One Mans Trash...

Arthur wasn’t the best guy to ask if good things happened to good people – because his answer was always the same: of course not. At 25, Arthur lived between a restaurant and a clothes shop. At 25, Arthur didn’t just think, he knew that good things never happened to good people - the evidence was in the mirror. His answer, however, needed a slight adjustment after the 29th of June.

Arthur stood on his tippy toes to examine the dumpster for any breakfast. He completely forgot about the noise last night. Only after settling on a burnt piece of bacon did he remember. Last night, Arthur lay restlessly inside his cardboard home when he heard something hit the dumpster. Usually, it meant nothing. That night, however, the events that followed were not. As Arthur cowered in his home, he heard multiple shouts and plenty of footsteps. Arthur deemed then that whatever was thrown against the dumpster - was worth a look. After he ate, Arthur searched for anything out of the obvious. All he could see were the usual: torn garbage bags, rubbish, and smelly, decomposing food. Arthur was about to turn when he saw a black book within one of the rubbish bags. The black book stared back at him as he pried the bag open. He couldn’t read that well (if at all), but he managed to decipher the only word on the cover.

“Dairy?” said Arthur with a raised eyebrow. Is the rest of the stuff made out of dairy?

Arthur couldn’t hold his excitement – fresh food! His mouth began to salivate as he searched the rest of the bag. He frowned as he felt small pieces of fabric. Arthur pulled out a few and gasped. What lay in his hands were $50 notes.

“Oh my god,” he exclaimed. A broad grin spread across his face; he certainly preferred this over dairy. There was so much money that he had to pinch himself. Lucrative thoughts went around his mind like people on an ice rink.

I could buy a house.

I could get a car! Maybe 2!

I would never go hungry again.

I could get a job.

A wife.

A family.

He rose quickly to his feet. He would purchase the biggest meal at the restaurant and then buy it again: just because he could. The sunlight between the two brick buildings shone brightly upon his dirty face and he welcomed it. He practically waltzed onto the street – only to be hit by a screaming thought. The thought brought a cold shiver down his spine and, before anyone could see him, he snuck back home. The thought was complex and yet it came to him like a bullet.

What if the money was stolen?

It made sense as to why the thief would throw it away. It made sense why Arthur heard multiple shouts and footsteps - the thief thought he’d get caught. He threw it beside the dumpster because no-one would notice it. Arthur’s knees began to shake as he realised the possible, daunting implications.

I could go to jail for this! I don’t have a single alibi! All the arrows would point to me!

A new lot of skaters joined the rink within his mind in quick succession. One skater presented itself as a picture. The picture was of him in a grey outfit in and amongst a crowded courtyard. Jail wouldn’t necessarily be worse than his current environment, but he was terrified of the men who lived there. He glanced at his right thumb – if you could even call it that. It had been severely burnt purely for the enjoyment of a few drunken men. His left hand had a jagged scar right down the middle. That had been done by another group, who thought it would be fun to see who could throw and hit a defenceless man with beer bottles.

He began to walk back towards the street miserably. He needed the money, although he knew that the risks were too high. Arthur found the money near the corner of the restaurant - he intended to put it there. Just before he dropped the bag, he was startled by a siren. It took him a few seconds to realise what the siren meant. Arthur screamed internally as a police cruiser emerged from one end of the street. His whole body froze. He couldn’t move to hide or even drop the bag. Arthur became certain that the cruiser was meant for him. The police cruiser was now so close that all Arthur could do was close his eyes and wait.

Please, please, don’t take me to jail.

He raised an eyebrow because he thought he heard the siren start to fade.

There’s no way.

Now he opened an eye and beheld a sight which made him sigh in great relief. The police cruiser had driven past and now turned a corner, away from Arthur and his bag of money.

He didn’t want to put it back where he found it – he wanted it gone. While that police cruiser wasn’t for him, who knew whether the next one would be the same? His belly rumbled and, as if on cue, he got a great idea. He snuck 3 50-dollar bills into his pale and worn-down pants and had the bag in one hand and a 50 in the other. Arthur wanted to get the attention of females: they didn’t throw bottles or burn you with cigarette butts.

“Hello ma’am, do you want $10,000 cash?” he asked a young woman with high heels and black hair. She looked at him the same way one might look at a drowned rat and walked past without a response. Arthur wasn’t surprised: he didn’t look overly appealing.

“Madam. Would you be so kind as to look to my right hand?” He asked another. She looked at the 50 in his hand, and her face became one of fear and confusion.

“I’m not a sex worker,” she said without taking another glance at him.

“No, no that’s not what I mea-

She was already ten metres away. After five more attempts and the light slipping away, Arthur thought he might have to switch up his tactics. It was now close to dusk when Arthur tried his new idea. With zest, Arthur leaped from the alleyway and onto the street with a thump. He yelled out loudly and for reinforcement: he held his left wrist and tried to grimace as much as possible. All the people who walked down the street towards him had stopped. It wasn’t long before one of them made a move. Like sheep, the rest followed willingly – to the other side of the street. He felt blood rush to his cheeks as he got up. He decided he had enough of humanity for one day. The tears fell before he even reached his stupid and ugly home. He kicked the dumpster as he went, which caused a few rats to scamper off in different directions. He sat down hard on the cardboard and sulked.

Why are people so disappointing?

He looked at the stars above.

I expected so little of them, and yet they still manage to disappoint me. Why? Why is everyone so selfish, so entranced in their world, that they can’t help others.

Arthur put his head between his legs and cried. Arthur always felt that he missed something – something that everyone else seems to have. He felt this way for almost his entire life. He recalled a hated memory when at school he was bullied for having clothes two sizes too big. Arthur felt the punches, but the pain was nothing compared to the silence and ignorance from the rest of his peers. He thought then that he must have missed something. He truly wished he could be like the others: with money, friends, and new clothes. Soon, the tears dried upon his face. He felt sleep rise to meet him as he laid on the cardboard - he gladly welcomed it.

Arthur felt light-headed and very hungry. It was the 29th of June, according to his makeshift calendar. He got into a sitting position, and that’s when he heard the rustling and grunts. Arthur froze as he realised someone was searching around the dumpster, only a few metres from where he sat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” someone exclaimed.

Arthur ducked, waited, and then peeked out of his home. What he saw a few metres away was a man. The man had his head in his hands and knelt against the dumpster. Arthur wasn’t sure what to do: his usual action to these incidences was to hide and stay as quiet as possible. He moved into a more comfortable position to view the stranger. The guy wore a high-vis outfit and was covered in tattoos. Arthur’s leg brushed something leathery as he moved again. Arthur looked down and saw it was the black notebook. Arthur raised an eyebrow – he couldn’t remember where he had gotten the book.

Oh yeah, the book from the bag full of money.

The bag full of money!

Arthur shot out of his home – money in hand – and ran towards the tattooed man. The man turned to Arthur with a glare. Arthur stopped instantly and had second thoughts on whether the tattooed man was friendly or not.

“What do you want?” He asked.

Arthur fumbled with the words in his mouth.

“I… I wou… would,”

“Spit it out,” he said.

Arthur corrected himself with a cough and then straightened up.

“I think this might be yours,” Arthur said and handed the bag over. The guy raised an eyebrow at the old-looking bag and looked back at Arthur.

“That… That’s the bag? With the money?”

Arthur nodded. The man took the bag, looked inside, and laughed. He laughed for a good minute before he reached out and hugged Arthur.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” he said and let go.

“You don’t know what this means for me and my daughter. It’s my savings, you see. Every week I would drop a fifty in a jar for my daughters’ surgery. She has cancer. I dropped the bag here because I wasn’t sure if I was being followed or not. Turns out I wasn’t, just a bit of paranoia, haha,” he added.

Arthur didn’t know how to respond. He nodded instead. He pulled out the three fifties he had in his pocket and motioned the man to take it.

“This is yours too,” Arthur said.

“No,” said the man and push it away, “It’s the least I could do. So, how come you didn’t use the $20,000?”.

$20,000!

Arthur shrugged, he had $20,000 this whole time! The tattooed man raised an eyebrow at the shrug, then his eyes widened.

“Oh, you must have read my diary,” he said and pulled out the black notebook.

“Oh yeah, seems my memory has a few screws loose. Yeah, I read your diary,” Arthur responded and smiled. The guy smiled back and brought out a hand. Arthur flinched slightly before realising it was a handshake and grabbed the hand with confidence.

“You’re a good guy, not many anymore, but you friend… definitely are. You might just be the one who saves my daughter's life. Thank you”.

With that, the tattooed man walked off. Arthur watched him go. He expected some sort of sadness from losing the money, but he felt quite the opposite. He had never felt so… he couldn’t think of the right word. He thought it was fulfilment, but it was more than that – it was the thing he was missing all this time. He wished he could help everyone in the world - if it meant he could feel this way again.

Five minutes later, Arthur made his way to the restaurant. You can probably guess what he bought.