Rob hated his God forsaken life. “What else do you expect from a blind, forty-year old, trash collector?” He shouted at the sky, spurting spit all over his face. “This world will end, but these baboons will never learn to throw their shit where it belongs!” He felt paper rustling beneath his feet and caught it with a trash grabber. Unlike his usual way of crumpling up paper, he spent extra time ripping the winning million dollar lottery ticket to pieces.
“Serves you right!” Rob had a habit of talking to trash. He limped on with a big grin.