This one is a bit long, but consider it an apology for the lack of updates over the weekend.
also, it is split up into small sections so you can take a little in when you feel like it.
I wish I could tell you the origin of this thing- I don't know. I had the character name and the story about Flickr based on my hopping around Flickr to friend the various exhibitionist wives that live there, and this is the story that came out.
there was more to it- an anecdote about one of my ex-girlfriends and a her sad habit about mixing her troubled past in with her current sexual habits, but i think I'll save that for later... sigh.
1.
She loved renaissance fairs. She had lots of cats. She loved Star Trek.
Dumpster should have run, but her cleavage was impossibly sweet.
She always had an excuse to slip into a corset and take photos of herself and she put them all on Flickr. There were sets of her in and out of corsets, and sets of her nipples from every angle.
Classically, she was not really attractive but her attitude made her sexy. Soon, Dumpster was brought into her amateur online photography sessions.
He was embarrassed at first, but his face didn't appear in any of the pictures, so he got over it quickly.
Slowly but surely, they began to get crazier in the pictures. People added them as contacts with great frequency. Before he knew it, Dumpster was an online celebrity without even trying and without ever showing his face.
One night while they were relaxing with a ST:TNG episode featuring the Borg, she told him that some people she'd met online wanted to meet and take pictures.
The deal was the same: there was to be no shots of Dumpster’s face and he wouldn't have to do much more than just stand there and snap the pictures.
All he had to do was point the camera and snap the pictures of his girlfriend, the guest star girl and his on privates on occasion.
He agreed, and two weeks later she arrived. Dumpster was surprised by the fact that he actually knew the girl. He'd tried unsuccessfully to flirt with her when he'd worked at the same bookstore as her 16 years ago. Now here she was, willing and somewhat excited to have amateur sex with him and show the world.
He could tell that she recognized him but they both decided in a brief moment of telepathy not to mention it. They greeted each other as strangers and Dumpster’s girlfriend retrieved wine from the kitchen. After many glasses and some small talk, the activities slowly began. To get warmed up, Dumpster started to kiss his girlfriend, then his girlfriend kissed the guest star girl.
In an arrangement set up by his girl earlier, Dumpster was not allowed to kiss the guest star girl. This was the only thing he wasn't allowed, though.
So for three hours they did it, snapped photos, did it, and snapped photos.
It was the closest he’d ever come to poetry. When it was all over, they both thanked her and she left.
His girl promptly put the photos online that night. The comments immediately started to pour in.
They were the most popular they’d ever taken.
A month later, he bumped into the guest star girl at a coffee shop.
They talked about what we'd been up to since working together all those years ago. They never talked about the photo shoot.
They both wanted to bring it up, but they didn't know how to or where it would go from there.
After talking for about an hour, she left to pick up her kids from school.
When Dumpster got home, his girl told him about the newest girl that wanted to shoot with them.
He looked over her photos and agreed.
He didn't know her.
2.
Dumpster Davis lit what he told himself would be his last cigarette. To make this feeling clear, he crumpled the rest of the half-full pack and threw it in the trash. It was around 1:30, and the meeting was set for right now. The lady was late, and Dumpster didn’t like this. He had other things to do. Still, he had to do his duty. The faded wallpaper reminded Dumpster of the Wallpaper in his grandmother’s basement toilet. He couldn’t believe it, but this actually choked him up a little. He snickered to cover the fact that he was near tears, and took another puff from the Camel.
Cam lit what most certainly would not be his last cigarette, and reached out towards the remote controller.
“What’s so funny?” Cam asked.
“This wallpaper,” Dumpster started, “It reminds me of something, that’s all”
Cam found the fact that it was bolted to the nightstand slightly amusing. This was a different cable system than his own, so it took a few moments for him to find something to watch. At home he’d be watching the second of an hour of Just Shoot Me episodes. Here, he settled for My Three Sons- a color episode where Chip was too old and looked like a future Molester.
Outside of a couple comments about how high Uncle Charley’s pants were, they didn’t talk much. Their stories were straight, they knew what they had to do, and all they needed was the lady.
The lady knocked at the door at 1:45. This wasn’t late enough for Dumpster to be angry, but he was annoyed.
Cam answered the door, and the woman rushed in and handed him a baby.
“I’m sorry I’m late, ya’ll” She said “I had to bring the baby with me.”
Cam stood near the door dumbfounded by the fact that he was now holding a wiggling white baby of indiscriminate gender. The lady paced around the room and rambled on nonstop. She talked about how folks didn’t respect their elders and how she figured that’s why the terrorists were winning. She talked about how there were always too many spics and coloreds at the Wal-Mart near the new mall. She talked about how she’d have to miss her A.A. meeting if we didn’t get going, yet she never got to the point.
Cam watched as she finally calmed down and slinked over to the bed and sat across from Dumpster. She dug for a while through the Korean made Dooney and Burke purse she was carrying, and eventually pulled a loose cigarette from somewhere in the bottom. She asked Dumpster for a light, and he obliged, leaning forward and flicking his Bic. She cupped his hands to shield the flame from nonexistent drafts in the room. She then leaned back onto the bed, crossing her legs and running her corpse-thin fingers through her thinning blood brown hair.
“So, how does it work?” She asked Dumpster.
“Basically, you tell us what you want.” Dumpster replied.
She started to talk about how her daughter-in-law was a crook and a whore. She talked about how she didn’t know what her son saw in her or how she’d tricked her son into marrying her, but now? She had to go.
Dumpster put out the last cigarette he’d ever have, and narrowed his eyes at the woman.
“Just what are you saying, now?” Dumpster asked.
“I’m saying I want you to kill that tramp.” The lady said, and then started laughing. “I mean, that’s why we’re here, right?”
She reached into her purse and took out a large envelope.
“Jimmy Ray on the phone said 20” she said, and extended the envelope towards Dumpster. “It’s all there.”
As the cops rushed the room and placed the woman under arrest, Dumpster continued to stare at the wallpaper.
It reminded him of a time when there weren’t so many degenerates in his life. It reminded him of when he wasn’t himself a degenerate.
Dumpster began to cry for real this time, but no one made a big deal out of it.
3.
When she left, she said it was because he didn’t support her. It was after a night of particularly sweaty Devil’s business that was all captured on tape.
Dumpster got up early in order to edit out all of the clumsy fumbling and other embarrassing parts that come with real-life sex so that he could upload the results to the Internet.
She walked into the room and sat quietly by; watching Dumpster work- snipping out any talking that wasn’t sexy and making sure his own face was blurred.
“You don’t support me.” She said, completely out of nowhere.
“I’m sorry?” he answered, saved his progress, and turned to her.
“There are things that I want to do, and you have made no effort to help me achieve them!” She said, and waited for his response.
But Dumpster didn’t have one. None of the skills he’d learned during his 15 years being a homicide detective prepared him for moments like this.
She was always accusing him of things that he didn’t do, and blaming him for actions he never took. He thought that it was her way of being passionate. She loved to fight, and he often obliged her because it always led to getting it on.
But there was something in her voice this time that gave him pause. This time, He thought, she meant it.
The simple fact was he did support her. Always. He had put his entire career as a police detective into jeopardy because she wanted to have sex and show the world online. Sure, his face was hidden most of the time, but it wouldn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. All they’d have to do was see the tattoos. They were very distinctive.
What else could she possibly want? He sat there waiting for her to elaborate, but she never did. She was, of course, expecting Dumpster to know exactly what she was talking about. But he didn’t.
They sat there in silence for ten minutes; she fumed, and he was confused but steady.
Eventually, she sighed hard, and started to pack. Dumpster watched this and thought that at some moment he was probably supposed to stop her.
But he never did, and she left without saying another word.
Dumpster didn’t know whether she’d be back or not. He didn’t know where she was going or what she’d do when she got there. Even though he couldn’t say with complete clarity that he didn’t want to lose her, he thought sometimes that it would be a bummer if he lost her.
He pulled up the footage from the night before, which was particularly nasty and vocal, and went through it- making sure that his face was completely uncovered- Then he put it all online.
4.
Dumpster had been sitting in a car outside of Daedalus Mancuso’s townhouse for a little over six hours. He’d gone through six bags of sunflower seeds (unshelled), two Route 44 Strawberry Lime-aides, 24 cheese Krystal’s (extra Onion), and since he had begun smoking again, three packs of Virginia Slims.
“You’ve come a long way, Baby” Dumpster said to himself and he ripped into pack number four- Virginia Slims were all they had at the corner market near Mancuso’s pad.
Dumpster’s partner, Cam, was catching a cat nap in the back seat of the champagne colored Dodge Sedan. Cam talked in his sleep, and even though what he said rarely made much sense, Dumpster copied down every word for posterity.
“I’m after that guy…” Cam said, and Dumpster jotted it down.
Daedalus Mancuso had been in hiding for two years following a shootout at a Popeye’s chicken that left 7 dead and 6 injured. Now, he was back in town looking to collect on a few old debts. Dumpster’s informant had given him the address, and they had been sitting on the house in shifts of two for three days. He’d been seen going into the house but he never came out. Eventually there would be a search warrant and they could go inside, but it probably wouldn’t matter. Dumpster had a feeling that Daedalus was dead due to some dealings with the Samus brothers. They were into the voodoo.
“You don’t support me” Cam grunted from the backseat.
The word had come down that Daedalus wasn’t supposed to leave that house. Lot’s of cop’s jobs were on the line if he did. Dumpster and Cam had been given the job to see if they were “cool” or not. Dumpster was a lot of things, but he wasn’t dirty. He didn’t want to kill a man- not for the wrong reasons. Daedalus was a bastard and deserved to be in jail- hell, possibly even to die- but not this way.
Dumpster hoped that Daedalus really was dead in there or that the warrant would hurry and come through- Anything to get him and Cam off the hook.
“We should just do it.” Cam said. Dumpster started to write this down, and then noticed that Cam was no longer asleep.
“We should just do it and be done with it.”
5.
Dumpster sat at the bus station watching all the innocent people arrive and all the trash ship out to new locations. There was an order to the entire thing.
She said that she’d be arriving on a 2:40 bus from Austin. He’d been waiting for over an hour- the bus had been delayed in Louisiana.
He felt something he hadn’t felt in quite some time- excitement. He hadn’t seen her in three months since she’d left in a huff and gone back to her parents.
She’d seen that he had kept the sight going without her- with some of the girls he’d met of Craig’s list and Flickr. She called and told him that she was happy that he was finally taking this all so seriously. She said that6 she was glad that he wanted to support her dream.
Dumpster sat and smoked as he waited, and thought about how eventually the other shoe would drop. She was coming back because he’d done what she wanted. He’d done what she wanted even though it would eventually cost him his job. His partner, Cam, had been locked up for putting two into the base of Daedalus Mancuso’s skull, and even though Dumpster refused to testify, Cam still blamed him for not going along with the whole thing.
Still, he sat there smoking a Virginia Slim (he’d taken a liking to them) and trying desperately to convince himself that he was happy. She was coming back, and he told himself that that was what he wanted.
He could be happy. Even if he lost his job, his pension, and any remaining credibility, he’d still have her. Eventually, he thought, she’d mellow out and let this whole Internet porn thing go. He told himself that it was a phase.
He told himself that he could learn to love her.
He lit another cigarette.
Dumpster Davis sat there; thinking about the future and convincing himself that he was happy, or at least damn well close to it, and his left hand began to tingle.
That tingle crept up his arm and down his leg.
Dumpster tried to catch his breath, but couldn’t. No one noticed.
6.
DUMPSTER quietly drank his Orange Julius and watched as kids made their way to the mall Santa’s lap to tell the jolly old elf all of their hopes and dreams. The mall was packed today- it was the last weekend before Christmas. All Dumpster had to do was pick up something called a Bionicle for his girlfriend’s son, Ray. He was glad to do it, especially since it was an actual toy and not a video game.
Dumpster had been working with the boy, tossing the ball around and teaching him to ride a bike. He didn’t want to come on too strong- like he was doing all of these things just because of Ray’s mother. But, Ray was a genuinely good kid and joy to be around.
Dumpster was originally weary about starting a relationship with a woman that already had a kid. At first, he didn’t think it would work out based on the fact that he was in it with her just for the sex. Then, after he got to know her and his son, he was afraid that they’d become too close. Now here he was buying the kid toys from the mall for Christmas- toys that he was sure the kid would like.
When Dumpster stood and began to make his way towards the toy store he felt that something was off a bit. He felt that someone was watching him.
He continued to walk until he was near the Victoria’s Secret. He slowed his pace, and used the reflection in the store’s glass to get a view of everything behind himself.
There was a man in his mid twenties dressed like he’d grown up in the hood but carrying himself like a middle class punk. On his arm was a girl that looked even younger. She was wide eyed, giggly. He was dressed like some modern-day Annie hall- mismatched and covered in scarves and buttons.
Dumpster knew what they wanted before he even turned around. They had recognized him from his Internet sex films.
It had played out like so- the hood suburban gangster had seen the films. He had then shown them to his girlfriend. He’d tried to make his own, but she was hesitant. He romanced her until she allowed him to tape their most intimate moments. They were awkward at first, incredibly amateurish. Slowly but surely, though, he began to make small steps to make these films watch able. He added lighting. He got her to stop looking at the camera. They both shaved. Eventually, he’d convinced her that they needed someone else to handle the camera work. He tossed out some names of people that she might trust, but she didn’t want any of his friends watching her have sex.
He knew that if he pushed the issue, he’d lose the chance so he played it calm. Eventually, he convinced her that one of his Bro’s should film them to leave them free to do what they wanted- and to make the best product.
Dumpster turned to them, ready. The hood yuppie had already taken out the unlabeled DVD and was preparing to deliver his spiel.
Dumpster stopped the kid before he could start.
“Don’t ever show that to anyone” He said.
“Don’t turn your sex life into a product. It is no way to live.” He finished, looked at them briefly as their smiles faded, and walked away towards the toy store.
Later, at home, he and his new girlfriend found themselves alone. He thought about whether she could make a good wife to him when he finally decided to settle down.
She mentioned that she wanted implants.
“We would get more web hits if I were an E cup.” She mused.
7.
THOUGH Dumpster had been shot before, this time- a shot to the gut- really F%&*ing hurt. He waited in the alley, behind a pile of empty pallets, for back-up. It was Daedalus Mancuso that had shot him. Dumpster had been tailing the thug all night, but Mancuso got the jump on him in the alley. Dumpster unloaded a clip as he was falling but he wasn’t sure if he’d hit Mancuso. It was more likely that a stray bullet had flown into someone’s home as they were watching The year without a Santa Claus or doing some last minute gift wrapping.
The stomach shot hurt like a bitch, but Dumpster was more annoyed by the swamp ass.
Swamp ass was the scourge of the unlucky man on a stake out. Sitting in one place for hours on end, the sweat would pool between the butt cheeks and mix with the ass-stink. If a guy had to hunker down in one place for hours on end it was crystal-clear that when the time came to finally make a move, his booty would be raw, wet, and fuming. All you could do was wear cotton tighty whiteys and avoid khakis at any cost.
After about 20 minutes of waiting, Dumpster was sure there was no back-up coming. He wasn’t sure why, but someone on the force had signed his death warrant tonight. Either Mancuso would return to finish the job or he’d bleed to death before he could get to any help.
At home his girl had put Ray to bed, and was waiting for Dumpster dressed like a naughty elf. She had his Santa suit laid out so that they could film the “backdoor Santa” scene their fans had been promised for Christmas morning.
As midnight rolled around, Dumpster decided that Mancuso was long gone and that he had to take the chance and get out of the alleyway on his own. He gathered all of the strength that he could, and started to pull himself up. He stumbled slowly past the pallets, past the garbage cans and dumpsters, and into the street. All was silent and cold. Is was dark and still on the street.
Dumpster fell against the wall of a building, and took out a cigarette. He was glad that he hadn’t quit smoking this week. He lit it, and took out his phone.
Dumpster called a cab to come ad take him to a hospital, and took out his badge to show to the driver or anyone that might happen by.
As he sat there on his wet and raw ass, bleeding from his stomach in a nearly helpless state on Christmas morning, he thought to himself-
“This isn’t even my worst Christmas to date. Not by a long shot.”
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