Re: In a dumpster: Wren I/Si M
It was a kid. A literal child. Stuck in a dumpster. Si asked himself, with an expression of consternation on his normally sardonic face, who the fuck had thrown their kid into the garbage? Then he watched, to his horror, as the child lifted its arms, scrawny in the nightie, and waited expectantly to be rescued from the steel jaws of the dumpster. That hadn't been what Si meant. He'd intended to get behind the kid and hoist him up high enough that he could grab onto the rusting lip of the thing and get himself out and to the ground. He wasn't going to put him on his hip and carry him out like a baby. The kid was lucky, though, that Si had seen pretty much everything. His face didn't register his incredulity. He just sighed.
Fine. Si circled around, in the confined space, head ducked down, shoulders slumped forward, and he took hold of the kid. With a little bit of effort, he hoisted him upward. "Grab it," he told him, and if the kid did so, Si boosted him up so he could swing his legs up and get out. Then, again, if all this happened, Si grabbed the edge himself and hauled himself up with some straining. He jumped down to the other side, back to the baking pavement, but where the hot air felt better for not sticking stench to his skin. He bent over, hands on his thighs, to breathe. "Jesus." Si then straightened up, pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket, pulled one and lit it.
Once the cigarette caught, he pocketed his lighter, the carton, whatever, and he looked at the boy. "Go home," he told him, not unkindly, "and take a shower." He took a long drag, then exhaled. "And don't climb into dumpsters on the way." Since that needed to be said.