Plastic Horrors

Beacon Hill, the area of Boston I inhabit, plays a prominent role in the creepy literary works of H.P Lovecraft: Pinckney Street is where many of his doomed characters plan their day trips to the mysterious environs of Arkham; and the building that contains my apartment is the type of house in which the 'Ghoul Who Was Pickman' would have lived (there is even a sealed attic directly above my bedroom).
Alas, I am mostly reminded of this Beacon Hill-Lovecraft connection on Trash Day. Residents are lucky that we benefit from three garbage pick-ups per week as there are no back-alleyways in the neigborhood, so household refuse must be deposited on the kerbsotnes of our narrow sidewalks each night before the garbagemen arrive to haul it away. No problem, you would think, a simple and sanitary solution to urban waste management.
Except some imbecile who resides three doors down from me seems incapable of following these  directions, dumping his or her trash on the sidewalk long after the collectors have left with everybody else's garbage. There it squats in its plastic bag, attracting flies and rats and Lovecraftian Ghouls and God knows what until the next Trash Day - fortunately a mercifully short period. But even so, why must the kerb outside their front door be such a portal to the Crawling Chaos three times a week?

Comments

[Mortimer Shy]

Perhaps the answer is behind the sealed attic?

[Andraste]

Take my advice, Stephen, and DO NOT GO INTO THE SEALED ATTIC! The old ones are resting, and you dare not disturb them. The horror they will unleash...best leave that to the building's super.

[rorosen]

most likely the screeching squealing approach of the garbage truck is what reminds them, always too late, that it is garbage day,..i speak from experience, however suburban, often having to run out at dawn having heard the monster a few streets away. still, they won't take old chairs, or really anything unrelated to food. so we're running out of room to live