The Cemetery Crew

As mentioned before we are a family at Parks and Rec, what we did not mention before is that we have cousins. None of us really know them, we just know of them. They work at the cemetery. Since we have never met, we appointed them names of our own choosing.

First we have Juan and his two grandsons Jose and Estaban. They maintain flowerbeds throughout the city and find it funny to put the dirt in our trashcans.

Kayla, upon recognizing one of the workers as a schoolmate, approached him and told him of our naming ways. She did what was socially appropriate and excluded herself from the creeper behavior. Our so-called Sanchez then told his coworker “Kyle” of our behavior.

We saw Kyle frequently weed whipping, so he was the 4^th to be named. We found the name Kyle to be fitting. He works exclusively in the cemetery. Little did we know our paths would actually cross outside of the trash girl realm and we would be recognized. Shout out to Vera Mitch and Ethel RayVera Mitch and Ethel Ray for the introduction. And thanks to our fellow trash girl we were received as the creepers in the white truck.

Feeling sorry for the rest of the crew, we appointed them a group name, never knowing how many of them there actually were. They are known as the little Niño’s. Now we exchange pleasant waves on our garbage route.

Then one day Kayla saw a Niño, who was there all along, for who he truly was. Smitten by his gravedigger charm she proclaimed her love to him as we whizzed by and affectionately named him Kip. By doing so she sealed our doom as the creepers in the white truck. 

Hank

We would like to introduce you to a member of our family who is dear to our hearts. He has stood by our side through rain, sleet, hail, and scorching sun. Rarely do you find a companion as loyal and dependable as ours. Even though science may say he shouldn’t be running and that every turn he takes may be his last, he defies all odds. Hank is our truck. A 1993 Ford, with no original parts. He has no radio, windshield wipers, tire tread, seat covers, cup holders, seatbelt, door handles, grill, latching hood, hazard lights, and possibly airbags. He does, however, have an unbreakable spirit. We love you Hank. Once we’re gone fly away, fly away and be free, because we would really like a radio next summer.

Dooms Day

It was a Wednesday and the second most glorious time of the day (the first being bedtime), we had just finished the day’s trash. As we were walking into the shop to clock out, Mama AJ asked us if we could come in at 6 instead of 6:30 the next morning. This is when we realized a storm was coming. Doomsday: the perfect storm.

We started the morning off with some family bonding time. It was our Father’s turn to choose the activity, he chose weeding pioneer crossing. And so we began our morning weeding the median planter, where the devil danced. Our crazy uncle decided to use his weed whip to speed up the process. His lack of concern for others resulted in multiple welts and a lost eye, but we pulled through.

Once the dreaded deed was done we were free to go. What we didn't realize was that our beloved grandfathers had driven dear hank into the freeway median for easier access of weed disposal. Since we are the family favorites and our safety is top priority, our father directed us safely into traffic. We then began our journey to the carnival to make sure it was ready for the big opening! We parked behind the library, filled our fists with trash bags and voyaged into the eerie silence of the somewhat assembled carnival. As we wandered through rides and concessions in search of trashcans, it was vital that we were never out of eyesight of one of our fellow trash girls for fear of being cornered by the carnies and sold into the circus.

Having finished all that mama AJ had assigned us, we visited Lone Ranger and Tonto, in order to learn the ways of field preparation. Caitlin used her skills learned at raking college to prep the bases as Rachel learned from Tonto how to drag the field. Then came the dreaded call from mama Aj. Pleased with our desire to expand our talents he gave us 5 more minutes then told us to blow off Main Street for the mayor. In the heat of the summer day amid rushing traffic, we journeyed down main street laddend by our 50 lbs. pack blowers.

We were privileged with the presence of an attractive window washer on our blowing route. Trying to look our best we positioned ourselves so our hair would blow in the wind as we awkwardly swaggered past. Each competing for the man's attention, we had to do whatever necessary to come out on top. Kayla took her powerful pack blower and used it to blow Caitlin from behind. This caused her shirt to flutter giving her the appearance of a hussy, and leaving her behind in the dust.

Returning from lunch we were sent to help out our Grandpa at Quail Cove. His jeans were too tight and his belt buckle too heavy for him to blow off the amphitheatre that day. Again we hoisted on the blowers and began the treacherous journey down the stony steps. Covered in dirt and faint from the sun we were ready to retire for the day. It was then we received a call from our little brother inquiring about our fuel resources. We told him where to meet us for the exchange. With only 15 minutes left in the workday we asked our weary brother why he needed the fuel. He then stated he and the boys could not go home until a terrible chore was done. Seeing life fade from his once bright eyes, we knew we had to take matters into our own hands. Being the saints we are we forced him to go home and promised we would complete the task.

What was the task you may ask? Mowing a hill that is up hill 3 ways. We call this hill Satan’s smile. We started our mowers and let them drag us down the hill trying not to tip over from the steepness of the side hill. All was well until we reached the third hill, which would bring us out of the depths of Satan’s smile. Not realizing the lawn mower was in neutral, Rachel and Caitlin used all their strength only to fail at their escape. Exhausted and with all of our limbs intact we finished the impossible task. The mowing job looked like death, and in our saintly act we insured our banishment from mowing Satan’s smile ever again. And thus it was the end of Doomsday.