[ WP ] The New York sanitation workers have always secretly had the job of ridding the streets of cryptid monsters . Time to take out the trash !

“ Fuck you, fuckos! ” 
 
 Jessie picked herself up for the second time that night, brushing dust off her knees bare through the tears in her mesh stockings. Drunk again, stumbling home at 5 in the AM, cursing out whoever crossed her zigzagged path down 6th and Broadway. She ’ d lost her panties somewhere, probably when she ’ d took a quick squat around the corner, which also explained why her shoes were soaked, but she wasn ’ t one for introspection when there was someone else to blame for her problems. There was always someone else. Like the trashmen hanging off the end of their truck as it cruised the block on the morning garbage route. Those fuckos smelling up the block and making noise waking people up so goddamn early in the morning, they ’ re the ones that startled me and made me fall in a puddle of my own piss, how dare they those stinking fuckos... 
 
 She began limping after them, hurling whatever she could get her hands on, including both tacky platforms off her feet and the contents of her handbag, half-eaten roll of Mentos, used up lipstick, greasy napkins, pennies, and then came the tampons. She got in a lucky shot and nailed one of them right in the ear. The truck ground to a halt. Jessie stuck both her middle fingers up in triumph. 
 
 “ Up yours, ya fuckos! ” 
 
 There were two of them, garbed in the forest green of New York ’ s finest. They strolled up to Jessie until they were towering over her, easily bigger by a couple feet and a hundred pounds apiece. She was way too hammered to notice or care. Big or small, anything that had ears to listen was destined to cop her bullshit that night. 
 
 “ You stinky trashbags, ” she said, “ you made me fall over and wreck my new stockings. Whose gon na pay for these? ” 
 
 The trashmen shared a glance. One of them pulled out a handkerchief from his back pocket and proffered it to her. 
 
 “ Lady, you ’ re covered in piss. ” 
 
 “ No you ’ re covered in piss! And shit and diapers and crud and assrags- “ 
 
 She could ’ ve gone on for at least five more synonyms but she was cut short. Something had wrapped around her ankles and tugged, her face planting into the pavement at the trashmen ’ s feet. It startled her so much she lost control, and once again she found herself lying in a puddle of her own piss. Whatever had tripped her began crawling up her legs, covering up and pinning her lower body to the ground. It felt slimy and pulsated. Jessie was reminded of a snail that once crawled across her arm, leaving a trail of sticky ooze. 
 
 She tried crawling with her arms but that didn ’ t work. Wiggling did nothing. The more she squirmed the tighter the hold about her legs. She turned her head as far as she could to catch a glimpse of whatever it was, and as it entered he peripheral a primal scream began building up in her lungs, her instincts harkening back to a time where the ancestors of man trembled within their primitive stone huts in terror of the antediluvian horrors that stalked the earth, creatures which even now haunted the world of man in secret, concealed in the shadows between shadows and hungering for souls to satiate their unholy lust... 
 
 Before she could let out a peep the spongy mass exploded into a mess of greenish sludge, her ejection like the violent birth of some unspeakable horror from a monstrous womb. The goo steamed in the cold morning air. Jessie pulled herself to her knees, the insanity of recent events a dim echo through her drunken haze. Too fucked up to understand what was going on. 
 
 “ What the hell was that thing? ” 
 
 She looked up at the trashmen, one of who was holding what seemed to be an ornate broadsword. The blade was covered with sludge, but even through the disgusting coating shone through markings etched into the steel, runes shining with cold blue fire. The other had some sort of hose which was sucking up the remainder of the sludge. She sat there, stunned, as they finished up their work. 
 
 “ If someone doesn ’ t tell me what the fuck just happened, ” she said through gritted teeth, “ I ’ m gon na start yelling rape. ” 
 
 The trashmen shared another glance. The one with the hose walked back to the truck and resumed his place at the back. The other tossed the sword into the loading mouth and kneeled to face her. 
 
 “ Lady, you ’ re still covered in piss. ” 
 
 He tossed the handkerchief in her face and hopped up to cling onto the back of the truck and signalled to the driver. The truck rolled away to leave Jessie alone on the pavement, covered in slime and dried piss. She didn ’ t even notice, having passed out before the handkerchief hit her face. She wouldn ’ t wake up sober until the next afternoon where she found herself in a jail cell, covered in piss and what she assumed was garbage water. 
 

