things. But no, she chose menial labour, and Langfire City GD.'

'To stay humble,' said Shirlie. 'Pastor Robinson always comments to the congregation that the Lord Jesus likes humble souls. It's how proper baptists should be.'

'Indeed,' said Mr Jones, who didn't go to church that regularly, but still affirmed the faith somewhat.

'Garbology. That's their future,' said Stan, looking at his son.

'Well, I'll be proud of them both regardless,' said Artie or Arthur Jones, and made funny faces at his apparent new son.'

'I'm sure they will,' said Stan. 'I'm sure they will.'

The End of Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Jim and Stan were shooting the shit at 'Biffo's Bar and Grill' in downtown Langfire City. It was the hangout club for Langfire City GD workers.

'There's slugger,' said Stan. 'Remember, when he goes out on his next shift, we strike. The bastard will get what's coming to him.'

Slugger Magee had had a bit of a punch up on Stan recently, and Stan was pissed, wanting revenge. Jim had agreed to go with the project, and when Slugger was next on shift they had a surprise waiting for him.

'Hey, Slugger,' said Stan. 'No hard feelings mate.'

'Still fucking your mother?' asked Slugger.

'Every night,' replied Stan.

'Yeh, no hard feelings, cunt,' replied Slugger, and sat down at their table with his beer.

'When you next on shift?' asked Jim.

'Afternoon shift. Got to be there at 1.'

'Right,' said Jim, eyeing Stan.

'You know, for a motherfucker, you sometimes have a good side,' said Slugger, glaring at Stan. 'To bad you are so fucking gay about it.'

'Gotcha,' nodded Stan. 'Too gay for Slugger Magee.'

'But you can buy the next round and redeem yourself,' said Slugger. 'And then go home and fuck your mother some more.' Slugger was indeed a crude son of a bitch.

Later on.

'Are you sure the paperwork was filled properly?' asked Stan to Jim.

'Don't worry. We're taking her for a wash.'

The garbage truck they were on still had its load of garbage, and as they travelled through Langfire city for a destination, Stan chuckled.

'You sure you want the slack which will come?' asked Jim.

'The cunt's got it coming to him,' said Stan. 'And besides, we're here.'

They pulled up in front of a house, which was the abode of Slugger Maggee, currently at work, and proceeded to back up onto the front lawn, hit the unload button on their tip, and both got out and watched as a ton of garbage started falling down onto the front lawn of Slugger Magee's lawn.'

'That'll teach the cunt,' said Stan, and grinned all the way back to the depot.

The End of Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Stan was pissed off. Everybody had a criticism. Fuck em all.

He was out at 'Bronzeforth'. Suburb on the northern outskirts of Langfire city, were his favourite 'Hos' worked as brothel ladies.

'Sheila. You know I always like fucking you. But you never tell me if you have a boyfriend,' said Stan, as his favourite blonde lady massaged his back.

'Oh, you know Stan, I only have eyes for you,' she said, and continued on massaging his back.

'Your sweet,' said Stan, and turned over.

She looked at his erect phallus. 'And what do you expect me to do with that?' she asked him, eyebrow raised.

'Use your imagination,' responded Stan.

She did.

Later on Stan was back at his flat, a 2 bedroom place in a block of units. It was semi-upper class, and cost a bit to rent, but his brother Maximillian was indeed a local millionairre, and gave him cashola from time to time to help 'facilitate' his average existence. Stan didn't give a shit, and took the cash regardless.

'It looked dingy. Crappy. Shit, really. Shirlie only visited occasionally, as he usually lived with her at her place which she owned, the family home of sorts, but he was yet to let go of renting this place. He couldn't. It housed his porno collection. It housed his pet snake collection. It housed 200 grams of marijuana under the mattress. He couldn't let it go.

Later on Jim was getting pretty high, as he sat in front of the electric heater on this cold winter night and his eyes were all over the place.

'I feel good, man,' said Jim.

Stan was sober. He was worried. He had received a death threat in the mail, which he had looked over after dinner.

'Don't worry about it,' said Jim. 'It's probably Slugger giving you shit.'

But Stan was worried. Apparently he was now marked for death. Apparently.

The End of Chapter Five

Chapter Six

'Max. Come on Max. Don't be a cunt.'

'Your big brother,' said Maximillian McDirt, ear glued to his mobile, eyes focused on the PC on the stock reports, was not impressed with Stan's request. 'Does not have as much influence as you think. Besides, the cops do not keep fucking records on who has it in for Stan McDirt. Hire a private eye if you want that looked into. I mean, what? Did you get a death threat or something?'

'Pretty much,' said Stan, and started poking at the large aquarium in his brother's office, making faces at the tropical fish.

'For fuck's sake, Stan. It's probably just some pissed off husband whose found out exactly who little johnnie's dad really is. Don't sweat it.'

'What Jim tells me,' said Stan, staring at the fish. 'I mean, come on Max. You've got contacts. Who in the underworld wants me dead?'

'Look, I'll call you back,' said Max, and put down his mobile and looked at his little brother. 'Dad always said you were a fuck up. And while I know the McDirt dynasty will now live on for all eternity with the amount of fucking bastards in the family, I can't help but agree with the old man. Give the letter to a private eye and pay for his services. He'll have contacts.'

'Can you loan me the cash?' asked Stan.

'For fuck's sake,' swore Max, as he wrote out a cheque for 50 grand. 'That should cover you for a year, bastard. And I'll go broke if you keep this up.'

'Thank's buddy,' said Stan, and left.

Max looked after his departed brother, and looked at his aquarium. 'For fuck's sake,' said Max, as he jumped up and fished out his stapler which Stan had dropped into the aquarium. 'Little shit,' said Max, but then his phone rang, and he was back to his world.

The End of Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Stan sat in his apartment. It was a mess. Nothing new. Shirlie was at her mothers with the kid, and he was sitting in front a pile of crap. Pamphlets, photographs and all sorts of letters from past lovers, all carefully examined, trying to find a clue. He was sure, now, it was a pissed off lover having a go, and he had been examining hand writing compared to that in the letter, but no matches so far, and at work Slugger Magee gave him a suspicious look but nothing more. He was at his wit's end. Who the fuck wanted him dead? Would it blow over? Would it just go away?

The phone rang, and he nearly had a heart attack. He picked it up. 'Who the fuck is it?'

A voice was on the other end, breathing heavily. 'I know where you live, bastard?' she said. It was clearly female.

'Who the fuck is this?' asked Jim.

'You should know,' she responded, and hung up.

He stared at the handset. It was an ex-lover. He was sure of it. Someone gilted. Someone betrayed. He would have to watch his ass from now on – literally.

At work.

'You know,' said Jim. 'You've crossed some people in your time. Perhaps it runs deeper than just a lady.'

'No. It's a bitch. Having a go,' said Stan. The garbage truck ran along the street, and they picked up the next garbage bins on the run.

'I think it runs deeper than that,' said Jim. 'Just saying, you know,' said the Torres strait islander.

Just then a black van appeared beside the garbage truck, and a shotgun appeared.

'For fuck's sake,' said Jim. 'Watchout Stan.' Stan turned at the next corner, going left, but the van followed.

'Can you see who it is!' yelled Stan.

'No. Fuck no,' said Jim. I just see a head with a black balaclava on it. They are aiming.' A shot went off, and the front wheel tire exploded, and the garbage truck veered to the side of the road. Stan hit the brakes, and they luckily came to a stop just short of a telephone box. The black van had gone up the road a bit, and the figure had gotten out, armed with the gun, staring at them.

'Don't move,' said Stan.

'I'm shitting bricks,' said Jim.

The figure dressed in black pointed the shotgun at them menacingly, then got back in the van and disappeared.

'Fucking hell!' said Jim.

'Your telling me,' said Stan.

The End of Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

'What the fuck was that dick's name?' asked Stan, storming into his brother's office.

Maximillian McDirt, busy with his PC, looked up. 'For fuck's sake, Stan. What the fuck has happened. You look a wreck.'

'With no fucking sleep for 24 hours what do you expect?'

'What happened?' asked Max, picking up his favourite paper weight and playing with it in his hands.

'This bitch appears. From fucking nowhere, blows away the front tire of our rig, and we nearly do a telephone box. She points a gun at us, ready to blow us away, and then fucks off. It was hell getting the department repair truck not to tell bossman what really happened. Cost me a lifetime of favours. Now I need that dick. That french dick that was up your arse that time.'

'Even though that sounds fascinating, and quite tempting, which french dick do you mean?'

'Crudesod. Detective Crudesod. The one your mrs got on to you to look up on your extra curricular activities.'

'Don't remind me,' said Max, and punched a key on his keyboard, and wrote down a number.

He handed it to Stan, who was again standing suspiciously by the aquarium.

'Here. Go. Fuck off. I have business. But let me know how it goes, ok,' said Max.

'Will do,' said Stan, taking the number, and left the office, to a disturbed looking Max, who returned to his PC. But, sensing something amiss, he looked at the aquarium, walked over to it, and found the little fishing net he used to retrieve his fish when necessary was face downwards, covering his favourite aquarium animal, Mr Sebastian his tiny turtle. He reached in, grabbed the net, and picked out Mr Sebastian and cradled him.

'Did that mean bastard upset you, Mr Sebastian?' asked Max, carefully stroking his turtle. 'Don't worry. He'll get his.' And carefully he returned Mr Sebastian to his Aquarium home and got back to his work.

The End of Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

'You know, Stan. The new chick is quite catching on the eye. Don't know were I know her from though.'

'Yeh, whatever,' replied Stan. 'How do you spell hazel?'

Jim looked at the form Stan was filling in. 'Now what the fuck are you doin?' he asked him.

'The dick's form. And he fucken wants it in triplicate.'

'H A Z E L,' replied Jim. 'And your eyes are green, not hazel.'

'Whatever,' replied Stan.

'She's really quite hot. Looks mid 30s, but she's looked after herself. Looks like a bit of abo in her as well.'

Stan turned his head to look at the new chick. 'Yeh. I think I know her. Somewhere along the line.'

'I'm gonna ask her out,' said Jim.

'You do that,' said Stan. 'How do you spell athletic?'

Jim looked at Stan's physique. Beer gut. Now balding hair, with a tint of gray. Flab under the arms and a constant groan when he walked more than 100 metres.

'Dream on,' said Jim. 'Put in slob.'

'Right. Olympic level athlete,' put in Stan.

'Shit, she's coming this way,' said Jim.

Shortly a raven haired beauty was standing in front of them. 'Hi guys,' she said. Remember me Stan?'

'Vaguely,' he responded.

'Well that's good,' she said. 'See you around sometime.'

'Cool,' responded Stan, and the chick left.

'Man, was she hot,' said Jim.

'How do you spell millionairre?' asked Jim.

'Jesus!' replied Stan.

The End of Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Stan was out on patrol. And there it was again - the bitch. He knew it was a bitch.

She was driving alongside the van, and pointed her rifle. 'Stop and get the fuck out,' she yelled.'

Stan nodded. Jim was beside himself.

They came around to the front of the garbage truck, and the bitch pulled off her black balaclava.

It was the abo bitch.

'Are you ready to die?' she asked them, pointing the rifle.

Stan would take it like a man. 'Go fuck yourself, bitch.'

She looked at him, came close, put the rifle to his head, and then, looking in his eyes, dropped the rifle and threw her arms around him.

'Why don't you love me, Stan. I worshipped you. I did everything I could to please you. I even had a baby for you.'

'Another fucking one,' said Jim.

'Shut up,' said Stan.

'Stan, I'll make a good wife,' she said, fawning all over him. 'I'll cook you supper, bring you beer, and massage your feet.'

'She's a catch,' said Jim.

'Shut up,' said Stan again.

'Please love me, Stan,' said the lady.

Stan gazed up at the heavens. 'Why me?' he finally sighed.

And, a weeping aboriginal at his feet, his best mate having a good old chuckle right alongside, the life of Stan the Garbage man of Langfire city,

somewhere in Queensland Australia, returned to a semblance of normality, and life, as they put it, went on.

The End of Garbage Men.
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