Scene: 8 am, this morning, walking the dog along a main road around the corner from my house. Various pieces of litter - my Achilles' Heel, the swift sword through my soul - are strewn along the sidewalk.
Main Characters: Me, Sammy the Dog and some guy who lives on the main street.
(Me, noticing the long trail of litter, muttering to myself): What is wrong with people? Don't they see this in front of their own homes, day after day? It's revolting...
(Suddenly, a man emerges from a door of one of the houses. Unable to bottle-up my angst, I spill.)
(Me to man): Cripes, doesn't anybody ever sweep around here? Look at this!
(Man, shrugging shoulders): It's overflow from the trash can at the corner...
(Me): Be that as it may, can't ya just get out a broom every once in a while?
(Man): I'd hafta be out here every day...
(Me): So? I sweep-up other people's litter every day...
(Man) Yeah, well, the street sweeper guy with the little machine comes by here a lot.
(Me): Dude, that guy doesn't come this way often, we're lucky if he cleans here once every few weeks. We just have to do it ourselves.
(Man, as he lights a ciggie): Yeah, well maybe you have the time, but I don't.
(Me, voice rising): Yeah, well maybe you could manage it while you're out here puffing away, you know, broom in one hand, smokes in the other...
(Man): Get a life, lady...
(Me): Get a job, pal... (NOTE: I've been borrowing that line from my brother-in-law for years now. Need to discard it because, with the recession in full bloom, people do not respond well to it. About 20 years ago, I used the same line with two women who were yelling at me for taking a parking space they wanted. They freaked when I advised them to 'get a job.' I skedaddled, but think if they had gotten their hands on me, I would have been throttled.)
Proceed to amble along more quickly because man is ranting something about his job or lack thereof. Feel shaken by my outburst and not a morsel of litter has been removed. Must learn to simply pick up litter silently and shut my big fat mouth.
Sammy agrees.
Fade to black and proceed to really try, as Mr. Ain't-My-Litter suggested, to go out and get myself a life.