A Licensee of Satan Lives in My Blue Recycling Tub by David Kendall

Kendall's last stop on the Pork Pony express is the story of demons possessing a waste-management issue recyling bin. A guest appearance by Rick Fox is included if your imagination allows. (CL)

Daniel, being a good son, actually listened to his parents. "Yes, fine, no problem," He yelled to his parents as he walked to the garage. Daniel was home. He hadn't been home in quite awhile and was politely abiding to his parents' requests. This time, he was asked to put the garbage and recyclables tub out on the curb. The next day was trash day.

Daniel grabbed each handle on the large, blue plastic recyclables tub. Brimming over the top were glass bottles, 2 liter soda bottles, and every variety of soup can imaginable. Daniel carried the load down the driveway and plopped it right on the curb. As he started to walk back to the house, he noticed the tub had a number engraved, "0006660". Daniel made note, but didn't think much of it. He made his way back up the driveway.

The next day, Daniel woke up and found a note in the kitchen waiting for him. It read, "Danny, there are some things we want you to do. We need you to mow the lawn, get that hornets' nest from off the roof above the front door, and make sure you bring in the recycle tub. We'll be back later. Thank you! Mom." Daniel, standing shirtless and in saggy boxers, remembered why he rarely stayed at his parents' house anymore.

Fully clothed, Daniel decided to go get the tub first. He slowly strolled down the driveway to the lonely blue tub. Dragging the plastic container leisurely back to the garage, Daniel swore he heard someone grumbling. He looked around, but no one was on the street or in their yards.

He tossed the blue tub in its usual space. As he stepped back into the house, Daniel audibly heard someone speak. And that voice said one word: "Shit." Daniel whipped his head around and stepped back into the garage. "Hello?" he said aloud. "Anyone there?" No sound or voice responded. Daniel walked back into the house. As he went back in, he inadvertently kicked the tub. A very audible groan emanated from the tub. Shocked by what he heard, Daniel started repeatedly kicking the tub.

"Okay, I get it," the voice in the tub blurted out. "Stop it, damn it."

"Who is this?" screamed Daniel, who was still kicking the tub.

"Well, if your fat foot would quit kicking me, I'd tell you."

Daniel discontinued his kicking and took a ready-to-fight pose.

"A little help here," said the voice.


"A little help. I am short and unless you want me causing even more chaos, help me."

Daniel peered into the tub. A small door was open inside the tub with a small man standing outside of it. The small man looked surprisingly like Rick Fox. Daniel got down on his knees and reached to further open the small door.

"I wouldn't do that," said the small man, "and don't look inside the door."

Daniel looked quizzically, "Why?"

"Just don't. Please put your hand down so I can get out of here."

Daniel didn't move.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you. Just put your friggin' hand down here."

Daniel put his hand inside and the small man climb on. Daniel put his hand down on the floor and the small man stepped down.

"Thank you," said the small man, "Okay, let's talk. First, screw you for banging this tub all over the place. I just got out of traction three months ago and my back is still all messed up. And your kicking. Imagine if I took a car and just repeatedly rammed you with it. That's what it's like. Second, I'm assuming you're the kid of these two alcoholics since you look like your old man."

"Wait," Daniel started to raise his voice in annoyance, "my parents aren't alcoholic."

"Yeah right. No one drinks that much vodka in a social setting, champ. I can get drunk off of the backwash that falls at the bottom of this tub. That's not the point. You're what 20, 21 years old?"

"I'm 23."

"Done weed?"

"I'm not telling you," said Daniel disgustedly.

"You're talking to a little man who lives in your recyclable tub, don't bullshit me."

"Okay, fine, I have."

"So you're young and open to bizarre shit, so I can tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"If I tell you what I'm doing here and you don't tell anyone, I promise to get you a boatload of weed."

"What?" Daniel started to seriously ponder what was going on. A small man who looked like a Los Angeles Laker lived inside his parents' recyclable tub and was offering him weed not to tell anyone he existed. Daniel thought, 'No one would believe me if I told them this. Plus, I like weed.'

"How much weed?" asked Daniel.

The small man paused, "I don't know. How about 600 pounds."

"Whoa. You serious."

"I'm serious."

Daniel hesitated, "OK, sure."

"Alright, ready? My name is Gill. And I am SATAN!" The garage suddenly was engulfed in smoke and flames. A chorus of screams and groans deafeningly filled the space. The small man continued, "Well, I'm not THE Satan." Instantly, all the fire and brimstone disappeared. "You see, Satan isn't omnipresent like God and can't inflict the level of evil that he'd like. So, about 80 years ago, Satan started a business opportunity for his minions."

Daniel stared blankly at Gill. Gill took notice, "Yo, kid, you with me."

Daniel responded, "It smells in here."

"That's the brimstone. Brimstone is actually sulfur. You want me to wait till your ready?"

Daniel was confused. "So you're the Devil."

"No, I'm getting to that."


Gill explained, "Satan told the demons if we forked over a certain amount of cash, we could be the master of evil for an area."

"Like a franchise."

"No, I'm a licensee. With a franchise, you buy all the trademarks and likeness rights and keep the profits. With a license situation, a central owner stays in charge of the branches and gives a portion of the profits back to those branches. Kind of like Kinko's."

"Satan controls Kinko's?"

"To a large extent, but you're missing the point. Satan allows you to control a certain area for a cash investment. In that area, you are the representative of Satan and can say all acts of evil done in said area were the acts of Satan."

Daniel felt like he was doing a severe calculus problem. "Let me get this straight. You gave Satan money to be his representative."


"So why are you in the blue recyclables tub?"

"You see, I could only afford to represent one house, so I was assigned your parents' house. I transport between hell and this house through the tub. Kind of an ironic statement, the vessel you place your recyclables to help the environment is the pathway to hell."

Daniel started to get puzzled again. "How'd you get the money?"

"It's Hell. You better believe we have a full free-market, capitalistic economy. We have our own currency." Gill was getting annoyed. "Okay, enough kid. Do you promise not to tell anyone about this?"

Daniel was now incredibly flustered. "Wait, what kind of evil have you done here. I can't remember anything evil happening here."

Gill rolled his eyes, "Fine. Remember when the furnace blew up on the coldest day of winter ten years ago?"


"That was me. Remember when your sister was caught having sex with that fat biker in living room at two in the morning?"

"Oh, God, sick. Yeah, I do."

"I whispered in her ear that this was a good idea. Then, I whispered in your father's ear that your sister was screwing a biker in his house. Remember your Gannon University sweatshirt?"

"I loved that sweatshirt."

"I took it out of the dryer and stole it. Look in the tub."

Daniel looked in the tub. At the bottom was Daniel's Gannon sweatshirt. He grabbed it and instantly turned up his nose.

Gill chuckled, "Brimstone, kid, I know. Anyway, I am the force of evil in this domicile."

"Wait," Daniel asked, "All that stuff was annoying but I wouldn't classify it as evil."

Gill shrugged, "Look at me, I'm tiny. I have tiny powers. That's why I'm here; I get paid in increased power. Now, are we finished?

"I guess."

"Good, don't say a word to anyone. Promise?"

Daniel nodded, "Sure."

The small man slapped his hands together. "Done. Put me back in the tub." Daniel lifted Gill and placed him back in the tub. "Thanks kid," said Gill, "Go look in you car trunk, there you'll find weed. Remember, not a word."

"Got it," said Daniel, "Thank you."

Gill flipped him a salute and slammed the tiny door shut in the blue tub. Daniel stood there with his Gannon sweatshirt his hands, completely silent. Almost as if he woke up from a dream, Daniel looked around the garage very confused. He held the sweatshirt back up to his nose and found no trace of sulfur. Daniel walked out to the driveway and slowly approached his car. He popped the trunk of his car. Inside was perfectly stacked plastic-wrapped bricks of marijuana. Daniel picked up one of the bricks and realized all 600 pounds of weed were in his trunk as promised.

Suddenly, police cars came whirling out of nowhere. The cars came to a slamming stop and police quickly jumped out their cars.

"GET DOWN!" screamed an officer, "Drop everything in your hands and get down."

Daniel complied with the commands. As officers rushed over to handcuff him, he heard an officer speak into his walkie-talkie: "Yeah, we got the kingpin."

Daniel laughed at the evil situation.

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This page contains a single entry by published on August 12, 2002 7:24 PM.

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