For 11 July the writing group was asked to write 500 words, or fewer, about Wheelie-bin Collection Day.
“Wheelie-bin Collection Day”
“Shh. Shh, be still.
There, that’s better. Didn’t help to struggle, did it? Nice and tidy. See, practice makes perfect.
I didn’t mean the first one. I was sleeping rough under a flyover in London; some tosser came at me with a knife over a can of ‘Special Brew’. Must’ve thought I’d be easy, being small like. Ridiculous thing to die for really, only a mouthful left in it. It wasn’t much of a scrap, two tours in Afghan saw to that; training kicked in, like his head. There was this row of big bins, so I thought “why not?” ‘Course I didn’t hang about afterwards. I was three weeks and a hundred miles away when he was found. No I.D, I’d made sure of that. Nobody missed him, so the police didn’t try too hard. To be honest I got a buzz out of recycling the man-trash he was and getting away with it.
Now, where’s that plastic sheet? Ah, here we are.
Then there was Marcia. I found her crying in a park; she was having trouble with her boyfriend, beating her up and that. She wanted him out of her basement flat, and I wanted somewhere off the street for the winter: seemed like a fair trade. She got him well drunk, and took a bit of a bashing doing it, but after he passed out I put a plastic bag over his head and fixed it on with this Duck tape.
Good and tight.
There was a skip two streets down, roof extension just started, so we heaved him in there under some old carpet. You know what it’s like with skips; sat for a month with other people filling it up, then someone set fire to it. ‘Course, she had to go too when I left in the spring; couldn’t risk her grassing me up. She went under the floor boards. Bare earth, so easy dig even for me, but a bit tricky ‘cause the joists were close together and she wasn’t exactly a size 12, if you get me. It’s an Asda now. They didn’t find her so I think she’s still there; maybe under cold meats, eh?
Last bit now.
I still had my passport, and a few quid from Marcia, so I bought a flight here. Did a bit of bar work round the iron ore mines. It was OK for a while. ‘Course it was illegal, no work visa, and very blokey, but they liked having a pretty face around. Good money, mind, but too dirty and hot for me, even after Afghan. And the flies! Jesus! Like flying raisins, bloody millions of ‘em! How did you cope? That’s why I came into Perth. Found you and your lovely clean bathroom. It’s a bit more anonymous in a city too, lots of transients, and more wheelie bins.
There, all done.
It’s a good job you had air con isn’t it? Silly me, I forgot to ask when your collection day is.”
Andrew Gold©
11 July 2014
500 words
PS After I had written the first draft of this story I discovered that disposing of bodies, victims of murder usually, in this way is not at all uncommon!
- 1991 – Transgender killer dumps former lover in bin – funds foreign travel on stolen cards
- December 1994 – Glasgow man thrown from a window and dumped in a wheelie bin.
- March 2006 – Manchester 11 year old killed by 15 year old – dumped in wheelie bin in park.
- October 2008 – Edinburgh man kills father – body found in bin 7 weeks later.
- June 2009 – Couple murder man’s girlfriend – body in wheelie bin for 3 weeks.
- June 2011 – Woman murders on/off lover – helped by friend to dump in a wheelie bin.
- March 2012 – Man killed in Wigan – dumped in wheelie bin.
- November 2012 – Southampton man murdered and dumped in wheelie bin. Killers arrested trying to move body to a skip.
- March 2013 – Cambridgeshire serial killer dumps first of 3 victims in wheelie bin.
- March 2014 – Man killed in south London – dumped in wheelie bin and bin set on fire.
- July 2014 – Man killed in Northern Ireland – body found in wheelie bin.
- Several cases in Australia, including a lesbian ‘triangle’.