The Story of the Dumpster Diver

I asked him what he did? As he stood up and opened the lid. He said some people call me a dumpster diver but hey that’s okay. He said I just reuse what people throwaway. I asked him aren’t you afraid you might catch some incurable disease? He said you can do that just breathing the stuff that floats in the breeze. I said it just seems like you’re taking an awful big chance. He did not speak but his eyes met my wandering glance. I asked him did you choose this life or was it thrust upon you? He said I once had a home a really nice one too. A little girl and a wife every mans dream. Everything was perfect like a fairytale theme. One evening quite late we started home from the park. And I saw this car coming and saw flashes in the dark. It was bullets they were firing that struck us all three. One hit my arm and one struck my knee. One struck my wife they said it went right through her heart. The one my little girl caught ripped her apart. My money all went for paying doctors, and morticians and such. In six months time I lost my family, home, and job that’s why now I don’t care too much. I could have drawn unemployment, welfare and stuff. But instead I just turned to the streets I’ve just had enough. I said man I’m so sorry, I just didn’t know. He said that’s okay I catch it everywhere I go. Well I bid him fair well and silently turned away. I often think about that old dumpster diver and the words he had to say. I guess if this were to have a moral: How about never judge a book by its cover.