The van pulled up at the entrance nearly blocking the sunlight that newly drenched the garden as the fallen stumps of trees soaked in its rays and insects scurried and absorbed their new fate.
The man, exited the van. Esteban thought to himself, an entire trade built on the convince of two three letter rhyming words. He remembered his maths teacher telling him, ‘young man! Poetry has no convenience in the real world.’ He dropped his voice an octave and arched his back, he wasn’t getting ripped off.
Then came the thunderous salute ‘now mate.’
Everything Go’s. If you have something unwanted, these people come and take it away, for a price. He imagined a world where this trade expanded far past house clearance, garage waste, lofts, demolition and tree cuttings. He imagined that the fully licensed company removed an arrangement of other problems in your life.
Speedy and reliable service, call now, 24 hours. Who would need this service 24 hours a day? What possible emergency could arise at 4 in the morning that would require the immediate removal of your household rubbish. Surely this service would be used in only subversive institutions. Esteban imagined a crime figure of some distinction, calling our man John and explaining that he had 2 Persian rugs to be taken away, that they were rolled and were not to be unrolled, that they would need to be dropped in a river instead of the recycling plant. That he was prepared to pay good cash for ‘for a first class service’ as their business card described. All in caps of course.
He smirked at John, the man in a van. John asked, ‘anything else you need getting shot?’
Esteban was amused by his specific choice of wording and quipped ‘just a few rolled up Persian rugs under the floorboards.’