A spark has struck on a dead battery.
A spark has struck us. So there I was sitting in a comfortable chair reminiscing my few minutes spent at the Recycling Station in a town of V. It looks like town of V. has nice and friendly place to recycle things of all kinds of recyclable nature and I don't mean just paper and plastic but also dead roots of roses no one has bothered to water for over five years and they needed to be dug up cut up and tossed to the paper container and yes, later can be brought there. - Upon that thought I decided to bring a gift to the Recycling Station since someone has left it on a street in front of my house. It was a car battery. I was quite curious why such a thing should occur in a town of V. A car battery suddenly appearing in front of my house. I have seen strange things here like one of my neighbors, obviously a psychopath or why would he be screaming at me gesticulating with his idiotic flabby arms saying "don't you fucking park your car in front of my driveway" and here I was needing to just stop for few minutes and it wasn't like he was in a dire need to go anywhere and here a small baby sleeping in a car seat and fresh butter melting in a back seat and a wife in a front seat just having been picked up at the dentists. I was looking around for a baseball bat so I could shut up that small monkey for his scream was quite annoying but I drove away and parked two houses down having decided to came back later with a big sign that should spell "Screaming Monkey. Cheap Thrill. Only 25 cents" and make some money on that lazy sunny hot Tuesday afternoon - and I could have pulled even more than 10 bucks because right about that time on my street plenty of kids were returning home from school with their parents and knowing how little children adore wild life, from turtles to tigers watching a screaming monkey for a quarter would have been indeed a thrill.
But this post is about a battery or rather about the Recycling Station in a town of V. or maybe even about the human nature, I shall leave the topic of this post to be discerned by the reader, and why not the reader, why should the author worry about such a thing as introducing evidence after having decided what the post is about? why I ask? The reader should be free to decide to him/herself what the post is about. After all we live in a free post modernist society and we are not going to be stuffed into predestined posts, no, enough of this blogging with clear titles and well defined Cartesian linear thoughts. Let the reader decide for him/herself if indeed my neighbor is a psychopath or just a screaming monkey. Let us not let the author make such judgments.
I drove the car battery to the Recycling Station where I said these words in broken German - "Ish musshte diese car battery recycle, bitte" to a young recycling specialist girl, well, not really a girl and not really a woman, let us say simply a Young German Female, such a female you can see everywhere in a town of V. It looks as if they don't know if they want to remain girls and are not sure if they are women yet,
their giggling with no longer girlish and coming from a body of a young woman quite infantile. After two sentences I found out that I was really talking to a German Bureaucrat, infantile bureaucrat, fresh and already on her way to a fine bureaucratic career. Said battery indeed can be recycled but must be brought on first tuesday of the month between 9 am and 3 pm. This is the schedule for a special truck which will be parked at the recycling station and which will accept car batteries and burned light bulbs. Apart from those scheduled times these articles can not be recycled. - I was faced with a conundrum - Pretend I don't speak German, English or any other language and simply hand the battery to the girl-woman bureaucrat and drive away or inquire about this stupidity and ask about
"store and forward" business techniques. I chose to explain first having already perceived that asking "why can't I just leave it here until the truck comes" will be replied with "because we don't have a container for it" which would prompt me to ask "why don't you just leave it by the door or next to regular batteries, you seem to have a lot of space here, huh?" So I explained that the battery is not mine. I have taken upon myself a responsibility to deliver this battery to a recycling station instead of having it permanently displayed on a street in front of my house or conveniently pushing it in front of the house of my psychopath monkey screaming neighbor so he can dump it in the river which would be irresponsible. My explanation was met with a smile but not a smile of sympathy as I was hoping for. It was an infantile smile of a bureaucrat. Her lips parting, revealing a pierced tongue saying a well memorized directions "I am sorry but the truck comes in two weeks". There for a moment I saw she was genuinely sorry, it was in here eyes but was soon replace with her convenient helplessness and unwillingness to do anything about it. As I stood there I gave her a battery but she took her hands away and stepped back still smiling, giggling like a girl, functioning as a bureaucrat wishing I should go away but a bit glad she's had a chance to speak english.
The battery is in front of my house. One of these months on the special day when the truck comes between 9am and 3pm I will drive to the Recycling Station with it but every day I am pushing the battery 3 centimeters closer to the doorsteps of my screaming monkey psychopath neighbor.
