ImPerceptibility

They didn’t see me watching as they packed up to leave. They decided to leave their trash behind. Beer bottles, food wrappers, and cigarette butts littered their small part of the beach. A few people gave them nasty looks but they kept walking. They were in their mid-thirties and that is old enough to know better. They wouldn’t be old enough to understand the sense of justice that was simmering in my heart until the next morning.

People watched as I picked up the trash. I placed it carefully in an old plastic bag. A few people even helped. I thanked them. When we were finished I asked them to join me that night on a mid-night mission.

“Wear Black” I told them.

We had a feast of a dinner; crabs, shrimp, and fresh fish in large quantities. As the fish were being prepared I stopped by to collect the remains. With a smile that was slightly less than sinister I added the guts and scales to my bag. I thanked the fishermen.

“Please join me at mid-night out front. We have a mission.” They chuckled as they drank their beer and cleaned the fish.

We ate pounds of shrimp and crab and had pounds of shells left over.

“Don’t throw those out” I told them. “They will be needed at mid-night.” They giggled and dumped the empty shells into my bag.

When my bag was full, I left it outside in the heat to simmer until mid-night.

We partied like a bunch of sailors about to be shipped out to sea. The piles of bottles got bigger and bigger. The laughter got louder and louder. Finally, the bell tolled. (It was actually the buzzer on the stove but that doesn’t sound as good) It was mid-night. Dressed in the required black we gathered around the table and I set out our mission. I had maps and a time line drawn out on the notepad someone stole from the bank. After a rowdy round of debriefing and rebriefing we embarked.

I wish I could give you more details of the actual mission. My mind is a little fuzzy. I vividly remember the smell as I accidentally spilled the contents of my bag all over their front porch. I remember beer bottles being stacked on porch steps. I mostly remember running with a sense of freedom that can only be found in the dead of night with a heart full of self-satisfied mischief.

The next morning the doorbell rang. I heard a deep voice deny knowledge. It was part of the plan. I heard the same voice ask if it was the house of the people that had left their trash all over the beach. I pulled my covers up over my head and pressed my fist to my mouth to keep from giggling. The sound of laughter from the fat southern cop was pure magic.

They noticed me watching as they cleaned up their yard the next morning. They had no choice but to pick up the trash. That stuff stank and there were those big beach flies. People walking by smiled politely as they cleaned up. They were in their mid-thirties and that is old enough to know better. They were now old enough to understand the sense of justice in my heart. It was a wonderful morning.

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