Mark drove down the quiet streets of Chicago. His sleeping wife and newborn baby nestled in the back seat. The asphalt and green lawns were wet with dew, morning birds twittered sleepily and Mark rubbed his chin which was rough and bristled with hair. It was five AM and he was looking for a bargain.
"Mark.. We can buy all new things.. Why do we have to go picking through other people's garbage? Mark?!"
But Mark didn't listen. He never listened, thought Elizabeth. He never listened to her. She didn't want some musty old chair with missing legs in her living room. Elizabeth wanted a La-Z-boy with cup holder and vibrating seat cushions.
**
"One person's trash is another person's treasure, Elizabeth!" He remarked once, headfirst in a dumpster. "Oh look! A lazy susan!"
"Your old girlfriend is in the dumpster?!"
"Elizabeth.. She wasn't my girlfriend."
"I don't want smelly old trash.."
"Elizabeth.."
**
They were slowly crawling down the back streets, lined with dimly lit street lamps, battered trash bins and dented yellow fire hydrants. Each house had perfect green lawns and winding lanes and plump tabby cats asleep on the morning papers on their perfect welcome mats.
Mark was tired. Mark was fed up. Mark was sick and tired of Elizabeth telling him that she wanted to go home.. That she needed her 'cuppa'. He was ready to go home too.
"MARK!!! STOP!"
He squealed on the brakes, the SUV lurched and shimmied (Something Mark had REALLY planned to get looked at. But it was Elizabeth’s own fault getting an SUV) and Anthony Mark Greene started to squall. "Shhh... Tony.. Shhh now.." Elizabeth chirped to the baby. "Mark.." She whispered, pulling the baby to her breast and feeding it. "Over there... The perfect carpet.."
Stuffed into the large economy sized aluminum garbage can, was a massive oriental rug.
"I thought you didn't want somebody's old garbage." Muttered Mark irritably.
"I said I didn’t want smelly old trash. That isn’t trash Mark. That’s a beautiful rug and I want it."
"It’s probably got some big hole in it or a stain or it smells funny.." Whined Mark reproachfully. He didn’t want to get out of the car and lug that thing to the car. It would have been different if it was an entertainment centre or a pair of speakers or a chair.. But this was a silly rug. He wasn’t getting out of the car for a silly rug.
"Mark... Please.." Elizabeth said sweetly.
Grumbling under his breath, Mark, parked the car and got out, walking across the street and struggled to pull the rug over his shoulder. It was a lot heavier than it looked and his feet shifted under him trying to get a good grip.
Elizabeth, a well meaning sort, stuck her head out the car window. "Use your legs, Mark.. Don’t hurt your back."
"Use your legs Mark.. Don’t hurt your back!" Muttered Mark to himself mockingly, in a sarcastic, whiny falsetto.
"I heard that!" She yelled from the car, as he was teetering backward, holding onto the rug for dear life. It was much like watching the Caber toss at the highland games.. Except Mark wouldn’t look handsome in a kilt, he didn’t have the legs for it. "Lift with your legs, Mark." She called out to him again, as Mark stumbled backward, pulling the rug from the can and landing spread eagle on the ground.
She stifled a giggle and turned little Tony to watch his father. "See
him Tony? That’s your Daddy.. Your Daddy’s a silly, silly boy.. Say 'Hi
Daddy'.." Elizabeth took the infants’ hand and waved it out the window
at Mark.
Mark looked up at his wife, and his little son and back at the blasted
carpet. He pulled himself up onto his heels, and stood, brushing himself
off. Raring to go for another chance at moving the mountain, he glared
at it. "Stupid carpet.." He muttered.
"It’s a rug, Mark.. Not a carpet."
Mark grit his teeth.. She was really starting to get on his nerves.. Especially since she didn't say 'carpit'. She said 'care-pet'. What in the hell was a care-pet? Damned if he knew.
He got down on his heels again and slipped his hands underneath, and flipped the rolled rug, up onto his shoulder. Slowly walking forward, as if he was carrying a Caber, he pushed it back onto his shoulder and ran to the car.
Mark weaved unsteadily on his feet outside the trunk. “Open the trunk
honey!” He said as loud as he could through clenched teeth.
"What?! The trunk??!! Mark? What do you mean?!"
He sighed. He wasn’t the only one not too sharp in the morning.. "Uhh.. The boot, Elizabeth.. Open the damn boot!"
There was a click as it popped open and an exhausted sigh as Mark shoved the rug in the trunk and shut it as far as it would go.
He returned to the car limping and walking stiffly for a man in his early 40s..
"Are you okay Mark?"
"Just peachy.." He muttered smelling his soiled t-shirt. "I smell like rotten banana and Tang and..." Mark breathed deeply and gagged. "Wet diapers.."
Elizabeth smiled. "That's not you.. That's Tony.. He's had his tea... Now he needs his nappy changed." Elizabeth handed her husband a wad of tissue to wipe the large blob of grit and garbage goo off his forehead.
"Thank you, but I wouldn't look like this if I hadn't had to go struggling with that damn rug."
She pouted, looking at him reproachfully. "You made me come.. Don't act like that, just because I found something and you didn't."