Suzie’s House 472 : Abashed Trash

Suzie's House

“Winnow! What kind of a word is winnow?” Big Jim Zemple stood up in the dumpster. He waved a book he’d found that had “winnow” in the title.

“Well, isn’t that kind of what we are doing? I think…?” Boney Bonny reached for the book.

“Um… yeah. That’s right. We’re winnowing. We’re getting the good stuff out of the bad.” Rick nodded as if to assure all of them they were right.

He’d been doing a lot of that nodding business since Cheyenne and Cliff dropped out of the Van Family in Denver. It reminded Jim a little too much of his sister, Emma. Like a bobble head doll.

Jim handed the book to Bonny, then went down into the pit of the dumpster, looking for anything they could maybe sell. He felt around, half blind in the evening light, and prayed for something like a cell phone or gold coins. Or better yet, a bottle of vodka. They had food just yesterday, but no one had come up with a bottle in near a week. People kept putting gas in the van, but no one came across with any cash. It was weird.

Normally by now Cliff would have come up with something. Beer if nothing else. But now it didn’t have anything to do with the Van Family.

Cliff and Cheyenne. They had been the noisiest ones talking about how they would all be together forever and how important a family you made yourself was; more important than blood. Then they both got into a snit about who was sleeping with who and ran off with some other van family.

Half the break up took place in text messages because that was the only thing Rick’s phone could handle under his cheap ass pricing plan. They couldn’t even say half that shit to his face.

Well, who needed them anyway? Rick still had the van and that’s what mattered most.

“Is there any food? I’m starving?” Bonny handed the book to Rick, then wrapped her arms around herself. She was loosing weight when she didn’t really have enough to start with.

Jim stepped on something squishy. He didn’t want to think about squishy stuff in a dumpster, but whatever it was filled half the dumpster. He shoved off a bunch of notebooks and some kitchen stuff.

Score! There was a gold watch! An antique like that had to be worth something. Jim tried to grab it, but it was hung up on something.

“Gah!!” A wrist. It was hung up on a wrist. Jim flung himself backwards, and landed hard on a table lamp.

“What? Did you scare a rat again?” Rick sounded tired.

“No! I just… thought I saw something.” Jim hoisted himself to his feet with the help of a broken fan. He waded through filth to the watch.

Yeah, there was definitely a wrist attached to it. With a bit of shoving and shifting, he managed to dig out the rest of the body. Some guy in a three piece suit got the shit kicked out of him, then dumped into the dumpster. There was blood matted in his hair right where the black gave way to gray, lumps and bruises on his face, and a trickle of blood coming from his mouth.

Though he wasn’t sure what he was doing, or rather why he bothered, Jim felt the guy’s neck. Cool. but not cold, and maybe there was a heartbeat. Or maybe that was Jim’s own fear pulsing in his finger tips. If the guy was dead, it hadn’t been for long.

“Hey! What did you find? Can we eat it?” Bonny moved up to look over the lip of the dumpster.

“Nothing.” Jim quick pulled down a bunch of junk to cover the body. The last thing he needed was to spend the night in jail because the police couldn’t be sure he didn’t to the job himself.

He started to get out, then stopped just long enough to slip the watch of the dead guy’s wrist and into his pocket.

“Let’s try a different dumpster. This one’s no good.”

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