Note: This is my assignment I was supposed to do for
Lindsay like 6 months ago. Haha. A story
about an object or creature. It had to take place at Timber-lee and needed to
be a fable. I don’t really know if this is exactly a fable. (And really...its
not good. hahah) But its based off of what I was thinking about today.
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After being dumped in all morning by a mob of sticky
fingered, snot nosed, children the crowd finally died down. The girls that
stood behind me took a break to eat breakfast and soon after I knew what would
happen. They would come by, dragging Bertha, and then the cups, and then the
silverware away. I didn’t bother saying goodbye; I’d see them in three hours.
Sometimes I was taken straight back to the dumpster. Today
it wasn’t just me that needed to be dumped, Charlie needed to go out too. The
girl that normally takes me out back got distracted by other things and we were
forgotten, yet again, the bags of wasted apples, biscuits, sausage patties, and
other cumbersome breakfast items were heavy and I was ready for them to be out.
After quite some time, Charlie and I were dragged out the
double doors. To my dismay, Charlie was taken first and in the process I was
spun around and faced my reflection for the first time. I gazed at myself and was
dismayed at my appearance. My lid was dark and slightly ajar, there were stains
from this breakfast and previous meals smeared on my front, and my name was
scrawled crooked. Roscoe was fading.
Suddenly I felt an overwhelming feeling of self-pity and uselessness
wash over me. I watched the tables get washed each day, when I wasn’t facing
the wall that is. The cups, the cup wracks, the silverware cart, and the tray
cart came back after each meal, clean and rejuvenated. I was given evidence of
how I was always the forgotten one.
Bitterness crept into my heart as I thought of those that had it better
off than I did, getting washed five times a day and how my sole purpose was to
contain people’s rejected meals. Why couldn’t I have a better purpose?
I stewed in my pool of negativity as the empty Charlie was
returned, and I was emptied and brought back only for the endless cycle to
contain. We were both taken back in and she put new white bags. Then she darted
off and Roscoe and I were left alone to talk about the morning. (Salvador was
there too, but he is mute.) Before I had the chance to pour my bitter thoughts
out on him he said something.
“I want to share something with you Roscoe. This morning
while you were being taken to the dumpster, I saw my reflection for the first
time.”
I wanted to interrupt with my own thoughts but something
inside me stopped to listen.
“I was thinking about how we don’t have the tidiest and most
fun job out of all the things in the dining rooms.” Charlie sighed, “But if we
didn’t exist; if we were, say, a table instead of a trashcan, there would be no
place for the kids to throw their trash away and the whole place would be a
mess. Everybody has a purpose, Roscoe.” (The End)
Random possibly unrelated thoughts:
I don’t like what Im doing right now. I am exhausted with
both of my jobs. I have never felt more distant with everyone that’s in my
life, no matter how close I am to them geographically. I haven’t been writing.
I feel stuck. And it’s tiring…I want to quit so bad.
But I know there’s a reason I am where I am. And there is a
reason I am going through what I am going through. It sucks. But I am going to
use it to give God glory. Or try my hardest to do that. I am not giving up.
That is all.
