[This piece has recently been revised to reflect my current style. If you'd like more information on that, please consult my profile. Other than these revisions, the general tone and feel of the text that follows is still a time capsule from the glorious early 2010s. Thanks for understanding.]
I kind of want to chug bleach every time I see an Ash betrayal story on this site. It might as well be a drinking game at this point. Speaking of trash...
Word Count: 184 words.
The Garbage Man
"Hm, hmm.."
Garbodor hums as he combs through the pile strewn about before him, his noxious body embellished by the moon's glow. While the copious mounds of gunk and grime are nourishing, it's the human treasures that tickle his curiosity the most.
"Hmm.."
He unearths a screwdriver, torn rings from a six pack, a broken pair of sunglasses, and discarded lingerie. Of these, all but the lingerie are assimilated into his trashy girth for safekeeping. As the lump of filth prepares to move on to the next mound, he notices something else jutting out of the rancid pile.
"Hmmm?"
Garbodor fishes out a flashlight. It's dinky, blue, and as generic as generic gets, which means it's all kinds of majestic in the eyes of a garbage glutton. He fiddles around with the device, unexpectedly turning it on.
"Garb-oh?"
Intrigued, he turns it off and then on again, then off, then on once more, repeating the process until he becomes convinced that a greater diamond does not exist in the world.
He shifts his eyes in either direction before stuffing it into his moldering folds.