I told the body we were going for a nice stroll in Silvertip and all I needed was a little help in picking up some litter. That was met with silence, which I took as agreement, so I got everything ready to go, and backed the truck out out of the garage.
We weren’t even out of the driveway when the left shoulder cried, “Dibs on the grab stick!”
“No way!” yelled the right hand. “That’s my job! You carry the litter bag”
“When do I get a turn with the grab stick?” screamed the left shoulder.
“Never. It’s my job and you’re too slow!” said the right hand.
Then the ankles said, “Are we there yet?”
I swallowed two Aleve and crammed the ear plugs in my ears.
Once at Silvertip, we started walking along Six Mile Creek where the river rafters defy death in Class V rapids. It’s a beautiful area. The highway winds around mountains on fairly level terrain.
After we’d been walking for a while, the usual suspects started in.
“How come I always have to carry the heavy bag?” sniveled the left shoulder.
The right wrist blames me for giving it carpal tunnel syndrome, and—in truth—it’s right. So, it was no surprise when the hand started whining about going numb began.
“Are we done yet?” mumbled the ankles.
We weren’t done, not by a long shot. Behind a guard rail where the bike trail and Six Mile are adjacent to the highway, we came upon a million little pieces of wrecked car and a semi’s blown tire. What should have been an easy 15-minute walk or less, turned into more than an hour. I dreaded going down the other side of the road and finding more of this mess.
I was right to dread the other side. Pieces of vehicle body part were scattered all over kingdom come.
"I'm gonna be sick!" said the stomach.
"Me, too." I replied. “It’s quite a mess.”
"No, I mean it. I'm hungry and I'm, gonna be sick."
"Hey, you had a Slim Fast Cappucino Delight already."
"That was hours ago."
"AND a sandwich."
"You call whipped cream cheese and ripe olives on one piece of Dave's thin-sliced Powerseed bread a sandwich??"
"Just hang on. There are mandarin oranges in the truck."
“ARE WE DONE YET!!!” demanded the ankles.
The shoulder was in tears and the right hand, being numb, had nothing to say whatsoever.
The bag was heavy. I needed to drop it. The left shoulder couldn’t carry it anymore.
Then we found the sledge hammer. The sledge hammer that broke the body’s back.