Okay, no joke, this is a true story. It starts like this, picture it.
     I settle down in my room with a sigh, my back up against my bed, and my eyes roving the outside world through my open window to watch the fading twilight. Ah, it is my favorite time of day. I lay my head back onto the bed. Finally, a break.
     Two of my sisters were headed off to college the very next day, so it had been a long, hard, and tiring week. Not to mention hot. Actually it was 84 today, plus 80\% humidity of course. Dripping.  Mom had left for the airport to pick up my eldest sister from an interview, taking with her my little brother and older sister. It was just Brianna and I left at home. That made things quieter than usual. I was glad that I could sit and have a break to enjoy this time of the day at least, after all of the rig-ma-roll earlier. Suddenly I became aware that the phone was ringing. Brianna yelled something like ‘get it Mamie’ and I frowned.
     Our house is normally quite chaotic, to be exact, and one of the things that adds to its chaos is that we have no working phone on the second floor. Notice I say no working phone; we have a phone it just refuses to work. Every once in a great while it will answer when you press ‘talk’ but normally it will give you bated breath for two seconds and then beep an obnoxious beep, twice, and say that it’s unavailable. We have tried many different models on our second floor, but to no avail after the first few weeks something always goes wrong with it. Another thing? It only rings four times. If you’re not down the stairs in time to get the phone the answering machine gets the call and you hate to pick it up once the person who was trying to reach you begins their message.
     So, jumping up from the comfortable position I was just in, I race past the stubborn phone in the desk room, not even wanting to give it the satisfaction of my anxiety, and run down the stairs into our family room and answer with a sweet ‘hello?’, after which I take a huge breath to regain composure. Well I caught it on the fourth ring and so in the background I hear my sweet ‘hello’ echo in the other room and the message machine begin its confounding phrase. “Hello, you’ve reached the -------’s, sorry we can’t come to phone right now but if you leave your name…” yeah, it figures. I jump up after saying a quick ‘hold on please’ to the person on the other line and run into our kitchen to shut the message off. Oh, yeah, that’s the other thing, our portable phones don’t work in all the rooms of our house, so the one in the family room only works in the family room and the one in the kitchen only works in the kitchen. And we thought we were up grading when we got those new and fancy portable phones….
     I switch to the kitchen phone and lean against the wall. “I’m sorry,” I apologize to the caller.
     “Mamie?” the person asks.
     “Oh, hi Aisling.”  It’s my sister calling from the car on her way to the airport.
     “I know you’re not going to want to hear this, but…it’s garbage night tonight--”
     I slap my head. “NO!!” I interrupt irritably. “I’m just not.”  With a quick little smile I hang up the phone. I know she’s going to call me back in two seconds. Somehow being able to hang up makes it easier for me to actually do the task.
     I yell upstairs to Brianna that I’m taking the garbage out and will be back in soon. The phone is ringing.
     “Hello,” I say, knowing that my sister has realized I hung up on her.
     “Did you seriously hang up on me?”
     I laugh. I knew it. “Yes,” I tell her. “I’ll do it. Fine.”
     “Good, and don’t forget to change the kitchen one and empty the bathroom one too, downstairs.”  Click. She hangs up.
     I look out the window; it’s getting dark quickly. But I figure if I can collect the trash from inside fast enough I’ll be able to make it.
     Dad is out of town with his new job, in Philadelphia. It had always been his job to take the trash out when we were growing up, and still is since my little brother is only eight and not strong enough to haul the big full cans to the end of our long driveway. But now that he is going out of state frequently, we have to take over. Taking out the trash, to me, is just one of those things girls shouldn’t have to do. It’s smelly, it’s slimy, it’s dirty, and it’s just gross. Not that gross equals a guys job necessarily, but sometimes it does. And this is definitely one of those times. 
     You also have to realize a few things before you can understand why I hate to do this chore so vehemently. The ‘take the garbage out’ job is different depending on where you live. My family and I live in out in the country of northeast Ohio. We are about 20 minutes from our grocery store and 30 from our church. Also, we are surrounded by a thick forest of trees. Meet the menaces of the wood. First, we have deer. They do not scare me but can defiantly give you a fright when you don’t expect to see them. Second, we have wild turkeys. They are most definitely not the scariest, but they are known to be very aggressive when confronted. Third, we have opossums. Now they are simply creepy, I mean a huge white rat? How much worse can you get? They also are known to be the most likely to have rabies, which can be passed onto humans if they bite you. Fourth, is the skunk. I’ve never been skunked, and I don’t want that to change. Fifth, raccoons. Now there you have a serious concern. Raccoons in Ohio are definitely a threat to anyone’s life. Okay not that extreme, but don’t get me wrong, they will attack you. Sixth, foxes. They are timid, but of course they can always turn on you. Now we come to the most dangerous (in my opinion anyway) the coyotes. They are too close a cousin to the wolf for me, and those who don’t believe that they actually live in Ohio should come spend the night at my house where you can here them yap and howl until morning. So all of those things help my dislike to grow when I must do this task.
     After emptying all of the garbage cans in our household (there are many with a family of seven), I make my way into the basement and turn on the lights. It’s darker outside than I would have liked. Still, I could do this. Gingerly I slip my feet into my flip-flops and open our basement door. Sticking my head out the door I chuckle at my timidity, and raise my head high. My idea is to put all four of the garbage bags into the wheelbarrow for a more convenient haul. After succeeding thus far, I close the basement door behind me and start my trek. As I go up the hill and around to the front of our house I become quite pleased with myself for having efficiently emptied all of the garbage cans in our house when normally my sisters only do the ones on the main floor. I feel that I have done well for not wanting to do this job at all. Getting to the top of the driveway, I let out a sigh as I notice just how pitch black it is now that I’m out here, and start pulling all of the five large cans out of the woods.   My dad has a large wooden crate that sits very close to the ground that he places close to the edge of our driveway in the trees to keep the cans hidden, so to please my mom, but so that they are somewhat accessible. I pull out two that have space only enough for one bag each, and so I cram and cramp the bags in either one until I can squish and lock the lids on tightly. I move them into the middle of the driveway so that they’re out of my way, and grab another, which is completely full and has absolutely no room for the two bulging garbage bags at my feet. Moving it next to the other two cans that are full, I sigh, and step into the woods to pick between to the less desirable cans left over. They are both without lids and usually our last resorts when it comes to the garbage, or at least my last resorts. I just want to get things over with so I grab the blue one and stop suddenly as it is heavy. Heavy? Is there garbage in it? Then I hear the scratching of claws against the side of the can. Quickly setting it down I back away, to afraid I think to scream. What is in that garbage can? My mind is racing to think of what it could be. I listen closely and hear something knocking into the side now, as if it’s trying to get out. This is too much for me. I turn and run up the driveway, into the house, kick off my flip-flops, race up the stairs and find Brianna.
     “You will never believe this. But there is some kind of something in the garbage can.” I can’t even explain what I mean for a minute. Then I tell her everything.
     “Oh, Mamie,” she says anxiously, in a way that only she can muster.
     “I know, and once it began pounding the side of the can I just couldn’t stand there alone and wait for it to come out!”
     “Oh, it’s like your worst nightmare.” She puts both hands to the sides of her face emphatically and looks at me.
     “I know!! Tell me about it,” I yell. “Come on, I need you.”
     “Alright you go find a flashlight.”
     Haha. A flashlight. A lot easier said than done. Our house never has working flashlights, along with our phones you see, it’s something we can never have in our house. I’m convinced. I go on the search anyway and find the supersonic one that weighs about 3 pounds that we’ve had forever. Breathing in hopefully, I pull the trigger. It doesn’t work. Of course it didn’t, but I wonder if the little light on the end works still. That had been our only flashlight in the house since Aisling’s 13th birthday seven years ago. Yep! It works. So I grab another flashlight that I found while searching for this one and stock it with batteries, hoping that it too will help us. Well in case one or the other burns out during our escapade I know I have to have two.
     “Okay Brianna. Let’s go.”
     “I have to get good running shoes,” she says as she’s coming down the stairs.
      I look down at my flip-flops doubtfully. Oh well.
     Once outside she grabs a broom and we head down the driveway. At about half way down we stop unconsciously.
     I look at Brianna. “Come on, keep walking.”
     We get a little further then turn around and run back to the garage.
     “What’s wrong with us?” Brianna’s asks. “It’s just an animal.”
     “Yeah I know, but what kind of an animal?”
     “Come on.”
     We get about halfway down the driveway again.
     “Where is your sense of adventure?” I ask Brianna, grabbing her arm and trying to push her ahead of me.
     “Alright, let’s just do this okay?”
     “Yeah,” I agreed.
      We try to walk a little further but start to walk quickly backwards, towards the garage again.
     “We aren’t getting anywhere,” I say, annoyed at us for being such girls. “We have to figure out what kind of animal is in there so we can tell people after this about how we were so scared but then found THIS animal in there.”
     Brianna grabs a wooden sword of my brothers. “Okay.”
     I grasp the flashlight firmly and we walk down the driveway, this time steady and determined. Then my flashlight dies. I knew I needed two. Thank God I brought an extra. Slowly we creep up to the can. Slowly, oh so slowly.
     Brianna stops.
     I stop. “Take a step. I won’t unless you do too.” Synchronized, we get closer.
     “Do you see anything?” Brianna asks me, barely above a whisper.
     “No,” I reply in the same tone. “Do you see anything??”
     “No.”
     A car zooms past and illuminates the woods around us, but just for a second. I start to chuckle even in the intense moment because I can just imagine how funny we both must look. Our faces are probably sheet white, our eyes large and bulging, our knees fairly knocking together, our hands grabbing on to the other person, and the whole while it is a garbage can that we dread, and it sits about four feet in front of us. I take a breath and begin to look over the side of the garbage can. Slowly inch-by-inch I begin to see deeper and deeper into it, my spine tingling and all of my hair standing on end. Then I see what lay in the bottom of the garbage can.
     “Ah!” I exclaim, startled, and then burst out laughing, grabbing Brianna by the arm.
     “What?” she asks quickly, laughing even before she knows if it’s funny or not, and peeks into the can herself. A smile immediately breaks on her face. “Mamie!”
     There in the bottom of the trash can lay two feet of water and an empty chocolate syrup jar.