Taking Out the Trash

By LauraBF

Disclaimer: If you think they're mine, you're sadly mistaken. I borrowed them, hugged them, squeezed them, and called them George and then gave them back like a good girl. Seriously, Harm, Mac, all other characters seen on the show, and the TV series JAG belong to Donald P. Bellisario, Belisaurius Productions, Paramount Pictures, and Columbia Broadcasting Service Entertainment.

Author's Note: Killing off Vukopuke was fun. But I'm still stressing. So... for those that don't like this kind of thing, run away. Character death warning.


1345 LOCAL
WASHINGTON, DC

Clayton Webb glared at the dumpster, as if by glaring at it, he could make it go away. He didn't want to ruin his three-piece suit by climbing inside, but he didn't have a choice.

There was a bag of trash inside that he was sure contained some classified documents that the occupant of the apartment he'd been running surveillance on had no business possessing. Minions were supposed to be around to do that, but the less qualified agents had gotten into a wreck on the way over and the Company hadn't sent anyone else yet.

The garbage men were due at any time, and he didn't want to have to dig through a dump to find what was most likely in the dumpster in front of him. With a long-suffering sigh, he grabbed the top and hoisted himself inside.

Webb grimaced as his shoe landed in something wet, slimy, and smelly. He almost jumped again when his sleeve brushed against some spoiled food and stained his jacket. And people thought being a spy was glamorous, he reflected wryly.

Slowly, he began to sift through the bags, using his penlight in the dark corners of the dumpster. His foot slipped again, sending him headfirst into a particularly sloppy bag of garbage. He was wiping ketchup out of his eyes when he heard it--the rumble of a garbage truck.

He grimaced again as he picked a stray pickle slice off the front of his trousers. Surely they would look inside before they emptied it! The dumpster began to shrudder and shake as the arms of the garbage truck slid home into their slots.

With a metallic clang, they connected, and the dumpster began to lift high into the air. "Help!" Webb yelled, but his voice was lost in the noise from the truck.

Webb scrambled frantically to stay in the dirty bin as it tipped and began to empty the garbage, but he slipped on some unidentified mess in the bottom and fell into the compactor-compartment of the truck. He screamed for help again as the walls began to close in, but he still wasn't heard--until it was too late.

The sanitation engineers were shocked when they found bug-squished Webb in the back of their truck, but there was nothing they could do. What kind of sane person would climb into a dumpster on collection day, anyway?

The End

/me dives into the nearest foxhole