A la table

I took my gloves off as I walked over to the cabin. Graham was beckoning me over and he was the boss.

"Pay dirt!" He'd said moving aside to let me in. The cabin was small and the centre of operations. Outside the cabin was the area where the vehicles would cone and tip the burnables. They'd tip it all and then when it got full the bulldozer would push all the rubbish up so it formed a hill. An excavator would then eat into the hill moving what it could into huge trailers. The trailers went to the incinerator and this process just repeated all day long. Until 4pm, 3 on a Friday. On my first day I just, as instructed, walked around and looked into the vehicles, making sure nobody was dumping metal or rubble or other stuff that didn't burn. Green waste wasn't allowed either. That's garden waste. That's all I had to do, walk around the trucks and cars looking for banned items. I hoped one day to be allowed to drive the bulldozer because it had metal spiked wheels and looked awesome, the excavator not so much. I was going to learn all facets of dump-working-at but on my first day I just had to walk around like I knew what I was about. And then Graham beckoned me over. Inside the small cabin Vince, the excavator operator was sitting at the table. He was eating a sandwich and his pinched French face suggested it was more than a sandwich, his face suggested what he was eating was some kind of manna from heaven. You'd think, looking at him, he was eating a club sandwich but it wasn't. It looked like it was cheese and yet he was enjoying it immensely  The sandwich was having sex with his head. He was rolling his eyes and practically moaning as he chewed.

"Pay dirt!" Said Graham, a small man from Liverpool. He gestured to the table which had sandwiches lined up neatly upon it. Sandwiches in triangular cardboard boxes. I looked at the neat line of sandwiches. Half an hour earlier a van had dumped the sandwiches. I'd told Graham. "Somebody's dumped a load of sandwiches," I'd told him. Don't know why but it had seemed worthy of mention to me. Sandwiches. All just dumped.

"Why don't you eat one?" He'd asked me when I'd told him what I'd seen.

"I don't..." I'd replied. I'd not long had my lunch.

That was when I saw them being dumped. Since then seagulls had been screaming overhead and in the cabin, as Vince looked on, some of the sandwiches were lined up on the table and again Graham was suggesting I eat one. I wondered if he remembered that I'd told him about the sandwiches. A few minutes earlier. That would sort of explain it.

"I'm alright, really," I'd told Graham.

"Vince, they're nice aren't they?" Asked Graham. Vince nodded sensually and rubbed his belly and moaned. "Eat one!" Said Graham to me. "Go on, eat one!" Said Graham.

"I've h-"

"Eat one, go on, eat one. Eat one," said Graham. The sandwiches looked fine. I'd exasperated Graham once already that first day. Somebody was tipping some timber but in the load were a few branches. I'd told the guy that he couldn't dump the branches. The timber was fine. I told him where he'd have to take the green waste. Two gates further up the valley. The guy had got a bit aggro and I'd told him I didn't make the rules and that I just enforced them. The guy wasn't haven't it thought, he felt it was a ridiculous waste of his time for what was a few branches and after all  it was wood and would burn. He didn't say it like that. He was swearing and I got Graham because the guy had a point, it would burn and Graham looked at the branches and told the guy they were fine as it was just a few branches and Graham was angry because I'd got him out of the cabin. As I followed him back over to the cabin Graham had been furious, muttering and shaking his head. I didn't say anything and by the time we were back at the cabin, like 30 seconds later, Graham was completely happy. He was laughing and joking. Graham didn't seem to be an entirely stable person and so I picked a tuna and cucumber sandwich and blew my cheeks out. Box was sealed. "Eat it," said Graham.

"Yup," I replied. Opening the box, sniffing the sandwich and biting a corner. "Take a bigger bite!" Graham urged and looking at his face I was concerned. He was suppressing some emotion and I didn't know if it was fury or delight. I ate half the sandwich. I fucking love tuna and cucumber. As I was chewing I decided that, when I'd swallowed, I'd ask Graham if this was some form of initiation. That might get a smile.

"Ah!" Said Graham exploding into life and jabbing a finger towards me. "He ate it!" Vince was looking at me with disgust. His small Hitler moustache nearly hidden because his upper lip was curled so much. I swallowed the sandwich I was chewing. It was a large bit and I felt like a snake eating a cow but it went down.

"I bring this from home!" Said Vince standing and waving what remained of the sandwich he was eating in front of me. So? I thought.

"You ate a dump sandwich!" said Graham staring up at me. Graham was very short.

"It's nice, actually," I said picking up the second half. I went to bite the corner of that one but Graham slapped it out of my hand. It separated into two single slice triangles and fell to floor. I looked at it and then to Graham. He was breathing heavily. I looked at Vince but his face was blank. We stood there for a while. I noticed Graham was clenching and unclenching his fists. I licked my lips and then looked back at Vince. He was looking at Graham. I looked at Graham who now had his eyes closed and was breathing deeper and slower. As I looked at him frightened he open his eyes and then smiled.

"Ha, lad, you passed!" He said.

"It was a... what, an initiation?" I asked. Not chuckling but ready to if I deemed it necessary.

"Yeah!" Said Graham laughing and clapping me on the arm. Vince was laughing and nodding. I laughed not knowing what the fuck was happening. "You're going to fit in here," Graham said and he was right, I did. I don't know why but Graham seemed to really take to me after that fucked up nonsensical ceremony that had happened on the first day. He still got angry a lot but never at me and today he found me a table. He knew I'd wanted a table. For the hall. The hall where me and the dick upstairs leave our bicycles. I'd wanted a table for a while but when the guy upstairs had leant his bicycle on mine the quest for one had taken on extra urgency.

"Nothing wrong with that!" I'd said looking over the table that Graham had placed outside the cabin. It was just the right size. Had four legs. There was nothing wrong with it.

"Nothing wrong with that," Graham agreed. That's kind of our catchphrase. When we find something in good condition that we want to keep we say, 'there's nothing wrong with that.'

I would use the table to separate our bicycle leaning areas and also maybe put letters on there. Instead of just leaving them on the floor. Maybe a vase too. I'd keep my eyes peeled for a vase. Or a bowl. No, a vase.