Previously: Arnold Tobin entered Sarah’s Diner and made the announcement that he was going to be running the city. None of the other members of the Circular Congregation Breakfast Club knew what he was talking about, and each did their share to keep Arnold from explaining the meaning of his grand announcement. Everyone finished their breakfasts, downed their fourth cup of coffee, and left the diner (after paying their bills and leaving a meager tip). Arnold resolved to wait and share his news at breakfast the next day.

“I’m sitting on the City Sanitation Board,” announced Arnold the next day. He knew he had to get it all out before anyone could derail his train of thought. “I’m going to be running the City.”

“You still thinking about getting a dog?” Harrison Winkle asked Tommy Jones.

“I got a call from the folks downtown,” Arnold continued, as if Harry and Tommy weren’t even there. “They had an opening on the Board and I guess they caught wind of my political aspirations. They said I was uniquely qualified to control all the garbage. That’s what I call power.”

“I’m thinking about getting a tattoo,” continued Harry (as if Arnold wasn’t there).

“You looking to look like some kind of rebel hooligan?” asked Jimmy. “Maybe an eagle on your right bicep with Sarah’s name under it?”

“Garbage. I’m in charge of all of your garbage. I run this city.” Arnold wasn’t going down easy.

“Nope. I’m thinking I’ll get hair tattooed on my bald spot.”

“That would be a lot of tattoo,” laughed Tommy. “Do you know how big your bald spot is? That’s going to cost a lot of money. You’ll probably have to go back three or four times to get it all done.” Tommy was spot on with his assessment.

“Run the city…power…garbage,” Arnold kept up his mantra.

“If you are in charge of all the garbage, then why is my trash bill so high?” asked Mort? When the cost of gas was way up, you tacked on a fuel surcharge. Now that the cost of fuel is almost down to half of what it was, why do I still have to pay a fuel surcharge?”

“Why can’t I get my trash picked up later in the day?” asked Tommy. The truck comes so early, I have to put the hopper out the night before and the raccoons get into it. Then, I have to clean up the mess. If you insist on picking it up in the middle of the night, you should have raccoon patrols keeping our trash cans safe.”

“Why do I have to separate the recyclables?” growled Big John Hudson. “I pay my bill. Why don’t you save me the hassle and separate it all, yourself?”

“Can’t you make the garbage trucks smell better?” asked Jimmy, just because the conversation was starting to get fun. “Have you ever driven behind one of those things? Your garbage trucks are stinking up the Center of the Universe.”

Arnold was now reevaluating the value of serving on the Sanitation Board. Like most politicians, Arnold’s governmental ambitions were focused on following the path of least resistance. This was a lot of resistance. Maybe running the city wasn’t as simple as he had thought. Perhaps garbage power was all in the smell.

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.