Upon leaving our house earlier this week, we discovered that our trusty Otto garbage bins had been stolen.
Many questions immediately arose in our minds. In a region which has a bounty of garbage bins supplied at no cost by the local council, why did a neighbour suddenly establish the need to house multiple trash receptacles? Over-attended house party resulting in a myriad of excess beer bottles? An inability to compress the household’s waste? A recently discovered form of real-life obsession with Dexter?
My immediate assumption, of course, was that one of our neighbours is running a meth lab in their backyard.
A process of elimination for the most likely guilty candidate began. We had it down to:
- A couple in their 50s, whose scruffy twenty-something son still lives at home. DOING WHAT WITH HIS SPARE TIME, I ASK YOU?
- The retired couple next door, who frequently lament to me that they had to “trade down” to live in their current fucking gigantic palace, the bastards.
- The unseen residents of what Adam refers to as the “haunted house”. Apparently a vague neglect for your garden bed, ownership of a surly cat and never appearing in public = haunted.
Fortunately, the retired couple eventually fessed up and admitted they’d accidentally taken our bins in from the road last week. They’re still prime candidates for running a meth lab, though, the complete bastards.
Stay tuned, for more GRIPPING SUBURBAN DRAMAS OF MIDDLE-CLASS WHITE PEOPLE.