Many of The Tales Out of Court published by the legendary Bill Loepkey's Inditer Dot Com of Canada. Against advancing illness and frustration which the legal system imposed, Bill Loepkey promoted literature and culture on the internet. It is no small recognition that his countrymen have hono[u]red Bill in their Bibliotek Nationale.

First Day

by John Davis Collins.....© 2001 by John F. Clennan, All Rights Reserved

First Day, first job, I reported to the store manager who puffed on his cigar, glanced at my papers from company headquarters, "16 years old!" The manager exclaimed. "They look younger all the time," the manager muttered as he grabbed 'Glasses,' an older boy shuffling an empty hand truck. "Break the new kid in," the manager grunted with his cigar clinched in his teeth. "Clean up the back," the manager reminded Glasses, "the area supervisor is on his way."

Glasses grabbed me by the arm into the back. In front of a poster depicting a tall muscular man, Glasses paused with an evil grin. I studied the poster's image of a man proudly, defiantly, wearing the company apron over a pressed white shirt. I was impressed. The figure grasped the broom like a weapon. "Ready for battle?" Glasses asked. "Read the caption." "Clean, neat and no offensive B.O.," I read the caption aloud at Glasses' direction.

"This is the way they expect you to look when you show up for work. Smile and all." Glasses tossed me a red apron.

"Let's see," Glasses turned to me, with a swirl of his read stone apron, "First day, in your first job, you get to clean up the dumpster."

I was struggling with the ends of the strings to tie the store apron around my waist. "They must make these aprons for rhinos, like the guy in the picture." I muttered. "Okay, boss, show me the pit."

A snarl peered over Glasses' face. "Don't call me boss." Glasses warned. "I'm just another kid who made it through day one." Glasses led me out to the back to the parking lot, overlooking the white capped bay. In a hidden corner, Glasses pointed to a huge mound of trash. "Somewhere, under there, is the dumpster. This area has to be swept clean before the big boss hits."

My eyes must have widened so large that Glasses feared I might jump into the breakers beating into the bulkhead. "Don't worry," Glasses assumed a comforting boss, "you clean it up once or twice and the next new kid they hire gets this job."

I don't know how long I stood there gaping at the mound of trash after Glasses retreated into the store, with a mocking gesture, holding his hand over his mouth and nose and pretended to choke.

I carefully poked through the trash to locate the contours of the dumpster and assayed the extent of the problem. Most of the loose trash, rotting vegetables and meat rested on unbroken boxes. If that true inside the dumpster, the . . .

I scaled the mound of trash and started swatting it with my broom and pushing the debris over the rim of the dumpster. Suddenly, I heard a crackling noise, the heap below me gave way and I dropped to the bottom of the dumpster.

Outside I heard Glasses calling me. "Hey - - - I sent you out here to clean up the dumpster, not - - - are you there?" Glasses beckoned. I heard him muttering as he kicked debris around. "I hope the sucker didn't run off. Then I'll have to clean this mess."

I climbed to the lid of the dumpster and pulled myself out. Debris poured on the ground around below the dumpster.

Glasses' expression changed instantaneously from annoyance to surprise to relief to disgust. "Oh man," Glasses gasped, mounds of stinking leaves of lettuce and cabbage fell on me.

I shrieked I saw a red goo all over my white shirt. Could it be blood? But I wasn't bleeding. The red ooze must have been tomatoes at one time. Did the guy in the poster ever clean the dumpster - - from the inside out? I asked. The question reechoed off the iron sides of the great tin can I was ensconced in.

I was still laughing when I heard scuffling of feet outside. "What the heck you doing in there?" I heard of hiding out from the manager - - but - - here I brought you some coffee," Glasses held a cup out and looked away with an upturned wrinkled nose. "Union rules, you get a ten minute coffee break every three hours."

I drank the coffee and spit it out.

Glasses laughed. "Your first cup of coffee? I'm glad I left my cigarettes inside." With a sign, Glasses looked at the mound of trash and reminded me. "The manager took the big boss to a long liquid lunch. You're lucky. You got 'til 6 p.m. to shovel all that - - back into the dumpster."

After Glasses left, I pulled myself up to look into the dumpster. My crush had flattened some of the boxes. The heap had sunk. Now if I could break more of the boxes the pile of trash could be contained where it belonged.

I approached the subject scientifically. I stood on different parts of the heap until the boxes below me cracked and the heap settled into the dumpster, sending a fume of dust aloft. Then I climbed out of the dumpster and stated to pack the loose debris into one of the boxes.

Glasses drove past the dumpster in his beat up Ford jalopy and climbed out. "6 p.m., quitting time. Store's closed, but the manager is in the office 'going over the books' with the big boss. You got a few minutes. They have half a bottle left." Glasses returned to his car. "I signed you out. Just duck out when you're finished."

I threw the box of debris into the dumpster and broke the rest of the boxes and tossed them in and then pulled the lid shut. I looked on the ground. It was slick with a leafy debris. I took the broom and scraped off a layer of sawdust packed into the macadam. They must have laid down sawdust instead of cleaning up the goo.

What had been a red apron and white shirt in. I tied the lid of the dumpster closed with the remained of my tie.

I probably closed the lid of the dumpster for the first time since the man in the poster was a new hire.

The next day when I reported to work. The manager suspiciously glared at me as he held his cigar billowing smoke. The manager nodded to Glasses who dragged me outside.

The ground around the dumpster was clean as I had left it, except there were two cigars on the ground which had burnt down to the tips.

Glasses explained, "They were so stunned when they saw the dumpster gleaming, the cigars dropped out of their mouths and burned away."

"Is that good?" I asked tentatively.

"Perhaps it might depend on perspective. You're now keeper of the dump."

"Everyday?" I asked.

"Every day, rain or shine, you get an hour or two to break up boxes and keep the ground clean. And," Glasses added with a disdainful smile, "You're docked $5.00 for that apron you tossed away."

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