The discarded lettuce tumbled into the alleyway dumpster. The lettuce instantly noticed the inappropriate resident within the pile of garbage. But the lettuce was socially aware enough to ignore the out-of-place inhabitant’s presence. Besides, the lettuce was preoccupied with the can of half-consumed soda that was dripping its contents onto her.

“Can you upright yourself? Am I not wilted enough? And now, your juice is dripping all over me. I’m a hot mess,” Lettuce said. “Feel like the bottom of a cocktail, all drippy and wet through.”

Soda cleared his throat and said, “My sincerest apologies, Madam. I will attempt to turn myself to accommodate you.” Soda turned and delivered almost the entirety of his contents onto Lettuce.

Lettuce screamed. With a shake to clear the liquid, she said, “A poor attempt at that, Soda.”

“Again, Madam, I am doing the best I can. I am quite jammed under Cardboard Box.”

“I have nowhere to shift,” Cardboard Box said. “The top and side of the bin has trapped my flap. My apologies.”

“Stop your complaining, Lettuce. At least you’re not jammed against the side of the bin,” Tomato said. “Before we got flipped into here, I was perfectly comfortable resting next to you on that cool plate. I mean, we spent our lives on that plate. And to not be consumed because some kid hates vegetables.”

“Be grateful, Tomato. None of us know what happens if they consume us. At least we have earned an honorable end in The Beyond,” Discarded Birthday Card said.

The others spent a moment in silence for the sentiment. Tomato was also respectfully silent for a moment. Then he said, “I’m not even a vegetable. I’m a fruit.”

“Welcome to the bin, Tomato. I’m Peach. Pardon my bad tidings, but as a fruit, you won’t like it in here,” a half-eaten peach said from the other side of the bin. “The heat has spoiled my skin and hair.” She leaned forward to see her reflection in the nearby sliver of broken glass. Peach whispered, “I try not to complain, but the heat in this bin is oppressive.”

“And who should be complaining?” Ranch Dressing asked. “I’ve been dripping down the side of the bin since Lettuce, Tomato and Olives got tossed in here. You don’t hear me griping.”

“Olives fell onto the street. I don’t think those lads made it into the bin,” Tomato said.

“The garbage crew will get them, right?” Lettuce asked.

“Probably not,” said the cardboard box, folded flat over the top of the pile of rubbish. “Those workers use a truck to lift the bin. Whatever’s left on the street in the alley remains. Last evening, when they took the neighboring bin, street dogs and stray cats nibbled at the carnage.”

Lettuce moaned, “You mean Olives will never get to reach The Beyond?”

“Not all of us do, Lettuce,” Cardboard Box said, tapping Lettuce gently with one of his loose flaps. “You’re a lucky one.”

“Yeah,” Tomato said, “think about Croutons. That kid at the restaurant snapped Croutons up from our plate and jammed each square of bread down his chubby craw so fast. I thought I was next. But who knows what happens if, dear god, we were to be consumed! I shiver to think of it!” Tomato did, in fact, shiver and more of his juice dripped onto Lettuce.

“Will you stay still!” Lettuce pled. “Every time you move, I get your drippy all over me.” She grunted and said, “Now I smell like a tomato soda.”

“My siblings told me that if you’re consumed, you go to The Below. You never reach The Beyond,” Peach said.

Cardboard Box grunted. “Sure am glad not to be food, that’s fer damn sure. My destiny was The Beyond.” His reminder that paper and cardboard were elite was not lost on the bin residents. He added, “And I’m glad. It’s time. My siblings and I carried crisp reams of paper all the way to that office building across from your restaurant. My two brothers and sister, I believe, served at the courthouse. The office across the way used me for storage. Neigh seven years protecting accounting files. And those file lads, what a hoot they were! Always joking,” Cardboard Box’s voice trailed. He said, “Can’t imagine what happened to those boys. They placed me onto a table, took those lads from me, and started some grinding machine. And those lads were screaming. Gives me the shivers. Last thing I know, I’m sliced up flat and flopped into here. And I think: Well, finally, I can go to my maker. I’ve completed my purpose on this earth.”

“It’s the way of things,” a voice echoed from the bottom of the dumpster.

“Who’s that? Who said that?” Tomato asked.

A sigh. The voice said, “Straw Wrapper. They tossed me in here at the beginning of the summer.”

“And you’re still here?” Tomato asked.

Another sigh, long and drawn like a whistle through a poorly sealed window. “Yes. I once graced a lovely straw. She was thin and languid. She had the honor of insertion in a thick chocolate shake. I watched her go as I floated to the bottom of this bin. Discarded. Forgotten,” Straw Wrapper said.

“You should rejoice. Your time has come,” Tomato said as he wiggled deeper into the pile of rubbish, ignoring Lettuce’s squeals. “I can barely understand you, Straw Wrapper. Can you rise up a bit?”

“I expected to be in The Beyond by now. But I stuck to this soft gum and have been here since,” Straw Wrapper said. He sighed once more.

“And you think having you stuck to my head for these months has been pleasant?” Gum asked. “I’ve been here for a long time. Years.”

“Years? But you should be in The Beyond!” Lettuce asked, her voice rising to a high pitch.

“Yes, I should. But the brat chewing me long ago tossed me into the empty bin. In mid-summer. I melted and stuck and my light purple cast turned black long ago,” Gum said.

“Don’t they clean these bins?” Lettuce asked.

“That’s a laugh!” Gum said. “They just dump and run. I can tell you stories.”

“Like?” Peach asked.

“Like… well, Roses has quite a story. She’s down here near me. Roses? Tell your story.”

“I’d rather not,” said a dried bouquet of roses, once vibrant red, now rust and spongy, but still tied with an off white, now soiled, ribbon.

“Oh, please do tell,” Lettuce said. “Chatting does pass the time. And take my mind off my unkempt state.”

Roses mumbled refusals, but eventually said, “A handsome gentleman in a fine grey suit purchased all twelve of me to give to a lovely youthful girl. He met her at the restaurant just beyond the bin. They chatted, and he handed me to her. She held me loosely, with little commitment. I had dreams of gracing a crystal vase until my time. But it was not to be….”

“Go on,” Peach said.

Roses sighed. “The two argued at dinner and the woman left me on the table. I thought,” she sniffled and continued, “I thought the fine gentleman would take me home. But, alas, he tossed me in here where I have remained, on top of Birthday Card and Shredded Paper, waiting to be released in The Beyond.”

“How tragic!” Lettuce said. “To be tossed and not live your purpose. And you were–are–so beautiful. Truly.”

“We fared no better,” Tomato said.

“At least we avoided being consumed,” Ranch Dressing said. “We should all be happy we have the honor of passing to The Beyond. Although a few in this bin should not be here.”

“We don’t speak of that,” Roses whispered.

“But it’s right next to you!” Ranch Dressing said, his voice thick and loud. “How can we not speak of it?”

“Hush, Ranch Dressing. It’s not polite,” Peach said.

“Well, if you don’t mind me asking, how long has… has the inappropriate resident been here?” Ranch Dressing asked.

None of the longtime residents responded. Only Cardboard Box cleared his throat and said, “Let us find another topic.”

Tomato, reddened and hopeful Ranch Dressing’s rudeness did not reflect on him, quickly asked, “What’s your story, Stockings? You’re not the type to be around these parts.”

Stockings sniffled. “Well, I’m still confused and disoriented. I graced the shelves at Angels. One of their high-end stocking brands. A few weeks ago, this glorious long-legged blond took me home, and I rested in her intimate’s drawer until two evenings ago. All I remember is a lot of moaning and being torn off and tossed in here. Before that, there was the dancing…. I never expected to end up here. My kind spend their old age tucked into drawers with rose-scented sashays.”

“Sounds like you were one of the unlucky ones. There’s been a few of your kind here over the years. Mostly those net kind–not smooth like you. You look very silky,” Gum said.

Gum’s compliment was interrupted as the top of the bin flipped open and a single bottle sailed in a perfect arc through the air to land on top of Cardboard Box.

“Hey!” Cardboard Box gasped. “What the hell?”

“Sorry, old boy. Not in control of the tosser,” said the Beer Bottle who adjusted himself, rolled over and looked into the sky. “Guess their leaving the bin open then.”

“Aside from slapping into Cardboard Box, that truly was a glorious entrance,” Newspaper said. “Almost as good as mine. I scored an 8.5. Would have gotten a 10 but for the Shredded Paper judge.”

“I call ’em as I see ‘em,” Shredded Paper said. “Next time stick the landing. Beer Bottle’s routine was a firm nine.”

“Thank you, chap. I felt good about the experience,” Beer Bottle said. “And am sorry about the slap on the back, Cardboard Box. Not intended.”

Cardboard Box grunted and said, “No harm done. Just startled me, is all.”

Beer Bottle rolled back and forth a bit. “So, here we are. Ready for The Beyond. Very exciting this is.”

“Not so much,” Gum said.

“Some of us will leave soon, I expect,” Lettuce said, stretching and pressing against Styrofoam container. “Some of us are stuck here.”

Beer Bottle looked around, then paused and gasped. “Do any of you realize what’s under Roses?”

Cardboard Box cleared his throat. He said, “We’re not speaking about that.”

Beer Bottle said loudly, “But–dear God, man! This is no place for–“

“We once had a puppy in here,” Gum said as loudly as he could.

“Unacceptable,” Beer Bottle said with a snort as punctuation. “Puppies don’t belong with us. We’re the chosen. Those who go to The Beyond. We who rest in glorious piles in the sun, forever. Puppies do not get that honor.”

“This one did. Or would have. One of the waitresses in the restaurant responded to it’s endless whelping and took it out of the bin,” Gum said. “Best thing, too. Thing wiggled all around and cried incessantly.”

“You’d be surprised what ends up in here, Beer Bottle,” Straw Wrapper said.

“I know I’m surprised,” Stockings said through resumed tears, unsuccessfully trying to catch Discarded Birthday Card’s attention, and finally making long eye contact with Roses.

“Excuse me, everyone, I hate to be a stickler,” a distant voice called from the bottom of the bin. “But, I’m sort of known as Beer Bottle in this bin. That new guy–well, I was here first.”

“Quite right, Beer Bottle One,” Gum said. “Perhaps you can be Bottle One and the new fellow Bottle Two?”

“No,” Beer Bottle the first said, “I’d prefer to retain my name.”

Cardboard Box cleared his throat again. “The new chap appears to be imported. Is that right?”

“Yes, my man. Been at the restaurant for nearly a month now. Lengthy trip over the seas,” Beer Bottle the second said.

“Well, then, it appears Beer Bottle one can keep his name and we will call you Imported Beer Bottle,” Cardboard Box said. “Does that satisfy you, Beer Bottle?”

“Which? Him or me?” Beer Bottle the first asked.

Cardboard Box said, “You.”

“Oh. Sure. That’s fine,” Beer Bottle said.

“Fine with me as well,” Imported Beer Bottle said. “I was never one to cause conflict.” He paused and added, “But now that we have straightened out the name confusion, I think we are beholden to address the unwelcome occupant no matter the discomfort.”

“I said we’re not speaking of it,” Cardboard Box said.

Peach bristled and said, “I’m tired of your superiority complex, Cardboard Box. We all acknowledge you are a higher cast, forever destined for The Beyond. You have my allegiance, to be sure. But, at this moment, we’re all detined for The Beyond. I believe I have earned my place and my say. And I agree, we need to address the, the issue.”

“Hear, hear,” Imported Beer Bottle said. “It’s unacceptable. That’s no puppy. That, my friends, should never be in a bin. It’s not right.”

“I can’t even look at it. It’s horrible,” Roses said, turning as far from the sight to which they all referred. “I can’t bear it.”

“Is it saying anything?” Ranch Dressing asked.

“It hasn’t made a sound,” Straw Wrapper said. “Not a cry since it arrived.”

“I heard crying,” Gum said.

“Gum told me there was the crying,” Newspaper said. And they all believed him.

“How could anyone do such a thing?” Lettuce said, finally unable to hold her tongue. “It’s reprehensible. It’s criminal.”

“Isn’t it a crime, really?” Peach asked. “I thought certain things were never to be placed in a bin.”

“Crime or no, that cannot be permitted in The Beyond. I won’t have it,” Imported Beer Bottle said.

The unwelcome resident spoke quietly at first. “I don’t belong here, no. And it is a crime, yes, but not illegal. The artist who painted me had his first show just two evenings ago. After I hung in his studio for countless sunrises, he finally displayed me to the world. But no one came to see me. Or the others.” Oil Painting turned slightly, so the bin residents could see his full glory. In the moonlight, saffron, gold, azure, and emerald burned so brightly from his canvas, most of the residents had to turn away. Roses could only stare, humbled by Oil Painting’s beauty.

“I learned deep secrets. Even where one goes when consumed,” Oil Painting said.

“Tell us!” Peach demanded.

“Yes, please,” Lettuce said, forgetting her wilted self for the moment.

“If one is consumed, one passes through the human, transforms, and goes to The Flushing River,” Oil Painting said.

“How do you know?” Imported Beer Bottle asked. “What makes you so wise?”

Oil Painting turned as much as he could to regard Imported Beer Bottle. He said, “I know because I was alive long before you were formed and filled, Imported Beer Bottle. Aware much longer than Peach or Lettuce. I have hung on a wall from the time long before they planted and cut Roses or before Cardboard Box and Shredded Paper were born from tree pulp.”

“Now, wait a minute. I have no association with trees,” Cardboard Box said.

“But you do, Cardboard Box. Each of you here is a natural thing, born of plants and chemicals. A thing created for a purpose. To be used and discarded and honored with an ending in The Beyond or in the Flushing River. I, however, was a purposeless creation, never to be used and never to be discarded. I was never to die.”

The bin’s residents, even Newspaper, were silent. What were they to say?

Tomato had to ask, “So, what? You’re with us now. Just like Cardboard Box. You’re just pigment and wood and canvas–just the same.”

“No, Tomato. Unlike Cardboard Box, I have no purpose. I was created and am. And that is all. I am not to be eaten or filled. I feed and fill if the moment is right or I am silent. I do not belong here. This you know.”

“What about the puppy?” Silk Stockings asked. “The puppy didn’t belong either.”

Oil Painting sighed. “So true. Living things, like the puppy, are not privileged to go to The Beyond. They die and return to The Earth. Just as your unharvested siblings, Peach. Or yours, Tomato.”

“But, but you’re saying you’re not like a puppy? That you’re privileged? And you can go to The Beyond?” Imported Beer Bottle asked, his glass a bright red now.

“Yes, what about that? We agree that you do not belong. Not with us. You have not earned the right to The Beyond,” Cardboard Box said as he turned away.

“I agree, Cardboard Box. You have served and will be honored. Yet, you miss my point,” Oil Painting said. “To each, his or her rightful end. Those like Roses and Peach, like Lettuce and Tomato, or even Ranch Dressing and your contents, Imported Beer Bottle, fruits and nuts, grains and greens, combined for consumption. Your birth is as the puppy’s or a human’s. Nothing more than the mixing of cells. A happenstance of nature. Consumed or discarded, the end is rightful.”

“And you’re so different?” Tomato asked, almost as red now as Imported Beer Bottle.

“I? Yes,” Oil Painting said. “My creation is from nothingness, using the power of the universe. And I live forever, never to be discarded. Never to be consumed.” Oil Painting continued, “So, here I am. Going where a work of art should never venture. I apologize for insulting each of you with my presence, but this was not my choice. My presence here among you results from a deep sadness from which there is no reprieve. My circumstance is much worse than a fat child who avoids vegetables or an emotional breakup–or a tryst in an alleyway. My presence is much worse than being stuck to the bottom of a bin for eternity. My presence is a sign of the end of things. The end of life itself.”

After a thoughtful silence, Gum spoke. “I believe I speak for us all, Oil Painting. Just for the record, not that it can heal your wounds or rectify the wrongs done, but those of us destined for the bin know who belongs and who does not, even if the tossers get it wrong. They are, after all, only human.”