“23-Hour-a-Day Ray” - A Satirical, Short Story

“HELLOOOOOOO, HOW ARE YOU DOING TODAY SIRE! WOULD YOU LIKE ANY HELP WITH YOUR GROCERIES?” Said a very invading and eccentric-looking man. I was only trying to unload the car for my wife.

“Look it’s alright.” I politely chimed. I was perfectly capable. Anyway, a man wearing cargo shorts with zebra suspenders, who sports two fanny packs for two different uses, his own minicape, and a butchered bowl-cut hairdo screams nothing but psychotic.

“NEIGH LAYMAN, IT IS WITHIN MY DUTY TO HELP THOSE IN NEED OF HELP! ‘TIS WHAT I DO!”

Who was this strange man and why was he standing on my driveway? I could see my wife approaching from the garage to see what the hold-up was. I quickly ushered her away with my hand, saving her from the unsettling encounter. Alright.

“Listen to me buddy, my wife and I aren’t even religious so watch what kind of words you use around people, okay bub? Also, two, I used to kick dweebs’ butts like yours back in high school, so I’ll give you your last warning to get off my lawn before things get hairy.” I laid out the law. I wasn’t going to let some wacko handle our groceries and I especially wasn’t letting him into MY house. This guy was clearly sick in the head.

“OH HO HO HO! HOW FUNNY! YOU MUST BE NEW TO THESE LANDS. NEW FOLK USUALLY REACT THIS WAY UPON MEETING MYSELF.”

How did he know we just moved here?

“How the hell did you know we just moved here?” I demanded.

“THAT.” He gaily pointed to the ‘SOLD’ sign picketed on our lawn.

“Oh.” Nevertheless. “Look man I don’t care who you are, but I want you off my property before I call the police. I don’t want any help with my groceries. Ok? People probably deny whatever you do because you look like a freak!”

The geeky-looking man-child pondered my words. “OK. OK. I UNDERSTAND SIRE. THEN I SHALL WAIT LIKE I DO DURING ANY OTHER DAY. MY SERVICE IS YOUR’S AT REQUEST SIRE.” The freak-man said.

“Stand on the sidewalk before I jack you off!” That came out so wrong but I didn’t bother to correct myself. I meant to say something like “whoop your butt” but I said that instead. It was an honest mistake.

He backed up. I proceeded to one-trip the grocery bags, set them in the kitchen, and then I locked the door behind me. I peered out the window to see the man standing plainly on the sidewalk. He twiddled his thumbs and stood there, almost like he was waiting for a bus, yet not impatiently or in the excited fit he’d shown before. He just waited around on the curb. He took out a cigarette and notepad and began doing sudoku.

I figured, “Whatever” and went to make dinner for the family.

Later, a couple of hours after dinner, the wife asked me to take out the trash. The whole thing with the guy from earlier had completely slipped my mind. I walked around the house to our trashcans.

When I opened the lid I about had a heart attack.

Inside was the man from before, sitting on a heap of junk, eating our trash. Literally eating the garbage. He had ripped the bag open like some vermin and was eating wrappers, and apple cores and violently stuffing his face with coffee grounds. It was a horrifying sight. I clutched my pulsating chest.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” I bellowed out, though I wasn’t a religious man.

“WAIT, I CAN EXPLAIN!” The strange man cried out.

Without hesitation, I whipped out my phone and immediately started dialing the cops; something I probably should’ve done earlier. Who the hell was this guy looming around my house, eating my freaking trash?

He was shamefully caught. The goon had stopped scrambling to escape the can. He accepted his capture. In a quieter, defeated voice he reasoned himself.

“Ay, my name is 23-hour-a-day Ray, you caught me during my one hour off.”

I stopped fumbling with the phone. “What do you call this then Ray?” I asked like a disappointed father.

“It’s ‘me lunch break.”

“You need to get out of here and go get help dude,” I said sternly.

And with his head hung low, 23-hour-a-day Ray trudged off to go help someone else in need. After that I never questioned it. I didn’t think about how I was somehow indebted or how long Ray would’ve waited around my house.

But the one thing I couldn’t grasp was how during that single, free hour of his day…

…Ray devours garbage.