Inquisitive Carl Takes a Peek Into Your Trash Can
Whoa whoa whoa. Come on. Come on man. This is not cool. I was just chilling, walking around, you might call it “skulking”, and I figured I’d give your street cans a gander.
I had some expectations but you’ve totally blown it this time.
I lifted the top. No, I’m not telling you how. If I told you how, then you’d know and we all know you’d just ruin a good thing. So once I recovered from the slamming noise (you want to fix something? put a pillow on the top of this thing. It is loud.) I slipped in.
An empty jar of pickles, some old cheese and bread, a mix tape.
Smashmouth? Did you finally empty out your high school memorabilia box? And I shredded all those love letters to Todd and put them in your planter where I keep all my dead mice.
Then it happen. I’m standing ankle high in a LAYER OF PUDDING! ON MY TOOTSIES!”
WHY? GOD WHY? USE A TRASH BAG YOU FILTHY PLEBE!
Now I have to go shake my feet off all over your BMW Whateverwagon over here. I’m not scratching as much these days, these old bones, so I’ll make some muffins here on your hood and, well, I certainly don’t see any litter box around.