Juice

There’s a new game we like to play you see
A game with added reality
You treat me like a dog
Get me down on my knees…

… And clean up the juice that is pouring out of the bottom of the slightly split bag

You squeezed it down too hard.

Then dropped the vegetable peelings on top so that they stuck to the lid of the bin.

And there is something that is both sharp, squishy and solid. How is that even possible?

I now have coffee granuals flying up my arm like worker ants in search of food.

The bag is now at the point of exploding. So much so that I can’t actually lift it out of the bin as per the design. I have to carry everything out, and try to shoehorn the bag out in to the black bin outside. Wearing a hazmat suit.

Is this why you think I should get some temporary life insurance? Which part of that is temporary – my life or the paperwork?

So here’s to you, champ. Winner of this round of Bin Buckaroo. I saw you delicately closing the lid – moving quickly away in case it popped open and anything fell out. The automatic disqualification element to the game.

So you pushed, you squeezed, you hurried away – I carried it out. I lost. To the loser, the spoils – all over the floor.

You may have won this battle, the inevitable war, the return match and the subsequent head to head – but mark my words, I shall return.

To a creaking bin and empty it once more.

(* Some of this may have been made up for comedic purpose)

Link to the song below is Depeche Mode – Master and Servant, which the opening lyrics to this piece are taken from

Chris Written by:

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