I hate. Yep, hate. The Litterbug.

 

I hate litter. And I despise the bastards who do it. They are scourge of the Earth, closely linked with meter maids and bottleneckers and them gleeful ass tow truck drivers. who towed my car from my own apartment parking lot. foul fucks.

And they’re always carelessly casting aside some bullshit, the litterbugs are. Eight o’clock in the morning, and they throwing chicken bones out the driver’s side window. two blocks later, the bleu cheese containers and ketchup packets get tossed. Before his/her raggedy ass gets to his/her raggedy destination, they gotta get rid of the container and the napkins too. Cause trash can’t be piling in the ride, of course.

I’ve seen cats standing less than 5 feet from the nearest trash can choose instead to drop their McDonald’s bag right where they stood. And I’ve never forgotten the time I watched a kid undress half a cupcake, take one bite, and then purposely drop the whole thing on the sidewalk.  I mean, the garbage was right.  there.

I asked a boy whose jump shot/trash failed to make it into the hoop/garbage, if he planned to pick up his trash and place it in the garbage can. He looked at me like I was speak Farsi to his lil simple ass. No concept of the fact that if you miss the shot, you still gotta put the shit in the trash. It’s not an oh well type situation. THROW.THAT.SHIT.IN.THE.TRASH.  And his mama was standing right there. She didn’t say shit though because she don’t respect shit. He don’t respect shit because she don’t. Simpletons havin simpletons. It’s a vicious and filthy fucking cycle.

On my way to work this morning, the woman in front of me chucked several Pringles from her car window. Shortly after, the kid in her backseat did the same. Only he made sure to chuck the container they came in, too. I rolled my eyes so hard. I was so offended. No, the road we drove on wasn’t mine; it wasn’t the one in front of my house. The sidewalk isn’t my sidewalk, and the stairwell someone mistakenly thought was a wing bones receptacle isn’t my stairwell. But I do use it. Like I use the road and the sidewalk — because they’re ours. As are the parks and neighborhoods and parking lots on this Earth that we occupy.

To be sure, you can fuck your own house all the way up. Leave the wrappers where you unwrapped. Leave empty containers on the counters. Whatever. You can do that in your space. But the common areas — like everywhere outside your filthy residence — are out-of-bounds. I have an affinity for beauty and beautifully fragrant things. So, I don’t wanna not have a choice about wading through the manifestations of a mediocre life. Wings and chips and quarter waters for breakfast, and their remnants left dismissively at the corner of my block. Please don’t destroy the simple, lush green of manicured grass with your finished Chik-fil-a bag.

And I LOVE Chic-fil-a. I just value values more.

Fuckin’ litterbug.

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About moniquealicia

M.A.G. is a doctoral student at Howard University. She resides in the Washington, DC metro area, and is passionate about her love of family and friends, politics and conversation, and the exceptional meal. View all posts by moniquealicia

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