Copyright – C.E. Ayr
Malcolm rested for a moment. Dawn was brightening the foreshore esplanade, and the ocean beyond the sandy beach glimmered. Such loveliness.
One more block to do. He re-started the engine, lowered the brushes and pushed ahead into the mounds of filth scattered everywhere: beer cans, cigarette butts, abandoned clothing and worse. Sweep, scoop, tip, pulverise. That was Malcolm’s rhythm. Everything into the compactor.
He hesitated as he glimpsed something pink and fleshy flapping about between the brushes, then continued. His job was to clean the street. One more comatose drunk wouldn’t be returning to mess it up again tomorrow.
*****
This is for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Writers contribute 100 word stories in response to a weekly picture prompt. Click here to read them all.
Onto the page 
That’ll be one hell of a hangover.
Good piece.
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Thank you, Mick. He won’t know a thing.
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Yikes! That came unexpected. Dark, dark, good story.
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Glad you were surprised. thank you for commenting.
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Wow! That was an amazing story! Beautifully written, and very dark.
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Thank you for such a lovely comment. I’m so glad it worked for you.
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Nice take on the prompt
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Thank you, Gravadee.
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Dark. Well-written. Kudos!
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Thank you very much for your comment. I’m happy that you liked my story.
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He has his priorities right – drunk litterers can stay in the brush. Nicely done.
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He does like a clean street. Thank you, ansumani.
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Too bad he couldn’t see the drunks as job security. Good story!
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Now there’s a point of view he didn’t consider. Thanks for commenting, Melanie.
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Ouch.. remember not to go clubbing at that street… waking up (briefly) in a compactor must be hell.
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You’ll be safe there as long as you don’t decide to have a little nap on the roadside.
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Dear Margaret,
Nice descriptions, particularly at the beginning. Dark ending. Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thank you, Rochelle. I wanted to build a contrast between the two parts, so I’m glad that came across. Margaret.
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Sweep, scoop, tip, pulverise. I could just hear the rhythm of this. I can imagine such a grueling job would turn into such indifference. Oh, how sad. Very dark and chilling, and nicely written.
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I’m not entirely sure that would be the rhythm of a sweeping machine, but I’m using literary licence just a little for the sake of the story. Thank you, Amy, for your encouraging comment.
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I drove a sweeper in college one summer at a Lake Tahoe casino. You nailed the sound perfectly. As far as I remember I didn’t sweep up any drunks although I did start at 6 am so who knows. I liked the contrast between the lovely dawn and the dispassion at the end.
Tracey
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Thanks, Tracey. I’m glad to be reassured about the sweeper sounds, and I’m sure the streets of Lake Tahoe were swept very safely under your care.
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Actually, I ran my sweeper into an attorney’s car. Oops. Glad I became a surgeon instead. ha ha
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Yeeks! He’s very dedicated to his job, isn’t he? Rubbish, detritus, people… 🙂
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Yep. It all goes into the compactor. Malcolm is very conscientious.
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Malcolm huh? Wasn’t that Tony he compacted recently?
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Ha! It might very well have been.Squashed, tipped out and forgotten – life’s tough at the top.
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I just ate my lunch tool. I had to read that several times before I understood it. Now I’m wondering if I should have. Really dark but well written. I’m glad I’m not the coroner in that city. Sounds as though he might have done it before.
— Suzanne
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I think Malcolm does what’s needed to keep the streets clean and tidy. Nothing left for the coroner, however – just one more anonymous drunk disappears. Thanks for taking the time to re-read, Suzanne. I hope it didn’t spoil your lunch.
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It’s harsh. Malcolm is a little bit obsessive compulsive about tidiness. Reminds me of my next door neighbour. 😀😬. Good story otherwise.
Lily
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Thank you, Lily. I’d watch out for that neighbour.
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Yikes! Safe to say he doesn’t suffer fools.
Good story.
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No, he doesn’t. He’s very task focused. thank you for commenting.
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Oof! You’ve created a bit of a monster here. And I’m going to cut back on my drinking!
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I don’t know where these monsters come from. I surprise myself sometimes. I hope my story hasn’t spoiled your fun – you should be safe as long as you make it home to sleep.
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