In 3+ years of picking up trash in my neighborhood, I have never actually seen a person toss litter onto the street or sidewalk. But that doesn't stop me from fantasizing about what I would like to do (or have happen) if I did encounter someone in the act of littering. In the interest of achieving partial catharsis, I am pleased to share my most frequent imaginings.
Vehicle Intervention #1: In a car stopped at a traffic light, the occupant of the front passenger seat opens the door and deposits a crumpled collection of fast-food packaging right next to the curb. Wearing my yellow Keep Massachusetts Beautiful vest, I casually walk over to the vehicle, flash my KMB badge, and say, “Sorry, sir [ma’am], but I need to have you step out of the car and show me some identification.”
The offender complies and receives a $75 citation for littering, which can be paid on the spot in cash or via credit card using the electronic hand-held device I am carrying. The device includes an option for leaving a tip (20% recommended). Chastened, the litterer pays the fine and accepts from me a small reusable trash bag for gathering the aforementioned trash. Departing with a smile, I offer my thanks and best wishes for a pleasant day.
Vehicle Intervention #2: Same as the first scenario, except that the offender refuses to get out of the car, telling me instead to “go straight to hell.” I proceed to summon Rusty, my trusty KMB German Shepherd, who has been standing at attention about 10 yards away. Rusty trots over, leaps up by the open passenger window, and takes the offender’s right arm – gently but firmly – into his mouth. I inform the suspect that Rusty’s jaws are strong enough to rip the muffler off a dump truck. The individual has a change of heart. Return to Scenario #1.
Rewind Button: I’m walking behind a gentleman who shreds yet another in a series of losing lottery tickets - and drops it onto the ground. I pull out my smartphone, aim it at the litter, and tap the Rewind icon. The lottery ticket immediately reassembles itself and returns to the man’s hand, in a fashion that mimics a movie scene in which the action has been reversed. Puzzled, the litterer re-shreds the lottery ticket and tosses it a second time. I once again tap my Rewind icon, restoring the torn ticket. The offender mutters an expletive, walks to a nearby trash bin, and deposits the intact ticket. When he reports the incident to his wife that evening, she remarks: “I told you that all those drugs you did in college would eventually catch up with you.”
Help from Above: A young woman tosses a half-eaten apple onto the sidewalk. Observing this, I point my smartphone to the heavens and tap the Supreme-Being icon. The skies immediately darken and the offender is bathed in a narrow cylinder of ethereal light.
A deep voice intones, “Infidel, how dare you despoil this path? Doth thou not have gratitude for the planet I have bestowed upon thee? Discarding a half-eaten apple in the street is just as sinful as consuming a forbidden one. Just ask Eve and that dim-witted partner of hers. Repent now or be consigned for eternity to a pillory in the town square, condemned to reenact the Salem Witch Trials for generations of mouth-breathing tourists.”
Terrified and humbled, the woman retrieves the apple and asks for forgiveness. The darkness lifts. The following Sunday, for the first time, she attends services at KMB’s Church of the Divine Grabber in Wellesley. She joins the congregation in singing the beautiful 17th-century hymn, “Litter Not, Little Lamb, Litter Not.”
Someday, the Massachusetts legislature will authorize KMB volunteers to arrest miscreants. Until then, it doesn’t hurt to dream.
Mike Morris is a retired professor of psychology from the University of New Haven who moved to Framingham, MA in 2022. His primary avocations are satirical writing and pursuing street litter with a vengeance. His humor blog, University Life, can be accessed at https://universitylife.michaeladrianmorris.com.
