The Bins are Missing (1.1)

Bin is missing

Fly! Not the bins please.

It’s not the cleanest of street, but it’s your day off anyway, so it’s a good time for a family outing.

“Dad, I want to have an ice cream”, an angelic soft voice.

You look down straight into the dolly eyes of your daughter. You simply could not resist it….staringly thinking about what next to say….so naturally…

“Where is the nearest ice cream shop”?

Somehow you start to salivate…and I am not surprised… haven’t tasted an ice cream for the last few months (on some kind of diet).

Why not do it, once in a while?

“Oh here is the ice cream shop”, and suddenly,

“Phew…” quickly shoving your hands down your pocket, but there is no handkerchief or anything similar so you have no choice but to use your hands…but then it is COVID…so you shift you elbow over your mouth…

It’s not the most effective means of ‘covering you nose and mouth’ from the drench that is…as you looked…covered with blue flies of all sizes and color…

Not to mention the noise generated by these hungry insects…creating a clear zone…human free zone.

“Where are these blue flies coming from”?

Everyone quickly zoomed into the ice cream shop – for the time being not because of the draw of the ice cream…but escaping the rotting stench right in front of the shop, next to a fire emanating from a drum stuffed with shop throwaways.

Ice cream induced gustatory override….’hardly a stench on your way out’

Nearing home…the ride is getting rougher than ever…negotiating your way through roads that is filled with valleys and drains.

“Poor vehicles”

On the roadside are plastics of all sizes and colors pegged from tree trunks…with hovering insects….dominated by flies.

If you grow up in the eighties you will recall bins (aluminum bins), and rubbish collectors would be visiting your neighborhood almost every week.

They are so professional that as a child you even think of becoming a ‘Bin Man’ yourself – especially after hitching a ride behind the rubbish truck, returning home to a ‘hiding reception’.

Now you hardly see ‘the bins’ in the outskirts of town, and hardly any ‘Bin Man’.

Where are the bins?

…And the ‘Bin man’?

“Please, not when I am around”, said the fly, as it buzzes off.

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