Dirt Dumpster

I knew I had a bad night last night.  Said some things to my friends at the bar... I don't remember now. Ended up leaving and going to another bar on my own, but now I've woken up in a dumpster filled with dirt.  I'm completely naked from the waist down and there's only a small hole in the dumpster lid letting in the morning light.

I go to push up the lid and it won't budge, like it's locked!  Uh oh, that's bad.  I call out for help and I can hear a shuffling outside, like an animal, maybe a raccoon or a stray cat, but then I hear a raspy whisper, "You ok in there?" and a soft, "hee hee hee" taken by the wind outside.  I thought maybe I imagined it, but then he asked again, "You in there still?" and I said, matter of factly, "Yeah, I'm in here, can ya let me out?"

"Oh, no, no, I couldn't do that…you're my new friend and then you'd just run away, so you'd just best stay there for a while."

"What the heck, man?  Let me out, or I'll…" and the small window slammed shut.  And I realized that was my only air supply. 

"Quiet!" said the voice from outside.  "You yell... And then I have to close the dirt door and then you will be sorry."

"Ok, ok," I negotiated.  “How long do I have to stay in here?" 

"Last time my other friend was here one week.  But then he died."  The man sounded suddenly, but legitimately sad.  And then he started sobbing. 

I wasn't sure if it was true that someone else was locked in here before me, but scared enough that it might be true, that someone was locked in here and died.  I could tell he wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed, so I was going to have to work on tricking him in to letting me out.    Lack of food or air or water...  something told me that this fool’s negligence would be my fate vs a purposeful killing.

I spoke, "I'll be quiet, if you open the door.  I promise."  And as suddenly as he got mad, he brightened up again, opened the door and said, “OK but you have to be quiet.  We're going to be great friends."

"I'm Brian," I said, thinking he already knew my name was Brian since he had my clothes and wallet.  "What’s yours?"

"I don't know if I can trust you, Brian."

"That’s fine.  You don't have to tell me your name until you can trust me.  Can you get me some water?"

"Yeah, we have water at the home.  I'll come back, Brian."

And I could hear him leaving, heavy footsteps, maybe a slight limp? And mumbling, “Brian is my new friend.  Brian is my new friend.”

About two hours later it was getting hot in the dumpster and I was really getting thirsty and was trying to get more comfortable by shifting the dirt around a bit when I heard the man coming back.  But instead of bringing water, he dumped about three pounds of dirt into the dumpster right on my face.  I spit it out and said, “What the heck was that?"  I was pissed. "Where's the water and where have you been?"

"Oh, Brian, you are still there?"  He seemed genuinely surprised.  “I'm sorry, I had to do my work and I forgot to get the water.  I will go get it and I will be right back.”

I used his mistake to my advantage and tried to turn the tables a bit, "You know, good friends don't let other friends get thirsty.  If you really want to be my friend you need to make sure I have enough to eat and drink or I will get sick."

"OK, Brian, I'm sorry… I will be right back.”

Right back for this fellow is never right back, but this time it was at least within 30 minutes, and he dropped a bottle of water through the hole (thank god, no dirt this time) and then he dropped in two chicken legs which, unfortunately, I wasn't expecting and they fell off me into the dirt.  I brushed them off best I could and said, "Thank you...um..." expecting him to fill in his name, which he didn't.  Didn’t either take the clue or the bait (probably the former).

I opened the water and said, "Can you bring a few waters next time?  It's hot in here and I need water all the time."

He said, "I can't take too many waters from the home or they will know." 

"Well, maybe you can bring just two more and then when I am done, I will give one or two back to you and you can fill them up from the faucet and then they won't know."

"OK.  Friend Brian.  I can do that.  I'm really sneaky, hee hee hee." And I thought, "Oh Great."

"Thanks for the food.  Maybe next time you can put it in something or hand it to me so it doesn't get dirty.  There's a lot of dirt in here."

"Yeah, there's a lot of dirt in there." Acknowledging the dirt-part only.

I asked him, "Do you live here at the home?"

"No… I live with my mommy at the…" and then he caught himself, “not here."

He had to be forty or so years old by the tone of his voice, but obviously not married or high functioning to be on his own. "Mommy" made total sense to me.

"Did your Mommy make these chicken legs?" I inquired. 

"No, they are for the people at the home.  I work at the home."

"Well maybe when we are friends, I could work with you at the home."

"You would do that?" 

"Oh, yeah, if you take really good care of me and we get to be really great friends, I could work with you at the home and then we could see each other every day."

"Brian, I think you are my best friend ever.  None of my other friends were ever that nice to me."

"Well, you have been so nice to me…um,…" pregnant pause again…

"Edward."

"…Edward, that you and I are going to be great friends.  I hope you let me out soon.  Maybe tonight after your work is done?"

"Oh, no, I can't let you out that soon.  I don't know… it seems too soon.  Maybe after more time…"

"I thought we were really getting to be good friends, Edward, but I understand.  You want to be careful and really know that I am your friend before you let me out, right?"

"Right, Brian.  I mean you are my friend, but I don't know…"

“It's OK Edward, try to get two more waters and then maybe we can have dinner before you go home."

"OK Brian, I have to work now."

Of course, no Edward, no water, for at least four hours.  I tried my best to ration the water and rest on the soft dirt, but it was still hot.  I ate the chicken and contemplated how to go to the bathroom.  Luckily, I didn't have to go, which was fortunate since I was drinking all night.

Finally, Edward arrived and brought one water.  I told him that I thought he should bring two, but he paused and said, "Um, Brian, I think if you have too much water you might pee in your clothes again.  Hee hee hee."  So that's where my pants were.  "I had to throw away your pants.  They had pee on them."

"Well, Edward, I'm going to have to pee or poop soon anyway, so can you let me out?"

“No, I can bring you a bag and you can pee in a water bottle…" great, he had THIS all worked out.  "Also, I have more dirt so if you can just move a little, I can pour it in."  And I moved and sure enough he poured in a bunch of dirt.

"Edward, why do you put the dirt in this separate dumpster and not with the trash?"

"Oh no.  I would get FIRED... Oh no, oh no, Brian, don't get me fired."

"Sorry Edward, I didn't mean to upset you.  You put the dirt in here and I will move to the side."  I don't mind it, it's actually cool compared to the sides of the dumpster."  Luckily it wasn't a lot each time, or I'd be buried alive.  Which got me thinking.  "Edward?  You said your last friend died?"

"Yeah, he died."

Where is he now?"

"He's with Joey and Peter and Michael."

"Oh, are those angels?"

He sounded confused.  "Maybe."

"Well, I don't want to be an angel for a long time, so maybe tomorrow you can let me out?"

"I don't know… I think you need to stay in there for a while."

"Edward, let's talk about being friends.  Friends don't keep other friends in a dumpster.  Like, see, you are my friend, and I would never keep you in a dumpster.  I would want to see you and play games and do things that friends do together.  When I am in the dumpster, we can't do things together."

"But we can talk.  Nobody talks to me except Mommy and Mr. Rose."

"Who is Mr. Rose?"

"Mr. Rose is my boss.  He tells me what to do."

"Do you like Mr. Rose?"

"Sometimes he yells at me."

"But Mr. Rose is not in a dumpster, like trash, like I am.  Why do you treat me like trash but not Mr. Rose?"

He started to get agitated, "I don't treat you like trash, you are my friend, I treat you like dirt.  Like dirt," he repeated.

I was worried he was going to leave me there all night, but I didn't hear him leave. 

"Edward?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry.  Are you ok?"

"Yes."

"Can I get something to eat before you go home?" 

"No, I didn't get any more food today.  I will get you something from my house tonight."

"OK, go see your mommy and bring me back some food and a bag so I can poop."

"OK. Brian, are we still friends?"

"Of course, Edward, you are my BEST friend.  So please take good care of me."

"OK," he seemed to lighten up.  'I'm going home now."

"Bye, Edward, don't forget - food, water, poop bag."

"OK." and I heard him shuffling off.  Do you think he ever came back?  Heck no.  I fell asleep hungry and peed in one of the water bottles.

The next morning, I heard a car drive slowly past the dumpster and I shouted, "Hey!" and then I thought, what if Edward heard me?  So, I added, "Edward!"

But the car just kept going and maybe parked a long way off.  There was no response from Edward so I tried yelling, "Edward" again and I heard footsteps running toward the dumpster, and the door on the top slammed shut.  "Quiet! Quiet! Quiet!"   Uh oh, Edward was back and sounded pissed.  But, again I went on the offensive.

"Edward, you forgot to bring food, you forgot to bring a poop bag, and you forgot to bring water.  I was hoping you would be at work, so I yelled your name," hoping he'd buy it.  He did.

He creaked the little door open and said, "Sorry."

"Sorry?  That's it?  I'm starving, I thought we were friends, and I have to poop, you need to help me or else we won't be friends anymore."

"Sorry.  I know where a bag is," and he went to what seemed like an adjacent dumpster, and found a plastic bag and shoved it through the hole.

"Why did you forget to visit me last night?"

"Mommy told me it was too late, and I'm not allowed to go outside after dark."

"OK, well maybe I can go to my home at night and only come here during the day since that's when you will take care of me."

"No that's not OK.  You have to stay with the dirt."

I thought of another idea.  "The dirt is almost full in here.  Soon they are going to come take the dirt away and then I will be gone too."

Then he shined a flashlight down the hole and peered in.  I saw his face for just a second - I was right, nearly 50 - and he said, "Nope.  There is room for a lot more dirt.  They won't take it soon."

That was disappointing, I was going to have to do better than that.

The rest of the second day he did better at monitoring me and keeping me hydrated and fed.  And I was not that uncomfortable.  I'd be missed at work tomorrow and Monday there should be more people around so maybe I'd have a shot at being found, but he said that last guy took a week.  Was it Joey?  Or Peter or Michael?

Edward signed off shortly before dusk, but before he left, I asked him, "Edward, do you drive?" 

"No, I can't drive a car."  Bingo!  I can shout out at passing cars.  "Sometimes I walk and sometimes Mommy drives me" …and…no, back to no cars.  Will have to keep thinking about that.

"Edward, do you work every day?" 

“No, I don't work on Wednesday and Thursday.”

"How are you going to take care of me on Wednesday or Thursday?"

"I don't know."

"Did Joey die when you didn't take care of him on Wednesday or Thursday?"

"Yes."

"Well, we don't want to make that mistake again, do we?"

"No."

"So, you need to visit me on Wednesday and Thursday and make sure I am OK and I have water and I have food."

"I dunno."

"Edward, you have to take care of me, or I will die!"

"Maybe."

"Maybe you will come?"

"Maybe you will die."

I was frozen with horror.  I don't think that Edward's vision of me as his friend ever entailed working together at the home.  It was only about a pet that he couldn't see or touch, but a pet that could never harm him.

"Go home, Edward.  Sometimes I am sad how you treat me.  I try to be a good friend, but you don't care."

"OK.  I will go home," obviously blocking out the last bit about mutual friendship.

Monday and Tuesday the traffic picked up.  I tried sticking my hand out the hole and shouting, "Edward!"  Luckily I didn't get busted, but no one came except Edward.

On Tuesday night I asked, "Will you be here tomorrow?  It's Wednesday, I think." 

"I will try to come."

That night it rained, and rain was coming through the little door.  I was afraid of shutting it and blocking off my oxygen, but I could see small cracks in the hinges and knew I could get a little air, so it was worth the try.  I poked my hand through the window and flipped down the door and I was dry.  But boy was it dark.  I'm normally not claustrophobic, but there was really only about five or six inches from me to the roof of the dumpster.  Luckily the rain didn't last all night and I was able to re-flip the door open, so that was all good.

Would Edward show today?  Would I be able to wave out the window all day and attract attention?  Would someone else empty the dirt if Edward wasn't there?

Turns out no one works there on Wednesday.  And no Edward.  I was starving and somewhat delirious.  I even choked down a little of the dirt to fill my empty belly, and that worked for a while.  I thought about shoveling some of the dirt out of the window and making more room for myself, but I was concerned Edward would have a fit if he saw the dirt piled up out of the little window.  And I thought about crying out louder and longer for help - what was Edward going to do to me?  He didn't seem to be someone with access to a gun.  What would he really do? 

So, on Thursday when I heard cars in the parking lot, I started screaming out the window.  After only five minutes, I heard voices approaching and someone said, "Oh my god, someone's in there."  I don't know what I was saying but I heard multiple voices saying it was locked and, “We have to get him out.”

Someone shot the lock off the door and I was blinded when the large dumpster lid was raised.  Guys in plastic suits had trouble hauling me out of the dumpster.  I was covered in dirt and still naked from the waist down.  Then an ambulance showed up.  A lady who was on the scene about 10 feet from me threw up.

The EMT's covered me with a blanket and got me onto a stretcher.  I was mostly coherent and was able to see my surroundings.  I was in the back parking lot behind a long low building that looked like a house.  Nearby were a couple of dumpsters, one where Edward had retrieved the plastic bag and the one full of dirt, in which I was sequestered for the last six days.  But it wasn’t dirt.  On the front of my dumpster it read, "Rose Funeral Home.  Biohazard.  Cremated Human Remains."  I may have thrown up some of my Wednesday dirt dinner as I passed back out.