Where Is Rebecca DeMornay When You Need Her?

I came home from town a few days ago, and met Hick on the Gator in front of our second 10 acres. Let the record show that the weather has been dry, and he was heading into my wake, a dust storm only slightly less dramatic than the Oklahoma plains in the 1930s.

"What's going on?"

"I'm headed up to HOS's. I'm meeting the county deputy."

"What have you done now? Are you poking Crazy Stick Dude again?"

"No. HOS found out somebody dumped a load of trash over at the other mailboxes. He took some pictures and sent them to me. I went over there to look. HOS had opened up some bags, and found an address. I want to load it up in the bucket of my tractor and take it up there and dump it in their yard. Just to return it. It's that subdivision across the county road. So we called the police, and asked if they'd go along with us."

"Yeah. No. I doubt that's gonna happen."

"The deputy said he'd meet us out here, but my phone just rang, and nobody was on it. I gave him HOS's number, too, and HOS just called and said he's there. So I'm going up there."

Let the record show that Hick had been up at HOS's most of the morning, gathering flat rocks from the creek, which he is transporting back to our homestead, building a little wall around back under the porch by the basement door and Poolio. And now, as he left me to drive that Gator up to HOS's house, he was hauling about a half ton of rocks in the back, over hill and craggy dale, up the dusty trail.

I will admit that I kept an ear cocked for gunshots. One week Hick was threatened to be shot at once, and actually shot at once. Not this time, though. Later, I found him out back stacking rocks.

"So what happened with the trash? Did you get pictures?"

"No. HOS did. I'll have him send them to you."

"Did you take the trash back?"

"No. The deputy said that probably wasn't a good idea. We said we wanted to prosecute, and he said the county won't prosecute people for this. It's public dumping! But he says they've taken them stuff in the past, and they don't deal with it. If it's on your land, YOU can try to prosecute. But the county won't get involved. Not unless it's in the actual road, blocking traffic."

"Well, it's not on OUR property."

"No. But it's on SOMEBODY'S property here in our association. It was right at the edge of the road. The part that's supposed to be kept clear. Just like with Crazy Stick Dude."

"So what are you going to do?"

"HOS wants to go through it and find the stinkiest thing in there and mail it to them. Just the grossest, I said."

"Nah. I wouldn't put anything stinky in there. Then they won't open it. I mailed some trash back one time, that I found down by our mailboxes. Just so the people would have to drive to the post office to pick up the package. I put a note in it that said to quit dumping trash on our road."

"Maybe I should take a crap in a baggie and send that to them!"

"Way to go. You're not a good criminal. You just sent your DNA along with the crime!"

"Yeah. I'm not doing that. HOS put the pictures on Facebook, on What's Happening Around Backroads. He put a close-up of the address, and warned people that this person is dumping their trash on other people's property. It's not just a bag of trash. It's like a whole truckload."

"Great. Now that dumper will come after HOS instead of you."

Let the record show that we pay a hefty fee for our weekly trash pickup, and in the winter we're lucky if it even gets picked up when the weather calls for snow, and we never get a discount when it isn't. But we DON'T drive it around (or merely across the road) and dump it.

Where is Rebecca DeMornay when you need her? We rural route dwellers appreciate extra trash like the homeless appreciate muffin stumps and toilet books.