Treasure
Bob loved the garbage.
Every day at noon he would ride out and take out the trash, the only problem?
Bob wasn’t a garbage man. The official garbage men didn’t complain, being
saved from an entire block of work, so Bob was allowed to continue in peace with
his favorite hobby. Peace that is until Bob met Mr. Zambone.
It was a normal day, Bob
just rode around in his garbage truck that he had bought a long time ago and
picked up trash. Then at 4704 South Jandl Drive Bob picked up a particularly
heavy load of trash. Thinking nothing of it, Bob drove off to his home to
scurry through his trash, his treasure.
He opened his bright red
door and walked in. Immediately his nose gets attacked by a fragrance almost
sweet and definitely rotten. Piles of junk, garbage, trash assorted by types;
TVs, microwaves, computers, CD players, even car parts. The walls (in the few
places you could see them) were colored black. Bob went over to his vintage
refrigerator that some fool had threw out even though it worked fine, just for
some brand new prettier model, and grabbed a sandwich. Bob looked through his
new trash quickly throwing out the food and napkins and on and on till he found
himself with 6 new items: A TV, a microwave, a slightly cracked mirror, a snow
blower engine, a dead body and a pair of shoes. Bob took a moment to realize
that he had a dead body in his house. Bob now had a choice; tell the police
that there has been a murder (assumed since the body had been stabbed at least
twenty times) or keep the body and make a new pile “dead bodies” for his ever
expanding treasure collection. After a long thought Bob decided to keep the
body for his treasure collection.
Mr. Zambone drove up to
his house, went inside, and checked how Mrs. Zambone was doing. To his horror
he saw his faithfully departed wife was not where he left her, in the garbage
bag (so as not to stain his very expensive carpet). He ran around in a panic
and finally found his servant. “Where did you put that garbage bag I had in my
closet?” he calmly asked, masking his fear. “Why I put it in the garbage, by
the way what was in it? It was so heavy, I figured you had a pile of bricks or
a dead body in there” she said with a laugh. Mr. Zambone just said “the part is
coming so fast, I hope I can protect her from it” and ran off. The servant said
nothing, by now she was use to Mr. Zambone’s strange sayings. Mr. Zambone went
outside to see an empty trash can, kicking it and saying a few choice words, Mr.
Zambone went back inside.
Bob went out the next day
to pick up the garbage, when he saw a strange man sitting outside his own driveway.
The man looked frumpy and angry and bored and so many things but mostly he
looked perturbed. The man walked up and said the normal pleasantries “hello,
how are you? Nice weather we are having huh?” Bob just stared at Mr. Zambone
(the man).
Mr. Zambone started to get even more ticked off at this silent man who was now sitting in
the garbage truck. “So what’s the most unusual thing you’ve ever picked up?
What’s your name? What does a job like yours pay?” Bob just stared at Mr. Zambone, never saying a word. Finally Mr. Zambone couldn’t take it anymore. He
pulled a gun out and yelled "BOB, WHERE DO YOU TAKE THE GARBAGE, DID YOU TAKE MY
GARBAGE SHOW ME WHERE YOU TAKE THE GARBAGE!” he yelled in random incoherent
angry questions. Bob put the pedal to the metal and got out of there as Mr. Zambone fired a random shot. The shot not being so random had shot off the
garbage trucks license plate. Mr. Zambone walked over and picked it up. He
would find this boy and teach him a lesson, a lesson his wife hadn’t learned
until he showed her the way it was truly meant to be - life is painful.
Bob sped past red
lights and other annoying measures of traffic control. He was scared and wanted
to go to his home, where he felt safe. Bob was confused about a lot but he had
decided on one thing. He was never going to pick up that mans garbage again.
Bob kept driving till he had driven to his house. It was surrounded by police
cars and yellow tape, Bob knew what this meant, they had found the dead body.
Bob sped away from his own home. The police were surprised by the garbage truck
speeding right in front of them till a neighbor told them that Bob owned a
garbage truck. Bob was driving away and the police were following.
Mr. Zambone sat down with
the license plate, turned on the TV and called a private investigator. “Hello
Mr. Manshum. This is Zambone, I have a license plate and I was wondering if you
could tell me who owns it and where they live. The license plate reads this;
GARBAGE, yes it is a vanity plate, yes I know that is the easiest to find, good
bye, call me with the news” Mr. Zambone sat down to relax when he noticed a
sudden news report. There was a garbage truck being chased by 5 police cars.
Mr. Zambone ran off and got into his corvette. He guessed the garbage man had
one more car chasing him today.
Bob never could tell how
he got into this messes. He checked in his review mirror and there were 5
whole police cars, all after little old Bob! All Bob ever done in his
entire life was collect garbage and here he was being chased by police with a
helicopter flying above, no doubt filming his every move. He moved in and
out of traffic going a smooth 98 miles per hour. He had spent many
weekends tweaking out his garbage truck and now it was paying off. The
radio piped up in excitement and told him “breaking” news, a corvette had joined
the little car chase, Bob figured it was the man with the gun, how was he
suppose to outrun a corvette, much less bullets?
Mr. Zambone received a
call from his cell phone “Hello Mr. Manshum what news do you have for me? Bob
Mentom? A history of peculiarities? Wealthy deceased parents? Yes thank you
very much, how is your wife doing by the way? Oh you know how it is, she is
sick in bed yes don’t worry she will be up and ready by Monday I’m sure.
Alright you have a good day alright? Alright good, buh bye.” Mr. Zambone hung
up and drove even faster.
Bob saw the strange man
drive up and point his gun. Bob panicked and side swept his car into the little
corvette. Their cars ran through the side of the road and off a bridge. They
fell off in a twisted burning almost alive bundle of metal. They hit the bottom
at a sickening and incredibly loud “THUD” Bob felt himself loose vision as a cut
in his leg bleed. As everything went dark, Bob worried, who would take care of
his treasure?
Three Years Later
Bob and Mr. Zambone sat across a table and played checkers. Both had long ago recovered from their wounds, well their physical wounds at least. For both of their mental problems they were recovering “till they received a stable state of mind” Well anyways they had long since recovered any such bitterness in-between themselves and had found themselves being the best of friends. To everyone they meet and every new comer to the “hospital” they told their story, all while laughing, like they had been friends for the longest time. The story was quite interesting and even the hospital staff loved to hear it. Bob still collected his treasure and Mr. Zambone still loved to keep up with news of the fanciest items, which were in quite ways, quite opposites but the real treasure was their friendship. Bob and Mr. Zambone died wealthy men, with real treasure.
