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1. Joel Brooks
1245 Market Street
Apt. #3310
San Diego, CA 92101
http://www.ozenoz.com
(424)731-3051
joelbrooks@ymail.com
To Whom I Hope This Concerns;
I have written a short about trash. This short, I could not tell is how many words
or pages. I do not have the program to do that. It is entitled "Waste", though I am
considering "Eating It". It is one of twelve steps to completing my anthology, which I
assure you will sell a couple.
When Charles Dufant became a trash truck driver, he felt he had found the lowest
title he could find to keep his life stable. Pay that put him in the upper middle class as a
rookie driver, Chuck was finally beginning to feel comfortable with his newly found
urban life. People threw away the damndest things… stereos, televisions, computers,
antique furniture, artwork, hell this was going to make his new pad pimped out in a very
big way. He could stand all the “What’s up Chuck?” jokes about the griminess of his
position and the snide looks from the uptight walkers who couldn’t stand to see their own
trash being handled for fear of the rap. This was going to be all right.
Little did he know what was to come. He begins to notice that his route includes
territory that is being handled by local thugs, who are very up front about their

2. expectation of pay in return for protection. Hailing from small town, Iowa, Charles isn’t
accustomed to anything but the wind turbines causing this kind of pollution and
disturbance. These guys feed the local seagull’s antacid tablets every morning as they
gather around for morning coffee just to watch and laugh as they puff up and die. They
are hard core hardened thugs whose only interest in the days takes, and what of it will
make it on the books, and what of it they will take home to their wives and mistresses.
When he moves district in Los Angeles, he finds that his life is in danger. Now
working deeper into the streets that see the actual back alley action those white collar
dollar earning heat makers create with their side businesses of smuggling and delivery
knock over payouts on non paying shopkeepers, Charles is getting worried. These fools
are approaching him on a daily basis trying to negotiate some kind of relationship that is
coming off more and more forced as if something very deadly is coming. He notices a
local renowned hit man, Tutlie Snipes in the early morning dew packing a piece very
openly stalking a beat down corner crack dealer, and he begins to get scared.
Finally, the situation becomes all too clear. Large payouts are being forced on him
to ignore the dumping of mob and gang murder victims being laid to waste in his routes
dumpsters. Every week he is expected to accept tribute in exchange for ignoring the
contents of his truck as it pulls away from another unlucky customer’s almost final
resting place. He is forced to avoid dump heavy equipment operators situating the trash to
accept his loads, for fear of a John or Jane Doe popping out in front of them. At night, he

3. dreams of faceless victims being stacked in his waiting receptacles, their graves left
empty for those who would grieve. The worst of it all comes when Tutlie is actually
present and finishing the job one morning as he makes his pickup. From the look on the
man’s face, and his demeanor, Charles knows his only payment is that he remains alive.
I don't want to waste the ending, or get wasted in the process. I am quite sure
reading it will not kill you, though I have learned alot about eating it. I am lying through
my teeth the entire way through the former synopsis. Do not worry, I am not a smoker of
chronic in that fashion. I will leave that to the lion's den. Snoop onward if you like. There
is a reason IT is at OZENOZ. That is my dot com. After all, we are only ordinary men.
May I Thrill You
Later,
Joel Brooks