Why is Everyone throwing Garbage at Me??
- I just don’t get it. Yesterday afternoon, on my way to the Chess Forum in the Village for my weekly brain crosstraining, someone threw an entire 15 gallon sack of rotting garbage out their second floor window right at me! The ballast of the bag hit me square in the bread basket. The Hefty Gladbag ripped in half, cascading me with untold quantities of refuse. I was covered with apple cores, corn husks, and broken down cereal boxes. Looking up in the general direction--my eyes blinded with sour yogurt--I shouted, “Whence came this bag of stinky garbage?!” Naturally, no one in the apartment building confessed to this foul deed, so I sighed loudly and shrieked, “Savages!” I was flabbergasted.
I stood up to brush myself off and realized everyone around me was laughing like jackals. “You nitwits find this amusing?” A child on rollerblades said, “Yea” and high-fived his punk friend. “I’ll give you something to guffaw about!” I swung at them but they were moving too fast. My ego was bruised. As was my stomach.
In a reversal of spirits, the two pickup chess matches I played boosted my self esteem. Who opens with a pawn H2-H4 two games in a row? Amateurs.
So I leave and I’m walking back down Thompson St. and you’d never believe what happened next. A street hobo comes right up to me--for no reason at all, mind you--and completely nails me upside the skull with a mammoth shopping tote. As I writhe on the ground clutching my head, he dumps out the contents of his bag onto my defenseless body. And guess what was inside? You got it. A whole lotta smelly garbage. He must have been looking for beer cans to redeem for a deposit. I’m not sure why he used me as a countertop. I whimpered politely that he please leave me alone. And he did. Eventually.
Playing dead seemed to help drive the hobo away. I’m so over being covered in filth. While removing the chunks of albacore, wadded Arby’s napkins, and oversaturated Hamburger Helper noodles, tourists were snapping away with their cameras. I roared at them like a caged tiger and even chased after one set of gawkers who were undoubtedly from the midwest.
I somehow managed to find the subway and stumble home to the safe harbor of my apartment. I drew the waters for the footspa, pitched my outer layers into the hamper and let the plush beanbag envelop me. No sooner had I placed my left foot into the spa, a flaming Rite Aid bag full of debris comes violently crashing through my window. I started hyperventilating and reached for the nearest New Yorker to pat out the burning waste in my living room. I extinguished the fire, but questions in my mind were still aflame. Namely, “Why is everyone throwing garbage at me??”
I was beside myself. Is this some sort of new craze I don’t know about? I try to keep up with what the kids are doing as evidenced here, but I didn’t read anything on Gothamist about having overloaded bags of rubbish flung at you with abandon. Someone is gonna hear about this!