Sometimes life can be stranger than fiction.

Professor Ambrose Penwose, Kiwi

Sometimes life can be stranger than fiction. If you are not careful it can send you for a loop. I just looped a bit myself.

I was driving home and listening to the radio. I play the Oldies stations to hear Oldies. I enjoy hearing songs I haven’t heard in a long time. One came on entitled,
I FOUND LOVE IN A DUMPSTER ON A TWO-WAY STREET.

I must confess, I have Never heard that one? It was new to me. I listened a bit but it didn’t knock my socks off, however there was something about it?

I arrived home, parked my car, and started my daily walk. The song was in my head. There were several dumpsters along the way, and they were on two-way streets. Usually I stroll by them without a glance but on this day I found myself looking closely toward the first one kind of like when you find a blooming farthing and walk around with your head down looking for more.

I saw that its lid was open which I thought a bit unusual. As I got closer I could see a woman’s leg sticking out from the top, which I also thought a bit unusual.

Jethro says there are no coincidences, but this sure looked like one? I had just heard, Love in a Dumpster, and her was a woman in dumpster. Some unknown force higher than myself, which is just about all of them, was leading me to save that woman.

I hurried to her rescue. Fortunately she was near the top so it was easy to reach her. She did not seem to be breathing. I tried to take her pulse, but to be honest I really don’t know how to do that? I hoped I wasn’t too late.

She wore only a flimsy negligee and I could see she had been abused and probably molested, then discarded in a garbage can like a piece of meat, Oh the inhumanity!

I tried to flag down a car but nobody would stop. Some of them slowed down to look and then sped off.

We were near a bus stop so I helped her to it and sat her on a bench. I kept trying to revive her and asked passers-by if they could at least find a pulse. Some of them actually crossed the street.
Finally the bus came, but it only slowed down, then went right on by even as I flagged it. People just don’t want to get involved these days.

I realized it was up to me. Her life was in my hands. I left her on the bench, went home, got my car, and drove her to the police station. The Desk Sergeant said, “GET THAT THING OUT OF HERE!”

I WAS SHOCKED that the police were not even going to help!
Two officers escorted us into the street.

I knew someone was probably looking for her. I tried to find some form of identification. On her left shoulder was a tattoo that said, “Do Not Over-Inflate!” I took that as meaning she was on a diet.

I took her home with me and sat her at the dinner table. She looked good there, but weary. She seemed to have a deflated image of herself. I decided to keep her.

I would never have to eat alone again. She would be my companion. We would go on drives in the HOV lanes. She would sit with me watching the tele. I could teach her chess, and we could watch the grass grow. At night she could sle…

Oh no, she can not sleep with me. That would be a bit kinky.

Penwose Out,
By George
NoPo8