Trash Magic(Wilderness Express Series)
“Tadaaaaaaaaaaa”
Trink stood on her tip toes with arms stretched to a tendon straining width. Glory rang in her voice as she held the final note. The majesty of her creation zipped through her veins. Evan’s eyes darted back and forth. Trinks began to sway. The combination of rapidly depleting oxygen and a howling at the moon posture worked deviously to undermine her equilibrium. Evan’s nose twitched, pulling at the air from various angles, but to no avail. All secrets, if any existed, remained hidden. He leapt at the sound of a crash behind him. He spun round only to find that Trinks has tumbled over and was now coated with another layer of grime. Her eyes sparkled ever more against the filth clinging to her fur. It was too much for Evan.
“You…” Evan’s voice was tugged back by the trembling corners of his mouth.
“Yeeeeesssssss” Trink’s anxiously watched every muscle that twitched across Evan’s face.
“You just…”
“Yeeeessssssss.” Trink’s voice now giddy with anticipation.
“You just moved everything from one side to the other!” spat a terribly annoyed Evan.
“Uh huuuuuh” chirped Trink as she spun around in wonder of her own genius. Finally, it had been recognized by another.
“Trink!” snarled Evan, snapping her from her revelry.
“What?” she squeaked.
“It’s all just flip flopped! Everything that was on the left is now on the right. Everything that was on the right is now on the left.” His arms strained to one side, then the next, with a brief pause at his head to free a few tuffs of hair from his head. “This is your masterpiece?!”
“Wonderful, isn’t it!” Trinks beamed, matching awe ounce for ounce with Evan’s annoyance. “The energy is so different.” Her eyes widened as she witnessed of her own fingers wiggling.
Evan growled and kicked the battery free remote as his feet. It clanked against a broken toaster, then, gently coaxed along by gravity, slid downward past a cracked toy spaceship, banked upon encountering a three stringed tennis racket, danced atop shards of porcelain, finally unceremoniously slowed to a stop by the mush of rotten banana. The display incited a further eruption of twitches upon the face of Evan. “You drug me all the way down here just to show me how you rearranged your house” he demanded with a low growl.
“You don’t like it?” The words barely escaping Trink’s lips. Her heart sank as she began to suspect that Evan wasn’t the keen appreciator of art that she assumed. Her stripped tail shot between her fingers and the fluff began to work its ever-reliable magic.
“Like what? You didn’t do anything, Trink! It’s all the same stuff, just in a different order.”
“Nuh uh!” she retorted unconvincingly. Her eyes darted nervously over the clutter she called home. Suddenly, they popped wide. “What about this!” she squeaked as she zipped behind Evan. The badger spun, stumbling over his own tail which resulted in a cascade of murmured curses. Righting himself, he found an obviously proud racoon holding aloft a smashed clever phone. “Just arrived this morning. Look!” Joy washed across her face as she tilted the phone to and fro. The shattered screen pinged splintered sunlight back to its creator.
“It’s a broken phone” snarled Evan between two paws desperately tugging at his cheeks.
“Sure is!” What a treat is it to live in a dumpster, thought Trink. New delights were tossed her way every day without so much as a whimpered request from her. The universe provided all.
“And, it’s only a 62E” scoffed the badger. “Seven generations and three cousins removed from the newest 69UME model.” His voice drifted dreamily as the last words slipped past his typically taut lips.
“You know what they say” called out Trink over her shoulder as she followed the phone’s pull to discover its proper resting place within the dumpster. “The older the…mmph…berry, the sweeter theeeee…aarrgggh…juice.” Boom! Trink and the minute mountain of rumble she had just piled both crashed to more widely agreed upon proper level of trash which served as the dumpster’s floor. The clever phone was now wedged into the northeast corner, optimized to catch the sun’s morning rays. Beams of light sprayed forth in all directions, delightfully illuminating the four walls in unpredictable ways.
“What?” Evan curled his lip as he scratched behind an ear. “No. The saying is ‘the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice.’ Old fruit.” Squish. The badger looked down and gagged. Banana mush seeped through the gaps in his toes. “Rots” he sighed, then gagged again.
“Potato. Batata” Evan leapt. Trink’s words seemed to arise from the floor itself. Evan turned to find her half submerged, butt up, and digging for only the Great Acorn knows what. “Besides” she chirped as the popped out of the whole with the desire prize in paw. “How else could you make silly goose juice.”
Evan blinked furiously as he stared at ayed shoe string in Trink’s hand. A look of disbelief fell upon his face. “Wine” he breathed from a slack jaw. “Did you really…” he began but Trink was already scurrying to another corner.
“No thanks, I prefer to focus on the good things in my life.”
“Huh? I mean. No, forget it. I have to go back to work.” He looked from corner to corner of the dumpster without any clue how to get out. Or, how he got in, for that matter. Being blind-folded as he was. Trink couldn’t possibly have carried him. Could she?
“Oh, fun! What are you doing today?”
“Trying to sell more toilet paper, like always.”
“But, why do we need more toilet paper?” Trink looked up from her most recent project. A half-deflated soccer ball perched on top of her head. Soil sprinkled her fingers from her attempt to plant a flower in the cab of a toy train.
Evan momentarily went cross-eyed. “Because” he stammered, “no one wants to walk around with an unclean backside like a wild animal.” Resigned, he turned to begin his attempt to climb his way out of the dumpster, though he doubted it would do him any good as years of deskwork had sapped away much of the strength his once young claws possessed.
“But we are”
“Don’t” gasped Evan cutting off Trink mid-sentence. His claw slipped from the precariously hold it had found in the dumpster wall and he toppled backwards. “Say it” he breathed from his backside.
“Oh, stop being such a badger.” Trink’s tongue protruded from her mouth as twirled a drum stick.
A could of dust arose as Evan began to tremble. “I am a badger!” he growled.
“Eeeeeexactly” smiled Trink. She tossed the drum stick over her shoulder and popped to her feet. The item formerly known as a soccer ball tumbled from her head and landed adroitly in her awaiting paws which she then stuffed into the small declivity next to her. She squatted low with arms stretched far behind. With a joyful ‘woooohooooo’ she leapt upwards, flipped backwards and landed squarely on her bottom, feet in hands, atop the soccer ball. The air remaining the in the ball rush forth into the tunnels below the trash line, careened around corners, and finally shot upwards directly beneath the still trembling badger who was tossed skyward as if sitting atop a geyser. Limbs flailing he soared through the air and landed with a thud on his stomach, his body draped over the wall of the dumpster.
“See you soon!” called out Trink happily from the filth below. “Good luck with your butt paper.” Evan rolled his eyes as he struggled to balance himself on the railing. “Thanks. See ya ” he winced. The pain of seeing her again too soon having involuntary effects on his entire body.
