January 18, 2011

• Trashy Dames

  True Story:

  One summer afternoon I hopped in a car with friends to visit one of their friends. For the story’s sake, we’ll call the friend Jane. We arrived at Jane’s house, knocked on the front door, and she let us in. As we walked in our minds halted. Never in life had any of us dreamed that a person could knowingly live in such a degree of filth.

  We’d all seen a messy room or a messy house, but this house had become a literal dump. If an inspector had visited the house, it would have been condemned in seconds. He’d have gone to the driveway, siphoned the gasoline from his vehicle, and lit the house on fire. 

  Nothing in the house had ever been cleaned: the kitchen stank of rotten food, dirty dishes towered on every flat surface, flies busied themselves flying between the artificial metropolis crafted for them. At night the sound of roaches moving must have been audible. The trash had never been emptied and literally flowed from one room to the other. You could taste the dank musk in your mouth. To move betweens rooms one had to move through trenches a foot wide that were lined with feet of garbage, junk, magazines, rotted clothing, parts of machines and televisions and oddities, and on and on.

  We awkwardly sat down on a few heaps in the living room that appeared to have furniture beneath them, and we chatted. As we talked, my friends and I in a desperate state to leave, Jane offered us each a piece of gum. I took my piece of gum, unwrapped it, started to chew it, and then without thinking waded the wrapper up and threw it on the floor. Jane in a burst of anger asked “Why did you throw that wrapper on the floor? Do you think this place is a dump or something?”

  My brain didn’t know how to react. I was being questioned about cleanliness in a house that was so thick with filth that my automatic reflex was to throw trash on the ground. It was obvious that no one in the house had ever used the trash can, or cleaned, or picked up, or opened a window to let fresh air and sunshine in, so why should anyone else? I doubt that an actual garbage can was even in the house. All I could think was “What the fuck? YOU’RE the one asking ME if this place is a dump?”

  In disbelief I picked up the gum wrapper and fibbed that “I chew a lot of gum when working at my computer desk, and I always just throw the wrapper on the floor. I always pick them up late. It is just a lazy habit I have. Sorry.” She bought the fib, and I asked what to do with the wrapper. And being given no answer, I placed it in my pocket. A few minutes later my friends and I manufactured an excuse to leave.

  I’ve never been any place more disgusting, and I don’t think I’ve ever been caught more off guard. I will never forget how disgusted she was that I thew a wrapper on top of her filth.

  • 3:55 am
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