(sigh)
As entertaining as he was, Moon Dog’s tenure at Woolco was simply not to be. Seems that some people simply don’t have the appreciation for his humor and drug use that I do – or did. One such person being Mr. Robinson, the store manager. A person Moon once described as ‘Porky-the-Pig with hair’, not realizing that the man was standing directly behind him when he made the remark. But, as uncanny as Moon Dog’s description of the boss was, that’s not what got him fired. Not at all. What did the Moon Man in was one of the Christmas season’s hottest commodities – Mattel’s ‘Legends of the West’ action figure dolls. In particular, the Jane West doll, to be exact.
Here’s what happened…
* * * * * * *
It was the height of the Christmas season, and I couldn’t burn boxes fast enough. I would eliminate one mountain of boxes, and two more would take its place, or so it seemed.
The majority of boxes were empty, but a few contained merchandise that had been deemed unsuitable for sale. These were items that fell into the retail business category of ‘breakage’: items damaged during shipping; demo units that no longer functioned; or items returned by the customer, and the department manager was simply too lazy to return them to the manufacturer for a refund. Basically, the store’s garbage. The things no longer wanted or cared about. And to these items, I represented the end of the line. When a broken toaster or a rocking horse with only three legs saw me, they knew their end was at hand and that their time in this world had finally run out. So, if you were a broken toy or appliance, I was the one guy you never wanted to meet. I was, after all, the incinerator boy, boss of Toy Hell.
And they all knew who I was, the broken toys, the appliances, defective or irregular clothing items, and they had all heard the stories. At some point, they had all seen the boxes containing their friends carted off. So yeah, they knew the score, and no matter how hard they tried to stand on the floor, or sit on the shelf and pretend to be like all the other stuff, the stuff that did work, stuff people actually wanted, they knew they were different. They knew that it was just a matter of time before they, too, were found out and would take that one final trip through the big, double-swinging doors, the ones that say ‘Employees Only’, on their way to their appointment with…
…me.
They would shudder in fear, they would, in the darkness, until the box flaps would open and my cold, emotionless face would peer down upon them, staring each one in the eye as I pass final judgment on their crimes against the consuming public. And, all of this happening, no less, to the terrifying background roar of the incinerator’s inferno, them knowing all the while that it was their next stop
For them, this was it. The end. Sure, they would beg for mercy or ask for a second chance and stuff, but the fact was, their fate was a forgone conclusion. The verdict was rendered the instant the department manager put them in a box and brought them to me. So, my hands were tied here. All I could do was carry out the sentence. After all, it’s my job. It’s what I get paid for.
And that’s what they don’t understand – that once they reached the incinerator room, it was pretty much a done deal. Game over. That there would be no appeals here today, no last-minute pardons granted. Because here, in Toy Hell, there are no innocent souls. No one gets out of here alive, and for sure, no one goes to Heaven.
Not on my watch.
* * * * * * *
Today, it’s a plastic Playskool bowling pin set for children ages six through twelve that retails for ten dollars and ninety-nine cents, aisle thirteen. It’s marked for incineration due to the fact that it’s missing two pins, the green and the orange. And I find this odd. Couldn’t be shoplifting. What would some kid do with only two pins? And even if it was someone who wanted to practice juggling, wouldn’t he at least need three?
No. There was something else at play here, something else to this mystery. Something deeper, like, maybe it was a young pin couple shunned by the rest of the set who found inter-color relationships unacceptable in their little bowling society. Maybe that’s it. Would make sense - that the two ran away, thinking perhaps they could make it to another store whose bowling sets had more liberal views.
Who knows what the real story is?
But this bothered me, the missing pins. To the point that I would keep a constant watch for the two as I made my way through the store, sensing all the while that they were somehow still here. Still in the store, hiding and relocating as necessary. Moving only at night and wearing black socks with eye holes cut out. I would imagine them watching me, peering at me as I pass, from beneath a sofa in the furniture department, maybe…
“Get back, Delores! It’s him, for god’s sake. The Incinerator Boy!”
“Oh my! Such an evil man! What did we ever do to him?”
“It’s not like that. It’s nothing personal. It’s his job.”
“He could quit and find another!”
“No, he can’t. He’s a teenage drug user, which means that his judgment is impaired, and is therefore incapable of making decisions that would remove him from an environment he finds comfortable and feels secure in. The devil you know versus the devil you don’t. I read that somewhere when we were living in the Book and Magazine aisle. Some self-help book.”
“Oh, Ralph! You’re so smart!”
He grins and gives her a wink…
“Yep, us green pins always are.”
They kiss and cuddle as I walk past them, completely unaware of their presence, as well as the green pin’s assessment of me.
And I can understand their fear, I can. In fact, I sometimes wonder what it must be like from their perspective. Suddenly landing in a bed of red-hot embers, my cold, indifferent face bathed in an orange glow being the last thing they see as the massive iron door of the incinerator closes with a final, heavy thud, their fate sealed as they are forever removed from the world of the still-wanted and useful.
Maybe I should feel bad about what I do. Maybe, but I don’t. I’ve grown numb to it all, I suppose. Maybe in the same way EMTs become numb to grizzly car accident scenes. Something like that.
(sigh)
In time, it all becomes just part of the job.