Dr. Mojo Goes Dumpster Diving

One day, Dr. Van Van Mojo realized he was hungry. He’d spent all his money at the bars, and had been living on Ramen for weeks.

“Ramen is OK,” Dr. Mojo told his friend Mr. Turtle, “but a shaman cannot live by ramen alone.”

“Will you get a job?” asked Mr. Turtle.

“Don’t be silly,” said Dr. Mojo. “Why should I work when so much food goes to waste in the big city?”

“Will you steal, then?” asked Mr. Turtle.

“Of course not,” said Dr. Mojo. “I will dumpster dive.”

So Dr. Mojo pulled on his boots and his heavy work gloves, and he went to the supermarket.

Behind the supermarket stood a huge machine. A young man in an ill-fitting uniform came out the back door and dumped a box of vegetables into the machine. He pressed a button and the machine emitted a deep rumbling. Then the young man went back inside.

“Yum! Vegetables!” Dr. Mojo cried. “Just the thing to round out a meal of ramen!”

The doctor bolted forward and climbed up on the machine. He found the hole where the veggies had been dumped, and climbed in.

Dr. Mojo looked around in surprise. There were no vegetables here. Not a potato, not a carrot, not a single stalk of celery. As he scratched his head, Dr. Mojo was knocked from his feet by a bag of trash dropped from above. Then another bag fell, and another, until the doctor was buried in garbage.

As Dr. Mojo climbed to his feet, he heard an ominous rumbling. Then the walls started to close in.

“Oh no!” Dr. Mojo cried. “The dumpster is alive! It ate all the vegetables, and now it will eat me!”

Dr. Mojo tried to dig himself out, but the walls were closing in fast. He stopped struggling and sang the song of St. Gulik.

Gulik was a cockroach, and skilled at surviving in the machine. Surely he would know what to do.

Dr. Mojo sang the song of Gulik as loud as he could. Suddenly there was a pop and a flash, and the walls ground to a halt. St. Gulik had chewed right through the beast’s wiring.

When Dr. Mojo finally climbed out, he found the same young man in the same ill-fitting uniform. The young man was staring at Dr. Mojo with his mouth wide open.

Dr. Mojo stared back until the young man found his voice, if not his wits. “Who are- what are- I mean…”

“What is this beast?” Dr. Mojo asked the sputtering young man.

“The what? That? That’s the compactor,” said the young man. “It’s where we put the trash.”

“Why do you throw vegetables in there, then?” asked Dr. Mojo.

“The produce? That’s what we can’t sell,” the young man explained. “It’s bruised or it’s the wrong shape or not quite the right color. Nobody wants it.”

“I wanted it,” Dr. Mojo said. “Why didn’t you give it to me?”

“We’re not allowed to,” the young man said, sounding confused. “The manual says so.”

“The manual?” asked Dr. Mojo.

“And the training video,” the young man added.

“OK,” said Dr. Mojo. The young man had clearly fallen under an evil spell called employee training, so he ran away before he could summon an authority figure.

Dr. Mojo ran until he came to a restaurant. He slipped around back and found the dumpster. A young woman in a white hat and a white apron stood nearby, smoking a cigarette.

Dr. Mojo said hello and boldly stepped up to the dumpster. As soon as he opened the lid, he was attacked by an awful stench that left him retching and choking for air.

“You don’t want to go in there,” said the young woman with the white hat and the white apron.

“No shit,” gasped Dr. Mojo. “What was that?”

“We treat the dumpster,” she said.

“Treat it?” Dr. Mojo wheezed, slowly catching his breath.

“Yeah, the boss makes us,” said the young woman. “He says it keeps people from stealing our trash.”

“Why do you care if people steal your garbage?” asked Dr. Mojo.

“I don’t care,” she said. “But the boss doesn’t want to get sued if someone eats what we throw out and gets sick.”

“But what if they get sick just opening the dumpster?” asked Dr. Mojo.

The young woman with the white hat and the white apron shrugged.

“OK,” said Dr. Mojo. He could see the young woman had fallen under an evil spell called alienation of labor, so he ran away before she could summon an authority figure.

Dr. Mojo ran until he came to a bakery. He slipped around back and found the dumpster. It was chained shut and secured with a padlock.

Dr. Mojo pulled a lockpick from one of his dreads and began working on the lock. All of a sudden, he heard footsteps and a voice shouted “Freeze!”

Dr. Mojo looked up and saw a fat man in a security uniform, pointing a can of pepper spray at him.

“You’re trespassing,” the fat rent-a-cop barked.

“Trespassing in someone’s garbage?” Dr. Mojo asked.

“That garbage is private property,” the fat man shouted. “Step away from the dumpster.”

“OK,” said Dr. Mojo. He could see the fat man with the security uniform had fallen under an evil spell called law and order, but this time he didn’t run away. Instead, he sang the song of Roadrunner.

Roadrunner was a powerful spirit whose enemy’s attempts to trap him always backfired. Surely he would help Dr. Mojo.

The fat man was so surprised by Dr. Mojo’s singing that he pressed the trigger on the pepper spray. Nothing happened. The fat man’s eyes narrowed. He shook the can and tried again. Still nothing happened.

Finally, the fat man in the security uniform held the can up to his face to examine it. As he turned the nozzle toward his eyes, it went off and he collapsed to the ground in pain.

Dr. Mojo casually popped the lock on the dumpster and peered in. Eureka! Here were day-old bagels and muffins, loaves of sourdough and rye, donuts, cookies and sweet rolls.

Dr. Mojo slung a trash bag of baked goods over each shoulder and turned to the fat man in the security uniform. The fat man was struggling to his knees, sobbing and gasping, his face a reddened mess of tears and snot.

“I declare these bagels liberated and free,” said Dr. Mojo. “I may be hungry and eating from dumpsters, but I’m far richer than you’ll ever be.”

Then Dr. Mojo went home and called his friend, Mr. Turtle. The two gorged themselves on pastries and sweet rolls until they were sick. Then Dr. Mojo was happy to eat his ramen again.

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